#predator x reader

[ateliersss]

The Huntress

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: It's the first time you and your mate go on a hunt after your pregnancy. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Mild Smut, English isn't my first language Word Count: 4.412 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ I wanted to post this yesterday already, but I got a little distracted as something terrible happened last night in my city.

⇨ The long awaited hunting trip is finally here! I apologize for the long wait, but a writing slump is the most horrible thing for a writer.

"Oh, come on, my little star. Say Mama." You pouted down at the pup in your arms. "Ma-ma."

Toyah, who seemed to be displeased that you had your hair in an updo and therefore couldn't touch your soft and shiny strands, wasn't listening to you in the slightest and instead reached up to your head with grabby hands.

"Mama, Toyah. It's Mama. Ma-ma." You tried again, but except for whine, you got nothing back from him.

A rumbling sound that could only be your mate's laugh caused you to look up with a displeased look. Mi'ytiar came closer to you until he felt Toyah's wiggling form press against his stomach and securely placed his hands in the dip of your bare waist, looking fondly down at the both of you.

"Yawne, he will not talk. Not for a while." He grunted, his thumb stroking your soft skin. "Took Akail one year."

"I know that. I just want to finally hear his voice, hear him talk." You sighed. "Remember when Akail started speaking?" You asked him with a starry look in your eyes as you looked up at your mate.

Akail as a toddler in itself had been chaotic, a whirlwind in his parents' lives, but Akail as a toddler who had just learned the ability to speak? It was mostly loud nonsense, but you found it endearing nevertheless. Every now and then, you could understand a "Mama" and, after some time, even a "Papa". You were mostly fond of the times when he would sit on your chest, hands on your cheeks, and he would just start chirping with the occasional "Mama" in between his words. That had been his version of informing about his day.

Mi'ytiar grunted in acknowledgment and his hand left your waist to reach up to pet his son's head. He had grown in the last three months, albeit only slightly. His skin had grown in intensity just as his eyes. His teeth were now tiny little spikes and the tusks of his mandibles had gotten sharper. The rest had stayed just the same. But his personality had grown as well. Like his older brother at that age — fast on his tiny legs, a combination of crawling and unsteady stumbling on his feet — he loved to explore his environment. Once, you had found him sitting outside with the Hell Hounds, even though you had put him to bed five minutes earlier. You didn't know how he had managed that and you had to hide your grin when you scolded him.

"Go?" Mi'ytiar asked with a purr and you let out a hum in agreement.

Your mate and you had planned this trip for a while now. You had been sick of it, doing nothing but lazing around in your nest with your pup as your companion to bridge the time while your mate was busy with leader business and your eldest doing his own duties. Mi'ytiar's overprotectiveness had reached new heights and you were barely allowed to leave the nest to go to the bathroom to relieve yourself without him hot on your heels. To his credit, you only needed one intake of air in one certain way for him to suggest the hunting trip before you could start your rant.

Now, you were dressed in your hunting attire similar to the one your mate was sporting. A metal chest-plate was sitting on a layer of leather that covered your body like a top but kept your arms and midriff free. The metal of the loincloth hugged your lower body like panties did while a cloth that was attached to it covered your backside, going from one hip to your other and was triangular in shape.

Everything was tailor-made, though it had been altered from time to time. The beautiful design, the carvings and the feminine touch hadn't changed at all, but your pregnancies had taken a remarkable toll on your body, with your breasts growing bigger and your hips wider.

The only thing that stayed the same was the wrist gauntlet adorning your right forearm. It wrapped around your arm, beginning at your wrist and ending near the crook, so you weren't restricted in bending it. You had a matching forearm vambrace on your other arm, though this one was merely armor. The gauntlet was a petite little thing and your preferred choice of weapon. It looked like any other gauntlet the Yautja used, though it was modified significantly. You only needed it to hunt, so most of the usual functions were removed.

Mi'ytiar placed a hand on the nape of your neck and guided you through the door and out of your home. After a short growl, the Hell Hounds stayed put. They had excitedly greeted you with wagging tails but now let themselves dejectedly sink on the floor again to lie on their stomachs.

The walk to the docking platforms for their ships was calm, though you sometimes cooed back at Toyah in answer who had started to babble. Here and there, you stopped for a few minutes because some of his people had to inform their leader about this or ask him about that, but you didn't pay them any mind. You only did when a Female approached you to take a look at your pup and you presented him to her like a proud cat mother would with her kitten. The Female chirped at him and complimented his development. You would have spent hours chatting with her and about what a precious boy your pup was if not for your mate to gently stir you away.

You stopped again at the ship that was readied for your departure under the watchful eye of Akail. You never understood why they needed to make such a spectacle out of it. You would only go hunting for a few hours.

"Akail." Mi'ytiar addressed his son who turned around to greet his father properly, hands on each other's forearms and forehead pressed together.

"My little warrior." You chimed in. "Are you excited about your alone-time with your little mei'hswei?"

Akail bristled before he let out a grunt you would label as a "Yes." It was more than you would have received from him two months ago. Your eldest still had some resentment towards your youngest, but the murderous glint had disappeared from his eyes since your little talk a while ago. It took him baby steps, but steps nonetheless towards a better relationship. Toyah was oblivious to his brother's displeasure about his short existence and behaved like he always did with his family, with happy shrieks and grabby hands.

There had been this one moment where you had coincidentally stumbled upon Akail holding Toyah in his arms, pointing towards one of the skulls on the walls of your home, showing him their father's trophies. Toyah, of course, didn't understand one word but was simply happy to be near his brother. You had to quickly compose yourself and walked backwards to not disrupt this wonderful moment. It was like there was a conflict inside Akail that told him to continue disliking his brother for what he did to you, but after your talk, there was a voice that told him to try, as hard as it might be.

You smiled up at Akail and handed Toyah over into his arms. He gingerly took him — you had to bite your lip to not comment on how he suddenly knew how to professionally hold the pup as if he had done it before — and looked down at his little brother in disdain.

Grinning to yourself, you continued, "I already fed him, but if he should be hungry again, go to Zakui. She also knows how to change him. Right now, he is still full of energy, so I would suggest bringing him to T'ihtuial who watches some pups of other Females when they're too busy. He will tire himself out on his own. And should he actually grow tired, then put him in his crib and turn the small light on. Oh, and don't stop keeping an eye on him." You said and watched him to see if he understood. "Don't. Let. Him. Out. Of. Your. Eyesight." You empathized every word because you knew Toyah would find a way. He was determined like that. "He seems to like being anywhere but where you want him to be."

After another grunt, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on Toyah's cheek and another on Akail's forehead after he leaned down for you. "Bye, my boys. Be nice to each other and behave, alright?"

"Bye, Mama." Akail rumbled while Toyah only gurgled a laugh.

With a smile, you turned around and met Mi'ytiar halfways who placed a hand on your lower back, his scales rough on your soft skin. Together you entered the ship through the ramp and he wasted no time starting the engines and taking off.

Thanks to the autopilot, making the ship fly to its destination on its own, you could easily make yourself comfortable on Mi'ytiar's lap. You talked, exchanged sweet nothings, and snuggled with each other. It had been quite some time since it had just been the two of you and without any of your pups. The only time you did have your togetherness was once in a blue moon at night when everyone was asleep. Well, when most were asleep because most certainly didn't include Toyah who, like his brother in his toddler stage, needed to spend even the nightly hours with you. It was exhausting, but thankfully, the only downside of pups at his age.

"Where are we going, my love?" You asked him after a while of playing with his fingers, stroking his knuckles and massaging his palm.

"Yiulk." He answered with a soothing rumble of his chest, showing just how relaxed he was after God knows how long it had been since the last time it happened. "You remember? You hunted Wikki before carrying Toyah. You really good at it, yawne. Very proud." He purred and fondled your nape, his claws playing with the tiny hairs that had already loosened from your updo.

You smiled with a soft blush dusting your cheeks, mumbling "Charmer." before sitting up with your knees on his knees and your arms snaking around his head to hold the back of it. "Makes me want to give you one more. Right here, right now." You purred seductively, twirling one of his dreads around your pointer finger.

Mi'ytiar was about to reply, but the nav started beeping and signaled your arrival. Turning around in his lap, you could see the bright green-colored forest planet that was Yiulk. There were no humanoid beings living on the surface, only animals ready to be hunted. There were over a hundred species living there, both predator and prey, and you loved the various difficulty levels those species offered. Some were as simple as a sloth and some a little harder like a cheetah. And they were so fascinating, you loved to stay back and watch them, study them. If you had the equipment — a camera, paper, a typewriter — you would write a factual book where each and every one of them had their own double-page.

You readied yourself for the landing and quickly exited the ship with Mi'ytiar in tow. You were greeted by a wall of trees, standing so close to each other, it was a miracle he found a landing spot so easily. You took a deep intake of air and were immediately hit by the sweet aroma that emitted from the trees around you. Mi'ytiar had told you about them on your first hunt on Yiulk and he had seemed rather amused by your amazement, which was no surprise because Earth had looked so dull to you for a very long time.

The ground was soft as you took measured steps forward and through the jumble of trunks. Your eyes were fixed on the dark, earthy forest floor as you scanned it for traces of whatever animals you would find first. The environment was ideal for Shuxxi. The air was humid, the trees were covered with their preferred moss, and if you stopped in your tracks and pricked up your ears, you could hear the sounds of splashing water. Your best guess was to follow whatever source it was coming from as Shuxxi loved swimming and deep waterholes were rare on Yiulk.

You continued on your way, slowly and quietly.

While your mate preferred the chase, you put your strength into stealth. Rather than barreling towards the prey, you stayed back and observed their behavior, even killed from a distance. And although Mi'ytiar's fingers were already itching, he held himself back when you climbed up the large rocks that had emerged behind the trees after walking quite a distance. You slowly crawled up and to the edge until you had an overlook over the area to where you had tracked your prey.

You smiled at your success as your gaze wandered over the small herd, from one to the other. They were pretty for something that looked like a mix of deer and sheep. You could at least discern seven of them, a male and six females, all of them nibbling on the bluish moss growing on the trees around the clearing.

You looked down at your wrist gauntlet and skimmed through the different projectiles. You chose your favorite one — spike-like arrows of razor-sharp metal that were the size of an unused pencil and as thick as your pointer finger. You lifted your arm to aim at the one standing the farthest away from you. You enjoyed challenging yourself again and again when you were hunting a species that was already familiar to you.

And for today, you had chosen easy prey, so it wasn't that challenging. They were child's play, but something to gain back the mobility and stamina you had lost during your pregnancy and bed rest after giving birth.

You were about to pull the trigger, your aim secure on the grazing animal, when you felt a warm breath fanning against the side of your head and a hand on the back of your thigh slowly traveling up under the cloth attached to the loin cloth. You wiggled your hips and tried to throw him off, but when you only got a deep rumbling back — a laugh, probably — you shot him an angry "Mi'ytiar!" through gritted teeth.

"Distraction. Typical in environment like this. Need to get feel for it." He only grumbled against your ear.

His body was now pressed to yours, practically lying half on top of you, with his face nuzzled into your nape. You could feel him tug on your tied-up hair until it was hanging loosely down your head and he could bury his face into it, inhaling your scent. His hand snaked around your waist and to your stomach, pulling you back into him.

"Concentrate."

You tried, but your arm had gotten a little shaky as well as your focus.

"Mi'ytiar." You said slowly, warningly, when you felt his hand dipping lower.

"Shoot, yawne." He growled into your hair and started to rut against your thigh.

You let out a growl of your own, used the only part of your brain that was still able to work logically and took your shot. Your prey dropped dead when your arrow pierced its eye, killing it instantly, and spooked the rest of the herd that soon took off.

You rolled to the side and away from Mi'ytiar's rutting hips. You gave him a mean look with glinting eyes before you climbed down the rock and quickly approached your prize. You looked it over. Maybe you could use the gorgeous black fur with red speckles as another cushion for your nest. You already had four of them, but another wouldn't hurt.

"You did good." You heard Mi'ytiar behind you.

You only needed to stand up and turn on your heel to find him looming right above you. You wanted to give him a little piece of mind after he almost made you miss your target, but he looked so deliciously feral right now that the words died on your tongue. His eyes were wild, his chest was heaving and the muscles of his chest and stomach were twitching and contracting. You wanted to jump him at this very moment.

"You know…" You purred and pressed yourself against him, dug your fingers into the flesh of his hips, and pushed him backwards against one of the nearby trees. "I believe this was one of the possible scenarios where we created our firstborn." You mused, your voice taking a lower pitch with every word. "Hunting, me killing something and then you fucking me against a tree, filling me up so much that your seed dripped down to my ass and on the dirty forest floor."

Mi'ytiar let out a roar, grabbed you by your shoulders, turned you both around, and pushed you against the tree trunk.

You groaned, but not because of pain. Whenever he would manhandle you, use his brute strength to put you in whatever position to his liking, it turned you on a little more and reduced you to nothing but the basic need of graving him buried in your depths.

Patience was never something for Mi'ytiar when you were the only thing on his mind and instead of going through the process of opening the buckles that connected your thigh-high boots to your loin cloth, he just ripped them apart and tore off the pieces of metal and leather that hid your dripping arousal. Your hands immediately flew to his own covers, disparately pulling and tearing on them to free the throbbing piece of muscle that must be hiding behind it, but Mi'ytiar gripped your wrist.

"No." He groaned and pulled your hands away.

"But-"

"No."

Mi'ytiar might crave you, but he didn't want to mate with you just yet. "Three months." Cahrein had said to refrain from mating with each other to let your body heal after birthing Toyah. Those months were already over, but he wanted to be careful. Your body was a treasure, so magnificent, so beautiful. He wanted to give you all the time you needed and more, no matter how tempting it was to see it nakedly sprawled across the furs of your nest.

You reached for his loin cloth again. You could at least please him with your mouth, feel his heavy manhood down your throat, taste his heady aroma, and get drunk on it. You were desperate for him and you wanted to feel him inside you, even if it wasn't in the way you wanted for months now.

But Mi'ytiar once more pulled your hands away from it and instead lowered himself down on his knees. He grabbed you by the thighs and hoisted you up against the tree until your pussy was on eye level with him, placing your legs on his shoulder until you were practically sitting on them.

You hissed when the tusks of his mandibles dug into the skin of your ass cheeks and pelvis as they clamped around you after opening them up. Your breath hitched when you felt his own hitting your already dripping and twitching folds, and your hand grabbed ahold of a few of his dreads, keeping you grounded both on his shoulders and in the moment.

"Mi'ytiar…" You mewled.

And Mi'ytiar immediately listened. The tip of his tongue darted out and gave your folds one, two, three licks before it circled around your pulsing clit. Greedily, he lapped at your leaking hole before he plunged his tongue into you, wasting no more time, and groaned when your sweet ambrosia filled his mouth.

Meanwhile, you were a quivering mess on top of his shoulder. With your one hand already seeking support by holding onto his dreads, your other hand had reached up and above your head to dig your nails into the bark of the tree. Your eyes had fallen close and your head had lolled back. Your thighs trapped his head between them and you used them to push him impossibly closer to where you needed him most. Your hips rocked against his mouth, seeking for more.

And Mi'ytiar was soaking everything up as he ate his fill. You looked stunning in this very moment. Your face was flushed, your mouth parted, lips glistening with salvia, and your eyes were squeezed shut with the occasional twitch of the eyelid. It all made him even hungrier and he started twisting his tongue.

"Oh my... ahhh, Mi'ytiar!" You moaned, dragging the last syllable of his name out into a long, high-pitched squeal.

When your grip on his dreads tightened before you pulled on them, he growled into you, the vibrations adding to the stimulation and making your back arch. His tongue drove deeper and the deeper he got, the thicker it stretched you out.

"Tanhì… I’m…"

You couldn't even finish your sentence. With a scream of his name, you came as your thighs tightened around his head. In the orgasmic bliss that hit you like a train, you faintly heard the pitiful whine Mi'ytiar groaned into your depths and, therefore, almost missed it. Luckily, you didn't and thus, you immediately knew. You could tell by the signs when you looked down through half-lidded eyes — his claws digging into your thighs, the jerky motions of his hips, the unsteady up-and-down movement of his chest from heavy breaths.

He'd just ejaculated from eating you out.

You didn't need to see the evidence dripping from his loin cloth covered crotch. You knew because it hadn't been the first time it happened. No, there was this one moment decades ago when Mi'ytiar and you slowly but surely got to know each other on an intimate level, step by step. You had explored your bodies and discovered the multiple aspects of mating together. For someone who had no lips and no mouth per se, he had made you cum harder than on the rare occasion when one of your former lovers reluctantly agreed to pleasure you with their tongue. And Mi'ytiar, who never had tasted the paradise between a Female's legs, came across the furs and blankets after your sweetness hit his taste buds mere seconds earlier.

"Tanhì…" You purred and placed your hands on either side of his head to pull him back a little.

He retracted the tusks of his mandibles where they had been digging into your skin, eliciting a hiss from you, and tugged them back to his face. You smiled softly down at him when he nuzzled his face into your belly, purring in content, and you put your hand on top of his head, your thumb stroking his forehead.

You couldn't wait until you would finally be able to truly mate with him again.

When you went back home — after hunting down the rest of the herd to bring food back to the clan — you were greeted by a grumpy-looking Akail who dropped his little brother into your arms when they reached out to greet him, wanting to hand back the responsibility to watch over the pup as soon as possible.

You had asked him if something happened and the only thing Akail said was that he had found the little parasite in the most impossible places, although he had just been put into his crib throughout the few hours their parents were gone. He had found him in your bedroom, in the bathroom, outside with the Hell Hounds once again, and crawling down the path to your home. There even had been a Male with little Toyah in his arms at the clan leader's abode, asking Akail what the hell the pup was doing at the landing platform next to one of the Scout Ships.

You actually considered strapping Toyah to your chest every hour the day had to offer at that moment.

You looked down at the pup resting in the crook of your arm. "You are a little troublemaker, hm, you little rascal? You made it so difficult for your big brother, didn't you? Put him through so much trouble." You cooed down at him.

You and Mi'ytiar started walking side by side, his hand securely placed on your waist. The ship you had used for your trip was taken care of and the hunted prey was being carried out of it to store it. Your mate offered nods to the Yautja of his clan who greeted the three of you on your way home, but his attention was rather occupied by you and his son who was babbling nonsense. Until…

"Ma!"

You stopped dead in your tracks and looked down at your pup with wide eyes.

He did, didn't he?

"My little star, what was that?" You asked, barely holding in the bursting happiness. "Can you say that again? Did you say Ma?"

Toyah was looking at you, beautiful yellow eyes partly closed from the — what you called, although it was pretty unlikely — smile. He was babbling more and more non-coherent stuff before another "Ma!" slipped from his mouth while he reached out to your face with grabby hands.

It may be just another random syllable mixed with the other typical chatter of a three-month-old pup, but to you, it was a win.

"Yes, Toyah, Ma! It's Ma! You are such a clever little boy, aren't you? My sweet and clever boy!" You praised the pup before you turned to Mi'ytiar with a smug grin while he looked down at you with what looked like an amused glint in his eyes. "That's two for me, my love."

He then watched you continue on your way home, listening to the receding exclamations of "Such a clever boy, my Toyah!" and "Already knowing how to say Ma!" and that familiar warmth bloomed inside his chest. It happened with every smile, every crinkling of your eyes, every caress of your soft hands on his skin, the sound of your voice.

He chose good, he chose right to have you as his Life Mate. Even without pups, you were an incredible enrichment to his life. The way you treated him, appreciated him, loved him, he could not have been luckier. And after you brought your two wonders into his world, it only confirmed his beliefs that you would be a great mother, too.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

@rorrika, @lialiwasneverseen, @lil-lilacwitch, @purplekitten30, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan,

@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid, @zaky-ller, @chrishy973, @devilslittlehelper,

@freyablack90, @shadowstar123, @isntsocial

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

[multific]

Motherhood

Yautja x Reader

Summary: After you gave birth to your son, it took you some time to get used to having a half-Yautja and half-human. 

You felt sore all over. 

You moved against the fur but your whole body felt sore.

You could hear your mate’s soft breathing, it immediately made you feel at ease.

Yet, something felt out of place.

As you stirred from your sleep, you sat up in your bed and looked around. Everything looked normal, except for one thing.

The little child who used to be under your heart was now in a crib beside you. 

You looked at your mate, sleeping soundly beside you.

He got used to sleeping with you to the point where he didn’t even care anymore if you moved or woke up. 

It wasn’t always like that.

He often woke up with you when he took you into his home, but he got gradually used to you being with him.

You moved over to the crib, leaving the warmth of your bed, you stood up and got your son out of his crib.

It was a little strange to call him your son, after all, he looked nothing like you.

He looked like a pure Yautja, except for his eyes, his eyes were yours.

He wasn’t sleeping when you lifted him out of his crib, instead, he was watching, learning.

You ignored all the pain in your body as you moved out of the bedroom and into what you would call a kitchen.

You got yourself a glass of water as you sat down on one of the chairs. With your child in your arms, you moved him so you could see his face.

He laid in your lap.

“Will you never cry?” But your Baby had no reply. Of course, he didn’t he wasn’t even a day old. You watched him as his eyes wandered from your eyes to your chest and hands. 

You held a finger out to him, which caught his attention and he immediately grabbed it.

He continued to watch your finger as you smiled.

This little moment reminded you that even if he looked like a Yautja, he was still a baby.

Your baby.

This little boy in your lap was not so long ago in your stomach.

It was crazy to think about.

Your house felt a little too quiet, usually you were never up without your mate. So, this felt a little strange. 

You looked at your son.

“How am I supposed to feed you?” You said as you lifted him, trying to see if he was hungry or not. He was, you didn’t know how, but you could tell.

You pulled your nightgown down and you didn’t know how, but he was a natural.

You watched as he fed. 

He truly didn’t feel like your son. You looked after so many Yautja babies when you joined their tribe, this felt almost like one of those moments.

Except for the feeding part. Only a mother can feed their child.

And your son was no exception.

While he was born into a very high place in the hunting tribe, he was still your son. 

A highly anticipated member.

Your Mate was the right had of the tribe leader, a high position with lots of responsibilities.

One of which was to bring a son into the world.

Which you just managed to do.

You had a pregnancy which left your body sore and your mate feared the worst, but thankfully, you were able to give birth without any major issues.

And now, here you were, holding him and feeding him.

Your thumb ran down his little cheek, right next to where his mandibles were.

“You are beautiful.” You smiled and the child just kept looking at you.

Once he finished eating you pulled your gown back and pulled him to your chest, laying him down.

Did Yautja babies even burp?

Guess you will find out soon.

He did burp.

A small little burp.

And soon, he was off again.

You got up from the chair and headed back to the bedroom.

You got in, the fire was still going, but now, your mate was up.

He looked at you then at your son in your arms.

“He was hungry.” You said as you put him back into his crib before climbing back on the furs.

You let out a long yawn before getting under the covers. 

Your mate made a sound before laying back down himself. You lay down closer to him as he pulled you closer.

Maybe it was a difficult thing to give birth to a Yautja baby. Maybe it was difficult being married to one as well.

But you loved them both with all of your heart and that was enough, more than enough.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅳ▬ ⁽ 𝓎𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒿𝒶 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₈˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, yautja/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, violence, alien abduction (??), reader is lowkey horny all the time. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after a yautja breaks into your home, all hell breaks loose.

꒰m!yautja ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

THUMP THUMP

Crash!

𝒴our eyes flutter open, bleary with sleep and confusion. The room is dark, the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a soft glow onto your thick blanket. With a yawn, you stretch out your limbs, feeling your joints crack as you reach out for the lamp on your nightstand. The small clink of the knob being twisted breaks the silence of the night in your quiet house. You take a moment to rub the sleep from your eyes before you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle down, your warm feet making contact with the cool touch of your house shoes. It takes a second for you to come to but you finally find yourself upright and walking out of the room. You weren't necessarily worried, as your mischievous cat often wreaks havoc on the counters at night. It's a familiar sight. Typically, you would leave the mess until morning, but this time, an inexplicable urge pushes you to investigate. Plus, you're quite thirsty. Descending the wooden stairs leisurely, you reach the end of the hallway at the bottom and flick on the light switch. The single bulb illuminates only your immediate surroundings, but it's enough for your eyes to adjust to the darkness downstairs.

The shuffling of your footsteps reverberated in your ears, causing an inexplicable unease to wash over you. Your legs became as heavy as lead, making each step a painful endeavor. Suddenly, a surge of alarm courses through you as when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting across your skin. You halt your movement, allowing your senses to sharpen and tune in. The faint jingle and jangle of your cat's collar catches your immediate attention, prompting you to cautiously retrace your steps towards the staircase. As your trembling hands gripped the railing, you were taken aback by the sight of your black and white feline leisurely stretching at the top of the stairs, its mouth opening wide in a yawn. If your cat had been upstairs all along, then what was the noise you heard?   Fear crept into the depths of your stomach, churning your insides and burning your throat. In this moment of vulnerability, you realized that you were unarmed, with the only available option being a baseball bat tucked away in the closet just a few feet from where you stood. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard, desperately attempting to maintain your composure as you stealthily made your way toward the closet. The thought of calling for help vanished from your mind, replaced by a gripping fear that consumed your every thought.  Your attention was suddenly captivated by a mesmerizing neon green hue, its splatters leading a mysterious trail toward the dining room. 

  With trembling hands, you press them against your mouth to stifle a sob, cringing when you feel the clamminess of your skin. As you stand frozen in terror, your ears tingle and twitch, picking up on a soft clicking sound in front of you. Slowly, your eyes scan upwards, only to be met with an impenetrable darkness in the dining room, with the glowing substance serving as the sole source of illumination. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and at that moment, all thoughts of finding a weapon vanished. Whoever or whatever was in your house, one thing was certain - it was not human.   As you stood there, the air before you seemed to ripple and quiver, creating a captivating display of ethereal pink and green hues before your dark dining room came back into your 'sight'. A shudder traveled down your spine, and your legs wobbled, as if unable to bear your weight any longer. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, you tentatively extended your hand, half-expecting your senses to deceive you in this surreal moment. The sensation was akin to touching a brick wall, the object beneath your hand was rigid and corded with muscles. You clenched your eyes shut and bit your lip, pulling your hand away briefly from whatever was there. Your lashes fluttered, lifting to reveal glossy eyes and unshed tears. The air suddenly materialized into something inhumane. The air around you suddenly morphed into something otherworldly. It stood imposingly tall, slender, and muscular. Once more, you heard that clicking noise coming from the being in front of you. Overwhelmed by the intense mental stimulation, your mind reaches its breaking point. Your eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of your head, rendering your body completely incapacitated. In a sudden motion, you stumbled forward, colliding with the mysterious entity standing before you. With surprising tenderness, its clawed hands extended to cradle your delicate form.

With ease, the colossal Predator effortlessly lifted the small human who had fallen into him, ensuring that its sharp claws didn't puncture your tender thighs. Your head hangs limply, narrowly avoiding the menacing tusks attached to the Predator's shoulder armor.     Perturbed the Predator emits a series of clicks, and swiftly makes his way into the living room and to the small couch, gently unfurling his arms from around you and placing you onto it. Tilting his head his tubed dreads cascade over his shoulder, and behind his mask, the Predator's intense gaze is fixated on your motionless body. Fortunately, you appeared unharmed, it seemed you had simply fainted. Ahn'thu's head jerked up abruptly, rendering himself invisible to the naked eye immediately. The sharp crunch of broken glass echoed in his ear canal as he swiftly surveyed the room through his mask, instantly identifying multiple human heat signatures. Glancing down at the small figure nestled on the couch, he reassured himself that you would remain unharmed among your own kind. Revealing himself now would undoubtedly result in a hasty and reckless response from the intruders, no doubt they would fire without thinking of who was in the house originally.

The Yautja took his eye off the human on the couch and ventured into the darkness of the living room. The heat signatures were moving closer, almost to the living room. The heat signatures were getting closer, inching towards the heart of the room. Humans, being as noisy as ever, made their presence known with every step, every whisper, and every click of their weapons. Ahn'thu maintained surveillance on their positions, making sure they stayed within sight. The soldiers eventually entered the living room, speaking in hushed tones. It took awhile but one of them noticed you unconscious on the couch, nudged his fellow soldier, and pointed towards your body.

" We have a civilian here Captain, your orders?"

A burly man in the front came to a halt, scanning the area until he spotted your motionless form."Check for signs of life," he commanded. Ahn'thu's warning trill sent a shiver down the soldiers' spines. The sound of his gauntlet blades unsheathing itself made them wary and the room was suddenly filled with red dots from their weapons, aiming at nothing and everything.   " Stay on high alert! It has the advantage of being able to see us, but we are unable to perceive its existence. Keep your guard up and remain cautious at all times. "

 Ahn'thu almost let out a click of amusement. He didn't want this gruesome scene to play out in your home. He didn't want you to wake up to the putrid smell of metallic blood and death. He didn't want your eyes to widen in horror at the sight of crimson stains on your wooden floors and white walls.   The sound of your groans echoed through the room, instantly drawing the gaze of everyone present. With bated breath, they observed as your unconscious form gradually stirred back to life. Ahn'thu emitted a contented purr, relieved to witness the small human's recovery. Although reluctant, the Predator seized the opportunity to depart unnoticed while their attention was fixated, skillfully concealing itself nearby.

With a flutter, your eyes blinked open for the second time tonight, accompanied by a pounding ache at the back of your head. Oddly enough, you couldn't recall any instance of hitting your head. As you propped yourself up, the fog in your mind started to lift, and your bleary eyes regained focus.

  The hushed shuffle of footsteps nearby caused your muscles to tense, and in that moment, the memories flooded back. You turned your gaze slowly towards the direction of the sound, your hands instinctively rising to cover your mouth, a gasp escaping through your fingers.

  In front of you, a group of armed men stood, the lasers of their guns fixed on your trembling figure. Suddenly, one of them took a step forward, gradually lowering his weapon. "We're not here to hurt you. We're after something that has entered your home. Have you seen anything?" Reluctantly, you nodded your head and swallowed a sob. "T-there was this man— no, this thing. It was tall, but it didn't appear human. It was injured. I didn't even notice it at first, despite it being right in front of me." Anxiously playing with your fingers, you muttered, "I know it sounds crazy, but it just appeared out of nowhere, like it was invisible at first." The man nodded, his face wearing a grim expression. He raised his gun again, aiming it at your head. " If only you didn't know so much. " Your eyes widened as you looked at the other soldiers in the room, tears falling down your cheeks. "N-no! I swear I won't say a word, please, please don't hurt me."

  ' gurgle '

  Blood coated your face in small rivulets, and you sat paralyzed on the couch, observing as the man in front of you collapsed to the floor, blood pooling from his mouth. Suddenly, the alien materializes, a massive eight-foot Yautja looming just a few inches away from the lifeless body. The masked creature locked eyes with you, its head cocked to the side. Time seemed to stand still as you both stared at each other until chilling words reached your ears.

"Fire!" Bullets whizzed by your face, lodging into the walls and furniture around you. You couldn't help but scream, curling into a tight ball to make yourself as small as possible, hands covering your ears, eyes shut tight, face buried in your knees. 

Ahn'thu vanished from sight, the sound of his blade cutting through the air was more deafening than the gunshots, and soon bodies were falling to the ground. Their cries pierced through your hands and tears streamed down your face. Despite the diminishing sound of gunfire, it didn't mean that it had completely ceased. A searing, white-hot pain shot through your thigh, prompting you to release a scream that resonated with pure agony. The intensity of your cry caught Ahn'thu's attention, causing him to swiftly turn towards you, his cloak disengaging in the process.   A deafening roar reverberated throughout the house, shaking its very foundation. With a swift and calculated movement, Ahn'thu twisted his body towards the soldier closest to him, seizing the soldier's head in his powerful grip. In a bone-chilling display, he twisted and pulled, leaving behind a severed head and a spine dangling from the Predators' colossal hands. Ahn'thu swiftly reached for the shuriken hanging from his waist, the sharp blades catching the light as they spun open. With a precise throw, the blade pierced through a man's throat, causing the others to scatter in fear dropping their weapons in the process. After dispatching the final opponent, the Yautja turned towards the trembling human huddled on the couch, your body covered in a sheen of sweat. The massive figure advanced, only to halt when you tucked your body to the couch, a pained gasp echoing in the room. While he wished for your comfort, that wasn't a priority when there was a bullet lodged in your thigh. Ahn'thu's gaze flickered to the wound, his concern evident as he saw the blood seeping through your clenched hands that were putting pressure on the area.   With swift movements, he approached you lifting you gently into his arms. A gentle purr rumbling from his chest, soothing you. Gradually, your body relaxed in his arms, the tension melting away and your heat signature indicating a decrease in distress. The Yautja grumbled as he heard the wailing of cop sirens. He walked over to one of the dead bodies, softly positioning you so you were cradled in the crook of one of his arms, and pulled the shuriken from the man's throat, flicking it out so that the blades closed. His ship was a considerable distance away, but luckily, he was surrounded by miles of woods. Calling for his ship and cloaking it in a clearing would be a simple task. Ahn'thu smoothly exited, slipping through the gaping hole in the wall with care not to cause you any discomfort. The clamor of the intruders breaking through the door pushed him to hasten his steps, the cloaking device immediately bending the light and allowing you two to become transparent. He realized he had to extract the bullet swiftly, noticing the ashen hue of your soft skin, and your eyes bleary with pain. He comforted you with a soft purr, holding you close to maintain warmth. With a gentle flutter, your eyes succumbed to the overwhelming pain, plunging you into a deep slumber for the second instance that night.

For the past half an hour, he has been walking tirelessly, determined to put a considerable distance between himself and the small town.  Initially, he frets when you don't show any signs of movement for the first ten minutes of the journey. However, he finds solace in the data and body temperature readings provided by his equipment, albeit temporarily.   Gently, he cradles you in the crook of his arm, drawing you closer so that he can operate his gauntlet. The ship will arrive shortly, in just a matter of minutes. He steals another glance at you, observing your shallow breaths and the rapid movements of your eyes beneath closed lids as if chasing fleeting dreams.

The ship arrives with a gentle breeze and the familiar beep of his gauntlet. It briefly materializes, showing him the entrance before vanishing and sealing behind him. The interior is pleasantly cool, but not too much so. The netting covering his body regulated his temperature, he was never too cold nor too hot— but Ahn'thu preferred it to be cold. His main concern is removing the bullet from your body, so he takes you to his room and lays you down on his furs to inspect your wound.

 Unfazed by the blood staining the plush bedding, Ahn'thu retrieves a reddish substance from a nearby chest. With a delicate touch, he grasps your leg, wiping away some of the blood to locate the wound. Placing the red putty against the injury, he allows it to work its magic.   As tears cascade down your cheeks and your body writhes in pain, he holds you firmly, emitting a deep purr from his chest to provide comfort and alleviate your suffering. Although you grow increasingly docile, spasms persist in your leg as he maintains his grip.

As the weight of the crimson putty becomes burdensome, he delicately peels it away from your skin, examining the bullet now cradled in his palm. Ahn'thu places it within a smaller container before retrieving a vial of cerulean liquid and returning to your side, his worried expression evident. Clicking his tongue in apprehension, he understands the impending agony that awaits you.     He applies a single drop of the liquid onto the wound, resuming his comforting purrs, almost stopping when your trembling hand finds his and clings tightly. Your cries grow louder, sweat trickling down your body, causing it to tremor uncontrollably. Though he can offer little in terms of remedy, he remains by your side, providing solace through closeness and doing his utmost to ease your suffering.

It feels like an eternity before your trembling stops, your wound closes, and your breathing becomes steady. In reality, it only took five minutes. You're still grasping his hand, his claws curled inwards to his palm so that he didn't hurt you in any way. And while he's reluctant to let go of you, he does so— he needs to report back to his Elder and start the hunt for the Bad Blood in the Town area. He lets out an amused click as your hand slightly rises off the bed to find him again. He turns and makes his way to the door, letting it slide open before leaving.

As your eyes flutter open, you struggle to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. The remnants of a bullet wound in your thigh send phantom pains coursing through your body, causing a dull ache. With a weary groan, you manage to sit up, only to be startled by the sudden flood of light that blinds you momentarily.   The room feels alien, unfamiliar, and a wave of panic threatens to consume you. However, you gather your composure and slowly maneuver yourself off the massive bed. Every movement is accompanied by the symphony of your body's protests - the creaking of bones and the popping of joints. Finally, as your feet touch the cool metal flooring, you take a moment to stretch your limbs, savoring the sweet relief it brings.

 It seems like you're just in a room, with no visible exit. Desperately searching for a way out, you cautiously explore the walls for any hidden buttons. You jump back as a door slides open, cool air brushing up against your skin. After cautiously venturing out, you find yourself in a maze of identical hallways, feeling disoriented. Biting your lip you walked a bit farther, gasping softly as you stumble upon a control room filled with strange symbols and advanced technology.

With a sudden jolt, you took a step back and collided with an unyielding force.  Suddenly, a sharp clicking noise resonated near your ear, propelling you into a sprint, deftly evading whatever obstructed your path. When you dared to steal a glance behind, there was nothing to be seen, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips.   However, as you redirected your attention forward, a horrifying sight greeted you, prompting a piercing scream to erupt from your throat at the thing in front of you.  Overwhelmed by fear, you stumble backward and seek solace against the safety of a nearby wall, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body convulsing with hiccups, and your breaths coming in deep, shaky inhales.

  Ahn'thu takes a step closer, then crouches down, his head cocked to the side. You seem to fear him, understandably so given recent events. He resorts to purring, noting the wariness and familiarity in your eyes. He looks down at his gauntlet and starts to type, you're curious but not enough to scoot closer and look. 

  You lean forward some to see what he's doing but jerk your body back forcefully when he moves abruptly, attempting to show you his gauntlet, hitting your head on the metal wall behind you. Though a dull ache lingers in your skull, you pay it little mind.

However, Ahn'thu on the other hand, clicks worriedly, leaning closer to look at your head. He reminds himself that you're scared when you move further away from him. With a sigh, he withdraws his hand and presses the enter key on the gauntlet. Although the voice is slightly distorted, you can still comprehend its words.

"You are safe here."

The sight of your chest's rise and fall gradually slowing down, accompanied by the subtle narrowing of your eyes in distrust, captures Ahn'thu's attention. He finds solace in the fact that you are not easily swayed by trust, recognizing it as a sign of your survival instincts. With caution in mind, you skillfully slide away from him, ensuring maximum distance before confidently standing up.   "Where am I? Why did you take me?"

 Ahn'thu's gauntlet and translator struggled to keep pace with your rapid-fire questions, causing him to click in frustration. However, as he began typing something, you paused, eagerly anticipating the voices of various individuals.

   "One at a time."

You let out an exasperated sigh and fold your arms tightly across your chest.  How ironic it is that these aliens, with their supposedly advanced technology, can't even comprehend a simple conversation. The throbbing ache at the base of your skull intensifies, causing your face to contort in pain. In response, the Yautja takes a step closer, triggering your fight or flight response.

  Your body instinctively takes a few steps back, almost losing balance and narrowly avoiding a collision with the cold, unyielding metal wall of the ship once more. Ahn'thu effortlessly closes the distance between you two, reaching out to firmly grasp your forearm and provide the stability you desperately need.

As you take a moment to closely observe it, you can't help but be intrigued by its reptilian skin, adorned with patches of green, black, and dark grey. Surprisingly, its skin doesn't possess the expected rough texture; instead, it feels more like a unique blend of softness and hardness, almost resembling a pliable plastic. Its claws delicately grasp your forearm, ensuring not to harm you.

   Although its face remains concealed behind a metallic mask, you can hear the faint sounds of clicks and growls, which you assume to be its language. Startled, you swiftly retract your arm and take a step back, fixing a piercing gaze upon it. "Who are you?" you inquire. The alien meets your gaze with its enigmatic blank mask but then proceeds to type something.

 "I am Ahn'thu, I am Elite Yautja Warrior."

You would have trouble pronouncing that, but you decide to give it a try regardless. The sound of your voice attempting to replicate his name brings a hint of amusement to his expression, and he responds with a gentle purr when you pronounce it as accurately as you can.

"What is your name?"

The voices startle you as you hadn't even seen him type it in. You seem wary for a moment, and Ahn'thu backs off, not wanting to push you into sharing if you're not ready. Your eyes reflect a bit of trust now, the stormy pools slowly turning into murky waters. "It's Y/N." 

   It's silent between the two of you for a moment before your stomach lets out a deep growl, making you place your hands over it with furrowed brows. Ahn'thu takes a step closer, and this time, you don't retreat. "I will feed you."

You slowly and warily take its outstretched hand and jump when he grasps your hand gently, pulling you down the hall. You follow closely, absentmindedly tracing circles on the skin of its palm with your thumb. Ahn'thu remains silent, secretly pleased that he has earned a fragment of your trust. The two of you enter a different room, completely white and almost blinding after the dimly lit corridors of the ship. It takes some time for your eyes to adjust to the stark brightness.

Ahn'thu softly ushers you towards a table, a subtle detail you might have missed if he hadn't guided you to sit down first. You quickly pull away your hand from his hold and give him a stern glare. The Yautja admires your boldness, pleased that you remain cautious - and rightfully so, as you're clueless about his intentions. The cooler uncloaks itself when he steps closer to it and you let out a startled gasp, head tilting. Ahn'thu trills and opens the door, unveiling a selection of exotic fruits from the various planets he's visited. He's tested to make sure that they're safe to eat, the inhabitants of Earth were known for their fragility after all. Ahn'thu returned to the table and sat down, the cooler vanishing from view. You observed the unfamiliar fruits with concern, some appearing intimidating. It was the first time you sought guidance since waking up, your wide human gaze up at him through lashes, showing a hint of trust towards him. 

 Ahn'thu purrs and grabs one of the fruits, flipping a blade in his hand and slicing it open. He extends a piece towards you, but your attention is completely captured by the fruit's unusual color. The Yautja lets out an impatient huff and reaches up to unhook his mask, causing a hiss to echo throughout the room as the restraints are released. 

  He braces himself for the typical reaction – a scream, a gasp, a recoil in disgust, or perhaps even a comment on his hideousness – but you defy his expectations.  Instead, your human eyes widen with genuine curiosity, your hands instinctively clench at your side, and your fleshy lips form a small 'o' of wonder, devoid of any fear.

 Your lips part as you gaze into his deep-set eyes, you can't help but be captivated by their human-like appearance and the profound intelligence they hold. His mandibles, though relaxed, twitch slightly under your careful observation. Intrigued, you lean forward, your eyes filled with soft wonder.   Ahn'thu finds your human fascination amusing and decides to indulge in the fruit, carving out a small piece and savoring it. The taste is sweet, leaving a delightful, bubbly aftertaste on the tongue but it isn't unpleasant in the slightest. 

As you gaze at him, your eyes widen in astonishment, fixating on his mandibles and teeth. Mesmerized, you observe him chewing effortlessly. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to grab the remaining portion. Carefully, you bring it closer to your lips, making sure to avoid the skin.

   A stream of blue juice trickles down your chin as you take a bite, causing a soft gasp of delight to escape your lips. The explosion of sweetness and fizziness on your tongue leaves you in awe. You glance at him, your eyes brimming with wonder, and Ahn'thu clicks in amusement. 

With a tantalizing flick of your pink tongue, his amusement gradually subsides. You savor the lingering taste by licking up the remaining juice. Your fingers diligently clean the stickiness off your skin before you devour it, relishing every bite. 

   Ahn'thu notices your swift completion and offers you his remaining portion. You accept it graciously, taking a gentle bite and sighing in delight at its exquisite flavor. Surprisingly, it not only satisfies your cravings but also leaves you feeling pleasantly full.

The Yautja carefully observes you, taking note as your eyelids grow heavy and your pulse begins to calm. Exhaustion from the day's chaos and frantic running through the corridors has caught up to you. Suddenly, you startle as numerous voices echo in your ears, urging you to rest. Despite your weariness, the idea of drifting off to sleep with a mysterious alien predator lurking nearby is not how you envisioned meeting your end.

Ahn'thu observes as your hair dances around your face while you groggily decline. He desires your comfort, but also knows it's for your own good. The Yautja rises and gently carries you in his arms. Sensing your exhaustion, you offer no resistance, allowing your head to rest on his chest. 

  He moves cautiously, avoiding any sudden movements. Your gentle breath brushes against his skin, leaving a warm sensation. The worry lines on your forehead and eyebrows have vanished, revealing smooth human skin.

 Ahn'thu reaches his room and delicately places you on the bed, watching as you immediately snuggle into the soft furs, inhaling gently. The fabric of your shorts ride up and caress your thighs, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the soft globes of flesh that had playfully jiggled when you ran away from him. Your ass looks velvety smooth, and he longs to savor the delight nestled in-between your plush thighs.

   Suppressing his primal desires, he snarls at his own thoughts and shakes his head, causing his dreadlocks to whip around him. Ahn'thu swiftly turns on his heels and exits the room, making his way back to the meeting chamber to report the encounters with the humans and bad blood.

It takes a few hours for your eyelashes to flutter open completely. The room is cast in shadows, with only a faint light illuminating the doorway. Snug in your cocoon of warmth, you find it hard to part with the soft furs. Sliding out of bed, you approach the door and are surprised by its swift, noiseless opening. Stepping into the hallway, you begin to walk aimlessly, not quite certain of your direction but moving forward nonetheless.

Your movements come to a halt as the indecent cacophony of grunts, clicks, and growls fills the air. Backtracking, you cautiously steal a glimpse into the room, the door barely ajar. A gasp lodges itself in your throat, but you swiftly muffle it with your hand, preventing it from reaching your ears, or rather, his ears. 

   With eyes widened in disbelief, you watch him forcefully thrust into a contraption resembling a fleshlight, yet possessing an uncanny fleshy texture, reminiscent of the inner walls of a vagina. It drips with viscous neon droplets of cum, a soft hue of pastel green. What astounds you the most is the sheer shape, size, and girth of his cock. 

As wide as four of your fingers combined, the length stretches from the tip of your index finger to your wrist. It's not human, which is no surprise since he isn't either, but the shape and texture are mesmerizing. It brings to mind the myriad of 'alien' cocks you've seen on Tumblr.

   It shares the same hue as him, but it's noticeably softer than his actual skin. Veins course through it, thick and prominent. Small ridges and nodes decorate it from the top to the bottom, causing you to swallow hard at how slick and warm it seems. The only human aspect about him is the large testicles that hang imposingly underneath his cock.

 You peek up at what he's looking at and can't stop the soft gasp from passing through your lips. It was you. Your face on the pornstar, getting fucked roughly by a guy from your planet. Lost in his own world of desire, he remains oblivious to the sound of your gasp, thrusting relentlessly into the device. Unable to control yourself, your hand slips beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, gliding past the barrier of your panties, and delving into your dewy, swollen folds, slick with your arousal. 

 Your lower lip disappears between your teeth as a soft moan escapes you, your fingers tracing the outline of your engorged clit. With a delicate touch, you roll it between your fingers, steadying yourself when your knees start to buckle. Your fingers trail past your clit and to your slobbering entrance, hot and clenching against your middle and pointer fingers.

    Slowly you ease your fingers into your dripping pussy, eyes sliding shut for a moment as the thickness enters you. You weren't overly sexual when it came to normal living, you didn't really masturbate and most definitely didn't have time for men or sex toys. At the most, you'd rub one out or try a finger or two but that was about it.

  You try and imagine that he's behind you, that his thick cock is pummeling into you. Your hands fail to provide the same pleasure, leaving you agitated as you watch his hips move with urgency. Giving up, your fingers leave your cunt with an erotic pop and go back to your sensitive clit, rubbing, pinching, and patting at it. 

  Your teeth try and stop your lewd moans of pleasure from escaping but you can hear the wetness of your pussy loud in your ears, feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the floor. His thrusts speed up, his claws dig into the padding of the device and he shoved himself inside it once more before roaring out his release. 

You had never been able to reach orgasm on demand, not even the commanding voices of men on PornHub instructing you to climax. But the feral, animalistic noise of this alien spilling his seed? It made your knees buckle and your pussy convulse. It was the most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced. 

   Thighs twitching, you couldn't hide the deep moan that spills past your pretty little lips. The Yautja's head snaps up and he withdraws his cock from the machine, his cum trickling down his thick shaft. Your cheeks are flushed as you rise hurriedly, running down the hall on legs weakened from your orgasm. You locate the room almost instantly and step inside with a sense of anticipation. 

   Ahn'thu walks over to the broken door ( as it never fully shut ), and opens it completely, his breath finally steadying. He lets out a small sound of confusion before squatting down to examine the tiny pool of cloudy liquid at the entrance.

 His fingers dipped into the substance, and a delightful warmth enveloped them, catching him off guard. Raising his hand to his face, he took a deep breath, his body responding with a pleasurable purr to the sweet and slightly spicy scent that wafted from it. Unable to resist, Ahn'thu sensually sucked on his digit, feeling his cock twitch and precum drip. 

   The taste delighted him, urging him to dip his fingers once more and savor the intoxicating flavor. Standing, he heads back into the room and slips on his clothing. Exiting, Ahn'thu locates the h'dui'se, following like a hound. Unsurprisingly, he finds himself outside of his room. As he enters, he's overwhelmed by the captivating fragrance that surrounds him, suffocating his senses.

The sound of his clicking sends shivers down your spine, causing your body to tremble beneath the soft covers. You instinctively place a hand over your mouth, feeling the warmth of arousal smear across your flushed cheeks. Your thighs clenching tightly together, clit still pulsating from the intense pleasure just moments ago.

   Ahn'thu notices your movements but he doesn't confront you, he doesn't want to scare you even more than you already are. With an angry trill, he exits the room, realizing how difficult it is to be in your presence when the scent of your desire lingers in the air, clouding his senses. He seeks solace in another spare room, far away from the intoxicating allure of your essence.

As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself in a state of uncertainty. The absence of windows on the ship leaves you clueless about the time it's what you assume is the next morning. Stepping out of the room, you make a conscious effort to push yesterday's troubles from your mind and begin to explore. Intrigued, you cautiously peer into each door, hoping to find him. 

The ship is far too silent, calm– it's only you here. A frown forms on your face, and a sudden surge of fear grips your being. The thought of being stranded alone in an alien vessel, unaware of its destination or potential dangers, sends a shiver down your spine.

As you stumble upon the pristine white room, the very same space where he tantalizingly fed you with succulent fruit, a delicate gasp escapes your lips. Hastily, you scuttle inside, emitting a hiss of discomfort as you accidentally collide with the table, your eyes gradually adapting to the surroundings, discerning its form. 

  A wave of bewilderment washes over you as you frantically seek out the refrigerator, emitting a low grunt of frustration as you unexpectedly collide with it, as if it materialized out of thin air.  With a glimmer of delight, the refrigerator door glides open, revealing a mango, a tantalizing gift from Earth.

  You exit the room after searching for the door and head out into the hallway. Without a knife, you're unsure of how to eat the fruit but choose to bite into it, sucking and nipping at the skin until it's cleaned and pulling it from your mouth. As you continue your exploration, you stumble upon the familiar room from the previous night. A surge of desire courses through your veins, causing your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. With sticky fingers, you gently push open the door.

 A hum of delight fills the room as you bite into the fruit again, the juice spilling down your chin and neck. You'd have to ask him where the bathroom is if he even had one. Your gaze catches sight of a nearby table, and you delicately place the mango upon it, savoring the opportunity to lick your fingers clean. Slowly, you walk towards the machine, eyeing it. 

The remnants of his cum, mingled with his perspiration, have been meticulously wiped away, a part of you wishes it wasn't so you could taste him. As you compose yourself, your moistened fingers glide over the buttons, leaving behind traces of your touch. 

  The words displayed on the screen remain an enigma, but the images depicted hold your gaze captive. Among them, one bears an uncanny resemblance to your alien. Another portrays a man, while a third portrays a woman. With trembling limbs, you succumb to your curiosity and press upon the image.

The machine instantly illuminates, its intricate mechanisms gliding back and forth at a deliberate pace. A gasp escapes your lips as you instinctively retreat, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. As the video commences, you find yourself captivated, fixated on the scene unfolding before you. The alien thrusts into the human woman with a primal intensity, their bodies melding together. 

  Her face is twisted with an unapologetic, wanton pleasure, her eyes rolling back into her skull, and a trail of drool cascades down her chin as he ravishes her. Despite her apparent state of blissful abandon, she begs for more, tooting her rear up, arching her back, and pressing her petite hand against his sculpted abdomen. His low rumblings aren't as deep as your alien's yet they still ignite a pulsating ache within your pussy nonetheless. With flushed cheeks, tousled locks, and quivering thighs, she surrenders herself to his every whim. 

 You bite down on your bottom lip, drawing closer, fixated on the sight of him disappearing inside her. His size may be slightly smaller than your alien's, but you pause, questioning when that creature had become yours. When did you become comfortable with this arrangement?

The thunderous growl signifies its release, cum painting her insides. The woman appears fatigued, yearning for rest, yet enveloped in an intoxicating pleasure. A shuddering sigh escapes her lips, but she remains helpless, succumbing to moans as he resumes his relentless thrusting. 

   Your hand ventures downwards, fingers coated in a sticky residue, caressing your throbbing clit nestled between moist folds and layers of fabric. You're firm in your movements, taken aback by the immense pleasure that engulfs you.

Biting your lip, your hand ventures beneath the fabric of your shorts, gliding past the delicate barrier of your panties, until it reaches your throbbing, weeping pussy. The succulent juice from the mango you had earlier coats your sensitive clit as you rub and pinch at it. This time, you abandon all inhibitions, allowing your moans, soft pants, and whimpers to fill the room and your eyes flutter shut. 

   The sound of her moans intertwines with the rhythmic slapping of his hips against her round ass, becoming the only melody that matters. With your other hand, now free, you trail it up your body, your fingers finding solace on your breasts, expertly pinching and teasing your nipples, mirroring the pleasure the woman is experiencing. The newfound ecstasy consumes you, causing your thighs to tremble uncontrollably, and give out as a desperate whine escapes your lips, your hand drenched in your cum.

An electrifying chill dances along your back, prompting you to rise abruptly. Fingers dart across the buttons, bringing the video to a halt and returning you to the Home Screen. The sensation of not being alone lingers in the air. Withdrawing your hand from your shorts, a glistening trail of desire is left on your stomach and you gracefully exit the room, snatching your mango as you go. Your astuteness guides you effortlessly through the labyrinth of halls, swiftly finding the room.

You let out a gasp as you collide with him, feeling his hand encircle your waist, his knee pressing against your soaked thighs to steady you.  Ahn'thu gazes at you, his head cocking as he spots the fruit in your hand. He goes to question you but the warm trail of wetness on his leg makes him click in question. Then the smell of your arousal hits him like a freight train and he growls lowly, almost throwing you over his shoulder and taking you like a beast in heat when your cunt clenches. 

In a nimble and tender manner, he elegantly withdraws from your presence, his eyes captivated by the luminous sheen of his leg in the artificial white light. Your human cheeks are adorned with a blush, and from behind his mask, he can perceive the frantic beat of your heart, racing at an exhilarating pace.

The mask translates your soft words. " You're back." 

Ahn'thu had set off to pursue the bad blood and had triumphed, bringing back his head as proof. He clicks before typing on his gauntlet, not wanting to startle you too much. "Went to hunt." You bob your head up and down, swallowing thickly. The silence lingers uncomfortably, prompting you to offer him the mango, with the same hand that had brought you pleasure not long ago.

With a swift motion, the Yautja unfastens his mask, causing your eyes to eagerly scan his face. Your breath catches in your throat as he gently seizes your wrist and brings it to his mouth, bypassing the fruit. His mandibles unfurl, revealing their impressive expanse, while his forked, purple tongue sensually caresses your fingers.

 A knot of desire intensifies in your belly, and you observe with furrowed brows and tightly clenched thighs. He pulls away and locks eyes with you, tilting his head inquisitively. With flushed cheeks, you swiftly withdraw your hand and head into the room. 

In the depths of his being, Ahn'thu is acutely aware of your want for him, as the heady scent of your desire hung in the air, thickening with each tantalizing lick of his tongue against your delicate fingers.

Perched upon his seat, the colossal Predator's thoughts spin like a tempest. Merely moments ago, he stumbled upon the lingering evidence of your delectable mango-drenched fingers upon the Pleasuring Room's machine.  

 The air was thick with your intoxicating arousal. Intrigued, he delved into the archives of recently viewed videos, only to be taken aback by the unexpected sight. It was of a Yautja and Ooman-di, which hadn't been what he was watching yesterday.

Ahn'thu swiftly made his way to the Pit, reviewing the camera footage, rewinding time, and selecting the Pleasuring Room. He cocks his head when you first enter the room, setting down your fruit and heading over to the machine. 

  You tap haphazardly and become slightly startled after finally choosing a video, the same one that had recently been watched when he checked.  Initially scared, you gradually became captivated by the video, moving closer.

A deep growl emanates from his throat as your hand disappears beneath the fabric covering your lower body. Arm moving relentlessly, and thighs shaking. The Yautja can feel himself growing harder as you find your release, the lewd sound of your wetness filling the air. With a slight pinch of your nipple, you climax, causing Ahn'thu to grasp the arm of his chair to prevent himself from rushing to you.

   He reaches to replay the video, intending to watch it again while stroking himself, but he accidentally rewinds too far to the moment he had used the device. Switching the camera to the view outside the door, he pauses, enhancing the video quality and zooming in slightly.

  At the door stands your delicate human figure, observing him while you indulge in your own pleasure. Ahn'thu aligns the videos next to each other and emits a satisfied purr as you reach your climax at the same time as him, legs buckling. 

  He remembers hearing the pretty sound of your voice but didn't realize that you had been touching yourself to him. Ahn'thu watches the two newfound videos and strokes himself to completion, cum painting his body. He can't stop himself from heading to his room where you await with glistening thighs.

Lying sprawled on the bed, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, carrying away the remnants of earlier embarrassment. You had never been so driven by sex before but the thought of an Alien taking you against your will, fucking you mercilessly while you cried from pleasure, had consumed your every thought since you boarded the ship.   

  Your self-restraint has vanished, as you slide your hand into your shorts for what feels like the umpteenth time. Your swollen clit, already firm and pulsating, eagerly awaits your hard and rapid strokes.

The sound of heavy footsteps in the darkness sent a jolt of awareness through your body. You stiffen, your nipples hardening, and pussy tightening into a clinch. You can hear the breathy, deep growls of the Yautja in front of you. Can hear the deep inhales it takes of your scent. How long had he been there? When had the door opened? You're unsure but accept it with a little reluctance, tensing as his hot breath fans over your face. There's the distinctive sound of a blade being unsheathed before your top is cut open, leaving your breasts to spill out. 

“A-ah! Wait, what are yo— mph~” Your breath hitches into a moan as the alien's scalding mouth descends upon your left nipple. His hand ventures boldly between your thighs, seeking out your wet, warm pussy beneath the delicate silk of your shorts. 

With his thumb, he applies pressure to the throbbing bundle of nerves beneath the material and rubs at your clit. His teeth softly graze your nipple, sending a surge of pleasure coursing through you, coiling into a tight knot deep within your abdomen. Your hips buck uncontrollably, the waves of ecstasy building until you cry out in bliss as a powerful orgasm crashes over you. This sensation, unlike any self-induced pleasure, is intense, overwhelmingly pleasurable, and leaves you feeling incredibly sensitive.

A scorching inferno engulfs your entire being, setting your senses ablaze. As the Alien materializes before you, your mind spins with a heady mix of anticipation and arousal. His hands, resembling those of a primal reptile, explore the landscape of your body with a possessive hunger, his fingers delicately pinching and tugging your sensitive nipples.

   His commanding presence now hovers above you, his large, dome head nestled against your bosom, as his mouth hungrily claims your areola, a dark, sinuous tongue gliding sensually across your taut nipple, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in its wake, his teeth tantalizingly graze the puckered flesh. 

 “No, no more!”  Tears well up, pricking the edge of your lower lashes, as you defiantly shake your head. Drool escapes your mouth, cascading down your chin, while your feeble hands weakly attempt to push him away. Your hips involuntarily buck as the Predator's hand stealthily slides into your shorts. 

  A surge of slickness drools from your pulsating core as he expertly parts your folds, effortlessly locating your swollen clit. The coarse yet drenched tips of his fingers expertly manipulate your sensitive nerves, eliciting a chorus of moans and writhing movements. Your hands desperately clutch his wrist, your hips convulsively jerking and twisting in response.

His serpentine tongue finally grants respite to your tender nipple, but instead, it ventures closer to your ear. The gravelly, otherworldly timbre of his voice commands you to cum,  causing you to shriek as an intense climax engulfs you. Your entire being convulses as he persistently stimulates your hypersensitive clit. 

   Only when you emit soft whimpers and desperate pleas does he cease his assault. As your lungs gasp for air and your thighs quiver, you regain your ability to breathe, your eyes widening when you notice the bulging, pulsing thickness of his cock nestled between your calves. 

 “Please, no. Too big” You whimper softly, trying to roll over onto your stomach and crawl away from him. Ahn'thu ignores your feeble resistance, grabbing your thighs and turning you back onto your back. He spreads your legs apart, bending them towards your chest to expose your messy pussy. With a hungry look in his eyes, he rubs his cock against your wet folds, coating himself in your arousal.

 A sense of shame intertwines with an intoxicating thrill, coursing through your veins. You had been wanting to feel his cock deep inside you, to bask in the delightful heat of his cum cascading upon your quivering walls.

With a gentle nudge, the head of his pulsating shaft teases your throbbing clit, and you shudder, biting your lip. The Yautja is well aware of the challenge that awaits, as your tight and seemingly untouched pussy appears small and snug. Your plush lips part, forming a perfect 'o', while the room is filled with the sweet and genuine symphony of your moans.

    Lost in the throes of ecstasy, your eyes roll back, providing him with the perfect opportunity to thrust forward, filling you completely with his long cock. The whimper of pain that escapes your lips only intensifies his desire, causing him to jerk involuntarily within you.

  Your head writhes against the furs as your lips part to take in a breath, shaking your head once more, palms resting against his toned stomach to push him out of you. “A-ah, s’too big. Take it out!” He goes silent, stilling inside of you, eyes flitting over your tear-soaked face. His chest rumbles in a purr and your pussy clenches deliciously around him. 

At the feeling, Ahn'thu's body becomes restless, unable to remain still. Your velvety walls, sticky and warm, possess an irresistible hold on him, refusing to accommodate his size. He watches with awe as your figure arches, your breasts swaying and jiggling with each vigorous thrust.

  Already you're fucked silly, the thickness of his cock grinding mercilessly against your g-spot as you find yourself cumming hard and long. Your fervent cunt tightens and throbs around him, leaving a creamy ring of cum on his length.   

 "More."  You sob dumbly and shakily reach down and spread your folds open, watery eyes locking with him and tucking your lip into your mouth, rivulets of drool dribbling down your chin. As the Yautja thrusts into your eager pussy relentlessly, you release a soft whimper, surrendering to the ecstasy that consumes you. The alien's monstrous cock, unlike anything you've ever experienced, fills you to the brim, stretching you in ways you never thought possible.

    Your body quivers uncontrollably, yet you strive to regain composure, your breaths heavy and labored. A surge of pleasure electrifies your hips as a teasing finger brushes against your throbbing clit before vanishing. Another finger traces a tantalizing path along your inner thigh, skillfully finding your clit once more, tracing rough figure eights upon the bundle of nerves. Waves of pleasure crash over you relentlessly as your pussy convulses sporadically, each orgasm more intense than the last.

Ahn'thu lets out a primal roar as he spills his seed into your awaiting cunt and keeps it there, maneuvering your body into a mating press. The hot slosh of his cum filling you have you orgasming again and you whimper out his name, back arching. The Yautja looks down at your worn-out form and purrs softly, gently resting his forehead against yours. As your breathing steadies, you drift off to sleep in his arms. He keeps you like that,  ensuring his seed finds its place within you, determined to impregnate you with his offspring.

[slasherhaven]

Slashers with a significant other who is a cam girl and wants them to be in one of their videos? 💃

2 posts in 2 days who do I think I am? See ya'll in a year! /j

CW: NSFW

You do Cam Work and Ask the Slashers to be in your Videos:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is pretty conservative when it come to sex and such, but he's come around to your cam work, especially since you let him help with the details.

You like when he picks what you were or what scene you might do. You made Thomas feel like a part of it and that made him comfortable with it.

Still, he's very surprised when you ask if he wants to do a video with you. He refuses immediately and you respect that.

You ask again a while later but with more details. Like nobody would know who he was, you would keep his face out of the shot, and the two of you will do whatever he is comfortable with.

Your first video with him is of you riding him. His head isn't in the shot but the rest of his frame is. The size difference goes hard and your audience agrees.

Thomas is a flustered mess when you sit to read with comments with him. Everyone is talking about the new man in your video, gushing about how big he is and how attentive he is. Even with his size it seems your audience could sense his gentle soul, commenting on the chemistry you both have and how they would love to see him again!

Thanks to all the lovely comments, Thomas agrees to do another video even if he doesn't see himself putting his face on camera any time soon.

Michael Myers

Michael honestly does not care that you do cam work.

When you first ask him to be in a video, he pretty much ignores it.

But when you ask again some time later he doesn't see why not.

As long as his face isn't in the video or anything, you can film it, he doesn't really care.

The videos you make with him afterwards are pretty similar to your first video with him.

Usually you bent over while Michael fucks you to tears.

Michael is barely in the shot most of the time. Sometimes it just a close up on you, other times it includes Michael but only ever getting at high as his chest.

Everyone is obsessed with your mystery man. Where did he come from? What was that scar from? Can we see more of him please!!!

Jason Voorhees

We all know that Jason's comfort levels with sex is extremely low and it takes a while for him to become comfortable with physical intimacy. So cam work is certainly going to take some time for him to come around to.

And once he's become more comfortable with that, it's going to take a whole lot longer before he feels comfortable being in a video.

When he does decide to give it a go, he is a real hit!

He refuses to show his face on camera and you do whatever it takes to make sure he is as comfortable as possible.

Before Jason says you can use his name in videos and descriptions, your audience referred to him as 'the gentle giant', which is completely accurate!

No matter your usual content, Jason is nothing but gentle with you when he's in a video.

Brahms Heelshire

Watches your videos over and over again, he loves them. He'll watch you record them and watch them later once you've posted them. He can't get enough.

He's already got his pants off when you ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. You end up fucking even though you're not filming it.

He actually doesn't have much of a problem with having his face on camera. He's still a little insecure about his facial burns but you have alleviated most of that by this point.

And after the first video and he reads all those positive comments. Some are as horny for him as they are for you.

Fully embraces his new pornstar identity. He's insufferable.

He'll be in any video you want and your audience love watching you take care of your needy brat.

Bo Sinclair

Bo is in fully support of your work, it brings some money in and he gets to watch your videos. Even if his possessiveness still often gets the better of him. Whenever he reads comments of people praising you, Bo has an insatiable need to bend you over something just to prove a point.

Gets all cocky and arrogant when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

Needless to say, he agrees to do it.

And he takes to it pretty easily. He knows how to get all of his favourite reactions from you, how to get you pleading and begging for him, and he wants everyone watching to know.

Bo is arrogant and always smirking when the camera is on but it performs well.

He likes to how the camera and film himself entering you. He really does have a terrible ego.

Vincent Sinclair

It gets Vincent flustered, he could admit that, but he appreciates the artistic side of it all. It takes more effort and consideration than one might think!

He likes helping you get ready for a video and taking care of you afterwards.

He's hesitant when you first ask if he wants to be in a video. A part of him wants to do it with you but he's not confident enough in himself.

But he loves making you feel good and at this point he knows he's good at it, so he gives it a try. You can film them without posting them after all, like practise runs.

He may never show his face but he doesn't mind having his body on camera. Sometimes he even just hides his face with his hair instead of keeping his head out of the shot completely.

On Vincent's more self-conscious days, he'll film close ups of him fingering you instead.

He's very good with his hands and your audience agrees. They are very jealous of you.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is pretty neutral on your work, but of course he absolutely loves your videos.

He's mostly just surprised and flustered when you first ask if he wants to be in one of your videos. He thinks you're perfect so he understands why people would want to watch you, but he doesn't really see why people would want to watch him.

But he still agrees to it because he's your biggest supporter!!!

Your audience love the chemistry and intimacy between you both, leaving comments about how real your videos feel.

The videos that perform best are usually the ones where the two of you forgot you were even filming, just giggling together and enjoying each other. Lester gets all nervous and shy when the camera turns on, which is adorable, but forgetting that the camera is there really does help him perform better, the sweetheart.

Your audience love your more thought out and planned videos but appreciate the occasional more relaxed video with your sweet boyfriend.

Bubba Sawyer

Super flustered by your work but he's supportive.

Is super surprised and nervous when you ask if he wants to be in a video.

He agrees to give it a try once you explain that you can always delete it and nobody has to see it if he changes his mind or doesn't like it.

Bubba is just a big sweetie really, and you know just how to turn him into a squirming, blubbering mess.

And your audience love to watch you do it!

In later video's you do, you use the viewers' comments to fluster him even further. Using all the kindest and sweetest comments that say how lovely he is .

Come on, Bubs, they love you, they're being so nice. Why don't you say thank you?

Billy Lenz

Billy loves watching your videos and when you ask if he wants to be in a video with you, he is so excited!

He's completely down to make some home videos but he's a little unsure about putting it online for other people to see.

So you make it so his face isn't visible and let him watch the final edit before uploading it. He thinks it's so hot, he can't say no.

Honestly, you could do really well with just audios alone though. People will go wild for it. Billy unable to keep his mouth shut, all those desperate moans and whines and noises, the sticky wet slapping of skin. Honestly, a video element is just a bonus at this point.

And who gets off to the video the most? Billy obviously!

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Asa monitors your accounts anyway, even if you don't know it. He wants to know what you're posting and how people are responding. Don't want any bullies or trolls, right?

He's probably tried to manipulate you into suggesting it anyway.

He doesn't have much of a problem with your cam work, he's just a possessive bastard and would love to claim you in front of your entire audience.

The mask stays on!

Okay, he designs a new mask to avoid any chance of self criminalisation but whatever.

You two can make it big in BDSM communities.

Ties you up, blindfolds you, gags you. Whatever he feels like, but often seems to focus the camera on your reactions rather than on what he is doing to you. Studying his favourite little specimen.

Your audience already adored you of course, but they also love this new Dom you brought it.

There is no doubt as to who you belong to now.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Obviously Jesse has no problem with being on camera and he already has a pretty big ego, so he'll probably even wear the Chromeskull mask. It's his signature whether it's for his snuff films or your cam work.

Like Asa, you do absolute numbers in the BDSM community. Everyone is very pleased with his fully suited up, masked Dom that you brought in.

He already has his Chromeskull persona all fleshed out so he just brings that energy to your videos.

He's a sadistic Dom and you might have to upload an Aftercare video at some point just to reassure your more loyal audience that you're alright and always well taken care of afterwards.

Otis Driftwood

Is obviously a fan of your videos and isn't going to stop you from making them. You aren't actually fucking anyone else, so he's cool with it. And if he feels particularly jealous or possessive at some point, he knows he's the only one who can actually pin you down and have his way with you.

Oh yeah, he's down to make a few videos with you. He's probably got some old tapes of his own somewhere, long forgotten. He's not shy.

Says the filthiest shit, it kinda becomes his think on your platform.

Otis can be absolutely disgusting but, fortunately, there is an audience for that and they flood to your videos.

Calls you all sorts of names, asks you if you get off on knowing everyone is going to watch him fuck you. That everyone is going to see all the things you let him do to you.

Baby Firefly

Baby loves that you do cam work, she loves performing. She happily does your hair and makeup, she helps you pick out costumes and which toys you'll use in that video.

Hell, she's even filmed a video or two for you!

She's your number one supporter so of course she jumps on camera as soon as you ask if she wants to be in a video.

The two of you are all dolled up and she's magnetic, the audience love her as much as they love you.

The two of you are absolute menaces if you decide to do a livestream, pulling in huge donations because Baby is going to pout and taunt. Why should the two of you put on a show if they're not showing their appreciation properly?

Baby is the type to respond to very low donations with "it's alright, you can just say you're poor". She never promised to play nice and she just thinks you're worth more than that!!!

You end up apologising for her.

People are into it though.

Yautja (Predator)

Your mate doesn't quite get it but he's cool with it.

Is hard as soon as you ask if he wants to be in a video. Yautja's aren't very conservative or prudish when it comes to sex and nudity, so you weren't too surprised.

He loves the thought of taking you, of claiming you, and everyone knowing that you're his mate. That he's a worthy mate for you.

Even when he's a regular feature in your videos, he doesn't completely understand it, he just knows he's into it.

Everyone loves to watch you try to take him fully, the struggle, the determination, the satisfaction when you manage it.

You have cornered the Monster Fucker market. They don't know if it's real, if it's a very elaborate costume, or very realistic animation, either way they are eating it up.

All the other performers who use alien dildos and such are super jealous, obviously.

[killershrike]

Okay, but imagine a human giving their yautja lover a lemon for the first time. the yautja just chews the entire lemon whole, and you instantly burst out with laughter, causing your love to narrow their eyes in suspicion. But before they can question you, their entire face scrunches into disgust and mild horror. They can't spit it out because to waste a gift from you would be to dishonour their mate. So they're forced to chew through the intense foreign feeling, unable to stop their manibiles from clacking visciously in displeasure. You can't stop giggling, eyes watering as you have to cover your mouth to keep from bellowing laughter. Your yautja certainly doesn't find it as funny.

When they finish the nasty fruit they growl at you. "Ooman knew what would happen. Tricky ooman." And they reach out to pull you into their chest. "Will show you what happens when little ooman plays tricks." Their growl in your ear is seductive and makes you shudder instinctively.

You're already wondering how they would react to a lime next.

[thesillyestwilly]

Me when I see my little princesses 🥰😍 (They are full grown men and most of them are mentally ill and would probably kill me if I got near. The others aren't even human 💀)

[n0t-y0ur-piece-0f-cake]

The study of human social behaviour

Summary: you get kidnapped by Yautja, as well as some other people. You try to escape but in a twisted turn of events, you end up being an aliens mate for life.

Fem reader x male yautja

Warnings: NSFW, kidnapping, non-con/rape, violence, death, swearing, metion of forced pregnancy

MDNI / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

For everyone else: read at own risk

Not proof read, English is not my first language

---------- <3 ----------

"I remembered how I was sitting at my dining table, eating.

Just minding my business and trying to calm down from my stressful day at work. But everything changed with a sudden white light illuminating my surroundings completely." I said, looking into everyone's faces. We sat in a circle. On the cold white ground. What seemed to be LED lights shone so bright, it hurt my eyes at the beginning. Now my eyes didn't mind anymore. The walls were empty and cold.

I turned to look behind me. Looked at the big glass where these aliens are probably observing us. "And that's how I ended up here, in this room. That's all I know." My glance shifted right back at the group. We were three women and three men. Some acknowledged my story by nodding, others by just looking at me wide eyed. I was last to tell. Their stories weren't any diffrent. All of them experienced that white illuminating light. And then they were waking up in here.

I have no idea how long we've already been here. But probably not even a day. Neither do I have any idea what these aliens want from us. Or if they would be happy to tell us, if they even know our tongue.

For now we just sat around. Trying to wrap our mind around what we should do. What THEY would do. One guy threw in a idiotic plan on how he would try to escape, which was quickly shut down and discouraged by us. Why? Because we already saw these aliens. We saw how they were built and could easily lift a out of hand human, to throw them out. The guy they threw out was here again, but he was now quiet. I don't know what they did to him. He doesn't tell either.

After a while our conversations got more quiet, less frequent. I personally was frustrated there was nothing to pass time here. Frustrated I still don't know what the fuck they want. I was laying on the ground for a while now. Others laying too, or sitting against the wall. Suddenly the lights dimmed. I jump up and look around. See if I can spot any differences. Nothing. After a few seconds a big plate from underneath the viewing window was brought into the room. On it were various kind of fruits and vegetables from earth. We all looked at each other. Confused. Should we eat it? Is it poisoned? A woman took the first step. "I'm hungry!", she exclaimed. She took a Mango and bit right in it, peeling the skin then, when she punctured the Mango.

Everyone else followed. I did so too, grabbing an apple, inspecting it. I stood close to the viewing window. Out of curiosity I pressed my forehead against it, I could see the shape of these aliens. They stared at me. Noting something in their, what seemed to be, computers. I sat down on the ground. Just like everyone else. We were now gathered around the plate containing food.

After what seemed to be another hour, the light turned even more dim. Enough to see, but significantly more darker. "I have to use the toilet. Real bad", one of the guys said. "Use the corner?" The other guy said. One girl got mad and made a gagging sound "Are you crazy?" "Well where else is he supposed to go? There's nothing here!"

I look up at the window, and point at it. "Maybe we can ask them?" "Oh sure. Please mister or misses alien, give us a toilet." The guy who had to pee said mockingly. The girl that was still quiet since the beginning sighed and said we should give it a try. She stood up. She looked at all of us, unsure if she should really do it. I nodded. The pee guy nodded too. "Toilet! We need a toilet!" She screamed at the window. Nothing happened. I look through the window again making sure someone is even on the other side. Which yes they are. I look at the girl. "Do it again", I said. She screamed again. This time I joined in and banged my fist against the window. The guy who had to pee chuckled and mocked us again.

Suddenly the big plate was taken back. The sound of a motor made us all go quiet. We looked at where the sound came from. We all starred in awe as a new small room in a corner was build. The new walls including a door came out of the big walls. The motor kept whirring until it seemed to lock in. The guy who had to pee stood up and bolted for that room. As he opened the door he screamed out in ecstasy. "It's an actual fucking bathroom!" He slammed the door, locking it and doing his thing. We could hear muffled yelling. "It has a shower and everything, holy shit!"

The girl who was screaming at the window to get a toilet sat down again. We were all still in our spot. And the rest of the room was still empty. We were all in that corner as if the rest of the room is bad. The guy came back from his bathroom break. Sat down with us as well. I didn't know anyone. Not even their names. Would it be awkward to ask now? Whatever. I'll do it. "I'm Y/N."

They looked up at me. Silence.

"I'm Dave", said the pee guy. "Rachel." The girl that screamed but was always silent.

"Maria", she smiled as she said her name. The girl that was disgusted by the 'pee in the corner suggestion'. "Alexander. But Alex is cool too" said the guy who had lost his temper at the start and was taken by these aliens to god knows where but brought back.

The guy who suggested Dave to pee in the corner sighed. "Nick."

"Is that short for anything?" Maria asked. "Nicklas." Silence again. So now we know each others names. I was tired. I layed down. Some others followed soon after. Motor whirring came up again. We jumped up to look. Out of the wall came beds. For everyone one. They were lined up next to each other on one wall, next to the bathroom. We looked at each other again. We slowly stood up and went over. A fight soon came to ensue. No one wanted to sleep right next to the window. "One of the men have to go on that bed!" Rachel stood her ground. "Nuh uh", said Nick, "I won't let them grab me first!"

"There's not even a door there! To be frank the door is over there!", Dave pointed at the other wall, the door was disguised. The wall plate was over it, covering the door. We all know. Because Alex was taken through it. "Nick, they're always gonna be watching us, everyone of us. It doesn't matter." I said. Nick turned to me. "Then go ahead and sleep on this bed. It's all yours."

I rolled my eyes. I looked at it. At all of them. None of them had blankets. Only pillows and a matress. I nodded. "Fine." Since this discussing was over we all just laid down. Alex still sat on the foot end of his bed. Starring at the opposite wall and where the door is. I was too tired to hold more conversation today. And I don't want to push him. So I just fell asleep.

The next day was more of the same. Our day was started by being woken up by motor whirring sound. Another plate with the same food being brought in. But instead of grabbing something everyone groaned and made a run for the bathroom. Some were faster some slower. I stood up slowly. I didn't have to pee that badly. I passed Alex bed. He was still laying in it. Eyes closed. Snoring. He's a deep sleeper. The line became smaller and smaller. And at last we were all gathered around the table and eating. Except for Alex.

"What did he see?" Maria asked. Everyone shrugged their shoulders. Silence. Maybe no one wanted to keep talking about it because maybe these aliens will get mad. Understandable. We left some food for Alex on the plate. As we stood up and went back to our respective beds to sit down on soft ground the motor starter whirring again. The plate with Alex's food was taken back. Since I was closest to the window and the plate I jumped up and grabbed the left overs before it was fully gone.

I placed it at the foot end of my bed. Waiting on my bed for anything to happen. Dave stood up and banged his fist at the window. "We're bored!" Maria rolled her eyes. There was no reaction even after a while. "Ask for something specific." Rachel said. I nod. "Oh! Like a PC or something." We all looked at Maria's comment. "A PC? What would you want with that? I doubt they have earth Internet access or would allow us to use theirs. If they even have that." Dave said.

"Well they do have PCs so I think they might have Internet? But... yeah. Ask for something else maybe?" I said. Dave resumed banging on the window. "Give us paper and pen! Paper! Pen!" Alex was awoken by the comotion. He grunted. "Shut the fuck up!" Motor started whirring again. A table with a chair like thing appeared. Right in the middle. On it, was nothing. Dave turned to the window again. "For gods sake, Pen! Paper!" Another whirring. This time the plate where usually the food was, came with several pencils and a stack of paper.

Dave grabbed a pen and paper. "If you're up for it, let's play some paper games." Not even a minute later we all gathered on the ground playing 'Town, Country, River'.

It's been days now. Painted and written paper was scattered underneath our beds. We requested a few more things. Like music, but it was a Walkman or whatever you called them from the 80s. We tried requesting a movie, all we got was a Disc, but no TV or anything. It doesn't even say what kind of movie or other media it contains. We requested a flashlight because Maria started to freak out when the lights dimmed for the night, which they granted. We requested actual cooked meals. But all that came was questionable looking things. They tried their best but... didn't look to edible. We did taste it. Either it was bland or not cooked through. So we kept eating fruits and vegetables. Yes. We did try to request raw foods, even going as far as to write and draw the ingredients and what tools we'd need, but they didn't do anything. None of them ever came in since Alex little incident. Not until this day.

We weren't sure if they had cameras in this room or not. Or where their blindspots are. So we came up with something. Nick, who had suggested before that we should try and escape, 'invented' the human pile. We would throw ourselves on a pile, laying on the ground with our stomach, basically. So our heads would be looking down at the same spot in the middle and our heads would be so close together we'd maybe have the chance of a camera not catching what we write on a piece of paper. We'd also be stacked upon each other, and someone would have to hold Maria's flashlight so we could see what was written on the paper. Because that's how close our heads had to be. Of course these aliens must wonder and get suspicious what we'd do. So we started out with drawing really weird things like memes. Of course we'd laugh about it. We all hoped the aliens would think we were just doing some stupid human bonding stuff drawing these pictures.

And only in-between we wrote the plans and discussions for escaping. We'd black them out or overdraw them with memes. Just to make sure. Our plan so far? The strongest must pretend that he has a heart attack or something. Everyone else needs to back up against the empty wall and pretend to be scared, where the door is. So when they open it the second strongest and strongest can distract them aliens. But why try to escape? We were here since days. Pretty sure we're on a planet. Not ours but a planet. We can hear no big motor sound that made us think that we were still in space or something. Also the fruits and vegetables changed in shape, size and color that it made us think that these ones are not from earth anymore. They looked more alien yet earthly. Like they've ran out of earth veggies and fruits and now only have their similar stuff left.

Maybe we'd have a chance of surviving out there. But we won't stay here forever. We asked them on how long they plan on keeping us here. What they want. But no answer ever came. They just starred back at us through the window. We're not gonna die here.

The day of the plan finally came. We all kept acting as always. Wake up. Eat. Do something. Nick and Dave worked out, push ups, squats, whatever, trying go get more pumped up for later. Alex was still in bed, not yet getting up, but due to the circumstances fully awake. Maria, me and Rachel on the ground playing or drawing. Rachel then got up. She took some tomatoes from under her bed that she kept there from this morning and started screaming and acting weirdly. The plan has started.

Maria and I got up. Looking at her. The men turned to look at her. We all pretend to be in shock. She started throwing the tomatoes on the window. Taking the table and throwing it against the window. Dave shoved the table to the wall, where he ordered us to go and stay safe away from Rachel. Still the plan.

I felt my heart pumping hard. I am so nervous. This could go so wrong. Suddenly the plates were moved and the door was opened. An alien came in and headed towards Rachel. Dave immediately grabbed the table and smashed it down on the alien. They got into a fight, the table broke so Dave took a piece and hit it over and over again. The alien groaned. We ran towards the door. It was closed. There were buttons tho. Alex pressed the one he remembered the most from the day he was taken. It opened. Just as wanted to slip through the door closed on me and Dave. Dave got stuck between the door. It didn't do much. But the wall plates started moving to shut close. We heard the others scream from the other side. Nick and Rachel quickly taking over and running away with the other two.

The wall plates didn't stop. Dave screamed for help. I grabbed his arm and started to pull him, but his other arm was stuck in the door. He flexed it, twisted and turned it, but it was stuck. The wall finally came to a close. I screamed and looked away as a crunching noise emitted the room. I shut my eyes and held my ears with my hands that quickly let go of Dave. I looked at the ground. My back was turned to Dave. A puddle of blood came close to my shoes. I took away my hands from my ears. Listening if I could hear Dave speak or breath. Nothing. Silence.

I felt nauseous. I felt like I was about to drop dead myself. I couldn't bear looking back at him now. I dont want to see his crushed body. The alien that has been hit layed in front of me. Seemingly unconscious as he was still breathing. Defeated I sat down next to it. I couldn't even bear to sit on the bed now. I heard commotion behind me. The wall plates and door moving to open. Daves body hit the ground, before he was dragged out. When I was sure he was gone, I turned as well. Ther was no alien standing guard. So I jumped up and ran- but the unconscious alien grabbed my arm and jerked me right back down with one motion. He wasn't unconscious. He was pretending like we were. "Please let me go." I said, still trying to pull away but the alien was just too strong.

It got up. Its large frame hovering over me. It was wider than me too. His muscles seemed so large and its grip... two things that showed me that it could crush my skull easily if it wanted to. I was as well lifted up to stand. Another alien, unlike the one holding me, wore white instead of silver armor. The one now standing in the doorframe also seemed to wear more fabric. Was more covered. The one holding me seemed to wear the more basic armor or clothes. So I thought. They communicated in a tongue I couldn't understand. When they were done, the one holding me looked down to me, looking deeply into my eyes. I looked at it back. It's eyes shone yellow, against his dark, almost black and brown shades of reptile like skin.

I couldn't read its emotions. Out of no where it yanked me with it, dragging me god knows where. Are they going to put me down, out of my misery like the experiment animals that we maybe were? I was dragged out of the room, I jumped over the puddle of Daves blood. Feeling disgusted and being reminded about these sounds his body made. I'd never forget that. Hallways and hallways without end. We seemed to get into another testing facility. As it still dragged me, we passed embryos of various types of unrecognisable creatures kept in large tubes.

I didn't fully understand, couldn't grasp on it that quickly. Until we reached a empty room. It wasn't large. Maybe 10 feet in every direction. "Are you going to kill me?" I asked. The alien looked at me. It shook its head no. It could understand me. "What will you do then?" It tilted its head to the side. A deep voice, growling animalistic, started to speak. "Experiment." "Experiment?", I looked at it shocked. It could speak. But what does it mean? "What were you planning with my group?" It took a while until it could form another sentence, like as if it was trying to make sure it was using the right words. "Ooman social Experiment. But now they dead." It said in broken English.

I looked at it wide eyed. "You just wanted to observe our behaviour?" It nodded. "When ooman is entrapped, yes." "And then?"

"Let ooman free again, but oomans tried escape, now dead." My eyes widened even more. "You would have let us go??" A tear ran down my face, knowing we would have made it out alive anyways. "They're dead? I saw them run out!" "We killed." It said almost confident. I looked at it now with confusion. "So why not kill me, huh!?"

"Other experiment. I decide." I tilted my head now too. "Other experiment?" "Yes, but ooman will not get out of this." It said stepping closer to me. I took a step back, trying to create distance, it tried to grab my arms but I quickly turned and tried to get to the door. It did reach it, but I didn't know which button to press, neither did pressing all of them help. Or all of them at the same time, before it grabbed me by the waist, to slam me onto his frontal body. "No escape, ooman", it growled above my head. Not long after it placed its hands on my pants colar. I placed my hands on its arms, trying to get these arms away from there, knowing where this will go. My pants buttons were ripped right off, didn't matter how much I tried to get it away. It then pulled down all of that I wore underneath my waist. Now my bare ass and vagina were exposed to the cold air. One hand was placed right between my legs, cupping my vagina, while it's middle finger started working on my clit. It send out signals to my brain I didn't want. I yelped like a puppy. I saw how it threw a cloth to the side of us. I remember it, it was the cloth between its legs. That was seemingly worn as a type of pants.

I grabbed its arms, that was still cupping and working on my vagina, still trying to push it away, I clenched my legs together, making the feeling and every movement even more intense unwillingly. My yelps have turned into small gasps of air. I leaned back on its chest, looking up on it. "Please stop" I begged. It leaned down, so much so that I was made to bend over in the process. Its hand stopped cupping me. And the other was on my neck, its pressure on my neck and now waist made me arch my back. "Stay." It demanded. I whimpered, but I obeyed. Pleased that I stood still, I felt it part my fold with its fingers. If I wasn't sure if this alien was male before I was sure enough now.

Before I knew he placed the tip of his cock into my vagina, before grabbing my hips and slamming his length into me. A scream left my mouth. A pained one. It was something I never felt before. A girth what felt like almost 4 fingers wide and a length that hit my cervix on the first slam. And from what I could feel, he still had more, that just couldn't fit in. He leaned down back to me, so my back and his chest weren't ever to part. "Mate." He said. He started with a slow pace, i could feel more of his cocks texture. It seemed to have some kind of small knobs on it, on its shaft. My face felt hot. Almost burning. I didn't know where to place my hands, so i placed them on top of his. Almost grabbing him. "My mate." He growled even more as his breath seemed to picked up with his pace. Him hitting my cervix now harder made me squirm in pain, but at the same time it felt good. His pace got even more faster. My right hand traveled to his right side of his hip, trying to push him away, or at least to make him slow down. It was too much for me, as I let my head drop, my eyes roll back and soft moans now escaping my mouth, his pace dropped but his thrusts became more violent, as well as his grunts. Not long after he buried his cock as deep as he could, standing up straight and letting me feel his warm cum fill me, as he still held me in place with his hands on my hips.

I saw it drip down along my thighs, it was a glowing greenish substance. "My mate." It repeatedly muttered. My heart pace calmed down after a while. As well as my body seemed to as well. So he pulled out. "Ah'kun", he said, pointing to himself, before he put back on his cloth covering his dick. He left the room without a word.

I stood there trembling, unsure what to do now. How to even process what just happened or throughout the whole day to be exact. Ah'kun did come back after a while. Bringing another cloth, almost looking like fancy panties, with sumo like cloth in the front and back. He held it infrong of my feet. He wanted me to step in so he could make me wear it? I guess so. So i did. He pulled it up. It was almost a bit too tight. But it should do for now. In the same motion as he pulled up my new panties or pants, he undid my shirt and bra. Of course I tried to go against it, but he just didn't bother. He was still stronger. He disposed all of my clothes with a trashcan that came out by pressing something on an empty wall. Right after he dragged me out. I was now wearing nothing but these weird panties. "Forgot..." He said. Taking a necklace of his neck and binding it around mine. "What is that?" I asked, looking at the necklace seemingly made out of bones. "Shows everyone your mate. My mate."

I look at him. At this point, I wasn't a experiment to him anymore, wasn't I? He took my silence for an answer, that was good enough for him. As we stepped outside into the daylight, we were right. We were on a planet. A tropical one. With what almost looked like aztec pyramids. And it seemed to be normal that these aliens wore only these panties. Even the female ones. Only few wore armor. "Why don't they all have armor?" I looked at him, as he held my hand. "No hunters or warrior" he pointed at the majority that didn't wear armor. "And you?" I said, I looked back and forth at them and him. "I, elite hunter. You have luck, my mate." He started to get confident again.

"Why luck?" "Elite hunter, high status." He said even more confident. His ego definitely stroked. He dragged me down the stairs of the pyramid we were in. The lab pyramid I'm taking. As we stepped out of the shadow, it was even a smart idea of him to remove my warm clothing. Because the sun here was brutally hot.

We were walking for a bit, the other aliens looked at us, specifically me. Some talked with Ah'kun, in their native tongue of course. Giving him proud pats on the back. Was a human mate an achievement? A trophy? Who knows. I don't. We finally reached another pyramid, one of those many. "My home, you live now too, here."

He closed the door behind me. In here, the air was cool again. The decorations and furniture style felt similar to several antique human civilisations, but yet held their advanced alien touch. I looked everywhere. There was even an armor room. Where his helmets and other armor were displayed. A trophy room with several heads of all kinds of creatures.

I kept looking. I found everything you'd expect from an house. Bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, living room. And empty or barely filled rooms. "What's all the empty rooms for?" "Storage. And little ones." I tilted my head. "Little ones?" He nodded. Did he mean kids? Was I even able to give that to him? What was I thinking. When did I start to be okay with this? This isn't my planet. In that moment it dawned on me. Was this my life now? I started crying. Not just because of the fact that I was here, but because of all of this.

Ah'kun patted me caringly on the back. "You will be good mom, no worry."

[hornedmonsters]

"A'thaen" Yautja Oc x Reader - Mate - nsfw

Warnings: nsfw, size difference, dead animals, yautja seeks a partner, exophilia, teratophilia, monster x human, alien sex, slow burn, sex in water, sex outdoors, blood play, breeding - English is not my native language!

Synopsis: You used to live in a small house near a forest. But one day you sensed something, someone was watching you and brought you gifts. A strange creature that could kill you with sheer force and he was looking for a mate for life.

Words: 8k

German Version

You never worried about whether it was safe to live alone in an old house near the forest. The nearest big town was a good half hour away from you and it was rare for people to pass by. The letter carrier, maybe, but very rarely. Not even tourists or hikers were to be seen here. The nature around you was rough and a bear liked to sneak around the river near you. It was dangerous, especially in the salmon season, but you respected nature and its fauna and stuck to the rules:

Stay on the path.

Stay out of the way of mother animals.

Never get between predator and prey.

Make noises so that you are not suddenly confronted without warning.

And most importantly. Never travel in the dark without weapons. You had a weapon but never used it, you wanted to avoid it because you didn't see weapons as a positive thing. They only caused death and destruction and people had become dangerous beings through war and hatred. One of the reasons you lived out here.

You stared out of the window. Dark clouds were moving across the sky, it was definitely going to rain soon and somehow you were looking forward to it. You loved rain, it calmed you down and you always took one of your many books and made yourself comfortable on your sofa. Enjoying the peace and quiet, listening to the patter of the rain while the wind whistled outside and the trees gave way awkwardly under the force of the wind and the rain.

You flinched when you suddenly heard wolves howling in the distance. Puzzled, you looked up. Normally wolves had little desire to be active in this weather, at least that's what you thought, but you could hear how restless the otherwise brave predators were. You sat so still on your sofa, as if a murderer was going to jump in at any moment and you were trying not to attract attention because of the silence.

It was only seconds before an agonizing, screaming squeak made you tremble. It sounded like a wolf, but its wail was so high-pitched that it almost sounded like a child in agonizing pain. You swallowed. Your heart pounded and fear rose up inside you. What was out there?

The next scream made you flinch even more, but it didn't stop at two. A pack consisted of five to fourteen members. Alpha animals, kittens, puppies. Everything was there, sometimes even the grandparents were still there if they had a good chance of living. You knew the pack. You affectionately called them the River pack, because the wolves always stayed close to the river and had their territory there. The river was about five hundred meters from your home and you could clearly hear one wolf after another going silent. It made your blood run cold.

Something strange was going on out there. What kind of predator would kill an entire pack of at least seven animals just like that? There were seven of the Riverwolves at your last count. It was a comfortable pack size and you enjoyed watching them with your binoculars. A bear perhaps? But did bears ever attack a whole pack of wolves?

Out of paranoia you checked the door again, fine, it was locked. There was another door, it led into a small stable of sorts. But there was nothing in it, you had emptied it out and used it as a kind of lair as you had no animals. You no longer felt like reading, so you got ready for bed and went to sleep. Even though your pulse was still beating strongly against your skin.

It took a while for you to fall asleep, but when sleep pulled you in, it was deep and firm. You woke up refreshed and got out of bed. Your breakfast consisted only of an apple, as you were rarely hungry after getting up. You packed your bag and went out the door. You wanted to go for a walk, even though you were still feeling the effects of last night. But it always smelled so good after it had rained. Especially in the forest.

You hummed to yourself and went on your daily walk. You knew this route inside out, since you've lived here, you've always walked it as best you could. It led you past berry bushes where you had tasted some of the sweet fruits and every now and then you could spot a deer.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice how you were being watched. But how could you? The creature was invisible and hiding in one of the trees, staring at you like a vulture that had found new carrion. The creature followed you for a few meters and watched your every move. Almost curiously.

Your legs carried you unintentionally to the river, you wanted to see the area. Maybe you could find out what had killed the wolves, but it was as if nothing had ever happened. No blood, no cadavar, nothing! Someone had done a thorough job and you were beginning to fear that it might be poachers who were up to mischief here. You didn't see the danger coming, but He did.

A crack in the bush sent shivers down your spine and you turned cautiously. A large grizzly stepped out of the undergrowth. Its heavy panting made you gulp and you walked slowly backwards until you could feel the gravel under your shoes. Behind you was the riverbed and you considered jumping in, but at the same time you were worried that it might trigger the bear in front of you. Today was definitely not your day.

“Take it easy,” you whispered and tried to breathe calmly. But the bear in front of you stomped up, a growl came from its throat and then the male animal reared up in front of you in all its glory. Your eyes grew wide and your instincts kicked in, you ran. The bear's roar still in your ears, he was so close and tears welled up in your eyes. What had you done to deserve this now? What had you done wrong?

You really thought you were going to die, the thought of bears eating their prey alive and not bothering to kill them beforehand made your stomach churn. Your lungs burned and a root became your doom. You hadn't seen it and painfully you tripped over it and fell into the shallow water. You groaned as the stones tore open your knees and the bear's heavy gallops came closer. You were about to scramble to your feet just as the beast's huge jaws shot towards you. But things turned out differently than you had expected.

The grizzly was pushed aside with full force, but you couldn't see anyone. Even the bear seemed confused, but it sensed something. Now it was even angrier and another roar came from its mouth. He ran towards a place where there was no one, but it seemed different. The bear actually grabbed someone, but your eyes couldn't see him. For the time being. But then outlines flashed, they were hard to make out, they glowed, then they showed some skin. Dark skin, lizard-like. Confused and disturbed, you drew your brows together and watched the spectacle.

The bear didn't stand a chance, even though he put up a brave fight. He took blow after blow, but then he bit down when his half-invisible opponent briefly lost focus. Green liquid flowed out of the bear's mouth and it turned back in your direction. But before anything could happen to you, the bear howled. Its throat was severed with a smooth cut.

A strangled cry escaped your throat as the invisible creature lifted the lifeless body, which weighed a good three hundred kilos. Then it revealed itself. Its skin became clearer and you gulped as you looked at the large alien-like creature before you. Drenched in the blood of its victim. Under the red you could see obsidian skin, he was wearing a mask and you forgot to breathe. Would he kill you now too? Had he saved you?

“Thank you,” you breathed, not noticing the tears running down your cheeks as the adrenaline slowly wore off and you were safe for now. The alien tilted its head slightly and a clicking sound came from its mouth. You felt uncomfortable under his probing gaze. Then he threw the bear over his shoulder and left. You quickly got up and watched him go. He simply disappeared into the forest and left you alone. You held your hand to your chest and a weeping sigh escaped from your dry throat. You ran home as fast as you could. You had definitely had enough of today.

You avoided the forest for the next few days, you had little desire to get into a situation like that again, besides there was this creature you didn't know what it was. You tried to put things behind you, it hadn't returned and the bad weather outside made you sit in your cozy home and read your books again. You drank tea and tried not to think about that day anymore.

If he/she had wanted to kill you, he/she would have done it long ago. You sighed and put some more wood in your fireplace. Despite the heat, you were shivering and not even the raindrops on your window could calm down. Just when you thought you were at peace, there was a bang outside. Someone had knocked over your garbage cans, or something. You took a deep breath and stood up. Your feet carried you towards the door, your mind racing, wondering if you were doing the right thing and if you were about to die.

Your fingertips touched the knob and you cautiously opened the back door. You couldn't react at all when a heavy weight slammed against the wood and you landed on the floor with a yelp. A dull thud beside you. Your eyes widened after you rubbed your bottom painfully. There it was! Next to you, its dark skin covered in a green. Liquid that had to be his blood.

As if struck by lightning, you got up and examined the creature in front of you. It still had its helmet on, but a large notch adorned the metal. That wasn't there last time. A clicking sound drew you out of your spell. Your eyes scrutinized him critically. His breathing was heavy and he seemed to be injured. Should you really be helping him? But he had helped you too. You sigh.

You slowly walked towards him. A growl came from his throat and you flinched, raising your hands.

I don't want to hurt you, you whispered, and his helmet turned more in your direction. He was watching you intently, you felt it and it made you nervous.

“Let me help you,” you spoke slowly, hoping he understood. Another click, he seemed to be thinking. But then came a nod and carefully you moved closer to him.

“You have to take it off,” you whispered, looking at his helmet. The creature hesitated and only now did you see how tall it actually was. It had to be well over two meters. No wonder he could slay a bear with his bare claws.

He didn't even try to struggle to his feet as he almost grabbed the helmet. You heard a few clicks as if something was opening on the helmet and slowly it let go. You held your breath as you slowly saw what was hiding under the mask.

A large head, four fangs that could fold out, it reminded you of a spider and you shivered, silver eyes staring at you. It seemed almost amused when the creature noticed you staring at it, it had probably already expected such a reaction. But you remain calm.

You quickly fetch your first aid kit and get out the essentials. A bowl of warm water, thread and needle, everything was ready. You carefully started to wipe the blood off his smooth scales. You couldn't describe how it felt. He was neither cold nor warm, his obsidian black skin was dull and spikes grew out in places. He had long dreadlocks with blood red beads woven into them and his small silver eyes watched you intently. His muscles were firm and sinewy, it almost felt like he had metal plates underneath, but it was just his pure strength and he looked really strong. Big and powerful. You gulped.

His looks made you uneasy and you didn't know exactly what it was. Countless faded scars adorned his body, he must have fought a lot in his life. But one scar caught your eye the most. It was a large, elongated scar on his chest, it hadn't been a clean cut, it looked more like someone had tried to rip something out of his chest. You couldn't just survive something like that.

“Scared?” the creature suddenly croaked and you stiffened. It could talk?! You tried to stay cool and took a quick breath.

“No,” you said firmly and stared into his eyes, not wanting to appear weak. The next wound was on his chest and you gently stroked the rough flesh. He purred, but it didn't sound painful, more soothing… like he was… enjoying it. You tried to concentrate, but his mere presence made you fuzzy and the feel of his muscles under his skin made you weak. You gritted your teeth. Stop it, (y/n)! He's an alien, dammit!

“You like… what you… See?” he asked brokenly and you ignored the glow in your cheeks. He was toying with you, you saw the amusement in his eyes. His ego was bigger than he was and really, you should have kicked him out.

You didn't answer him, but started stitching up his wounds. His eyes were half closed and he was watching you with a predatory look. Under your hands you could feel how tense he was. He was still in flight mode and ready to kill at any moment.

“Why are you hurt?” you asked now and he clicked again.

“Fight,” he breathed deeply.

“What were you fighting? You defeated the bear with ease and there's nothing bigger out there,” he had remained silent and just continued to stare at you. You tensed up and now your eyes found his.

“There isn't anything bigger out there, is there?” you almost panicked. He snorted in exhaustion, but there was ambition in his eyes.

“Yes…, but…dead,” he growled, making a few more chirping sounds, ”I… have…killed.” That was the last thing he said before his eyes closed and he was gone. His body was apparently close to the limit and he must have really put a lot of strength into the fight. You looked at his wounds again, in peace. Now that he was asleep. He was really lucky they didn't go any deeper. He must really be an experienced fighter, what creature would mess with him?

You shook your head and washed your hands. Then you grabbed a pillow and a blanket and put his head on the pillow, then you put the blanket over him, even though he was way too big for it. But it was better than nothing.

What did you get yourself into?

The big robber slept until the next day. You got up, but he was no longer lying on the floor where he had last fallen asleep. Somehow you weren't surprised that he had left. He had no reason to stay. But at least he had tidied up the blanket and pillow. You sighed and put the first aid kit back in its place, but a rumble made you sit up. It came from outside your front door.

Astonished but curious, you opened the door only to see, with a stifled scream, a large grizzly skull lying on your porch. There was no flesh left on the bone and it had been thoroughly cleaned. You had a feeling that it was the grizzly that had attacked you a few days ago.

Hesitantly you picked up the skull, you had a slight idea who it could be from. But why did he give you a skull? You placed the skull on the ledge of your fireplace and looked at it. It made you tremble as you remembered how those teeth wanted to dig into your flesh.

It didn't stop with the skull. Every day… really every day, there was something on your doorstep. Skulls, whole animals that you could skin and jewelry made of bones and beautiful stones. You now had a whole ration of game meat and you barely had any room left in the freezer. You displayed the skulls on your fireplace. Wolves, foxes, birds, it was all there. There was even a cougar skull by the door, but there was one thing you liked best from the unusual gifts.

It was a necklace made of predator teeth with a beautiful red gemstone in the middle. You wondered where he had found it. There must have been gemstones out there somewhere, but it must have taken a lot of effort to find one. But you asked yourself one question every single day. Why? Why did this giant give you gifts and bring you food? He had no reason to, or was it his way of saying 'thank you' because you had helped him?

Then you investigated, you grabbed your laptop and went looking. As silly as it sounded, you typed in 'what animals give each other gifts' and read through a post. There are indeed animal species that give each other gifts to impress the female: birds, fish and even insects did it. Apart from that, chimpanzees did something similar. For meat and fruit, the females slept with the males and you swallowed. Was he trying to impress himself? As if that at the river when he lifted the bear wasn't impressive enough.

Shaking your head, you closed your laptop. You didn't believe this alien wanted anything from you, if only because you were human. It was almost ridiculous. You laughed, apart from the fact that he was an alien? A big, strange creature that could kill you with ease.

There was something else on the floor of your porch that day that gave you pause. It was… Flowers. The most beautiful you'd ever seen. You sat by the river and looked intently at the small bouquet of wildflowers. No one had ever given you a gift like this before and you didn't want to admit it, but it made you happy somehow and sent a pleasant tingle through your body.

“You… find beautiful?” the deep, robotic voice made you freeze and you gulped. He was here, only maybe a meter away from your weak form sitting on the floor. Slowly, you turned your head and there he stood. As if he hadn't been almost dead in your house recently.

“j..yeah…they're really pretty,” you said almost shyly and a slight smile crept onto your lips. He nodded and continued to look at you through the small eyes in his mask.

“Thank you,” he clicked, apparently he had acknowledged it with that. You thought about asking him why he gave you the gifts, your heart pounded and you hesitated.

“Why are you giving me so many presents?” You nervously played with the stems of the flowers and waited for the answer. Inwardly, you hoped that he would simply say that he did it because you helped him. But it didn't turn out as you expected.

“Gifts… for… partners,” he grunts and your eyes widen. You felt like you were about to faint, your heart was beating against your chest and it almost hurt. At the same time, your cheeks burned and you blushed. He saw you as a suitable partner?

“Courting… you,” came out of his mouth next.

“I don't think I'm a suitable partner for you. I'm a human and you're an-” you thought about what you could say because you felt ‘alien’ would be rude.

“Yautja,” he finished your sentence and you raised your eyebrows.

“Your kind call themselves Yautja?” he nodded.

“What are you doing here? Are you just here to find a mate?” you followed up and he shook his head. Then he pointed at himself with a claw.

“Going hunting… Xenomorph. But I sensed… suitable partner is… here,” he tried to explain. You could hear how hard it was for him to speak in your language, considering his speech consisted only of clicking noises and growls.

“I see,” you laughed, ‘I don't even know your name,’ his head cocked to the side, watching your lips curl. The sound coming from your mouth was foreign to him, but he thought it sounded pleasant. No Yautja female made such beautiful sounds. His instincts had not been wrong.

“A'thaen,” he growled, ”my name…, A'thaen.”

“That's a really… nice name. My name is (Y/n),” you introduced yourself and then the Yautja went down on his knees. He was still huge in front of you, but now you could look at him a little better without having to contort your neck completely.

“My instincts… led me… here. To you,” then he moved his claws and took off his mask. You were surprised by this, because he seemed to take this mask for hunting and it seemed really important to him.

“Become… my… Partner. I am… good, experienced hunter. Can… protect and… Provide,” he almost cooed and it made you blush how he was trying to woo you. But you weren't sure, you couldn't speak his language, nor did you know anything about his culture.

“I'm not sure. I don't know you at all and a few days ago I thought you were going to kill me,” you swallowed and you expected A'thaen to get angry, but he nodded again.

“Ki'sei,” he said and you didn't understand what he had said. But you were amazed that he seemed to have a language with words after all, not just clicking sounds. He saw the look on your face and was amused. “I… I see,” he rumbled, and then you understood.

“Give me time,” you spoke, now standing up, ”let me… get to know you. get to know you,” your nervousness grew. What would you get yourself into here? You didn't know him and could you even love him? He was an alien, yes. But the fact that he had saved you and made the effort to give you gifts made you see him in a different light. Even his appearance didn't really bother you much, why should it. He wasn't ugly or scary just because you didn't know what he looked like. On his planet, he was perhaps one of the prettiest.

His bright eyes scrutinized you. Only now did you notice that his eyes weren't completely silver. They were green-gold on the inside and you had to admit to yourself that you found them pretty. You woke up from your stupor when his large, long-clawed claw took one of your strands of hair. Not daring to move, your eyes met his.

“Sei'i,” he nodded at you, then let go of your strand and stood up.

“Take all the time… You need. No…hurry,” he growled and you felt relieved. So now you had the chance to meet him, a large alien who was over two meters tall and could kill a bear with ease.

A'thaen even accompanied you home. You had offered him the chance to sleep in the house so that he wouldn't have to sleep outside in the bad weather. He gratefully accepted. The bad weather actually didn't bother him much, he still had his smaller spaceship to sleep in. But he was reluctant to refuse to let him into your house. He didn't know why his instincts had chosen you, you are small, weak and human. But this awakened his protective instinct and he felt a great need to look after you.

He felt his body reacting to you, to your scent. Especially when you were scared. He couldn't deny that it excited him the way you were scared, it was just in his nature. He was an elite hunter. One of the best of his tribe, if not the best. He has killed many xenomorphs, many different types of large predators. On Earth and also on many other planets. Even humans have not been spared. Once he started he couldn't stop, he was in a bloodlust and that made him a feared hunter; his experience, his strength and his temperament made him the deadliest Yautja of his tribe.

His heart was cold and he did not let emotions get to him, something the younglings learned very early on. Especially when they were being trained as hunters, but then you came along. A little human who most likely couldn't even give birth to successors and clouded his mind. Your weak body aroused him and awakened his instincts, but he had to restrain himself. You were no Yautja female who could be fucked easily. You were fragile and probably wouldn't even be able to take all of him.

He wanted you gentle, he wanted you to come to him willingly and ask him to make you his and breed you. But deep down, he really wanted to be gentle. He was known to be a killer, a monster. But he would not harm his future female, he would look after you and kill anyone who could harm you. He wanted to be an equal lover. In fact, he didn't think much of the mating behavior that many Yautja had. Many females of his species mated with several males. It was neither about love nor about the shared feeling of being one. They simply wanted to reproduce, to satisfy their urges. But it annoyed him, he longed for something different, something gentle and long. For you. He only wanted you.

You thought about where he could sleep best. He was so big. Too big for the bed, too big for the couch. Your brain was working, then you thought of something. Since you were a frostbite, you still had some blankets in the wardrobe, which you fetched as quickly as possible. With great effort, you built him a bed right in front of the fireplace. Two mattresses and five blankets should be enough. A'thaen watched you with amusement and attention at the same time. No one had ever made a bed for him before and he admired how much effort you had put into it. His gaze fell on the fireplace and pride grew in his chest when he saw the gifts he had given you. You had kept all the skulls and the necklace was there too and he purred. He really liked it.

“How are your wounds,” your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to you. His head tilted slightly.

“Better… Wounds heal… Faster…, with Yautjas,” he explained and you nodded. His mandibles twitched and he could sense that you were nervous. He wondered why.

“May I see them?” you asked and A'thaen nodded, then began to undress. You blushed and the hunter in front of you could smell it, he could even hear your heartbeat and it made his ego grow. He liked the way you reacted, the way your body responded.

He took off his armor. Shoulder plates, arm guards, breastplate, knee armor and his stocking nets he took off, he also put down the plates on his loincloth. His wounds had healed completely, only pale patches were still visible and you were amazed. And now you could see him in his full glory.

His skin was matt black, only the skin on his chest, inner arms, thighs and palms was a few shades lighter. On his back you could see wild patterns and his skull plate was decorated with an ornament-like pattern. He had thick thighs and his upper arms also showed the pure strength that was in him. He had a thick mane of dreadlocks and you admired the beautiful blood-red beads that caught your eye the first time you saw him. They suited him. But what fascinated you the most were his eyes. You had never seen eyes like his before. They were like liquid silver and in the middle was this green-gold color that made him truly unique.

“Do you… still like what… you see?” he asked, croaking, his mandibles twitching. You shook your head in amusement.

“You have a really big ego, A'thaen,” and you had to chuckle. His mandibles twitched again as he heard the strange sound from you again. Hoomans called it 'laughter' or 'giggling'. Yautjas didn't have that, but he really liked hearing it from you.

Then he grabbed the tense bicep he'd lifted earlier with his one claw and pressed against the hard flesh.

“That… is big,” he growled and you rolled your eyes. What a show-off. But you couldn't ignore the way his taut biceps had an effect on you. His eyes flashed with pleasure as he could smell your scent changing again. You didn't want to admit that you liked him, but your body couldn't deny it.

“Do you like what you see?” you asked him now and he nodded immediately.

“Sei'i!”

You blushed, he hadn't even hesitated, you had. You had not yet admitted that you liked him, that he somehow managed to impress you, that his muscles were not foreign to you and his strength impressed you.

“A'ket'anu,” A'thaen chirped and you could have sworn his gaze turned affectionate. But alas, you didn't understand what he said.

“I think you need to teach me your language,” you grin sheepishly and with a chirp he agreed with you.

“Fine,” he growls, ”A'ket'anu… means… beautiful. Just like… You,” now you could swear your face was as red as a tomato. How could someone who looked so terrifying say such things?

“Will… teach you… Teach you,” he nodded. And he did. The next day, he had tried to teach you the basic words so that you could understand him better. It was difficult for you to emphasize the accents correctly, but the Yautja had a lot of patience. You spent a good two weeks learning.

“Not… bad,” he grunts, nodding at you appreciatively. You felt the pride in your chest and smiled.

“Why can you speak my language?” you asked curiously, setting down a cup of tea for the Yautja, who eyed it curiously.

“Been… often…on Planet. Earth. Have… quickly… learned,” he explained, tasting the flavored hot water. It was strange, but not bad.

“How old are you?” you asked next, wondering how old Yautjas could get.

“Three hundred years,” A'thaen replied and your mouth dropped open. Three hundred… Years? He didn't look old, if you could interpret it. He was strong, agile and well-built and apparently three hundred years was like young adulthood in Yautjas.

“That's really… old?” it sounded more like a question than a statement and A'thaen almost seemed offended, shaking her head.

“Three hundred very young… about the age… of a human… Between… twenty-three and twenty-seven. Approximately,” he explained and you nodded, not wanting to offend him, but three hundred years is a lot. He had told you more. About Yautja Prime, his life and the Xenomorph. You had to swallow, because they were the other big predators here on the planet and there had been some near you. It made you feel quite different to think that the strange and deadly creatures might have seen you a long time ago and it wouldn't have been long before they would have struck.

A'thaen noticed your discomfort and placed a heavy claw on your shoulder comfortingly, even though he didn't say anything. You could feel that he wanted to reassure you and you looked at him gratefully. But then he did something that made you tense every muscle. His claw began to stroke your collarbone. It was so big that it covered part of your breasts and it was an intoxicating sight. He was so big. You had never seen anything bigger.

Carefully he slid further and let his hand rest on your hips. He had rough hands, but it was pleasant the way he touched you and you had the dull feeling that on his home planet things weren't always really gentle when it came to such things. But it was the same here.

His thumb claw gently stroked the fat of your belly and he admired it, you were so soft. Your skin was smooth and not leathery and he began to purr. He could break through your skin so easily, a little more force and he would see a drop of blood ooze from the stitch. But he didn't, of course. His other hand grabbed your leg and he stood between your legs. You were imprisoned by the power he was using for good, now kneading the flesh of your thigh. You sighed blissfully and realized how much it fascinated him too. Logically, you were so different from him.

He continued kneading and again you sighed contentedly, he clicked. A'thaen absorbed every bit of information his touch triggered in him and your pleasurable sounds made him hard. He could feel his blood flowing into his cock and he was getting hard, but it wasn't the right time yet. He wanted you to trust him completely and want it too. Now he took his claw and traced from your navel up to your breasts, you whimpered at the touch and the way he lifted your breasts as his hand ran against them.

You weren't wearing a bra and the Predator's eyes could see your bursting nipples. They were already pebbly and a growl escaped his throat as he could now detect your scent. The tip of his thumb slid over your standing nipple and you closed your eyes, your brows crinkling. You had been trying to concentrate, to not let yourself get foggy. He hadn't even been here long and already you were letting an alien touch you and make you wet.

A'thaen became bolder and took your right breast completely in his large claw. The rough skin of his hand pads made you shiver and you felt so very sensitive. Of course, you were already familiar with sex, even though you had almost no male visitors out here. But you knew how to help yourself and now this was this huge alien who thought he could make you so wet with a single touch.

“A'thaen,” you sighed and your eyes looked at him pleadingly from under your lashes, but he didn't continue. His silver-green eyes just stared at you. You could hear him suck in the air and you could feel him tense up, but then he let go of you. Just like that, you looked at him, confused.

He couldn't make you his yet. A'thaen knew his tail would be far too big for you, at least at first, and it would take good preparation, even if you wanted something else. He needed to distract himself before he did something wrong, he didn't want to hurt you or do anything rash, so he went out of your house, hunting. You were still lying on the kitchen counter where you had sat before your little game, half confused and agitated.

With dizzy legs, you got up and looked after the Yautja as he quickly disappeared into the forest. Damn, he couldn't just abandon you like that, yet you were understanding and let him go.

A'thaen growled and the next moment he slammed his claws into a tree and ripped them out again. The wood splintered and left huge gouges. He had to distract himself, but the soft skin of you had burned into him and was driving him mad. He had been so close to making you his, breeding you and making you beg for more. He could have taken what he wanted with ease, but he didn't want you like that. Somehow he did want it, but he also wanted you to want him, because you also… loved him.

That word was so foreign, but also so close. Love… . Yautjas usually didn't know love, at least it was rare and they certainly didn't have love for another species. There were always exceptions and he had heard of some of his kind taking human females as mates.

But you were the one and he was about to go too far, but he could smell you wanting him and he could feel his cock getting hard again at the thought. He had checked out the surroundings through his mask. He would go hunting.

You were a little surprised when you saw the buck lying on your porch. At the same time, you were pleased. He was still here. A'thaen had not shown his face for seven days now and you had missed him, yet he had continued to give you gifts and you were very grateful for that.

On the eighth day, you used the time to cook. You cooked a stew from the venison and you could smell it all the way outside. You were so distracted that you didn't notice an invisible figure sneaking up behind you and placing large claws on your hips. You cried out and quickly turned around with a knife in your hand. But the blade was gripped by a claw and you widened your eyes.

“A'thaen!!! What the hell is this?” you sneered at him and he glared at you in amusement. Then you noticed the blade in his claw and green blood dripped along the metal. Your eyes immediately went wide in shock.

“Oh no! I'm so sorry… I-” he interrupted you.

“It's all right… I've… Worse,” he put the knife down and his eyes stared at the cut in his hand and the small hands of you holding it. So small and fragile. He didn't notice the cheeky gleam in his eyes as you thought of something.

“I know a good spot in the forest where you could go hunting,” you breathed and now his eyes were on your face, patterning you.

“About two kilometers from here, by a river. There are hot springs there too,” you almost whispered the last part, but he heard it anyway. You wanted your revenge and you were going to get it. You couldn't get his touch out of your mind and it had scared you how much you had reacted to him. But you didn't realize it was because of his pheromones, which were part of what made you want him. This effect was particularly noticeable with potential partners. It happened all by itself.

"I don't know this… place," he admitted and seemed to be pondering. Normally he chose his hunting spots himself, but he became curious. He was always up for new hunting grounds. He swung his head in your direction when he felt your hand on his forearm.

"You haven't seen each other for a long time. I-I missed you," you confessed to him and A'thaen's eyes widened briefly. You had missed him? Even though he had just left you standing there. His heart sank at that statement. He cooed and his large hand gently stroked your cheek.

"I missed… you too," he purred and a slight smile graced your face. You could feel your heart stopping and maybe you just had to admit to yourself that you found this alien attractive. You didn't feel weird about it, you found it exciting and you had nothing to lose.

"Would you like something to eat?" you asked him in his language and he seemed surprised. Had you continued to study diligently? Brave Hooman. He only now felt the hole in his stomach and nodded slightly. You gave him some of your stew and he gulped it down greedily without leaving a drop. You laughed. What a greedy mouth, but you couldn't help but notice the sauce running down his chin and you licked your lips. He noticed your look but said nothing. He just stored it away.

A'thaen walked through the forest, he wanted to go to the place you had suggested. He wanted to visit you this morning, but you weren't there. Since you were an independent being, he hadn't thought about it at first. Maybe you were getting things for Hooman. He paused when he noticed a scent, his mask scanned the area, but he found nothing at first. His mandibles clicked in surprise and he continued on.

But then he noticed something. As if from nowhere, a deer jumped out of a bush, with a quick movement he grabbed it easily before it could jump away. The animal's squealing made his instinct scream and with a skilled grip he ripped out the animal's vertebrae. The carcass hung limply in his claws, but he wasn't finished yet. He carefully cut open the chest and removed the heart, took off his mask and the hunger for blood permeated his veins as he bit into the bloody muscle and devoured it.

He noticed how he was slowly losing control and wanted more. With quick steps he pushed through the undergrowth, further and further and there he was again. That smell…, your smell. An electric shock shot through his body and he became suspicious, what were you doing out here in the forest? Had something happened to you?

When he pushed some of the bushes out of the way, he froze. There were some hot springs in front of him, there were several natural pools of different sizes and you were sitting in one of them, with your eyes closed.

"You were here pretty quickly," you grinned and opened your eyes. The sight of him was simply divine. The poor Yautja really had no idea what this was all about. Then a light went on in his head.

"You lured me here," he said in Yautja language and you grinned cheekily at him.

"Yes. As punishment for leaving me behind that one day, you have to watch me bathe now," you laughed and got up from the water. A'thaen's eyes became greedy when he saw your wet, smooth body. He could feel his tail twitching at you and a growl coming from his throat.

"Don't you dare tease me, Hooman," he growled and started to get dangerously close to you. He was really close to not being able to control himself anymore. You accepted the challenge and started to knead your breasts, which immediately made him growl loudly. You sighed and pinched one of your nipples between your fingers.

"I didn't think it was very nice that you touched me like that and then just left," you said, panting and feeling yourself getting wet. A'thaen was now dangerously close to you, he started to take off his armor and his loincloth was thrown to the side as well. Your eyes widened when you could see his thick length. But the sight of it emerging from his sheath, swollen and hard, also excited you.

Suddenly you were grabbed, a wave hit your thighs and stomach and you gasped as the Yautja pulled you towards him. His look was murderous and greedy.

"I wanted to mate with you when you were ready. If you loved me. Yautja almost always take what they want, but I didn't want to force you to be mine," he growled and you had to make an effort to understand him. But you did and now you understood what his problem was. He wanted your consent and it made your heart swell.

"Do you love me?" you asked him and his grip tightened so much that it almost hurt.

"Yes! I love you, ever since the first day I sat in my ship and felt you. When I felt that you were my partner and you don't know how much I hold back from taking you right here and filling you with all my seed that has been building up inside me for so long," his honest words impressed and excited you at the same time and your mouth was open. His silver eyes burned into yours and you were so ready to let him join you.

Your hand ran along his jaw and his eyelids drooped. He purred at your touch and his cock pressed against your stomach. Your hands continued to explore him, running over his toned chest, over his chiseled abs and to his powerful hips. You imagined how they would feel between your legs and you subconsciously bit your lip.

A'thaen had no patience left, he grabbed your hips and fell backwards. You clung to his shoulders and squealed as the water swayed against you. You were now sitting on his lap, in the middle of the hot springs and you weren't even sure if it was your own heat or the steaming springs.

"You… start," the Yautja growls, looking at you lovingly and lustfully at the same time.

"Don't want to… hurt you," he moans as you take his swollen cock in your hand. It was really thick and big, which didn't surprise you, but it also put you off a bit. Could you even take it?

You carefully placed yourself over him, you could feel how swollen you were and how much you wanted him now, so you gently lowered yourself onto him. A growl came from his chest as he could feel his glans slowly entering you and stretching you. Your mouth was open, it felt good, despite the fact that it burned slightly.

You moaned as you sank deeper, your head slightly back and your eyes closed. A'thaen could see the strong pulse in your neck and it drove him wild. How he wished he could be on top to take care of you and give you your satisfaction, but you knew you had to get used to his size first so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

He was almost completely inside you and you had never been as full as you were today. You didn't regret an inch of him being inside you. You could feel him slowly approaching your cervix and it made you pause for a moment, but suddenly he rocked his hips up and you moaned as a strange but familiar feeling ran through your body.

You hadn't had sex in a long time and having something like this now overstimulated your senses to the limit. You moved your hips forward and the delicious feeling gave you goosebumps. Your fingers dug into his forearms while he still held you tightly by the hips and you took full advantage of the fact that you were in charge.

Even though you could feel him bucking beneath you and throwing his head back. The water had long since mixed with the blood of his victims and you didn't care that it stuck to your palms, it just gave you a forbidden and disgusting kick.

"A'thaen," you gasped lustfully and moved faster. He growled and forced you to move even faster. Your mouth fell open again, it was so much, he was so much. His mandibles were wide open and came dangerously close to your face, but it didn't matter. You knew he wouldn't hurt you and you were too caught up in your intoxication.

You gasped and a scream escaped your lungs as his fangs dug into your shoulder and left his mark on you.

Your clitoris rubbed against his lower abdomen, making you even wetter. You rubbed yourself against him like an animal and felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You forgot the world around you as everything contracted and you didn't care much as your fingernails dug into his scaly skin and you moaned loudly as your orgasm flooded you with happiness hormones. A'thaen did the same. His claws pecked you as he came inside you, growling and snorting deeply.

You clung to his neck and tried to calm your rapid heartbeat. A'thaen's heartbeat was also uncontrollable and it was still twitching inside you. Sweat ran down your face and you just realized what you, you, had done. You were now tied to him. The four red dots on your shoulder made it pretty clear.

Gently but firmly, A'thaen grabbed your neck and forced you to look at him.

"You belong to me now," he growled and you just nodded and moaned as you felt his cock getting hard again inside you. He would now show you every day who you belonged to and you didn't mind. You were excited about the future with your companion.

Part 2 ?

[lace-coffin]

Hi! Can I ask how the slashers would feel if they ever accidentally hurt their s/o? Gender and everything is up to you!

How slashers would react to Accidently hurting their S/O

Thank you so much for my first ever request ah! I hope you enjoy 💖

Requests are open!

Warning for blood/injury - mild sexual content/reference to sexual activity and power dynamics -unhealthy relationships (I think?)

Reader is gender neutral!

Bubba sawyer

Most likely happened via Bubba playing too hard and Accidently pushing you over or being a bit too heavy handed with you. If it’s a case of them mistaking you for a victim and catching you with their chainsaw before being able to stop then they’ll be even more in inconsolable : (

Stops and stares for a minute to process what’s happened before devolving into full blown panic.

She’ll drop whatever she’s doing to carry you back to the house, even if that means letting the victim escape and having Drayton yell at her.

Will hurriedly explain in rushed sign to either Choptop or Nubbins to go take care of the victim as he’s busy caring for you.

Checks you over frantically. Please explain you’re going to be ok and help them calm down.

Once he knows you’re not in any danger he’ll feel absolutely awful about it and whine apologies to you even if you tell him that it’s ok and it wasn’t their fault.

Please comfort them once you feel better and reassure them.

Will insist you come up with a verbal and nonverbal sign to give if they’re accidently messing around to hard.

Will make you agree to stay in the house out of the way when victims are around so you don’t Accidently get hurt again.

Thomas Hewitt

After another night of Hoyt berating him for things out of his control, Tommy storms off to the basement to cool off. You follow after him, intending to comfort and wanting to help. You place a hand on his shoulder without thinking, forgetting he doesn’t enjoy physical touch without warning, thinking it might help. Whipping around he grabs your wrist a little too hard, causing you to wince.

He snatches his hand back as soon as he realises what he’s done.

Tommy will bring you to Luda may to have her check you over and assess the damage.

Once he knows you’re safe he’ll confine himself to the basement for a few days, only coming out to eat but even then it’s tense.

He’s truly sorry and feels like all those people who called him a monster and an animal were right, he hurt the one he cares about most, after all.

After a few days apart, a lot of hushed words of affirmation and kisses/nose bumps he’ll feel comfortable being with you again.

You know to let him cool off by himself and come to you when he’s ready after a heated argument now.

Michale Myers

You jump out at Michael thinking it would be funny to catch the shape off guard for once and not the other way around. Unfortunately this backfires and he swings his knife at you, thinking it may be an intruder since you’ve never pulled something like this before, You manage to jolt out of the way but the knife still catches you in the shoulder. Thankfully, it’s only superficial and will heal, but it still looks like it needs medical attention.

Initially Michael looks at you unamused, granted it’s hard to tell what he’s feeling underneath the mask. He gives you a kind of “well If you weren’t being dumb this wouldn’t have happened” attitude. However this is a front for the actual panic he refuses to show on the surface.

Having a few cuts and scratches isn’t super uncommon when your with Michael considering his tastes involving knives in bed ; )

Usually hurting others comes naturally and without remorse to Michael, so it shakes him to his core that he’s actively worrying about your wellbeing instead of feeling the usual indifference.

It disturbs him that he actually cares about someone enough to feel remorse for his actions.

After unceremoniously pulling your shirt off and looking the wound over he forces you go to A&E, practically marching your ass out the door.

Since he’s basically an escaped criminal he can’t exactly casually walk in the hospital with you, however he will stalk you the entire time, lurking close by to make sure you arrive and leave safely.

Although he usually has his guard up he vows to try be a little less bristly with you from now on if it means he doesn’t have to see you hurt and feel that awful tug of regret/worry in his chest.

Jason voorhees

You went out looking for Jason one night after he hadn’t returned to the cabin by his usual time. You were worried he’d been overpowered by a group of trespassers or caught in a trap and didn’t have any way to communicate that to you. The woods were beautiful but so dense and vast, getting lost or injured in the thick of them may as well be a death sentence.

Whilst searching for your missing partner you get your leg snagged in a bear trap he had set out previously for the trespassers. You howl in pain as you hear the sickening snap of your ankle between the traps jaws.

Jason was trudging his way back to the cabin when he heard it. Knowing that wasn’t a rougue teen as he’d cleared them out already, alarm bells went off in his head. He stormed to scene as fast as he could.

He could have sworn his undead heart stopped for the second time as he saw you sitting there in agony, murky blood seeping into the forest floor.

He rushes to your side and looks frantically between the trap and your teary face, he knows he’s going to have to disengage the traps and for you it’s going to be..less than pleasent.

He signs for you to grip onto his arm for support. Since he’s already dead and regenerates fairly quickly he feels it’s the least he can do to let you grip his arm for dear life as he wrenches the trap from your shattered ankle. If you cause any damage to his arm (which is very unlikely) it will heal up in no time anyway.

Once he’s carried you back to the cabin he’ll be frantically following Pamela’s directions in his head for what to do and how to clean/ wrap it.

If the damage is extensive he’ll relent and let you go to the hospital, only if a trusted friend takes you though, he’ll be sitting by the window of your shared cabin every minute until you return back to him.

You’re no longer aloud to be out in the woods after dark alone if he’s set traps. You both carry whistles now so if he’s not home and you need to know he’s safe you can whistle to each other and feel more at ease.

Billy Lenz

Interacting with Billy when he’s having an episode is never a good idea. You thought it would be fine to just be in the room though, providing you stay out of his way. As you enter, Billy is in the midst of trashing his attic once again, the disgusting feelings bubbling in his chest too much to bear. You enter just as he’s angrily thrown an old glass christmas ornament at the floor that the sorority had kept in storage. It shatters and flecks of sparkling glass scatter along the floor. One piece catching you in the hand in a nasty glass splinter. You swear under your breath and rush off to take care of it.

Billy doesn’t even realise what’s happened until you return to him, him now having exhausted himself and you knowing it’s safe to try do some damage control. You bring him a sandwich and juice knowing he’ll need it after all the energy and tears he just used up.

Your hands touch as he’s accepting the plate from you with a muted “thank you” and he notices the bandage.

Billy essentially bristles up like an angry cat at the idea of someone hurting his piggy and demands to know who did it and what happened.

Once you tell him it was actually from the ornament he feels horrible. He doesn’t even remember it happening with the state he was in.

He snuggles into the crook of your neck and mumbles apologies into your skin.

Billy will place sloppy kisses over it as an apology until you forgive him. (Not exactly hygenic since it’s an open wound but i mean…you’re dating the attic rat)

Brahms Heelshire

When living with Brahms there isn’t usually much to injure yourself on considering the estate is fairly out of the way from the rest of the village. You most likely caught yourself on a pair of sheers. Brahms is being stubborn about you being out of the house and slings the sheers in your general direction from the door frame when you ask for them. You don’t even notice you sliced your hand when catching them until you see a patch of blood soaking through your gardening gloves about ten minutes later.

You come in to grab a tea towel to wrap your bleeding finger in, not really fazed as it’s only a small cut. Brahms was lurking from the window as you tended to the hedges, not wanting to be away from you but not yet brave enough to tempt leaving the house he’s been in all these years.

As soon as he sees it he’s panicking, it’s only a little cut and you’re not concerned in the slightest but to Brahms you may as well have just came in with an arm missing. He’s instantly flittering around you asking if you’re ok and if you need a hospital.

You stifle your laugh at his over the top concern, you find it rather sweet, it’s not his fault he’s a little bit sheltered.

After cleaning the cut and bandaging it, it’s totally fine. If anything Brahms needs more reassuring and coddling than you do to get him to settle.

He apologises a thousand times for his attitude because he knows If he hadn’t been stroppy about you leaving the house and passed the sheers nicely then you wouldn’t have been hurt in the first place. He promises to try be more composed when he starts getting antsy.

He may need some ✨punishment✨ in order to encourage his behaviour change and to feel forgiven.

He begrudgingly lets you back outside to garden after about a week.

Asa Emory

If you’re the pet of Asa then it’s likely that most of your injuries are purposefully given from him and are no mistake. You’re poked and prodded often considering your residency in the collection. Wounds from experiments and correctional punishments when you disobey or refuse to submit are not uncommon at all. So it doesn’t bother him since he inflicted them. This also assures he cleans them with clinical precision. If you were anyone else he would leave the wounds to fester, if you died from a complication then that was just inconvenient. Not you though, you’ve caught his attention and heart. He loves you in his own domineering way.

If the wound was created by him on accident then he would give himself a hard time, chastising himself for his carelessness.

For example, if he had more trouble with law enforcement than he thought and that led to you to spending way more time in the trunk than you usually do, causing you to develop a sore from sitting in one cramped position for too long.

Asa would realise you’re injured once you’re let out of the trunk, hissing in pain as you stretch. He makes you show him where you’re hurting so he can inspect over it.

Despite Asa’s stony face his stomach is actively sinking. He knows you’re hurt because of him and it wasn’t purposeful or measured like it would be during a punishment. He sees this as failure in his pet care and it takes a blow to his god complex. Gods don’t make mistakes, but here he is, hurting his dolly by being so out of it.

He’ll make sure to clean it for you and even stop putting you in the trunk for a while. This does however still mean you’ll be attached to him via leash or chain connected to the ring sitting on his belt. Just because you’re hurt and his favourite toy, doesn’t mean he will except anything less than your complete and total submission.

He’ll be more tender and soft handed with you than usual for a while after. Punishments will be withheld until you heal. Then it’s back to normal routine as expected.

Predator/yautja

You were wearing a new perfume you’d picked up at the market during the day, You were only supposed to be getting meats and maybe a new fur for the bed but once the alien at the stand had convinced you to sample it you fell in love with it.

Your mate picks up on an unknown scent entering the house, hackles raising and stalking towards it. As soon as they catch the heat signature they throw a wrist blade in warning.

Their eyes widen in horror, rushing to the door as they catch scent of your tangly blood dripping onto the hardwood floor of your shared home.

The new perfume masked your familiar scent from them, making them believe the house was in danger and being intruded on. If their face could loose colour it would, cringing as they see the wrist blade sticking through your palm, groceries discarded at the door.

They start talking at you in rapid clicks before they realise you can’t actually understand. After making sure to keep the object in your hand so you don’t bleed out and that you’re not going to pass out on them, they insist on carrying you their medic instead of going to an ooman one.

They argue that their medicine is far more advanced and will heal your wound much more efficiently then your “ primitive ooman medicine”

Thanks to yautja medicine being far more advanced, It will heal like nothing ever happened in around two weeks. The wound stitched shut and given some kind of injection.

Your mate purrs and clicks for you deep from their chest the entire time you’re having the blade removed to try calm you.

They beg for forgiveness despite it literally being an accident and will need some reassurance that they haven’t failed you as a mate. Once you’re all healed up they’ll bring back an impressive skull from a hunt as an apology even if you’ve already forgiven them.

Whilst it’s healing you’re probably going be kept in the nest of furs and pulled tightly against them whilst they purr and sooth you.

My requests are open if you’d like to send any prompts or ideas for me to write!

[yeyinde]

the soft blue of a pale moon | Yautja x f!Reader

He keeps his claws fixed against the scruff of your neck. Forcing you down, bowed on your knees with your face tucked tight against his massive thigh, breathing in the stale scent of him. Even through the foreignness of it—the sharp burn of oxidising iron, rusted metal, and old, rotting blood—he smells good. Intoxicating. It makes you dizzy. Makes you greedy. For something. Survival, maybe. That instinctual drive, self-preservation, needling in your hindbrain to keep you alive.  Despite your reticence, you angle your chin up, glaring at this creature, this beast. This Cimmerian god of old. Stygian king in his throne of bones, his pretty pet, his plaything, supplicant by his side. You won't ever submit. Ever. 

warnings: noncon/dubcon. captive reader. predator/prey. forced submission. noncon D/s dynamics. forced mating. rough sex/violent sex. broken bones. belly bulge. biting. size difference. mentions of violence. scent kink (slight). marking/scarring (territorially, possessively). alien biology. alien genitalia. female presenting reader (female anatomy).

Yautja terms:Kainde Amedha — hard meat (refers primarily to xenomorphs)

Ooman — human

this is basically a Dark (from the 2010 avp video game lmao) x Reader fic. Yautja is not an OC. but you don't need to know anything at all from the game to read this.

lore:

comics, novels. divine wisdom.

The bed of furs is soft beneath you.

It's an odd juxtaposition compared to the uncanny harshness of the room you've been left in (held captive for days, weeks, months—) with its severe lines and its stark, unfamiliar geometry. The walls stained a strange, unearthly colour of brownish-gold, towering high into a domed ceiling etched with symbols and runes you've yet to decode. Ones you know you never will.

This whole place is otherworldly. Seemingly beyond the scope of science fiction, or what your meagre imagination can dream up. Reality. Fantasy. The two blend together to form this archaic, rustic interior that's somehow far too futuristic for your mind to understand, and yet shaded in use, in age. Space dust. Caught between old and new—new: unknown, unknowable—and utterly mesmerising despite the garishness of what lies outside beyond the edge of the pelts you rest on. 

Adorning the walls are an uncountable number of skulls and bleached white bones. Weaving spines strung up. Spindly, alien vertebrae. Fantastical creatures. Mythological beasts. It's something only the most inspired minds can conjure—

And yet, it all sits within reach. 

(The human skull on the wall, still attached to its spine, is perched over your head like an omen—)

You tear your gaze away from it, sliding over the trophies immortalised in a shrine dedicated to the prowess of the being who took you. An alien. Yautja, you’ve come to learn. Predatory hunters who roam the galaxies in search of the best prey. A race made of warriors with a strict honour code. 

Though—

You don’t know how honourable keeping captives are to their society, but none of the other massive beings had tried to intervene when he had taken you on the ship, hauled over his shoulder like a conquest, beating furious fists into his broad back. They stood back, chittering to themselves in what you know is laughter. Mocking clicks. Low trills. They thought it all so funny, outlandishly so, to see him stalk through the thick haze of fog that blanketed the ground with a yowling ooman clawing futilely at his back. 

(As if your weak, feeble fists could ever hope to maim, to hurt—)

You don't know why he decided to take you. Even now, aeons later as you pass by an unfathomable number of solar systems, all glimmering like crushed gems just beyond the domed window above your bed, you have no idea what brought this on. What made him look at you, and think—

Pet (mine). 

And it's not for a lack of trying, either. But trying to prise anything out of him is near impossible. Chiselling for gold with a plastic spoon. 

It leaves you with only one other villain in this story, and you very readily blame Weyland-Yutani for this mess—dig deeper, explore faster, mine harder—but yourself, more so, for signing your name on the dotted line in the first place. You knew it was a terrible idea from the beginning. Not too many planets are truly desolate these days. Not with those things, xenomorphs, roaming the solar system unhindered. 

Nothing good ever comes from meeting them. Death, inevitably, follows. 

Though, comparatively, you'd rather be sprawled out—naked, collared—on a bed of strange, soft fur than being used as a breeding sow for a race of parasitic monsters hellbent on devouring the galaxy. 

Panic is white hot, electric. The thought alone makes you lash out, a paroxysm of pure adrenaline, fear. Your hand flies to your chest instantly. Fingers knotting between your heaving breasts, feeling around for any movement under your skin. A beat. Several. All erratic. Thumping harshly against your ribcage. And—

Nothing. Just the erratic flutter of your heart, bragging senselessly in your chest. 

(stupid thing—)

Of course. Of course. 

Out of everyone on the ill-fated expedition, somehow only you survived. Holed up in the armoury, listening to those serpentine creatures tear into the flimsy metal of your ship. Taking out the ones who managed to sneak in with a well-placed shot to their domed heads. Hiding in a corner waiting for them to find you, wondering if the last few bullets should be used on them or yourself. 

It was days of that. Of piling these awful monsters high, and hoping the corrosive blood didn't ruin the hull to make an opening wide enough for them all to pour in, overwhelming you with your dwindling ammo. 

Breathing in ragged breaths, all the while listening to the hisses skirting across metal, grazing talons down your skull. They liked to taunt you, a fact that nearly drove you to the brink when all the meandering words uttered around about their hive-like simplicity, their insectoid stupidity, fell apart. These creatures are deadly, cunning. 

And smart.

They adapted easily to your patterns, overcoming your bullets and your patchwork ingenuity with ease. The only thing that kept them at bay was the metal being too thick to penetrate with their claws. 

(And you watched, helplessly, as they realised this after the second week, and sacrificed the smaller drones to splash their corrosive blood across the thickened alloy, melting it slowly down to nothing—)

They would have gotten you soon enough. 

Had to, really. Because the Queen was waiting. You heard her hisses in your head. Felt her in the air, disturbed and agitated, around you. Pulsing like a heartbeat. Hammering against your resolve with each nightmare she pressed into the folds of your subconsciousness. Luring you to her. Showing you the wonders of giving in, granting her access. 

Coming home—

You don’t know how anyone could withstand her influence. The siren’s call from down the hall, showing you image after image of her children curling protectively over you. Nestled in a tight embrace. Safe and sound from the howling winds and the scorching sun, from the awful hisses outside, and the horrific sound of metal giving way, melting into a puddle on the floor. 

It was madness. One you wanted nothing more than to give into—

And then they came. 

Appearing out of thin air just as your bullet pierced her jaw when she finally came for you, her child—

She fell, taking out several of the others with her—ones not on your list of alien species to look out for—and left behind nothing but a passel of intimidating creatures and you. 

He, their leader, was the first to find you. Grabbing you by the scruff of your neck like a misbehaving kitten, and pulling you close. Taking stock, you think, of the bodies behind you and the holes in the Queen made from your gun. 

An uneasy, stifling silence fell, broken by a series of drawn-out, low clicks. 

You realised then, right as he bent down and tore the claw off of a dead xenomorph, what these beings were. Hunters. Predators. It was rare to see them on earth, but you’d heard of several run-ins with these creatures whenever humans decided to mettle with their preferred prey. 

It was even rarer that any human survived the encounter. 

He cocked his head to the side before pressing the bloody tip to your cheek, branding you with the mark of the blooded. One that matched his own. Purposefully done, of course. 

His crest on your skin, unique as a thumbprint, is the loudest proclamation of his claim. Anyone from any number of clans that roam the heavens in search of prey, of hard meat, know, immediately, that you belong to him. That you bear his mark, branded with the scar of his respect. 

(Respect—such a weighty thing to carry across your shoulders, too. Something you'd been eager to obtain, hungering for it all your life. And now—

The blunt, almost suffocating heft of it feels permanent in a way you can't even begin to unravel.)

He'd taken you, then. Despite thinking of humans as soft meat, cattle, he'd thrown you over his shoulder and marched you to his quarters where he stripped the xenomorphs of their skin, and hung their bones on the wall—your trophies. Sat next to his own. A bold display. A show of respect, however rare—and unwanted. 

And then he'd stared at you through the black slits in his horned mask. Just watching. Studying. It took a great deal of composure not to weep. To beg for—

For something. 

Leniency, maybe. For whatever crimes you inadvertently perpetrated against them. For being here, of all places, because of the insatiable greed of Weyland-Yutani. 

For believing in them in the first place, maybe. Following, desperately, in the footsteps of your fallen idol. 

It never mattered much in the end, though. After a careful, blank scrutinisation, he'd simply reached down, talons digging painfully into your skin, and tossed you into the softest bed of furs—of pure, hedonistic luxury you'd ever felt—and followed you down with an inhuman growl that rattled through your bones. That seemed to echo throughout the ship, shaking the walls, and trembling through the floors.

The kicking and screaming never happened. Futility paints a desperate picture, doesn't it? And in those moments, now lost to time, you knew, somehow, that it was useless. Is useless. 

He wanted you. Him, the captain of this ship you've been left to rot inside of. The one who knows your language, but refuses to speak it. Preferring, instead, to let the guttural clicks and the chirring of his foreign, unspeakable mother tongue take precedence. 

The one who hunts, viciously, and wears his trophies around his neck. Strung up for all to see as they dangle across his broad, mottled chest. Black. Endlessly so. His colouring is shades darker than your own galactic canvas where midnight itself spills across satin, but the comparison itches in your chest, rotting along with your sickening heartbeat. 

And you think he knows this. Because despite his fury as he slashes his way through the oddest assortment of extraterrestrial creatures you've ever laid eyes upon, he's cunning. Smart. Adaptable. 

It's this, the strange, almost preternatural patience he exudes which keeps you where you lay now. The innate knowledge that he's a primal hunter, one who uses both instinct and a keen, calculative sense of awareness to ensnare his victims wholly, unquestionably. One who'd undoubtedly hunt you down to the very edges of the star system you escape into until you're bent down on both knees, supplicant to his prowess.

His little pet. 

And oh, how he luxuriates in it. This little moniker given to you by his clanmates seems to make him preen each time you hear the familiar, rasping click of their scornful mockery. 

Soft ooman. His ugly little trophy. 

He snaps his mandibles at them in response, but keeps his claws fixed against the scruff of your neck. Forcing you down, bowed on your knees with your face tucked tight against his massive thigh, breathing in the stale scent of him—ozone, leather, spice, and a potent musk of mildew and loam, humus; the stagnant waters of a swamp teeming with algae blooms. Even through the foreignness of it—the sharp burn of oxidising iron, rusted metal, and old, rotting blood—he smells good. Intoxicating. It makes you dizzy. Makes you greedy. For something. Survival, maybe. That instinctual drive, self-preservation, needling in your hindbrain to keep you alive. 

Despite your reticence, you angle your chin up, glaring at the creature, the beast. This Cimmerian god of old. Stygian king in his throne of bones. 

You won't ever submit. Ever.

But you can play the part—if only until he eases his grip, allowing you to slip away again. 

With a glower, you lay open kisses along the hard, leathery ridges of his black scute, chasing the oily tang of his musk on your tongue. 

The feel of your soft mouth makes his thighs tense—all firm, corded muscle; raw, primal power sheathed in a thick, aggregate pelt of marbled colours. It feels like warm stone under your fingers. Oiled leather. Crocodilian. 

His maw opens, and the sound that tumbles out is full of fractured syllables and inhuman chirrs, gutteral crepitate. It's not something your human tongue could ever expect to replicate, and your lips tug downward in a sharp frown, your displeasure at this game of his growing by the minute. His staunch refusal to speak your language despite clearly knowing it—and knowing it well—is aggrevating, if only for the sole reason that he kidnapped you. That you being here, listening to him, is not of your own free will. 

The scorn is thick on your tongue, the vitriolic rebuttal taking shape already, but he silences you when his thumb grazes your jaw. The air in your lungs tumbles out in a shudder when you feel the unnaturally soft, yet firm, skin of his palm slide around the back of your nape. 

The fight in you is numbed by the realisation that his hand alone spans the entire length of your shoulders, now curled possessively around your neck. Fingers overlapping, folding over each other easily into a perfect collar. 

His hand closing over your throat draws your eye to the ringed gorget he wears around his neck. 

The comparison makes you sick. 

The talons on his fingers are warm, powder-soft like the beak of a bird, when they tap against your throat as you swallow, thumb still stroking along the ridge of your jaw. It's shockingly intimate, and the humanness of it settles in your stomach like a sinking stone. Granite needling against soft tissue. Mercury bleeding into your guts. You hate it. 

Hate how much you don't hate it. 

The juxtaposition fills you with a fit of vicious anger. You don't want to seek comfort from this beast. 

Your gaze drops, resting churlishly on the thick skin of his belly. Despite the raw, indomitable strength that coils through his muscles, malleable obsidian, when he sits, the softness of his belly pudges out, jutting over the brass-coloured belt of his loincloth. 

It's—

Another marker of his uncanny likeness to the human form. 

But where you might have expected to see coarse hair, his lower belly is sparsely covered by a dense, thick cropping of quills trailing along his abdomen. They feel like softened polymer under your fingertips, but catch on your skin if you're not careful, the sharpened edge digging in. It's not as painful as the press of his nails, but itches like a thorn. Needles of a cactus. 

They stretch upward. Arching along in a perfect mockery of a happy trail that stretches to form a heavy bushel on his chest, small whiskers on his chin, his brow, dotted along the crest of his crown where his tresses fall. 

Dragging your gaze up this path leads you back to piercing amber set deep inside the bracket of his skull. They seem to glow, an unnatural light spilling out of their sockets, highlighting the rigid lines of his bones. 

He's watching you. Always. 

(You blame the rapid thud of your heart on fear.)

Knowing he has your attention now, he makes the noise again. Lower this time. A snarling rasp breaking apart between his flexing mandibles. The sound akin to the rumble of an avalanche; the roaring screams of a forest on fire. 

You have no hope of ever mimicking it—not without drinking down acid to corrode your vocal cords first. The anger that lashes through you is a whipcord cutting its tip against your resolve. 

“What are you saying? I don’t understand—”

His massive crown dips, mandibles clicking. His thumb presses into your skin. Intentional. Pointed. 

It's then you piece together that what he's saying isn't a command or a taunt, but rather his name. One you have no hope of ever repeating unless you want to turn your vocal cords into tatters, strips of unusable tissue. Wasting your words on his name is not something you think you would ever want to do. 

And so, you don't. 

Maybe it's to spite him. Or to put some semblance of distance between yourself and the alien holding you hostage, touching the skin of your neck with a soft sort of reverence you hadn't known he was capable of. Whatever the reason, you twist the ugliness inside of your chest, the rage and sorrow, into a brutal knife, wedging it into the scant space between your bodies, prying them apart in a shallow victory. 

He's a hideous thing, isn't he? This brute. 

Raw power. Untameable malice. All hidden under this pantomime of honour. How laughable, really, to think these beings know anything of the sort. Or maybe it's just him in particular. The outlier of the lot. One with a confounding obsession with ooman pets. 

Ugly, you think, staring up at him. With his sunken eyes, and his mane-like crown. His tusks clicking together in quiet pleasure, smug in his throne of metal and bone. 

Ugly, like the mossy green surface of a still swamp. Stagnant waters. A black lake. Shrouded by a dense, impenetrable cropping of weeping willows and mangroves. Shading the water so much that the algae blooms turn black like tar. 

Dark, like him. 

And so, you whisper it. Not his name, but this vindictive moniker you pieced together thinking of the lingering swamplands covered in moss and peat.

“Dark.”

In response, his nails rake over the back of your neck in both a warning, a reprimand; the same harsh touch used on an unruly cub by its mother. The comparison makes you bristle, hissing out a series of cruel jeers at him, but he barely pays it any mind, too busy chittering to himself now, humoured instead of insulted by this tangentially human name you've bestowed upon him. 

The juxtaposition, the humanness of it all, is almost too much. 

How can a creature that ripped a xenomorph’s jaw apart with his bare hands have these soft rolls along his midsection. Feel humour the same way your friends back home might have at your taunting barbs? 

The contrast is nearly comical. Sour. 

You don't like it when he's too human. When he scratches his warm talons along your nape absently. Thoughtless. A little twitch of his hand offering threadbare comfort in an unconscious whim. When he's tactile with you. Tensile. Gentle. Touching your skin with an exploratory sense of curiosity, of fondness. Laying you down on the furs with a tenderness that is at complete odds to the rough, demanding way he'll inevitably mate with you. 

Mate. Because your coupling is always animalistic. Brutal. There's no tenderness to be found when he presses you into the furs, rutting into you like a beast. Growling, snarling. Making you take, and take, and take until he's satiated—

But you think you like it that way. 

Especially when he's fresh off of a hunt. 

When he fucks you into the mattress with nothing but harrowing, inhuman roars spilling from deep within his heaving, blood-drenched chest. Guttural snarls. Harsh, demanding. Moulding your body to his liking. Grasping you in a crushing clutch, and drawing your aching hips back to swallow down the intense thickness of his cock as it buries deep—impossibly so—inside of you. 

You like him angry. Like him rough. It rents the moments when he's docile with you; bifurcating the peculiar sheen in his beady eyes when he lifts his mask off, placing it on the metal mantle with all the others, content to just stare at you. Looking, watching. Assessing. 

It's the unnatural stillness of his gaze that sets you on edge. The heavy, unerring way he takes you apart with nothing but deep amber drilling through your skin. 

Through because you've pieced enough together to know he can't see you the same way you can see him. That all the sharp angles of your features are hidden. The infinitesimal detailing lost to some wavelength your human eyes can't begin to take apart. 

He hides this weakness by touching you endlessly. Long, sharp talons dragging over the bridge of your nose. The dip in your chin, the angles of your jaw. The plumpness of your cheeks. 

He buries himself inside of you, and plays an exploratory game of committing your topography to memory with the soft, thick palms of his hands. Lets his long, rubbery tresses brush across your face as he sets a maddening pace that promises to one day snap your pelvis in half again, eyes glued to the centre of you where you burn the hottest. 

Between these moments is where you linger the longest. Oscillating between a pet or a mockery of a queen; supplicant to its owner, it's King. Head resting on a terribly massive thigh as he commandeers a ship that makes all the technological advancements of your home world seem rudimentary and crude. A child's rendition of a spaceship brought to life with broken crayons. Left there to bask in his prowess, his glory. Surrounded by artefacts and trophies of all his kills—but considerably lesser than the vastness of his quarters where he keeps his most prized possessions. 

Yourself included. Polished diamond perched on a satin pillow. 

One he keeps dressed up in armour, in plating; decorated in the traditional fabrics of his own kind—mesh netting that keeps you perfectly comfortable, acclimated to the unbearable swelter of their ship, the temperature almost too much for your fragile skin to handle; breastplates over your chest; a bronze loincloth with intricate webbing and a heavy belt to keep it in place. 

Adorned with pretty gems and metal bands around your neck, your arms. His mark on your skin. 

Belly bare, and offered no shoes. But this fact is not a pointed statement about your imprisonment or your status amongst them—it's just for the simple fact that he doesn't wear them, and so: neither should you. The axiom is so irrefutable, that the bare, gnomic revelation is almost obvious in hindsight. 

Obvious. In the same way a lightning strike is. Being torn to pieces for getting between a mother bear and her cubs. Falling off a cliff after dancing too close to the edge. Trying to swim in aerated water. 

Obvious. It's all so obvious, isn't it? 

You spend most of your days in this liminal labyrinth. Lost in your own mind as space flickers past the large window in front of you. Pinpricks of light in the distance of an endless, unfathomable black nothingness. Perched on the precipice of complacency and dread. Never knowing when he'll grow bored of this game, and turn you from a living emblem to a skull on his mantle like all the rest. 

If, of course, you're even worthy enough of a place there.

You just don't know. And that's the crux of it all. Not knowing. Kept on the brink. Shrouded in uncertainty. 

You'd think it intentional if you hadn't seen the way he preens under your stare sometimes. Flexing in his metal throne, showing off his array of scars; the trinkets he picked up on worlds unknown. The open, wanting way he regards you—this little human, barely a scrap of thing compared to him, to the sheer vastitude of his bulk. Hungry. Possessive. Always snapping his mandibles at the other Yautja who get too close, claws raking down flesh, spilling luminescent green blood across the floor. Injuring his own kind for attempting to touch you—

The King’s conquest. 

But his ire doesn't abate for you, either. You've learned the hard way what it means to try and flee from his grasp, and while it wasn't nearly as bloodied, as brutal, as it was for his kin, it was terrifying. 

You thought you were toeing the line before when you'd dig your human deep into his thickened hide as he kept you tucked to his side, on your knees for him; or when you tug so harshly at his tresses that green blood leaks from his skull and he howls in pain, but you realised then that you were wrong. That those little moments of mutiny were akin to foreplay to him. Small, inconsequential. Spilling his blood earned you marginal amounts of his respect, and he showed it by dumping you on his bed, and burying himself inside of you until you'd passed out into the furs. Overwhelmed. Punished. But it wasn't. You weren't being taught obedience by his hand, but rather getting a playful slap for your antics. 

He'd snatched you by your throat in an instant. His warm, soft palm enclosing over the fragile length of your neck with too much to spare for you to ever be comfortable. Long fingers overlapped across your nape, and he'd heaved you forward, slamming you into the hard plains of his body with a growl. Talons prickling into your skin, spilling blood down your back. He'd snarled so loud that the ship seemed to quiver, quaking under the sheer weight of his anger. 

Amber eyes drilled into you, widened with the fever of his fury, burying deep into your being. Your head wrenched side to side in a slow, agonising jolt as he assessed you. Taking stock of the silly pest that tried to run from him. That had the gall to slink off like an insect scurrying over his feet. Dishonourable.

This, though. 

Running from him—

Well.

In that moment, the air wrought with the metallic tang of his indomitable rage, you had thought: this was it. He was going to kill you. Flay your skin from muscle, and hang you in the rafters for the rest to gawk at. Easy prey. A fickle kill. 

And with everything you'd gleaned about this strange tribe and their odd customs, it would have been a mercy. 

But he didn't. 

Doesn't. 

His mandibles flare open, stretching out wide across his boxy jaw. The pinpricks of his teeth gleam in the hazy, saturated light of the ship; white, jagged peaks against fluttering, angry red. It shudders as he growls. The decibels pitched low, unfathomably so. You catch the spear of it rattling through his body, the rasping snark bellowing from the depths of his chest, and shaking the air around you. You can feel it reverberate from his flesh, the tight grip he has on you a conduit funnelling his anger straight into the middle of your throat. 

It reminds you of a territorial crocodile bellowing in the shallow water, making it vibrate and splash around him as the shattering frequency ripples outward. 

It's terrifying. Electric.

You feel it rattle through your bones. Feel the ripples trembling through your flesh. 

It's primal, this fear. Animal. 

But in the end, he doesn't kill you. 

You're simply tossed over his shoulder like a rowdy, misbehaving pest, and taken back to his room, much to the amusement of his gathering tribemates peeking out of their room to see their leader tend to his wilful, misbehaving pet. He strips you of your armour with a careless, almost cruel disregard before pushing you back on the bed. There's a rigid line to his shoulders you'd never seen before; a damning flex to his jaws that make you shake, quivering in fear. 

You know better than to speak, to beg. All it gets you in the end is a mocking series of clicks that you know enough to recognise as laughter. Instead, you take your punishment with your chin in the air, unwilling to submit the way he so clearly wants you to. 

Your supercilious scorn has his mandibles widening in anger once again, and he exercises his control by shoving you face-first into the bed, and burying his tusks into the meat of your shoulder, keeping you still under him. 

It's a clear warning. Move, it says, and his tusks will catch on your spine and rip it clean from your back. You still. Quiet. A prey animal lying prone, unmoving, at the feet of a chuffing predator as he mounts you from behind, rutting into you with a savagery that renders you into nothing more than a ruined heap under his bulk. 

For your attempted escape, you end up with more of his scars on your body, indents in the shape of his flared mandibles on your shoulders, and a fractured pelvis. It could be worse. You could've died. 

Should have, maybe. 

(is that a plea? an orison? 

and if so, why is it drenched in misery?)

And there is something vicious about the way he tends to your broken bones after, plunging the needle into your skin despite your howling, or the way you thrash. It's pure agony. The sensation how you imagine it must feel to be burned alive from the inside out. 

That, you think, is why he has no qualms about leaving you alone now. Wandering off, chasing trophies and honour on a planet just outside of the domed window above your bed. A vicious, red world tidally locked around a small dwarf. One half shrouded endlessly in black while the other burns, charred from the intensity of its star. In the middle, you know, is a small strip. A habitable zone, if only just. 

It's a place where a large, lumbering predator roams. One with towering antlers akin to the moose on earth, and jagged, spiked teeth protruding from its maw. The length is too much like a Sabre-toothed tiger for you to ever want to meet it face-to-face in the dark. 

Proper prey. A worthy trophy, they consider it. 

And, from the chittering you picked up, it seems that xenomorphs—kainde amedha—have found this place as well. 

The thought of them down there—spreading, growing, infecting—fills you with a potent sense of dread, one that gnaws on your insides with serrated teeth. Vicious and ugly, it lingers in crevasses where it pokes and prods at your fear, and your worries, until they split open, leaking putrid rot all over. 

It’s not that you’re worried about him. Not at all. 

(despite the nagging in your chest that whispers you’re a liar when you press your face into his side of the lavish bed of furs, greedily inhaling as much of his lingering musk as you can—)

He's gone off on hunts many times since you've been taken, and most of them end up on worlds already broken apart, infested, by those parasites. 

The notable difference is that brushes with them in the past never incurred much worry from you. If anything, you think you rather preferred it. Enjoyed the respite that came when he was gone, giving you a meagre ounce of freedom to think about all the (futile) ways you could escape. 

And mostly waiting. Waiting for someone at Weyland-Yutani to notice the glaring absence of one of their engineers. 

How laughable, really. Its echo is a false prophet whispering poison into your head, telling you that things will be over soon, that the higher-ups care less about profit margins than a whole fleet that went missing under garish circumstances on a planet you're soon beginning to think you never should have been sent to at all. 

Saves money on wages, you suppose. And the expense of sending a rescue fleet in to investigate costs more than your yearly salary. 

The bold, unignorable truth in that is a cruel, twisting knife to your agency. To the lingering remnants of your humanity, and worst of all, your hope. 

No one is coming. You've known this for a while now. The toxic hisses are part of the reason why you decided to try your luck on a massive, earth-like planet the first (and only) time you've tried to run. Because without that, without this fraudulent hope, what else are you left with if not him?

And now—

It's been an uncountable number of days. Weeks. 

Time in interstellar orbit is inconsequential. The beings themselves—yautja, you remember him hissing; garbled words mangled in his throat, and feel the burn in yours when you try to echo it in his tongue—have no reason to keep time, it seems. And even if they did, it's doubtful you would be able to interpret its abstract meaning. 

But even without traditional clocks or human measures and scales of time, you know that he's been gone much longer than before. Agitation seems to simmer in the air. The yautja—unblooded younglings; juveniles in their comparably archaic youth—that come to deliver your food seem—

Restless. 

Their maskless faces whisked in agitation. Shoulders set in a tense line. Eyes skewed toward the vast windows of the mothership, fraught with an eager sort of intensity. 

You know, first-hand, how brutal their hierarchy tends to be, and have seen Dark use a brute, savage dominance over the younger, disrespectful, ones who ignored his warning in the past. The amalgamation, then, of their excitement and their uncertainty screams one thing: 

he should have been back by now. 

And it—

It does something to you. 

Changes things, maybe. Skews your perspective. 

Because the reality is this: 

As much as you hate your circumstances, you're under no compunction that Dark isn't the sole reason you've been left, untouched, for so long. Why you're allowed to stay alive; to linger in his shadow, trailing after him like a lost dog. And you're barely certain that Dark won't turn around and kill you when the whim strikes him, much less his compatriots. His clanmates. 

It leaves two brutal truisms for you to contend with: that you need him; and that without him, you're dead. 

In that, you find there's almost too much to think about. 

So—

You lean back, staring up at the pale blue moons outside of your prison, and think of nothing because if you can't see the pendulum, if you don't stare down into the maw of the pit, then you can pretend neither are really there at all. 

You wake from a restless slumber to the door opening with a mechanised whirr, the rasp of heavy metals sliding against each other filling the air. A plume of thick fog billows up in response, shrouding the entrance in dense white. 

The cloud conceals their identity, but it doesn't matter much. No one has access to these chambers. No one but him. 

The long, sharpened talons on his toes clink against the floor as he approaches. Each footfall makes your heart jump, scattering in a strange, off-kilter rhythm. 

Through the fog, he appears. Battleworn, and filthy. Splotches of dulled green blood cover his body from head (where you note a few tresses have been ripped off, some at the crown where a pock gapes open, deep forest green, and others at the ends) to toe. The majority of it is covered in the low, angry light of the glowing metal, the colour of molten rock. It's shielded from your prying eyes as he moves forward, strides purposeful as he lugs his wares over the threshold. 

He comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, broad chest heaving with each breath he takes through the mask still on his face. You take stock of him as he stills, cataloguing each change to his appearance now—a new scar down the length of his chest, blistered and scabbed over from the healing salve they carry on their hunts. Part of it is hidden under a thick patch of burnt skin. The splatter whipping over his lower belly, and raising the toughened skin up half an inch. 

The infliction of both are immediately recognizable in their unmistakable pattern. 

The slash of a xenomorph’s claw ripping through skin, shredding through it like paper; and the jagged, rough burn of their blood as it rained down, unhinged, on bare flesh. 

He fought quite the battle, you note, and pretend the rapidness of your breath doesn't reek of relief. 

His hard-earned victory sits in his hands. 

The skull of a queen. 

The sickly white already polished and primed, ready for its place on his mantle. It should be there already. Should have been his first stop. Per tradition. 

But he breaks it by standing before you now, covered in grime and dried blood. Reeking of stale sweat. Of rot. And holding his wares in his hand for you to see. To take note of. He waits even though you know it costs him a great deal of effort to stand here, beaten, bruised, scarred, burnt as he is. Half of it is the same, undeniable stubbornness that they all seem to inherit; a weaponised sense of pride. The other—

Well.

The significance of this moment, of this break in a sacred routine, isn't lost on you, despite your best efforts to pretend otherwise. As much as you want to ignore it, it itches behind your ribs, pulsing like an infectious wound. 

It's only when he sways slightly in exhaustion, the movement almost indiscernible if you hadn't been watching him so intently, do you release him from this strange moment. Bowing your head down in quiet, muted submission; a reverent surrender to his indomitable prowess. 

This gentle, almost desultory yielding doesn't seem to click at first. He tilts his head down slightly, gazing at you through the black slits in his mask, seemingly uncomprehending as he takes in the sight of you—this errant little human who caused him nothing but trouble, offered nothing but mocking respect—bowing down to him after an indefinite time fighting to free yourself from under his thumb. 

Until—

It does. 

The massive, bleached skull of the queen is shoved in the air in a sudden chirr, pitched to the ceiling as he stomps his feet on the ground in an effort to widen his stance. Knees bent, he throws his head back, and lets out a ravenous, blood-curdling roar of victory. 

It bludgeons into you. The force of it winding when it hits, bruising along your skin in a throbbing ache. 

This doesn't so much as feel like toppling over the precipice, but already being caught in an unstoppable freefall. 

(one you're not sure will be an indefinite fall to the stagnation, stasis; or will send you crashing down to the jagged rock at the bottom of this vertiginous drop. 

the one thing you are certain of is this:

it's much too late to go back when you've already lept off the edge.)

—and so, the pit it is.

His thumbs pitch under the board curve of his mask, grazing the soft underside of his boxed chin. Carefully, he lays down a single finger at a time, resting it against the smooth surface before slowly lifting it off his face. 

When the humid air hits his flesh, his mandibles flare out. Flexing. An unconscious response, you now know, after being folded against his mouth to fit inside the helmet for so long. Joints aching. Muscles hinged with disuse. 

It's with this motion that you notice the absence of his left, lower mandible. The stump a mangled mess of cauterised flesh. It's ugly. Atrocious, even. The scars crisscrossing against moulted skin of pale amber and black are a harrowing emerald smear, an awful amalgamation of dried blood and gnarled tissue. 

The shock of it is dulled under the weight of his success, and it's then that you know you're too far gone to ever go back. Where there should be pity, and—shamefully—disgust, all you feel is an overwhelming sense of borrowed pride. Chiselled from the staunch set of his shoulders, the flex of his muscles, as he openly preens under your stare. Angling his chin downward, giving you a better glimpse of his battle scars. A hard-earned victory. 

A queen is no easy feat, after all. 

His eyes find yours in blood-red gloom. Burning amber, chiselled into the canyons of his unique, unmistakable topography, seems to drill, intensely, into you. They stray, travelling down the length of your nude body, barely covered by the pelts of his conquests. 

You spare a thought to the idea that seeing you this way, wearing nothing at all but his kills, is what makes his broad chest expand suddenly, shoulders pulling back as he preens. Puffing his plumage in a heady pride, a deep satisfaction that runs bone deep. 

Waiting for him, you think. Dressed only in the hide he skinned with his bare hands. 

He rumbles suddenly. Bellowing out a low, steady growl between his sharpened teeth. This noise is unlike anything you'd ever heard before—deep, unfathomably so; but hollow. It echoes, reverberating from his chest in a timorous pitch. 

You could almost mistake it for a leonine pur. 

He stalks towards you, and each step ignites a war within you. The urge to flee from this predator is fierce. Instinctual. It burns through you with a vicious force, but in that rippling intensity, kindling burns in the scorch marks left behind. 

Just as potent as the urge to run is, the want, the desire, to roll over and submit to this massive, powerful creature rages, blistering through you. 

But you force yourself to stay still. To wait as he moves, seamlessly, to you. Lighter now that he's stripped himself of the wrist gauntlets, the cannon mounted to his shoulder, his trophies, his kills—the dangling skulls from around his neck, and waist. The belt and loincloth were the first to go, freeing himself to display his immodesty, completely at ease in his own nudity. The thermal netting peeled off next, and dropped into a pile by his mantle. The chill—if a near-constant swelter could ever be considered such a thing—made his jaws flare out in the only sign of discomfort he would ever give, flexing under the slow acclimation to this balmy heat that clings to air. 

The heat, though—

Such a relentless thing. 

You feel the humidity burn through you as he walks, unashamedly bare, to you. An incredible length of skin unveiled for your prying eyes, glinting a devastating obsidian in the pale luminescence of the locked moons just outside the window. 

In this sparse light that trickles in, you let yourself grow bold, greedy, for the fill of him, and let your gaze trail down the pockets of quills dropping down his chest, his belly, until you meet the thick thatch on his groin. It's here where your breath catches. Hitching loudly in your throat as he comes to a standstill within your reach. 

As human as he sometimes appears—usually in the most inopportune times—you can't deny the obviousness in his extraterrestrial anatomy compared to yours, to human morphology. Birdbeak warm claws, tusk tips on mandibles, leathery skin connected through a series of irregular polygonal shapes in mossy black and blazing amber, baleen teeth sharpened to needlepoints—you would be remiss to think him human in anything other than silhouette. 

But arguably, the biggest shock (outside of his maw) is, of course, his cock. 

Softened, it's kept tucked away inside of a slightly bulging cloaca shaded in the same dark green hue as his outer arms, back, and legs. A dense cluster of quills sit in a thatch around it, protruding near his black, pebbled scute. It's firmer than you'd expected it to be, but softens near the opening where his cock emerges, intimidatingly long, thick. The fattened length of him, too, is foreign. 

The end tapers into a fleshy point. Along his shaft are barbs, small ridges that resemble the scute covering his body, if only softer. The reminder of them makes you tremble, skin heating. Feverish. It's indescribable, really. The way they drag along your sensitive flesh on the outstroke, the sensation dizzying. 

Covering his flesh is an oily, slick substance, and it's really only this natural lubricant that even allows taking the full length of him inside of you possible. The sheen of it glints in the light when he flexes his muscles, and steps closer to the bed, smearing slick against his thighs. Your mouth waters, flooding with the veracity of your insatiable want.  

(You hate him. Hate him. Want so him so badly that it feels like you're burning from the inside out—)

The push-pull of your submission, still at war with your innate sense of self, dims, quieting when he reaches the edge of the bed, cock in full view. The jut of it, now fully extended from his sheath, hangs, heavy and thick, between his legs, bobbing with his movements, twitching in his growing excitement. Prespend, slightly more watery in texture compared to a human man, gathers at the opening, dripping down to the floor beneath his feet. A long, pearlescent strand clings from his weeping slit, dropping to land on the flesh near his knee. 

The sight of it shouldn't be as sinful as it is—you’ve yet to find god amongst the stars and you doubt, very much, you ever will—but seeing the thick glob of his desire spill, leaking steadily from his twitching cock, fills you with a heady sense of want. Desire. 

He hasn't touched himself at all. Content, almost, to stare at you, head cocking to the side as his beady amber eyes drill into your lower belly, fixed on the spot where you burn the hottest. The heat signature you give off, blistering; red-hot, is probably the biggest appeal to a creature like him who sees in shades of yellows and reds. The mismatch of your complexion, the nude state of your body, is inconsequential to him when at your core, you're molten. And all for him. 

He knows this, too. Knows your body well enough to see the unmistakable burn of your desire. Your desperation. The slick growing between your parted thighs turns into a heavy, hot flood; pulsing full of electricity. The depth of your need grows increasingly uncomfortable the longer he waits, watching. You want him. Want this massive beast who stole you away, who held you down and made you take him, made you submit. 

And he wants you back. This Stygian king cut from ashlar, limned in shadows, wants you just as much—if not more. Went out of his way to burrow past your pitiful defences to bury himself as deeply as he could, rearranging your humanity into a likeness of his image; branding you with his mark, dressing you in clothes tailor-made to fit. Giving you the gift of his prowess—bones, skulls: trophies from the most fearsome predators in the galaxy left at your altar—in this mating dance, this outré ritual. 

His desire for you is overwhelming. Dangerous. Your hips twinge at the reminder of when he exercised his punishment, exiguous as it was compared to his sheer strength, smarting with the phantom burn of fractured bones as he gave in, infinitesimally, to this voracious yearning that smoulders, a constant ember, in the sunken depths of his eyes. 

Something surges through you at the thought of him holding back as much as he has, at the way he thickens just at the sight of your blood red need. It's a strange amalgamating of animalism (pure, unquantifiable primalism, bestial in its savagery; feral), and a heightened degree of pride—the sort that leaves you feeling godlike, peerless: transcendent, in the very essence of the word. 

He wants you. You. 

And in that, the vestiges of your control cessate. 

Submission, you find, feels too much like finding sanctuary amidst a raging wildfire.

In response, he trills. The thundering bellow vibrates through the air. An unmistakable pur of a beast successfully conquering its mate. 

He moves—soundless and surprisingly agile for such a mountainous creature; prodigious down to his every atom—and makes a slow, aching crawl to meet you on the bed. His knees, the size of your skull, press down first, making the basin of fur dip under the enormity of his heft. Encompassed in his shadow even with him kneeling before you, it makes the absurdity in your sizes more pronounced. Thighs thicker than the trunks of fir trees. Arms the width of your legs. His chest is the span of your own, just duplicated thrice. 

Dark is a beastly thing up close. 

There's a thrum in your throat; a heady pulse, throbbing with adrenaline cut by dormant fear. As if sensing death so close by, an atavistic caterwaul begins in your hindbrain, screaming at you to run, roll over, submit, play dead—the flickering of these prey responses an instinctual deluge that you quell, half-heartedly, with the knowledge that there's nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. 

He'll find you. Even if he has to hear the star system apart to do it. 

As if omnipotent to these weeping tendrils of animal fear, his broad chest trembles as he lets out a shallow pur. A softened bellow. The growl of a prowling cat on the Savannah. 

You shiver, fisting the fur in your slick palms until it bulges up between whitening knuckles. 

“Please,” is all you say, and you don't even know if this particular word registers to him at all. He never responded in the past to it (or stop, don't, no) outside of the rare occasion when he kept his helmet on, and mocked you with the garbled mimicry as he buried himself as deep inside of you as he could go. 

This time, though, his mandibles twitch. His maw gapes open, displaying an egregious set of terrifying teeth, and the flutter of his throat grows, undulating in jerking pulses of flesh, sliding over each other until—

Puh–le’e–suh—

It's butchered beyond recognition. Maimed in the flex of his corded, baleen throat. But the intention is there, and the implication more so. 

He spoke. 

And it's a broken, devastating mockery of your mother tongue, but the force of it all is a blow, a bludgeon unlike anything you'd ever felt. 

A whirlwind of emotions rage through you, all congealing into a muddled, indiscernible mess. It slips through your fingers, featherlight, but he doesn’t give you a moment to gather them together between your fists. 

His tresses fall over his broad shoulders as he prowls forward, tiring of this epoch already. The long, tubular strands frame you in a serried curtain of black as he looms—gargantuan, mythical—above you, head dipped down. The massive crown lists to the side when you lean back, instinctively, spine meeting the furs in tandem with his slow advance. 

The absence of his lower mandible when he flexes the others is novice in the liminal light that spills through the bulk of his body. You're not used to seeing him hurt like this. Ragged scars. Scorch marks tearing across his flesh. 

Reflexively, you reach up. The tips of your fingers are feather-soft against the dry tresses just behind the missing cluster. The ends of them are cauterised—a thick, metallic clump glued to the bottoms to keep him from bleeding. Another anatomical anomaly. 

Filled with veins and nerve endings, his tresses are far more sensitive to touch than the coarse hair of primates—the integument is different, too; rubbery to the touch, reminding you of polymer pipes or rubber bands, almost. 

At your gentle touch, he makes a noise, a shallow churr in the back of his throat; mandibles soon folding over his mouth after. Reactive, you find, and endlessly endearing for such a monstrous creature. Cute. 

A smile blooms at the notion of his sudden shyness. Such an outlandish thing for someone whose entire existence is narrowed down to honour and death. The pinch of his tusks elapsing over his maw fills you with a misplaced affection, a foreign growth metastasizing between your ribs. 

You're not sure what it is—survival instinct, maybe. The urge, the drive, to keep living despite yourself; a blot against the harsh reality of your predicament. It feels like the most likely one considering the other is genuine adoration. Unthinkable even now in spite of your willing submission. 

But thinking about this is a jagged dagger cutting through your insides. You shove it aside, hide it away. 

The soft touch—a mere whisper of your fingertips gliding along the surface of his tresses—takes on a more intentional drag, purposeful. You curl your index finger around a corded forelock, giving a small, impish tug just to make him jutter above you. 

His jaws flex, mandibles spreading slowly apart with a quiet, humid hiss. The heat brimming up once more as he curves his long mane over you, chin dipping down to encompass the entirety of your body under his. 

You can't help wondering if this is what it feels like to be devoured. 

And when he reaches the apex, eclipsing everything in your sight with the full, dark heft of him, hands fixed against the soft furs above your head, you think of a sanctum instead of a cage. 

(a swinging pendulum—)

The heat is unbearable with him over you like this. Made worse, somehow, when his hand lifts, falls to your waist. The width of it covers you entirely. Swallowed whole by palm. You tremble, and he eats your anticipation with a distinctive, preening click, turning you on your belly with an ease that knocks the air from your lungs. Barely a featherweight to him. The notion is scorching. 

The name he's given you is full rasping, mangled syllables your fleshy tongue could never begin to wrap around. In the absence of knowing how to speak it, you've begun to call him by your own human version of his namesake. It's this, the shortened, paltry whisper that rolls off your tongue when he presses the tapered tip of his cock against you. 

“Please, Dark—”

At the soft utterance of it, he snaps his hips harshly in retaliation, burrowing his cock inside of you in a quick, jarring thrust. 

It rents you in two, splits you down the middle. Your breaking point is surpassed in an instant; mettle fracturing, shattering on impact. It takes every ounce of willpower to cling to cognisance when he snarls through the last few inches of impaling you entirely. 

In the static tatters of your consciousness, the realisation—a startling polyphony of fear, trepidation, and awe—that this is him holding back lingers on the periphery. That, in itself, is the rekindling of your appetite; hunger gnaws on shallow need, unsatiated by the threadbare scraps it's been given to chew on. 

You say his name again. The whisper of it raw, wounded; scraping against your lacerated vocal cords, torn by the vicious howl, the shriek, that ripped through your chest when he seated himself deep inside of you. 

He responds by snapping his hips into yours, the barbed ridges on his cock licking across your nerve endings in the almost perfect zenith of pleasure and pain. It's nirvana, you think. With hell nipping sharply at its heels. 

The stretch—unlike anything you've ever felt before; incomparable outside of too much—burns furiously. The only thing keeping it from being impossible is the thick oil coating the length of him. The makeup of it must have analgesic properties, or some paralytic agent mixed in, because with each stroke, it soothes your raw flesh, erasing the pain of him inside of you, and leaving nothing but pure, unfettered sensation behind. It's just the thick, unrelenting press of him. The heaviness. The girth. 

It's good. Too good. Overwhelmingly so. 

A series of low clicks spilling out from his broad chest, the chirr of a rattlesnake. He must see it, the way your body floods with endorphins, with heat. The room, kept at an uncomfortable swelter, glues to your skin. Balmy, and achingly hot. The blister of it burrows deep, massing together into a molten core at the very apex of where he's buried inside of you. 

Drawn there, moth to a flame, your hand slides between the damp fur, now drenched in your sweat, and comes to rest on the prominent bulge shifting through your abdomen. His cock. 

Behind you, Dark lets out a susurrus hiss, and pauses the ruinous cants of his hips just long enough to let you feel for yourself how perfectly he changes your shape to fit himself inside. It's unmistakable, of course; but everything outside of raw feeling is liquified. Rendered numb. You know, somewhere, distantly, that this—feeling him through your muscle, your skin so distinctly that you can touch each ridge on his cock—is something that ought to break you, shatter you into pieces. The anatomical anomaly of having him stretch you like this, to this extent, is unfathomable. 

And yet—

He drags his cock out, and you whimper, mindless, stupid, at the sudden loss of him. 

You don't feel complete unless he's buried within you. 

And despite yourself, the somnolence lapping at you, a part of you wonders if this is a symptom of that paralytic agent—musk, pheromones, miasma, poison—blotting out all logic, and inducing a soporific desperation, a vacuous need for him and him alone. One that makes wholeness out of the heavy press of his cock. 

If it is, it doesn't matter much anymore. 

You're too far gone, lost to the throes of it, to care about anything else. 

A good thing, perhaps, because with Dark, it's always a selfish coupling. He pays no real heed to your pleasure, fully under the belief that his cock splitting you apart is enough. 

And damn you—damn your treacherous body—it is. 

Each brutal cant of his powerful hips slamming into you sends waves of pleasure roaring down your spine. To be pried apart, stuffed full of the overwhelming surplus of his girth notches against something inside of you that makes your bones liquid, your marrow running molten. Burning you up from the inside out. 

You clench around him desperately, fingers knotting into the furs below, squeezing it tight in a vice. Trying, futilely, to cling to some sense of cognisance despite the vicious way he takes you apart. Atom by atom. Synapses bloating, crackling under the strain. 

He fucks you like beast. All vicious snarls, guttural rasps; blood is drawn when his claws catch your skin, tearing it open like tissue paper. The sting is buried under the layers of sensation tunnelling through your body. 

Pleasure, pain: equilibrium met on the cusp. Aided, in large part, by the frenzied way he ruts you; fractured, careless. Bullying himself into you until the tapered tip of his cock bruises your cervix—more battering ram than flesh; eager to wrench you open, spill himself inside of your womb. 

You can't imagine what this must be like when he isn't holding back. Horrific, maybe. Blood, bruises. Torn skin. No wonder their hide is so thick. 

But even this—tamed, as it might be—feels like a battle. A war. He spears you open, chirring the whole time as he curls over you, protective and awful, the motion forcing the last few inches of him into you. Bruised, aching, you whimper at the feeling of his sheath, white-hot and soaked with your slick, cupping your drenched cunt. He holds himself there, as deep as he can possibly go—tip a bludgeon against your cervix, stretched wide around the thick of him—and lets out another long, low pur that rumbles through you. Teeth chatter from the vibrations, delirious and bordering on the equinox of absolute damnation, your pussy clenches around his cock, each ridge and divot more pronounced than before. 

Overwrought with bliss, with a nauseating pain, you keen in response to his deep bellow, feeling more animal than ever before. 

Driven purely by instinct, you push back into him, thighs slapping against his own. The power in his muscles, the contrast between your supple, soft body and his, iron wrapped in thick, crocodilian skin, is flint striking steel. 

A mere tinderbox, your body erupts in a devastating heat. 

The burst of molten red makes him reel back, barbs catching on your sensitive skin. It's too much, too much—

He thrusts back into your spasming cunt with a shuddering roar, the sound alone—the lewd, drenched squelch of him splitting you apart—tugs the knot inside of you past its breaking point. As his claws rip through the pretty fawn fur, shredding them to pieces as he grips tight in an effort to piston his cock as fast as he can into your aching pussy, you find yourself tipping over the precipice in a stumbling fall. The force of it, the suddenness, is agonising, edging immediately into overstimulation when the deep, heavy jut of his cock head burrowing into your fluttering walls doesn't cease. It's—

White noise. Static. Your head is galvanised into slush, slurried into liquid pleasure that thrashes and writhes in your core, nerve endings set aflame in a wet, hot inferno under his bulk. 

You puddle under him, burning with the aftershocks. Body melting, useless and spent, into the sheets as he drives into you with the single-minded purpose of reaching his own cataclysmic end. Numbed now, all you feel is an intense, dizzying pressure pulsing molten inside of you. 

Dark braces himself over you, content to just rut deep into you, barely pulling the full, heavy length of himself out of your aching sex. With anyone else, it might be considered sloppy—a messy, desperate coupling, but even this much with him is devastating. Ruinous. 

It's a maelstrom. A bleak, calamitous fall to the bottom of a blackened pit. 

And with a savage, brutal plunge, he buries himself inside of you again, prising the soft plug of your womb open with a brutish roar—deep, broken; bellowed at the heavens—and you feel the steady pulse of him inside of you, filling you. It's too much—his fat, heavy girth, and the copious amounts of his spent stretch you past your limit, teeth raking across your mettle, and the bulge in your lower abdomen grows taut as he floods you with his release. 

The end of the pit looms, and from the chasm, a jagged maw gapes open, gnashing its teeth at you in rapacious anticipation as you careen toward its empty gullet. Falling, falling, falling—

And in the midst of it all, you think this might be what dying feels like.

Your cognisance is drawn together in pieces, inchmeal. 

A slow, gradual crawl out of slumber, the tugging threads of hypnagogia clinging to your rheum-heavy eyes. 

Furs stick to your damp body, some pulling loose when you shift away from the uncomfortable, sweat-soaked puddle of heat beneath you. 

Nausea roils through your belly, pulsing with dreadful synchronicity to the throbbing ache in your pelvis. In an effort to quell the feeling of your insides folding over themselves in a damning knot, you gingerly press the tips of your fingers to the spot that aches the most, feeling the raised indent of a contusion under your pads. 

It makes you blink up at the domed ceiling, head lifting to catch a glimpse of soft flesh near your hip. 

Through the midnight spill of your skin, you can see the tumid ridge bubbling up slightly higher than the rest of your flesh. In the middle is a small dot. An injection sight. 

You realise, with a huff, that he must have broken your pelvis again. Unintentionally, this time. Caught up in your feverish coupling. 

It makes sense. Your bones feel shattered beyond repair, but you know that they're knitted back together, suffused with the medicinal magic their healing injections have. 

The thought should scare you. Be it the ease in which he can break your bones, snapping them into pieces; or whatever it is he's pumping into your body to heal it, but it slips, diaphanous and ephemeral, from your tangled thoughts. Untouchable now, slowly fading into the background. 

The marbled quiet of your mind is broken when you feel him move beside you. His massive paw falls on your crown, covering the entirety of your head with an ease that you can't imagine ever not leaving you a little breathless at the scale, the vastness in your differing sizes. It rests there for a moment, leaching the warmth from your cap like a satiated, languorous reptile. A sluggish snake still digesting its oversized meat. 

A series of clicks spill when you lull your head over to meet the burning yellow of his gaze, everything awash under the heavy scent of sex and loam. Stale sweat, iron. You breathe it in, blinking in the soft blue light of the pale moons spilling in from the window of the ship. 

He lounges like a satiated cat. His legs spread akimbo; his other hand resting on his chest. The narrowing of his eyes, too, reminds you of a well-fed feline, squinting into a dewy oblivion. 

With a deftness you can't keep up with, his hands shift, reaching out to take hold of you when the sleep drips from your eyes. It takes no real effort at all for him to drag you to rest between his spread thighs, head pillowed on the tuffs of quills covering his lower belly. 

There's a twinge in your hips, but it's numbed by the palliative magic of the injection, pulsing like the soft beat of a headache through your bones. It'll hurt something awful later on when it begins to wear off, leaving you feeling more like a massive contusion than a person. But that's later. Much later. And as he rests his palm, warmed by your heat, against your nape, you find you don't mind the tenderness much at all, content to bask in the evidence of your coupling simmering, electric, between you, distinct in the air. An ozoneous tang. Heady. A sour, earthy miasma. 

You breathe it in. Breathe him in. 

And in the slow, soporific spool of your weaving thoughts, you can't help but wonder what he thinks of this, of you, as he reclines in the fur. Nothing at all, perhaps. 

Or maybe something. Something you can't even begin to unravel. An archaic, primordial sort of want—animalistic, alien. The kind that would make him scar his own kind for gnashing their claws at you in anger, indignant over your mere presence in their leader's nest. Who would take a creature not of the same species, and parade them around as they bared his mark for all to see. A mate. A conquest. A queen. A pet. The fickleness of it is not lost on you, but there's something about the knowledge that this is as taboo, as unprecedented for him, for his kind, as it is for you. 

And yet. 

He still picked you. Of all the humans in the galaxy, crawling around like lost, queenless ants, he decided to shun the staples of his culture and take you with him. 

That alone, you think, is enough. 

And so—

You relax. Melting into the wrought iron strength of his frame, liquifying under the raze of his nails grazing your skin, pulling you deeper into this sense of complacency. Where else do you belong, after all? 

You turn your head, nuzzling your nose into his quills. Into his skin. The potency of his smell is stronger here, so close to his groin, and you groan a little at the twinge in your cunt at the heady, briny weight of it settling on the back of your tongue when you breathe in deep. 

He chuffs a bit, quietly pleased by your obvious scenting. The way you bury your nose into the crease where his inner thighs bend, drawing in the pungence of his unwashed flesh. It drags your attention away from his heavy musk, head lifting to catch his blistering, intent gaze. It darkens slightly at the sheen smearing across your chin and nose, covered in the natural oils of his pelt. 

It's unlike yourself, but you find the depth of his intrigue deeply arousing, and slowly lick your stained lips, chasing the taste of him with your tongue. 

A rumble reverberates from his broad chest, shaking the bed with his quiet growl. It's the only warning you get, the only one he'll give, before the other hand folds over your lower back, pushing your belly into his sheath where he swells, hot and thick, between you. 

His eyes glow in the absence of light. Pale amber flickers when you arch into his chest, needy for him, and it unveils a catacomb desire much too primordial for you to ever dream of mapping. The deep pool of it unspools you, and you fall, weightless, to the bottom. 

Ensnared. 

[ateliersss]

Downtime and a Bath

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: Your mate returns from a hunt, in desperate need of a bath. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 1.823 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ I'm not exactly happy with it, nor am I sure if it's even worth publishing, but anyways, here it is. I had an idea three hours ago and wrote the thing in two, therefore the poor quality. But hey, at least it's out of my head.

⇨ Also. thank you to each and everyone of you for letting me reach a 1.000 followers a few weeks ago!

It was nighttime.

Lounging on your nest, you tilted your head back and looked out of the window behind you. Upside down, the twin moons, twinkling stars, and other celestial bodies you couldn’t name were occupying the bottom of your view while the wildlife with its mountains and forests extended across the top of your eyesight.

You sighed at the inky-black sky. Mi’ytiar had told you hours ago his hunting trip would end today and you had hoped it would be at a time you were awake. But according to the moons, the night was already half over and you knew you would soon pass out from exhaustion.

Maybe you could rest your eyes for a little bit. There was no problem with that, right? You were already lying in such a comfortable position — the cushions underneath you supporting your body just right, the blanket keeping it neither too warm nor too cold, the pillows behind your head cradling it perfectly. You could just close your eyes and listen to the crackling of the fire around your nest. No shame in that.

You were just dozing off, losing the inner battle against the overwhelming fatigue, when you heard a dull thud that was muffled by the closed door that led to the main area of your home.

“Wha…” You mumbled and pushed yourself up with your eyes still half-closed.

Seconds later, the door slid open and revealed the imposing sight of your mate.

So he was finally home. It made you breathe out a happy sigh and a drowsy smile etched itself onto your lips. You felt instantly at ease at having your mate back home and by your side. Not that you ever felt in danger being without him on the grounds of his clan, but you could never know who or what could force its way into your home when Mi’ytiar was gone. However, you doubted that they could make it far to you. Not only did your mate have his loyal warriors who had their eyes on you when he wasn’t able to himself, but the three Hell Hounds outside would rip anyone with bad intentions apart.

You rubbed your eyes until Mi’ytiar became less blurry and you let them wander over his figure, noting the state he was in. He was covered in dirt, grime, and what you hoped wasn’t his blood. As much as off-putting his appearance was, you were pleased to see that he complied with your wish to keep whatever corpse he had kept as a trophy away from your bedroom and instead leave it on the table in the main room.

You were just about to open your mouth when you flinched back at the intensity with which he was stalking towards you, embodying every aspect of his predatory nature, eyeing you like his next prey.

“No, Mi’ytiar. Don’t you dare!” You protested when it became obvious he was about to climb on your nest, dirtying it with whatever disgusting fluids his body was covered in.

But he didn’t listen, his mind hazy with hunger and overcome by the lasting high of his latest kills. Bad Bloods were a nice challenge and he was thrilled when he discovered that three of them were hunting on a neighboring planet. Their heads were now lying on the sleek black surface of the table outside.

You yelped when his bone-crushing weight settled on top of you, successfully covering your whole body with his, and his face buried itself in the crook of your neck. You could hear and feel the greedy intake of your scent through his nose. His tongue licked over every inch of your skin nearby as his hands roamed your body, his claws already ripping on the fabric of your nightwear.

You would have spread your legs for him, would have helped him take off your clothing, offering every part of your body for him to take, to devour, if the fact that he was just ruining the materials you had used for your nest wasn’t the only thing on your mind right down. As well as the disgusting stench that overwhelmed your nostrils and made you gag.

You weren’t the most flexible, definitely not now, but you still managed to pull up your knee and push him away from you by placing your foot in the middle of his chest. You knew you wouldn’t have succeeded if not for a subconscious part of his mind was still able to obey you even though his logical thinking was clouded with primal need.

Mi’ytiar, though very reluctantly, backed down and sat back on his haunches. His claws dug into his thighs and his chest was heaving with heavy breaths, showing how much strength it required for him to hold himself back.

“I’m sorry, my love, but you reek.” You grumbled and eyed him in disdain.

He only growled back.

“Why don’t we take a bath, hm?” You suggested with a head tilt to the door to your right which led to what you would call a bathroom by human standards.

Sliding sideways off the nest, you walked backward, a smirk on your face and your eyes fixed on him as your fingers fiddled with the knot of your robe, a souvenir you had acquired from one of your trips to Earth.

“Are you coming, tanhì?” You asked him, placing one foot behind the other.

The swishing of the door and the different feeling of the floor covering signaled you had entered the bathroom. The first time you had been inside it when Mi’ytiar had shown you your new home, it reminded you of a cave. Despite the usual futuristic and modern Yautja aesthetic, this room had a natural feeling. It wasn’t unlike the bathroom of the apartment you had lived in with your family decades ago. The necessities had been there. Except for a bathtub. Yautja didn’t necessarily bathe. They swam, yes, but bathe?

You didn’t exactly need a bathtub as you hadn’t used the one you had back then, but after a tiring day, it had been nice to relax in the hot water. Someday, you had voiced your displeasure to Mi’ytiar who had scooped you up and taken you to the hot springs not far from the clan grounds but still inside his territory. And although the sight of it was breathtaking — steam rising from the ponds of water arranged like stair steps so the water could run down from one spring to the next like a waterfall — and the surrounding nature was quite romantic, you weren’t exactly comfortable stripping naked where whatever lurking creature could creep up on you.

You didn’t want to complain, of course, and you would eventually adapt to the fact that you had to forego certain human comforts. That didn’t mean you didn’t share how humans lived compared to Yautja with him whenever a difference in their everyday life occurred, be it the bed, clothes, or the bathtub.

Just as you were getting used to bathing in the hot springs, hidden in the rock crevice, you stumbled over the beginnings of what would soon look like a pool when you walked into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It was nestled into the large niche — square, three meters by three meters — of the room opposite the door where the shower-like setup used to be. When you had asked him what this was about, he had only said “Home.” and left it by that.

Standing in front of said pool, you turned your head to look over your shoulder and watched as the door closed behind Mi’ytiar who had just entered the bathroom. You let the robe slide down your shoulders and to the crook of your arms before letting it pool at your feet. When you turned to face him, you revealed the side profile of your body to his eyes, the swell of your breasts, and the small bump your belly was sporting.

When you thought back to your profession on Earth, you looked like any expectant mother in the late stage of her first trimester. Your baby bump wasn’t that big yet, but you still had to give up on certain items of clothing because they already wouldn’t fit you anymore.

When your belly started to grow, you suddenly remembered that your period should have started roughly two weeks ago. The second your brain had fully comprehended that your mate could have possibly impregnated you, that with the highest probability you carried the product of your mutual love under your heart and that you would soon become a mother, you didn’t waste a second to track him down and tell him the big news.

He hadn’t exactly reacted the way you had hoped. Instead of a positive or negative reaction, instead of pressing his forehead to yours while purring or growling at you to get rid of it, he had just stared. He stood frozen in front of you and fixed your hands which cupped the barely noticeable swell of your stomach.

You had just gained a little bit of weight, he told himself. She couldn’t be pregnant, she couldn’t carry my pup.

How could you, a human, be able to achieve something where others had failed?

He needed answers, so he hastily but carefully picked you up and took you to Cahrein who only confirmed your suspicion. You were indeed pregnant.

Only after a quick talk with the tribal healer, something about “not possible” and “how”, he finally showed you how he really felt — overjoyed. And how could he not? Now that you were carrying his pup, you were connected to your mate in every possible way.

“Are you coming?” You asked him again, one foot dipped into the warm water.

Mi’ytiar didn’t waste any more time getting rid of his armor, not caring about any damage he may cause, as he ripped every piece of it off his body, letting it fall to the ground as he walked to the pool. When he stepped into it, your body was already fully immersed and you swam to where you kept the nourishing oils, sweet-smelling soap, and the washcloth. With everything you needed in hand, you returned to where Mi’ytiar had settled on the bench of the pool. You freed your hands by placing everything on the edge so you could lift yourself up on his lap. Mi’ytiar immediately pulled you closer, one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other embracing your bump.

You didn’t talk while you cleaned him up. You stayed quiet, not feeling the necessity to talk, while he relished in your pampering, only voicing how much he enjoyed it with purrs. And when you were done, you snuggled up to him, cheek pressed against his chest and arms loosely wrapped around him. Mi’ytiar later had to carry you out of the pool, dry you off, and bring you to bed, your sleeping form pressed against his body.

Masterlist: here

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[multific]

His Wife

At'Roh x Reader

Summary: Nothing is scarier than a Yautja who's protecting their mate. And At'Roh is no different, he is worse.

A/N: Another Yautja I made up for all of your pleasure. The above photo is not mine! Credit goes to its owner. Enjoy.

You looked up at him. 

You were smiling as you walked by his side, proud. 

The wedding ceremony was held yesterday, now you are officially his.

His mate.

You have come a long way, from running away from home, getting picked up by an alien and now being a part of their tribe.

You were proud of the long journey you had.

Now, it was time for a different one.

Marriage.

It has been almost 10 years since they took you from Earth. You understood their language, their traditions and their behaviour.

You fell in love with the new tribe leader almost immediately.

He was still young, losing his father to old age, and At'Roh became a young leader.

Young yet fierce.

Many claimed that he was crazy, even with Yautja standards.

One proof of this was the way he got you.

He wanted you, a little human, At'Roh craved something different, something exotic, taking a human as a wife was just that.

But as time passed, and you two grew closer and closer, he couldn't deny the facts.

The facts were that he not only wanted you as a wife due to you being a human.

A fierce human who kept him on his toes, who was not afraid to say no to him.

You rejected his marriage proposal at least five times.

You hoped At'Roh would give up, but he didn't.

Your little play of cat and mouse ended in a way no one expected. 

Everyone thought you two would bring a war within the tribe.

Instead, you two fell in love.

---

It was late at night, you were sleeping in his arms, and everything was perfect until it wasn't.

It all happened so fast.

You knew your mate would immediately go and fight to protect his tribe.

All you need to do is find the other females and go with them.

You have done this before when your tribe was attacked by a group of bad-blood yautja.

At'Roh looked at you one last time before heading out, you gave him a nod. 

You knew what you needed to do.

But it wasn't so easy this time.

The bad-bloods this time had a plan, and you played right into their hand.

They got you way too easy, but they didn't kill you.

Instead, they dragged you to their leader. 

No matter what you tried, you couldn't escape. 

"He's going to get me, you know!" you told him as soon as they tossed you to his legs. "And he will kill you all!!!" you knew they understood, even if they didn't speak your language. 

"At'Roh is dead." the leader replied before they chained you. Your face fell.

He wasn't dead. He couldn't be.

"Liar." was the last thing you said before the collar clicked around your neck.

The long chain connecting to your neck was given to their leader and you were dragged along as they all ran.

They had no ships. 

It was good, there was a chance At'Roh could find you before they got you to a ship and flew away.

You just needed to hold out and slow them down somehow.

---

At'Roh's heavy breathing was the only thing in the house.

He couldn't even see due to his anger.

You were gone.

His wife was gone.

He knew the way this attack played out was too easy. They had a plan. And the plan wasn't to kill him, the plan was to take you.

At'Roh took a deep breath before putting all of his gear on.

If these bad bloods wanted to play, he was going to destroy them.

Hunting was his speciality. At'Roh loved to hunt maybe a bit too much. While other Yautja excelled at it, he became a monster. A crazed hunter who knew nothing else.

Finding you will be a simple task. His blood was boiling because you were taken.

He wanted to save his tribe only to play right into their hands and help them take you.

It was all a trap to kidnap you. It was a level of disrespect he could not forgive.

At'Roh received information that a female saw a group taking you into the forest, they saw no ships.

At'Roh figured they were taking you to a ship to take you away.

And so, the hunt was on.

---

You have not stopped walking since they got you.

A group of four soldiers and a leader.

They have been dragging you along for hours.

You were beginning to get tired.

You felt like you needed to sit down, but they refused. No matter how you begged.

Looks like their perfect plan had a huge flaw.

They didn't take your refusal and unwillingness to cooperate into much consideration.

They honestly thought they could just drag you along and leave with you.

And this gives time for At'Roh to find you.

You managed to find a sharp stone and cut your hand, hoping to give a trail to At'Roh so he could find you more easily.

You hoped it was enough.

---

At'Roh's anger didn't lessen as he continued his hunt. 

It only grew as he noticed blood on the ground.

He only needed the smallest whiff to tell that it was indeed your blood.

He rubbed the wet material on his finger, watching as it almost coated his fingertip.

He hated that.

He didn't want to see you hurt.

It only fueled his anger and he marched forward, angrier than ever.

He will definitely make sure to kill every last one of them.

It was now morning when he finally caught up with the bad bloods. 

Now he just needed a plan to save you from them.

Thankfully his mind was on autopilot almost since the moment he realized you were taken. 

He moved with such ease, killing everyone that came his way.

At'Roh left no survivors.

Due to the chaos, your scent started to mix with others but he managed to find you.

With a knife to your neck as the leader of the bad bloods had you in front of him.

"Let her go." At'Roh demanded with a dangerously low voice. "If you hurt her, I will kill you."

"You will kill me either way. Why not give you some trouble in the meantime?" you understood everything they were saying and you understood what was happening, what you needed to do. You prepared yourself.

"At'Roh," you said his name, hoping to survive this mess.

His eyes moved to you only for a second, the Yautja behind you took this as an opportunity but you also moved. Moving back towards the alien behind you, using all of your body weight, causing his knife only to gaze at your skin, minimalizing the damage. 

Your movement caused the Yautja behind you to fall giving At'Roh enough time to catch up and move you behind himself before he pounced on the bad blood.

You didn't move, watching your mate defending you as he killed the bad blood.

With a loud scream, he killed the other and stood victorious.

But soon, he turned to you and hugged you.

You didn't even care for the bright green blood on his hands or body. You knew it wasn't his.

Soon, he pulled back and looked at your neck, leaning down to lick along the small cut, helping it heal.

"Take me home," you said, and he understood.

Picking you up with one hand he carried you back towards your tribe.

You were so exhausted, that you fell asleep in his arms as he carried you.

You slept almost the entire day away, exhausted from the way you were dragged along, you only woke up when it was almost night again.

At'Roh was, of course, by your side.

You didn't know but you could guess that he never left your side not once.

You looked into his eyes and you felt safe. You felt at home.

"I will not let this happen ever again."

"It's okay, you killed them and saved me." you placed your forehead against his.

You felt his finger trace your neck, where your cut used to be.

At'Roh will make sure this won't happen ever again, you were way too important for him.

You were his wife after all.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, OR TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[yaut-jaknowit]

How bout a human woman saves a yautja after he got hurt pretty bad or something. Over time they get to know one another…one thing leads to another and the bang. But the male leaves not long after to return home, unknowingly leaving a bun in the oven…only that out possibly years after…

-🥤

Left Behind

Character: Ahtaal (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 8895

Summary: A night that changed your life forever. You had to fight for survival and live to tell the tale. Ahtaal is saved only because of you. That leaves him in your debt. He heals you from wounds that will leave lasting scars. But he too leaves something else behind.

Author Note: I love the fact you call it 'bun in the oven'! Imagine saving a Yautja and then get the biggest dick down ever. Wish come true~.

Masterlist

Ao3

Blood burned through the skin on your arm. The pain a distant thought as you shoved the long spear into the chest of sickly, black monster. Black tendrils poured from its head. Four weirdly shaped mandibles. A long rigidly tail with a sharpened end made for stabbing. One that looked like it had crawled out of the depths of hell to come after anyone vulnerable. A demon in the flesh.

It almost looked like the beast you had protected a deadly blow from. But this thing… it was ten times worse.

The pain nearly grew to a point you couldn’t hold onto the spear for much longer. It slipped from your blood drenched hands. But, the point was still lodged deep into the chest of the screeching beast. You panted and backed away until the back of your foot met resistance. The creature you had just saved still lay on the ground, hopefully not dead. Or all of this would’ve been for naught.

Your arms stung with each passing moment, the pain mounting higher and higher. The adrenaline that once filled your system began to slowly deflate. You swallowed back the thick saliva in the back of your throat. Yet, not once did your eyes leave the beast as it backed away and clawed at the spear. Thankfully, it was barbed and refused to move from deep within it.

As if the life that once filled its body vanished in a second, it crumpled to the ground in a pile. A few twitches was all it gave before finally coming to still. Dead.

Everything hurt. Your chest heaved for air. Your mind tried to reel in every thought you had. Your heart thundered loud and clear in its bony cage. It took everything you had not to let your knees collapsed under your own weight. You slowly glanced at the down creature at your feet. His shoulder slowly rose and fell with each breath. A deep sigh of relief sounded from you.

Now, came a new problem. To move him. This place wasn’t safe. Other people would soon come. The government would easily snatch the two of you up in a heartbeat. One to silence you. He would become an experiment for whatever they wanted. You couldn’t have that. Not when he looks so sad in the state that he was in. You turned around and squatted at his side. A poke to his uninjured gave no results. Not even the next five. He was out cold.

This was unfortunately circumstances. He was at least seven feet tall and three times your weight easily. Deadweight was harder to move than someone giving some assistance.

With might and will, you used a tarp you had randomly found to hook under his arms. It was just strong enough to help you pull him through the foliage of the forest. After a hundred yards, you could no longer move. The exhaustion in your muscles, in your soul was far too deep. This all started this morning and it was deep into the night. The full moon shing ominously above the land. You collapsed harshly onto bruised knees and cut up palms. There was nothing more you could give to save him or yourself. You did what you could before the darkness consumed your vision and took away your conscious.

The gentle sway is the first thing you awoke to with a groggy groan. The crust in your eyes made it uncomfortable to open them. You rubbed it away with a shaky, weak arm before opening them.

Bright light blinded you from the first thing you saw. A groan tumbling out of your throat. Pain met you that same moment, racing up from your forearms. The rest of you throbbed with an ache that would take ten hot baths to finally chip away at it. You squinted through the sunlight and noticed a familiar red. Your hand reached up timidly and touched at the thick scales you could feel under your fingertips.

Big Red. The creature you had saved. You tilted your head back. He was facing forward, eyes hidden by the mandibles that covered half of his face. But the missing one was a familiar sight.

“Y-you’re al-ive,” you croaked out, voice harsh to even your own foggy ears. Your hand dropped down to your stomach, unable to hold up its own weight anymore. The grunt he made you felt it rather than heard it from his own mouth.

Your face cracked with a tiny grin. At least you hadn’t failed on that front while fighting something you didn’t know existed. A demon in the flesh. Your wrecked body trembled. A sight you hoped to never be face to face with again.

Through your blurry vision, he was marching quickly through the forest despite a noticeable limp to his gait. A table had been thrown at him, striking him direction on his shin when he jumped to block it. There wasn’t a loud crack of bone but it was possible it had only been fractured. You hummed and lazily drew patterns on his midriff, mind still foggy.

A rumbled vibrated through his chest and drew your attention to stop. That’s when the lightbulb above your head finally sprouted to life. Your lips pressed together while you looked away from him, eyes nearly bulging out. Heat flashed to life upon your cheeks.

Big Red moved across the forest, rarely taking breaks during the whole day. Only to stop at a creek and scoop water into his strangely constructed mouth. He would set you down and let you finally move around. It was hard at first, trying to get the blood flowing back in your limbs. Nor did your muscles want to listen. But, you did what you could and drank from the fresh creek. Anything to quench the dryness in your throat.

It was back to him carrying you in the bridle position and marching away. At points, you would take naps, needing the extra energy to recuperate from the days events.

At dusk, Big Red stopped and set you down. There was no creek or source of water. You had to lean heavily against the base of a tree with a shoulder. Your forearms were covered with scorch marks from the acidic blood that had landed on them. The pain from them was the only thing that kept you on your feet, giving you enough adrenaline to stay alert.

He limped away from you, leaving you behind. Fear gripped your heart that had taken you further into the forest only to abandoned you. After all you had- he stopped and pressed a button on the metal band that covered half of his forearm. You heard a hiss echo through the air and furrowed your brows.

Like a in a sci-fi movie, a large object revealed itself to your very eyes. Your jaw dropped when it came to mind it was a spacecraft. From Star Wars!

The creature came back over to you and easily scooped your weakened form up. Big Red carried you over where a ramp had come down. White steam came from the hydraulics in a dramatic manner. You tried to take everything. The information overload caused the pressure in your skull to tenfold. You groaned and curled up against his chest as if he’ll protect you from inward pain.

With your eyes closed, you missed all the important, interesting details no one has probably seen before. You whined and scrunched up your face as if that’ll push the pain away.

Warmth touched at your rear and brought you back to the present. You squinted and find yourself in a different room you couldn’t find a name for. Big Red had set you down on a table with many tools already on it. To which he was pushing off of the side to give you more room. He reached to the side and grabbed hold a box and set it down next to you. You watched as the box was open to reveal different items. None of them you could really figure out were for.

A moment of trust. It wasn’t like you could fight him in your circumstances. He could easily overpower you and subject you to whatever he wanted.

Instead, he grabbed some sort of gun with a need. You gulped at the size of the needle and strange blue liquid that filled the containment hanging off of the back. Either he didn’t notice or just ignored the fear gripping your heart. Big Red plunged the needle without hesitation into your shoulder. You grimaced at the slight pinched but otherwise, stayed still.

The needle was pulled free from your muscles and set off to the side. Next, he grabbed a white jar and untwisted the top. A sulfuric smell poured out of the jar. You gagged and used your shirt to cover your nose. “Oh my god, what is-is that?” you croaked out with disgust written all over your face.

Red stopped and tilted his head up. The golden mask on his features prevented you from seeing his true feelings.

“It is hurt,” he grumbled out, shocking you from hearing his voice for the first time. It wasn’t as deep as you thought but enough to send a tremble up the length of your spine. Your thoughts got you caught up in the moment before you shook them free. You cocked your head to the side. Hurt? Of course your arms hurt. They’ve been burned with acid.

White paste coated his fingertips before he slathered the burns in it.

The scream that curdled from your throat shocked him too. You jerked away and nearly slid off of the table before he caught you. Big Red forced you back onto the table and held you down. “Ooman! Calm! Calm. At ease,” his voice cut through the pain that burned through your veins. It was just enough to get you to finally focus on him again.

“I say it hurt,” he muttered then slowly let go of you when your muscles relaxed. Your body didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Not even enough adrenaline could keep you going.

A fiery glare was set ablaze on the big, dark red alien. “I thought you were saying if I was hurting!” you yelled at him, arms drawn up to your chest. In case he may go for a second round without asking first.

A huff came from underneath the metal mask. “Paste heals but… hurts.” The words didn’t come naturally to him. He struggled to find them but you understood what he was getting to.

“Well, do you have something that doesn’t hurt like a bitch?” you snarked at him, in hopes to find a nice soothing paste. Not the one that made you feel like you were stepping on hot coals.

“No. Just this.” Ah, he didn’t get the sarcasm that was thick in your voice. You sighed, face scrunched up again from the pain this caused you. “Let me?” Big Red held out a waiting hand, letting you have the choice to either get an infection or deal with more pain. A groan sounded from your tired form before you roughly set one forearm in his palm.

“Better warning next time,” you mumbled and tensed up. An agony you didn’t want to experience but it meant for your life to survive. Then, so be it.

It was a pain you’ve never felt before.

The healing process took half as long as you thought. A couple of months turned into only a month until Dai’stbaen, the big, red alien, deemed you healed enough. Even letting you stay longer just to make sure you had no lasting injuries.

Today would be your last night with him. Dai’stbaen said he would fly you back to your home before setting off home bound. The last time you would see the towering beast in all of his glory. And you felt heartbroken to see him leave. You wish for him to take you but couldn’t go through with the idea of leaving everything behind. Not your friends or family who had to be worried sick about you at this point.

Countless times, he had made you promise and even created a mark on your skin to ensure you wouldn’t tell his secret. To let the whole world know that aliens, the Yautjas, exist. Dai told you it was against his code to let you live but you had saved him. That was a higher offense to kill someone who had saved his life. So, he had to slip out of your bed that night and back into his ship. Where he flew off into the stars, to never be seen again.

The ache he left you made it difficult to walk the next few days. All the marks he left on you a remind of what he could make you feel. A distance feeling after the days go by without him there with you.

After the first week back home, you had lost your job, finally calmed down your family and friends, and was barely able to skim on past in your lonely apartment. It felt better when Dai’stbaen was there with you, even if it was just for that night.

Things for first month was difficult, even after you were able to pick up a job that was remote work. It paid well enough to keep a roof over your head and food in your stomach.

Well until you missed your period. That’s when your heart dropped down into the apartment below you.

You raced to the nearest Walgreens and picked up a test. The cashier gave you a certain expression at the distant look in your eyes. All of your thoughts were running rampant through your mind. It had to be impossible. Truly, it really had to be. He wasn’t human!

The first place you went to back home was in your bathroom, tearing open the package. Then, you stopped just shy of sitting down on the toilet. Your eyes looked at yourself in the mirror. The distraught in your features from the horror of the situation. It had to be from the stressfulness of the situation you had just survived from. That what it had to be. But… even while in his care on his spacecraft, you had been hit by your period. God, that freaked him out when he smelt the fresh blood. Which… in turn freaked you out learning he could smell it. Like a dog.

Your hands lowered the unopened test to the counter. No. You shook your head. No, this wasn’t real. This was happening because of stress. It finally caught up to you. Your head nodded. Yeah, that’s what it had to be. You placed the unopened pregnancy test back into the box and shoved it into a random drawer. That would be needed at a different time. Not now. Because it was impossible.

Until you missed a second period. Even then, you tried to push off that feeling that there was something wrong with you. It was from stress. New job, new duties, new scars, new life. Everything to create a hell storm to recuperate from. Of course your uterus wouldn’t want to put you through anymore stress than needed.

At the same time of the next month, going into the wintery months, not a drop of blood.

That night, after work, you stood in the bathroom, hands holding the unopened test again. Your hands shook while looking down at the package. Every part of your mind tried to reason with all the other excuses you’ve given before. Stress. Job. Nearly being killed. Scars. Each one circling through the turn style until they fell away.

Just get it over with.

In front of the mirror, you turned to the side and lifted up the front of shirt. Your brows furrowed. There was a little weight loss when you first returned, eating practically just meat and little greens. Now… was that a slight bulge in your stomach? You could feel yourself on the verge of crying.

A child. There couldn’t be a chance you were pregnant with the alien you had a one-night stand with. He wasn’t coming back. You would be left alone to take care of the child. Then, there’s the fact it would half alien! How would they look? More like you or Dai’stbaen. There would be no way for them to live a normal life of going to school or having friends. And yourself. A child who could never step out into the light.

For the first time in the last three months, you plopped down on the toilet and took the test.

Each passing second, each passing heartbeat worsened everything feeling swirling inside of you. Every thought ran wild.

There were two sides to the coin. The more logical side. A hybrid alien baby couldn’t be possible. Let alone on the only time you were with him. It didn’t matter the three or four times he knotted you. That was a surprise. Very pleasant. Yet, there was also the fact you weren’t having your period the last three months. Surely, your body should’ve figured itself out at this point.

As the test did its process, you paced through the tiny bathroom squeezed into your one bedroom apartment. One of your hands ran through your locks, messing up the strands. It was all you could do to stop looking at the test every two seconds.

Two minutes passed until you took another glance and stopped in your tracks. Plus. A plus sign. You covered your mouth and backed into the nearest wall. Tears welled in your eyes.

Fear gripped your heartstrings. This was to be your life now. A mother with a hybrid child who couldn’t be normal. God, why did he have to leave!? Why did you have to fall for the alien?!

That night, you cried hard, curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor.

One good thing in your life was the fact your job just required you to sit in a chair and play customer service. There was no going out of your house and being heavily pregnant. To people wanting to know every single detail about the pregnancy and the child.

After the sixth month, you truly picked yourself up by your big pants and made a plan. It had to a home birth. No one could know. Not unless they take your child away. Over your dead body.

Supplies had been purchased, for the most part. Only a couple of onesies, a crib, some toys, and lots and lots diapers. You weren’t sure what to expect besides the normal stuff you researched for a human child. This would be a new experience for you and the whole world. A world that will never know what you possess deep within your belly.

This was all new territory to you. Of course it was. Who else has had an alien baby before?! Shit, calm down. You gripped the desk’s edge breathed through the unease in your stomach. From there, you were able to slow your pounding heart once more. Everything will turn out okay. It had to be.

By the beginning of the ninth month, you couldn’t go out. None of your family was allowed to see you, but that stemmed from the end of the seventh month. Where your bump was pronounced at that point. The questions and integration you would go through all for them to find out there’s no father in the picture. You could see the color drain from your parents face if you had to tell them.

The new job went well so far. An up in your unsteady life. You have yet to tell them about an unplanned trip that was coming up soon. Whenever your child decided to pop out. You didn’t even know if that was going to happen on time. Who knows if the alien genes have altered the time frame of the pregnancy. God, you didn’t know how any of this worked.

So far, the idea was when your water broke, you would use your vacation and sick leave to give a home birth. Hopefully from there, you can figure out a way to take care of the child while at home. All you prayed for was the delivery went smooth.

Two weeks later, while working away, a rush of water soaked the apex of your thighs. You were in the middle of call, pausing mid sentence at the feeling. A hand slapped over your mouth to stop any noises from escaping. There wasn’t any pain, just a feeling you had just wetted your pants. The person on the other end asked for you to repeat what you said. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and continued onward, barely paying attention.

It was about to happen.

When the work day ended, you threw down your headset and rushed to the bathroom. Supplies had been laid out in preparation for when the time came.

A blow up pool to lay in your living room was pulled out. A hose that could attach to the bathtub’s facet was connected then dragged out to the pool. An air mattress blowup machine was set down next to the deflated pool. The small hose was connect to the necessary hole before you turned it on.

The noise it created was uncomfortable to listen to. A headache began to form. Pressure created inside your skull and pressed against your eyes. You wanted to take some pain killers but was afraid on if that was the right thing to do. People get medicine at the hospitals but how much was too much. Would anything you’ve taken affect the baby? Oh god, you hadn’t thought about that! You wanted to smack yourself silly for not thinking about such a thing. Had you put the child in danger now?!

When the machine changed its tone, you looked down to see the blow up pool had been finished. It only took a single disconnected hose to seal it off. Instead of putting it away, you decided to keep the device nearby just in case. You wanted it be prepared at all costs since you’ll be doing this alone. Without anyone. No one to hold your hand. No one to make sure you’re okay.

Tears welled up in my eyes at those thoughts. All alone to give birth an alien baby. A mistake you had partially regretted. The night of throes was one you could never forget about. Your hand subconsciously rubbed against the lingering scar on your neck. A mark that he left in reminder of himself. Not the only thing he had left behind in his wake.

After all the supplies had been dragged out, you texted your boss you had an emergency and couldn’t be there for work. You were using the next three days to recoup from this. You wished for more but didn’t want to anger your new boss about the sudden leave. All you had to do was fake it until you make it. Pretend you knew everything about giving birth. It’s natural. Your body should know what to do and how to do it.

For the rest of the day, you simply walked around your small apartment. A sharp pain began over time to throb in your nether regions. It only eased up when you continued to walk around. Thankfully, it was manageable for the most part. No drugs. Just walking your way through it.

The night came. Your ankles were swollen beyond belief. The lower portion of your back ached. The throbbing never went away completely. It receded to the back of your mind then waned back into existence. You constantly gnawed on your bottom lip and tried to put on the T.V on something random to distract you. It helped little to draw your mind away from the different pains you were experiencing.

One look at the clock had you groaning. It was two in the morning. The contractions you were having only grew worse and closer together. That left you with no time to get any shut eye besides a five minute Power Nap every once in a while. You could only endure the aches as you rested in bed.

Night progressed onward until the rosy fingers of morning cascaded across the lightening sky. Any other day, you may have taken a picture at a sight so pretty. Instead, you scoffed at it and rolled out of bed.

Not once did you get more than five minutes of a nap.

The contractions had grown to a point where it made it hard to stand. Yet, you bear your weight against a chair in the small dining room. Standing it meant to help. Let gravity do its thing. Yet, with the lack of sleep made it hard to use what energy you did have to stay standing.

Then, the need to push hit you like a semi truck. You had to rush to fill up the pool with hot water. It was all you had left to do before everything would be ready.

All of your clothing had been strewn across the living room. All the towels you owned were set around in arms length near you. You sunk into the steaming water and groaned at the relaxing prosperities it offered.

It was time to push.

A day you knew you would never forget despite what you’ve read. The hormones in the brain could cause you to forget that any of it happen. The pain. The agony. Nearly shitting yourself. All variables to when your bundle of joy was freed from your body. Just a little thing that didn’t… look to weird.

He was so ugly he was cute in a way that only a mother would understand. He had the features of his father. Yet with a humanness to him you could see. Yet, your son could never step out into the world like you are able to. Unless he will be ripped away from you as you are dragged deep underground. Never to see or hear from your family again.

His face had only two mandibles. Bottom ones that were only nubs at this point with no sharp, deadly fang to taint the tip. He had no hair. That left you to wonder if he who’s hair he may take after. You hoped not the alien’s. Who knows if they have a routine. Not like you could have the supplies or knowledge to take care of such thing.

Thankfully, his skin mostly matched your own. There were hints of that dark red of scales that pebbled the tops of his forearms. You flinched at the sight and picked at the scales. But they didn’t come off. Your brows pushed up together as you worried the scales wouldn’t come off. They had to.

His first cry snapped you out of your stupor.

Since that day, living with a child you didn’t know how to take care of was beyond exhausting and nerve wracking. There was no time to yourself. Let alone, going out to see friends and family. You just used the excuse of work. It was always about work.

Your son, Austin, was different then research told you. From his ability to sit up only weeks after birth. He was able to speak at six months; crawl at eight before standing at eleven months. He pushed past each milestone with ease. You were proud of him, astonished he could perform each feat.

Days turned into months. Those milestone months turned into years. Before you knew it, your little Austin had turned five. A year he would have been starting kindergarten if he was normal.

One thing that changed about him was his hair. It easily came to you his hair was thin but like the rubbery dreads of Dai’stbaen. His scales multiplied across the tops of his forearms, growing up to his shoulders. Some peeked out on his chest and down his belly. The red was stark across otherwise smooth skin. He looked… not human. Only a mother could love. As harsh as that sounded, it was the truth. But, if anyone took him away from you, they would meet a mother’s fury.

During the night, you were curled around Austin. A protective shield to hide him away from the dangers of the real world outside the safety of your apartment. That was his one rule. All windows must stay shuttered and sealed off. No one could see in. No one could know he existed.

The time dragged on. Every second feeling like going over a pile of sharp rocks on the bottom of your feet. Nothing quelled the unease that sat in the pit of your stomach. The years may have passed well but you weren’t sure you were doing this right. This is a hybrid baby where the father isn’t in the picture. You didn’t even know if Dai’stbaen was still alive. All the dangerous things he lives to hunt for a passion, for a living. You shuttered at the reminder of all the skulls he possesses. Dangerous and lethal.

When sleep finally decided to drag you into its depths, you jerked up. Something in the back of your mind screaming to get up. Austin whined when you slid off the bed and rushed towards the bat you had close to the bed.

By the time your fingers curled around the bat, your bedroom door creaked open. Fear pulsed through your body like a powerful drug. Your hands trembled while holding onto the weapon. The darkness made it next impossible to see the figure standing in your doorway. That didn’t stop you from rushing forward and bringing the metal bat down with all of your strength.

Only for the bat to be caught mid swing.

It was tugged out of your grip and tossed behind the figure. The lights were flickered on, blinding you. You squinted through the pain the best you could only to see a darkly dressed figure there. More piled in. You stumbled backwards until your back hit the wall.

Harsh hands snatched at your wrists and smashed you nearly face first into the ground. Both of your arms are wrenched behind your back and locked into place with handcuffs.

Finally, at this point, your brain has finally caught up. But, it was too late to struggle. One person held down your legs. Other held various points of your body so it was impossible to move more than an inch.

The shrill scream of Austin had the fight in you restored to full power. A war cry thundered into the room, causing the people on you to tense. Your arms were already restrained with metal cuffs. Yet, your legs struck out and hit something soft underneath your foot. The tall tale sound of pain cut through the tense air. Someone fell down with a thud. You didn’t stop. Your legs continued to thrash until both of your wrists were being bent in a way that felt like they had snapped.

A scream of pain rang throughout the small bedroom before someone used some sort of cloth to tie around your mouth. It effectively quieted all of your screams. You looked up the best you could towards a masked face and swore you were going to hurt them all for hurting your son.

Austin had been pulled out first before they had painfully dragged you out of your own apartment. The entire time, you fought them. Each time, they either kneed at your ribs and tugged harder on your shoulders.

Then, you received a knee to the head.

.

Word spreads like wildfire. Nothing like this is common. The council is immediately called upon to set forth who shall proceed with the task at hand. But, when it comes down the finer details, Dai’stbaen is the one traveling through time and space. Back to a planet he has not seen in years. Where he wished to return for his own pleasure and time. To a ooman that… captured his attention.

This return trip wasn’t meant for time away from the hunt. A job had been handed to him. A very important job that needed to be completed before Cetanu could be released.

A hybrid had been spoken about on the rail. A ooman/Yautja hybrid. Dangerous beyond belief to let such a thing be in the hands of the oomans. Some call for it to killed. An abomination in many minds. It all came down to Dai’stbaen in the end. If he deems it mercy or an act upon the code, it shall be killed.

The ship softly shuttered when it came to rest on earth’s ground. All the engines slowly whirled down, powering off with a couple switches. Dai’stbaen unbuckled from the seat and stood up. His weapons soon adorned his frame before he headed out the hatch.

Pine and morning dew filtered into his mask. He took in the lungful, shoulders rising and falling. Then, he was off. Only a flash of dark red in the sea of green and brown.

Before arriving here, the Yautja had done his fair share of research. Many known places for ooman government settlements are pinpointed on a map. A map that Dai’stbaen currently was using to show him the right direction. Yautjas have been here for a long, long time.

His silent feet led him straight to building that wasn’t well hidden just deep in the forest. A helipad was the only way in and out of here. Whoever was here was all there could be. Backup, if he had been spotted, would take too much time to capture him.

A cloak covered him from sight. Dai’stbaen took roost up in a tree, eyes scanning over the decently sized building. Just enough to hold a small team. For whatever they were doing to the hybrid. The Yautja scowled at the thought of the nasty oomans. He only knew of one that was worth a blooding mark. One well deserved after saving his life. Death almost came to the ooman as well after the fight had finished. Wounds that one should’ve never survived from. Without him, the ooman would’ve passed. A strong, mighty soul lost to Cetanu. Dai will not allow for that to happen.

Weak entry points were easy to locate and mark mentally in his mind. No patrols wondered the outside perimeter. Oomans and their cockiness. No wonder they die so easily to his own kind.

With the other modes on his bio mask, he determined the easiest way to get into the complex. His feet were silent as he dropped back down to the forest floor and moved inward.

Despite the place being lack with its security, Dai’stbaen never once let his guard fall. Not all shall seem to meet the eye. Plenty of life experiences and past hunts have told him otherwise. The hunt may seem easy but may turn for the worse at a moments notice. Dai rather not be caught in trap so avoidable. Not like some past Yautjas have. A shame and board line dishonor.

To get inside the complex took little pressure. A certain wire cut had the door failing. It opened up and revealed an empty hallway. The cloak was still activated as he moved forward. He used his mask to look at patches possibly taken. Yet, the signs helped him the most.

Dai’stbaen stood in front of a door strong enough to hold back a Yautja at full strength. A grumble fell from his throat as he looked over the exterior. This wasn’t something he could strong arm the rest of the way. He was forced to look over the outside well, finding any weakness. Yet, it had been designed specifically to hold a Yautja.

Noise to his right had been side stepping the door and looking down the hall. A trip of oomans rounded a corner, deep in talk. White lab coats hung off of one of them. Others were dressed in pastel color of clothing. A brow arched from underneath his mask as he watched the three of them walk towards him. But, he wasn’t alert to them finding him.

All of them stopped at the door he once stood at.

“We’ve only been able to recently touch him with the mother nearby. Or else he’ll claw and bite everyone,” one said and rubbed a wrapped up portion of his arm. “I don’t know about either of you, but I’d rather not take another swing from the little twit.”

Mother? Was the hybrid young? And these oomans had taken a child and its mother.

Fire raced through his veins. A growl threatening to alert the oomans right in front of him.

One of them raised a plastic card up to the key pad. It beeped at the touch before the door opened up. The angle didn’t allow him to see inside the room.

But the smell. A smell he’d thought to never scent again hit him hard. Idiotic of him, he froze up long enough for the door to shut after the oomans entered. He had to close off his throat to stop a deep growl from erupting. It was his duty to get into that room.

It felt like he was a unblooded all over again, patient worn out long ago. The muscle of his jaw so tight it felt like it was cramping. His eyes never left the doorway, ears trying to listen in but found the walls too thick for him to hear through. Everything in him wanted to bust down the door to get inside. Who knows what those scum of oomans were doing.

The tension in his muscles turned complete rigid when the door slid back open. His body acted before his mind could complete a thought. Dai rushed forward and snatched the lab coat ooman up by the neck. She tried to scream for her life but he pinched off any access to air. Her face already turning to a shade of red he loved oomans to wear.

He entered the space still holding onto the soft meat. She squirmed and kicked at him, anything to get free from his grasp. The door shut behind him and locked him into the room that was filled with the scent of terror.

And yours.

A mixture that reeked. The Yautja growled lowly in his chest before plucking the ID card off of her. She could barely make a noise, face beet red. Dai’stbaen dropped the defenseless ooman back down onto the ground. She crumbled to the floor and choked and gasped for air. He barely gave her a glance and strode over to your trembling, slacken jaw form.

You never once thought to see this beautiful creature again. Not a single moment in your life. But, here stands Dai’stbaen in all of his glory. Biomask covering his features but you could feel the heat of his eyes on you. He marched over to you and ate up the space between the two of you. He fell to a knee and reached out to your chained form.

Metal wrapped painfully around your throat and hands. They attached to a bolt in the concrete wall. No ooman could break out of something with pure strength alone. Dai’stbaen lifted up the chain and felt its weight. Nothing to him but to you, red marks had been rubbed raw into your soft skin. A scowl hidden by his mask.

As if you saw a god, you reached up and brushed your fingers against the coolness of the metal of his face covering. A face you desperately wanted to see.

“Dai?” you croaked out in voice devoid of water for so long. You looked so lost, long without hope to fill your fierce eyes. The male himself was speechless. Why in the stars were you here? In a facility he was looking for a hybrid. He cupped your jaw in a massive hand, fingers curling around the back of your head. His thumb graced over your pronounced cheek bone. Your eyes had sunken in. The skin dark and lifeless underneath him.

This wasn’t the vision of how he left you. You had been curled up against him, soft, gentle features at peace. The marks that marred your skin. His eyes darted down to the bite mark he left in the heat of the moment. Had these scums taken you all because of a bite? Surely, they wouldn’t notice anything off with such a bite?

Clattering of metal skirting across the concrete floor snapped him back into his hunter mode. His head whipped around. One of the other oomans had discovered him, coming around a partition. Before the man had time to react, Dai was a red blur across the room. His hand curled around his throat and brought the person to him. You watched as Dai choked the unsuspecting man out until he no longer moved. He was released and flopped down onto the ground. His chest slowly rose and fall.

The person in the lab coat was able to regain her composer, head tilted up. Her dark eyes were trained on Dai. An accusing finger pointed at him. “You-“ she coughed “-can’t hurt me. Can’t hurt any of us,” she bit out in a nasty tone that twisted your gut. There was nothing you could do, still chained up to the wall. Your face morphed with anger. You pulled on the chain but it only rattled at the move.

Dai’stbaen didn’t stop marching towards her on the ground. She scrambled backwards and even kicked his shin. Yet, he didn’t even flinch at the strike. He bent at the waist and picked up the struggling woman with a single arm. Your jaw slackened again at the remind of how strong he is. The memories of the last night with him resurfacing at the wrong moment.

Not a word or sound utters from his vocal cords. One arm wraps around her neck and hold strong. Blood and air is restricted to her brain. It doesn’t take long for her to drop to the ground, chest slowly rising and falling.

Once the issue is solved, he strides across the limited space again. They weren’t dead. You were thankful he hadn’t killed them in front of you, knowing he could pull such a thing. Dai’stbaen returns to his position in front of you. A claw hooks into the unforgiving chain wrapped around your wrists. For a government facility, they didn’t have good restraints. Maybe… they weren’t thinking about capturing prisoners.

Not like yourself, at least.

His mask stares at the chains for a moment. Then, with both of his hands, he grips it at two different sections and pulls. The metal groans under his pure strength before easily giving way with a snap. The end hangs from your neck and pulled on the tender areas. Next, Dai’stbaen worked on your wrists in the same manner. He had left a tail end, unable to get so close to you.

Your legs strained to lift yourself off of the unforgiving, dull grey floors. The muscles have gone weak after the lack of use and proper food.

Before you could make it, Dai’stbaen easily scooped you up into his arms. His warmth easily washed over your numb frame. The air in the room was cool. It kept you shaking nearly all the time. They never offered a blanket or something.

He was able to transfer you to one arm holding you to him. His free hand grabbed the ID card he had snatched earlier. The male walked over to the closed door.

“Wa-it!” you hissed when he attempted to leave. Your body squirmed in his hold. Dai’stbaen grunted and pinned you to his warm body. “We can’t le-ave!” Austin. Tears were brought to your eyes at the thought of your son. You used a hand to pull on one of Dai’s tresses and directed him over to the partition.

Dai could smell another ooman and something else.

Your feet touched the cool concrete again. The strength in your legs was long gone and forced you to sit down. His gaze was set on what he could see around the partition’s edge. He stalked over then froze for a moment. In another flash, he lunged forward. You decided to stay where you were when you heard a thud smack. Another person choked out. Alive.

Soft, nearly silent footsteps alerted to Dai coming back. When he appeared around the corner, you scrambled to get to your weak legs.

In his arms was the limp body of Austin. “No!” you cried but unable to find the strength. After so long of fighting, you had lost the will. Even at the sight of your son limp in front of you. Tears brimmed the edges of your eyes as you clawed at Dai’stbaen. As if you could climb him to get to Austin. “Please, no.” Your whimper cracked at his own heart.

What had they done to him?

It was your reaction that had the dots clicking inside of his head. You… Oh, by Paya’s will! His eyes widened underneath the mask, muscles turning taunt. The hybrid… it was his. The red scales, mandibles, the tresses. Dai’stbaen could’ve smacked himself for how stupid he had been. How could’ve he not even thought of the possibility?! But… the idea was next to impossible.

Here it was though. In his arms. Softly breathing. The mother clawing at him, eyes balling with tears. Dai’stbaen knelt down in front of the ooman he’s come to know. You instantly tried to tug him out of his arms but it was nothing compared to his strength.

“Austin, honey. Oh god, no. Anything but him!” you sobbed and rushed your hands all over him. He was still warm. The first thing you notice; slightly taking you out of your panic. Then, your finger pads found a gentle pulse. Your saneness slowly coming back as you realized Austin was alive. You gave another sob. This time of relief. Your arms wrapped around him the best you could then slowly looked up at the Yautja.

The mask may hide all of his features… but you felt the heat of his stare. You pulled away and straightened your back, eyes casting downward. Not once did one of your hands leave Austin.

“Yeah,” you choked out and buried yourself into your shoulders. You didn’t know how he was going to react to all of this. Even yourself didn’t want to believe the pregnancy for the first six months.

His arm underneath Austin’s knees snatched the forearm closest to him. Dai leaned in close to you that your foreheads nearly touched. Your heart began to thunder loudly.

“Child? We have… child?” Words so unsure of the reality of everything. A feeling you felt so long ago in the beginning of all of this. You had been alone, terrified. To this day, you still are. Even before they had found out about Austin and yourself.

More tears stained your cheeks. “Yeah,” you sniffled with a nod. His hand twitched for a moment before letting you go. Instead, you carded your fingers through his, nails biting the back of his hand. “We do. I-I didn’t k-now how to-to tell you. You were… gone.” Words so important to you unaffected him. For the most part.

A huff left the alien. His head turned towards the door. The weight of the situation slammed down on you once again. Escape. This was your chance for escape. You couldn’t walk though. The battle had long left you after a lesson well learned. His hands were full with Austin.

You let go of his hand pushed at him. If one must be saved, it had to be Austin. Your son over yourself. “Go! Bef-ore they find out. T-take him to-to safety, please,” you pleaded with the male, face wet and sticky from the constant tears.

Dai snorted and scooted Austin more onto one shoulder. With his other arm, he wrapped it around your torso. One show of strength had you tossed over onto the other shoulder. A pained grunt surge past your lips when you landed harshly on your stomach. The birth had always left you scarred permanently. Then, the Yautja was on his feet and quickly stalking towards the door.

The stolen keycard was used to open the door and revealed an empty hallway. He peered out to look both ways before stepping out. Years of training aided him. His feet light despite the added weight of two people on him. Yet, he had noticed how much lighter you were compared to when he last held you up. Something twisted in the pit of his stomach. A need to end the lives for those caused harm to you.

There were more important things to worry about for now. Safety for one.

Like a skilled hunter, Dai’stbaen was able to slip out of the complex with little difficulty. The cloak had been rendered useless. He was forced to rely on strict listening and awareness of his surroundings.

Fresh air on your skin was heaven sent. You lifted yourself up with just enough strength to prop yourself up on his shoulder. The outside world was something you hadn’t seen in a long time. You could cry at the sight. For so long.

The Yautja carried you a long way. Not once did he stop for a break or rest. Like a freight train, he continued to move. The sway of his gait nearly had you passing out, ready to succumb to a sleep you weren’t petrified to never wake up again.

A familiar sight peered through the trees. The ship. Oh god, you were really free. Dai’stbaen had come for you to save the two of you.

How did he know? Words you wanted to ask him but your energy was dwindling faster than you could stop it. The realization of safety had you finally drifting in and out of light sleep.

The feeling of scales against your belly had your eyes flickering open. You groaned and found yourself on your back, looking up at the familiar face of Dai’stbaen. His biomask long gone at this point. The only upper mandible twitched when his bright yellow eyes found yours. A hand cupped at your cheek, thumb running over your pronounced cheek bone.

“Thank you,” you whispered in a hoarse voice. Water was instantly brought to your lips in the form of a waterskin. Every drop you took then licked at your cracked lips.

Something akin to anger swirled bright in his fierce eyes. His mandibles tightened over his mouth, nails creating divots in your skin. “You stay. With me,” he demanded.

Free from the mask, his voice was clear and crisp in the protection of his room. A space you had shared with him for that month.

Your brows jumped up towards the ceiling. How was that going to work? Humans… they don’t survive outside of earth’s atmosphere. And the creatures he hunts. They would think of you as a snack. Easy pickings. A full bottom shiver wrecked your poor frame.

“How’s… that going to work?” you asked, not opposed to leaving your life behind. All of your friends and family had been pushed away when Austin had been born. Your job must of fired you. Your apartment was probably been cleaned out. Everything you once knew was gone. All besides your child and his father.

His next words were thought over carefully. “You are ooman, weak and frail. Yes. But, I protect you. Like you protected me. We have child. He learn Yautja ways. Be hunter,” he explained to the best of his knowledge in English. Your eyes widened. He wants Austin to be like him.

Austin. Your head whipped about before Dai’stbaen caught it and directed your attention to your side. There laid your sleeping kid. He had curled up on his side, facing you. At peace.

You licked at your cracked lips and gaze back towards Dai’stbaen. “I named him Austin,” you said to him. Something flashed in his eyes, but he kept silent.

Everything he said though, you couldn’t completely disagree on. From the fact your life was ruined, to the fact Austin was different. It took so much to reel him in from going out the front door. Or, he loved to climb up on to of the cupboards. Even when he very young.

A hunter at his core.

“He’s got you heart.” You smiled at him, stars sparkling in your eyes. Then, you bowed your head and played with your hands on the blankets. “I… I agree with you. I can’t go back. And, I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel terrible that I’m probably not taking care of him right.” You peered at Dai from underneath your lashes. “I need your help.”

With his hands on your cheeks, he tugs you in a little closer. His forehead presses to yours in a soft gesture. “I help. We raise together.” Your eyes closed. You embraced the warmth blooming in your chest.

The tension in your chest loosen. You could finally breath normally again.

[confused-gender]

Showing your yautja protector your new pet:

(Y/n): *some how managed to get a leash and muzzle on one of the huge birds that inhabit the desert biome you live in.*

Du’sa: (Y/n)… *his eyes go wide when his eyes land on the bird.* How?!? You shouldn’t even be near that thing.

(Y/n): this is (pet name). Isn’t he the sweetest? *you pat the side of your new pet.*

Du’sa: When did you even get the chance to do this?!?!

(Y/n): *you shrug.* it wasn’t hard to get him. I mean it bit me but I’m fine. *turns around and shows a huge hole in your shirt and a small amount of blood on your back.* See I’m fine.

Du’sa: Y-You’re bleeding! You’re not fine. *He takes a step towards you and your pet goes to bite at him. Causing him to jump back.* what the fuck?!! *panic clicking.*

(Y/n): sorry we’re working on that. (Pet name) WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT BITING!

[ayautjaslover]

THE SIZE DIFFERENCE HOWLEE SHIT

[venusandthestars]

Cherries

The jungle is freezing, especially at night with this rain. You're lucky to be inside the hut, a warm fire on your back, your mate A'Resmoth, under you, the taste of cherries on your tongue.

He had told you he was going on a hunt, only to surprise you with one of your favorite treats: cherries. You had told him about it a few days in a passing thought. He decided right then and there his love was going to get her cherries.

Now here you two were enjoying your night. The rain sends in a cool breeze, now and again. The fire in the middle of the hut sends out a glow, two shadows on the wall.

Your nest, built from branches and leaves, is decorated with multiple furs, different creatures from different planets, all hunted and skinned by A'Resmoth. "You'll have the softest I can find." His mission to keep you happy, comfortable, and fed was his life.

If you're happy, he's happy.

Now look at you two, bellies full, naked, completely relaxed. He loves to take you like this. You, on top of him, his back against the nest, arms spread out at the top.

You've just finished a round of love making, his cum still inside of you as he hasn't pulled out. "Not yet," was all he said when tried to slip off of him. You don't mind when he gets like this. Needy, wanting all your attention. It gives him a break from being your valiant guardian. You start to caress his locs his eyes never leaving you.

"Do you like this?" A tease you are, knowing the answer already. A deep purr from his chest. You chuckle wanting to play with him a bit more. You ghost your fingers across his face to his mandibles.

"Fruit," He mumbles. You lean to the right, plucking a cherry out of the basket bringing it to your lips. The tip of your tongue comes out, licking around the drupe. A'Resmoth watches his pupils dilated at the erotic sight.

Once you're satisfied the fruit is covered with you, you place it into his waiting warm mouth. With his quick reflexes, his left hand grabs your right hand and nips the tips of your fingers. The sweet little moans you left out spurs him on. He tilts his head back dropping your hand, he closes his eyes.

"Please, my mate, use me." A deep voice begs.

How could you say no to that?

You lean back on your hands lift your hips and start to treat yourself. Up and down, you bounce. You moan out, sweet sounds to him, wanting to listen to you forever.

"My love, look at me, please look at me, watch me." A delicious voice begs.

How can he say no to that?

He brings his head down, eyes fixated on the way your pussy engulfs his dick, your first orgasms coating it, a creamy white mix. His grunts lines up with your moans, your souls in sync.

He picks up a cherry, slipping the plump part into your mouth. Once you bite it off the stem, he flicks it away and sticks a finger into your mouth.

"Suck." You do as he says. Sucking and moaning around the digit, you start to swirl your hips clockwise and counterclockwise on him. A'Resmoth grunts feeling his orgasm sneaking up on him. With one hand on your hip, and one hand braced on your back, he gives no warning when he starts to thrust into you.

Your quiet moans turn loud, his big fat dick making you feel so full, so good. You'd live on it if he'd let you.

You're so light to him, he's bouncing you on his lap trying to stall his orgasm wanting to feel you cum on him again. He sneaks the hand from your hip to your neck giving it a squeeze of course minding his strength.

Staring into his eyes you cry out "I wanna come, A'Resmoth, please."

Thats all it takes to set him off, his cum spilling into you.

"Let go my mate, I want to feel you." He grunts out.

The two of you, cumming together. Pure ecstasy.

It takes a few moments to come down from the high. You're out of breath, you smile at him while he looks at you fondly.

You pop another one in your mouth. "Thank you for the cherries my love."

A/N- Pls tell me if the ending was bad it's my first time writing for this universe. I hope you've enjoyed it!