#xenomorph x male reader

[dominantslasherking]

Slashers x Male S/o Masterlist 2

Here is my PART 2 Master list.

Hello, my devilishly handsome readers.

MASTERLIST PT 1.

Btw, Dominant Male reader FOR all of them.

Warning emoji⚠️⚠️ With the one that has smut.

Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman x Male reader Patrick had always mistaken his jealousy for you to be out of wanting what you want, to be like you, when it was in fact that Patrick was jealous because he couldn't be with you. Patrick wants to show you how much he wants you, by getting on his knees like a good boy. (BTW you're his boss)

MORE COMING SOON Billy and Stu

Billy and Stu x Male reader You always manage to catch Billy and Stu's eyes on you, whether it be in the college classroom, or when you're purchase horror stuff, they always seem to follow you. Even in your house you still feel their gazes --- Billy and Stu x Male reader. [Requested] Bill and Stu trying to feel the reader up after he killed someone. And the reader just wants to clean up his mess and go. And since his misbehaving brats don't get the hint, he pins them to the wall, hands around their throats, to get them to shut up

---

Billy and Stu x Male reader [Requested]Billy and stu where male reader ignores them because they have been more caught up in there killing then reader so he gets annoyed and decides to ignore them MORE COMING SOON Hannibal Lecter Hannibal Lecter x Male reader Hannibal drooling over how fit and muscled one of his patients (reader) is and just fantasizing about what he’d let reader do to him during one of their sessions.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Male reader Your basically a mysterious male figure that happens to be around the bene gesserit, (whom not even they could control you) Feyd is obsessed with you, a deep longing inside his soul, his body.

--- Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Male reader One of Feyd's Harpies disrespects you. Feyd is ruthlessly possessive and obsessed with you. --- Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Male reader ⚠️⚠️ Rough, possessive, soul-snatching, soul-sucking, sex. Also, Feyd is a powerbottom.

-- Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Male reader A scene of Feyd showcasing his possessive and overly jealous love for you.

--

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Male reader You're a fremen and Feyd eagerly wants to catch you; for his own personal desires, as he has been obsessed with you.

Cooper Adams Cooper Adams x Male reader Seems like the serial killer the butcher is a big fan of you, a famous horror and thriller writer, who just so happens to be at the concert he was attending...He can't take his eyes off of you. Armand

Armand x Male reader Part 1 Louis and Armand talk to Daniel about you. Armands, strange feelings and possessiveness of you is revealed. The obsession that Armand reveals for you is unsettling, Daniel can't help but wonder, what happened to you.

Armand x Male reader Part 2 Louis and Armand talk to Daniel about you. Armands, strange feelings and possessiveness of you is revealed. The obsession that Armand reveals for you is unsettling, Daniel can't help but wonder, what happened to you.

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐬

ׂ╰┈➤ Aliens; You were deployed by your higher-ups to go on a mission with Ripley and her crew, though you were not just some run of the mill captain or pilot. You were human, but a genetically engineered one, trained and practically brainwashed from the day you were created to follow orders down to a T. Many would even think you were an android with the amount of things you knew.

You had a mission, one that was classified to everyone on board and unknown by others as well. You knew of Ash and why they'd placed him on board. Only between the two of you could anyone speak to "Mother".

It was only when things took a turn for the worse that your true colors began to show, along with odd emotions for the killer species that were aboard. A connection even.

─┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

[jorge575]

Predalien x male reader

I work as a scientist for Weyland-Yutani working in the genetic coding department. My task is taking care of the Predalien, a rare and dangerous creature. It is some type of xenomorph, but we don't know what it was born from. Right now, I'm heading to it's in closer, it resemble a deep jungle, it's dangerous to enter it only. When I get to the door, the guards are not there, which it strange. Weyland-Yutani Protocol is very strict. I need to do my duty besides maybe I can see beautiful creature in person and run right out it will be fine what could go wrong. When I enter it's very hot and sticky, I leave the food in the middle of the room and try to leave, but when I do, the Predalien is right behind me and scream, falling to the floor backing away from it. What I didn't know was that this was all a part of Weyland-Yutani curel's experiment. My back hits the wall, and I close my eyes, hoping for a quick and painless death from the creature. But nothing happens, and I feel something go in between my legs!? It's sniffing me, and then I feel its inner jaw rips a hole in my pants, my dick set free and twitching hole exposed. It took a deep breath of my musk and pulled me closer. It lifted my legs in the air and started eating me out, I feel it's inner jaw reaching places that I could never reach, it stops ravishing me, but i didn't notice. I don't say anything in fear of what this thing will do to me if I fight it. I close my eyes, hoping it will be over soon, but something about this beast taking me is such a turn-on. I feel something wet drip on my face and open my eyes, and see it staring at me? I can't tell if its eyes are hidden. I gasp surprised as it's on all fours trapping me under me, but when I open my mouth, he latches his mouth onto mine, holding nearly half my face with its mandibles. It starts suckling on my tongue, and I can't help but give into it, I put my arms around its neck when I do that it purrs? It must be happy that I am giving into it. I then feel something poking at my butt! I soon feel the Predalien enter balls deep and scream in its mouth from the size of it's dick I feel it stretching, put my stomach!? It takes this opportunity to shove his second jaw deep down my throat, making me gag and chock but soon feel it giving me air? What is this thing planning? I feel it's dick grow inside me, and I soon realize it's going to lay its eggs inside me! I start to struggle, trying to break my face away from his, but it doesn't like that and grabs me sitting up, keeping me still. I feel his dick starting to pulse and his inner jaw deep in my throat. I struggle trying to break free when I feel something big entertaining my mouth from the creature. It starting to lay its eggs in me! I soon feel the egg being pushed down my throat, and I feel its eggs starting to be pushed inside off my butt, I should hate this butt it feels so good. I soon go limp in the Predaliens arms let's it have it's way with me, it soon starts picking up the pass depositing egg after egg until I'm completely stuffed, my stomach is bulging with its eggs as it releases me from ite grip I fall to the floor limp. It soon curls up to me purring. A window of Scientist look through a two way mirror taking notes on the latest experiment

[localeldritchhorrornamedgar]

I GOT SOME MORE FOOD!!!!

also don't mind the top of the page :) it's nothing, maybe?

But yeah, the 6 scar/identification marking is actually based off of specimen 6!\/ as seen below.

I just wanted to include that in there for fun lol, it doesn't mean anything.

ALSO MORE SKETCHES FOR XENO READER (i just started to call mine 6 lmao)

Also i hc that if you take their photo their eyes do the thing that cats do in the dark or like with animal's eyes in night vision cameras.

also @phantom-ares0 the reason why these took so long is bc im cooking something up :) the brain rot is still there and isn't letting go.

Plus I plan on doing more fanart for more fics, it's just the xeno reader is fueling a fire i didn't know i had.

ENJOY 👹👹

[tropes-and-tales]

The Enemy of My Enemy

(The Predator/Yautja x F!Reader)

CW:  Violence; smut (monsterf*cking; fingering; PiV, unprotected). 18+ only.

Word Count: 9889

AN:  This was originally requested by an anonymous person!

The distress call is what bring Mah’tu to Earth:  a Yautja ship infested with a single xenomorph that escapes its cell to wreak havoc before the ship crashes onto the planet of the oomans.  Mah’tu, in a nearby star system, is the closest to handle it.

Thank the gods he has the foresight to call for aid.  A single xenomorph on a planet full of soft, weak creatures…it turns into an infestation almost immediately.  Mah’tu is grateful the Yautja ship at least crashed in a small ooman settlement

Still, the small settlement is overrun quickly.  Mah’tu finds himself outnumbered, outgunned, overpowered.  He sees some oomans as he fights:  they scurry around, they try to run.  Few manage to escape before they are slaughtered.  He pays them no mind.  They are a weak species and only worthy prey because of their inventiveness, but these oomans are panicky and stupid with fear, and easy prey for the serpents.

He finds himself cornered in a large building.  He hears the faint crackle in his comms of other Yautja as they approach Earth, but he himself is lost:  he’s trapped with two of the xenomorphs, and he dispatches one easily, but the second stabs him with its barbed tail, sprays acid blood, and Mah’tu falls. 

The Yautja are strong, durable.  They heal quickly, and neither of these injuries would be fatal, but he feels his vision edging in black, and he knows once he’s unconscious, the serpent will kill him.

Mah’tu is a noble warrior.  He was Blooded young.  His bloodline is ancient, and he’s sired many Yautja that will live on beyond him, so he does not mourn his own lost life as he slips out of consciousness.  At least he won’t feel the blow, though there’s little honor in that sentiment.

It surprises him, then, when he doesn’t die.  When he instead wakes up, comes to, and finds a ooman—small, trembling—crouched beside him.

No, not beside him.  Not exactly.  The ooman is crouched between Mah’tu and the second xenomorph.  It lies dead and twitching as it oozes its acidic blood from where the ooman has impaled it with a metal pole through its long skull.

The ooman is a female of the species, even smaller than the males, and Mah’tu sits up with a grumble and takes in the measure of his savior.  A small thing, filthy.  Stinking of fear and sweat and the rich metallic tang of ooman blood and the acrid, biting odor of serpent blood.  Trembling as she turns and stares at him, her too-wide ooman eyes studying him warily.

How did something so small and cringing manage to kill a serpent, and with a piece of scrap metal, no less?  Mah’tu had seen better trained, better armored Yautja fall to serpents, and yet…

He knows what it means to kill one of the kiande amedha.  The Yautja revere them as the ultimate prey, and to kill one is a feat to be celebrated. 

He does it with little thought:  the ceremony is ingrained in him, as it is ingrained in all of his kind.  To kill a kiande amedha means the ooman is Blooded by Yautja culture, so Mah’tu reaches down and drags a claw through the pooling acid blood of the serpent.  Then he reaches out to the ooman, who flinches away from him, makes a whimper of fear.  But he reaches out his other hand to grasp the filthy face.  He holds her still and traces a small mark onto her forehead that makes her cry out at the sting of the blood as it scars her. 

He marks the ooman—you—as Blooded.  In Yautja culture, it means you are an adult, capable of Hunting alone.  But more than that, it marks you as a full member of the clan, and given the strange circumstances of this moment—Earth, a xenomorph infestation—he marks you as his clan.

When the crackle comes through his comms that his fellow Yautja have arrived, that the military oomans of this sector have loosed a missile of some sort to level this infestation, Mah’tu again acts with little thought.  This is ingrained in him too:  marked as his clan now, he grabs your wrist, tugs you to the roof of the building, and narrowly escapes with you before your settlement is leveled by your government.

He realizes what he’s done once the ship is safely away from your star system.  He’s marked you as Blooded, as his clan, which means you’re his responsibility now.

-----

A famous ooman once wrote that the course of true love never did run smooth.  Mah’tu, without the benefit of any sort of literature course in his Yautja education, never heard the quote, but it doesn’t make it untrue.

Who would have thought the cringing little ooman would be so relentlessly furious at him, once the fact of her situation became clear to her?

Reason must flee your little skull.  There is nowhere for you to go unless out of the airlock into the void of space, yet you fight him.

Or you try to.

The first night you attack him, Mah’tu is taken unawares.  Why would he ever think you’d try?  He’s sitting in the pilot’s seat of his ship when the sensitive appendages on his head alert him to someone behind him, but not quickly enough:  there’s a dull bloom of pain in his shoulder, and it comes accompanied by you yelling some ooman word he does not understand.

He turns in his seat and appraises you.  He takes in the fury on your face, as it cedes to confusion, then dejection.

From the meat of his shoulder, a small shank of metal is half-buried.  He pulls it out, the pain minuscule, the cut already mending.  He examines the weapon, a pathetic thing that you’ve found and tried to shape into something that could kill him.

It makes him chuckle, which sounds like a trilling to you.  Then he stands, takes your arm in his paw, and drags you back to the storage area he cleaned out to house you. 

“Stay,” he orders you, and he locks you in anyway.  He cannot know how you bristle to be ordered about as you would order a dog.

The second time you attack him?  You’ve loosened the bolts on a seat in the cockpit.  You must have been at it for hours at a time, working your feet against the fastenings while you slouched beside him and stuck the fleshy part of your mouth out in a pout.  Mah’tu bends in his seat to recalibrate a certain piece of equipment, and a moment later, the loosened chair smashes against his skull.

The chair breaks into several pieces.  His skull doesn’t break at all.

“God fucking dammit,” you breathe out as he straightens out, stands to his full height. 

He locks you in again, and as he drags you to your quarters, you try to punch him.  Your little fists aim for his face, his eyes, his throat, and they glance off of him with no effect.  You land a punch to his mouth and it cuts your hand.  Mah’tu smells the metallic tang of your blood as he tosses you into your cell.

He thinks on it a beat later, then tosses in a med-spray so you can heal your fragile ooman skin.

-----

From there, you change your tactics.  You abuse him verbally.  You narrow your eyes into slits and call him all sorts of names:  monster, alien, crab-faced motherfucker.  Slimy fucked-up lizard.

When he’s alone in his quarters, he must look up some of the words you use.  A crab, for example, is a harmless water creature on earth that oomans eat.  Mah’tu cocks his head, considers it.  Have oomans ever eaten a yautja before?  The records are silent on the matter. 

The verbal abuse is much like your physical abuse.  It glances off of him.  His kind have little capacity for metaphor, for simile or abstract thinking, so when you call him a “motherfucker” it does not bother him because you are wrong—he has never mated with his dam.  A silly thought.

-----

Your fury never seems to lessen, but it does cool into something more refined and less ruled by passion.  You finally seem to grasp that he means you no harm and that attacking him could leave you stranded in a star system your kind has never even heard of before.

You don’t try to attack him anymore, and your verbal assaults have lessened as well.  You still twist your too-soft mouth around into a look that means displeasure, and Mah’tu senses that you are assessing the situation.  Waiting for an opportunity to escape him.

So be it.  You may be a Blooded member of his clan now (a fact he must remind himself, as your behavior often puts him in mind of a youngling, rash and stupid), but he is your elder both in age and tradition.  He has followed all the protocols:  he’s alerted the head of his clan, who required several confirmations that yes, you were a ooman and yes, you had killed a kiande amedha.  He registers your DNA in the clan’s codex.  Lists both your ooman name and the Yautja one he chooses for you (his name means “Swift Judgment,” but yours translates roughly as “Vexing Thorn”). 

And though you are Blooded, as your elder, he takes up your training.  Against his judgment (swift or otherwise), it is protocol, so he trains you.

Wisely, he starts by teaching you defensive moves.  Why put a blade or worse, a plasmacaster, in your twitchy little paws?

If he hadn’t seen the evidence of your killing the kiande amedha, Mah’tu would doubt it now.  Even accounting for the general weakness of oomans, their lack of speed or agility or flexibility, you are terrible.  Your reflexes…do you even have reflexes? 

Mah’tu shows you how he’ll attack you, he shows you how to counter, he comes at you at quarter-speed, and still you fail.  You take his punches, his slaps, the sweeps of his leg, and you always end up on the mat in the training room of his ship.

As your elder, he tries to give you helpful advice.

“You are very slow,” he tells you.  “Move faster.”

His advice is not well received.  “Fuck you,” you spit from your place on the floor, wheezing as you try to catch your breath.

Mah’tu shakes his head.  “No, you must train more.  How will you ever join the Hunt?”

“I’m not a hunter, asshole!”

“You are Blooded.”

“I’m a goddamned dispatcher at a heating and cooling company!”

He considers this—he did not know that the oomans could control the weather or environment in this way.  He will add it to the codex so that other Yautjas may investigate it.  But it likely will not help you on the Hunt.

He holds his hand out to you, and you glare at him for a long moment before you take it and allow him to haul you back onto your feet.

“Again,” he says.  “I will attack you from the front, and you must feint and then counter by striking me low on my arm.”  He pauses and adds, “I will go as slowly as I can.”

You make a growling noise in the back of your throat.  “Fuck. You,” you grit out, but you change your stance as he shows you.

A second later, you’re on your back again, but at least you land a blow before Mah’tu puts you on the floor.  Your weak little fist glances off his arm, but he is feeling generous and counts it as a win for you.

-----

At his next Hunt, Mah’tu judges that you are not prepared, so he leaves you behind at base camp.  He’s not concerned that you’ll try to escape:  if you run off, he’ll easily track you.  If you try to steal the ship, you won’t get far, as you don’t know how to fly it.

“Stay here,” he orders anyway, and you do that thing with your too-close eyes where they move in their sockets.  He believes it may mean you are displeased, but most of your expressions seem to mean that.

“Aye, aye, captain.”

He shakes his head, touches his hand to his chest.  “No, I am Mah’tu.  Not cap-tan.”

You do the thing with your eyes again.  “It’s an expression.  Sarcasm, in this case.”

He tilts his head, and you clarify, “a kind of joke.”

Ah.  He nods, then turns back to his weapons.  He inspects them one last time, then holsters them on his body.  The different blades, the net-gun, the darts and spear.

“I will return victorious.  You will stay here, little sain’ja.”

You scowl at the nickname but say nothing, and Mah’tu doesn’t tell you that it means “warrior.”  It is a jest because you are no warrior.  A kind of joke, as you’d say.

-----

It is a successful Hunt.  It brings him much honor and new trophies. 

You are unimpressed, but when he strings up his kills and begins to clean the skulls, you make an injured noise and dart to the edge of camp to retch.  The retching goes on and on, so much so that Mah’tu pauses in his efforts to check on you.

“You are ill?” he asks.  “You have eaten something poisonous, perhaps?”

“No, you fucking psycho!”  You stand up, swipe the back of your hand along your mouth.  “You killed those creatures just for their skulls?”

“Oomans kill for trophies as well,” he points out reasonably.

“Yeah, but we also eat the meat.  Venison, turkey, whatever.  Some humans, you know, use all of the animal.  The skin and horns and stuff.”

Ah, a misunderstanding.  It’s bound to happen.  Mah’tu puts his hand on your shoulder and lowers his head to show he is sorry for not explaining better.

“Do not worry,” he tells you.  “We will eat these creatures’ flesh as well.”

You blink at him, and then you turn away quickly to retch again.  Perhaps there was a misunderstanding, but perhaps you are ill as well. 

“I will get you a med-kit,” he tells you.  “It will cure your illness quickly.”

“Dude, really?”  You heave again, but your stomach seems to be empty of any contents.  “Honestly, fuck you.”

-----

Living with you is never easy, but it does reach moments of ease, especially when considering how you tried to kill him at first.

He trains you, or tries to.  You do get stronger, leaner.  You lose some of the ooman softness you had, and through your spat-out cursing, Mah’tu learns small details of your life on earth.  How, for example, your role as weather-shaman was a passive one that entailed a lot of sitting and little movement.  You apparently were a leader of sorts, ordering other weather-shamans on where to go to bring heat or coolness to other oomans. 

There is a limit to your abilities as a fighter, though, and you reach them quickly under his tutelage.  You can block many of his attacks, and you can land a blow occasionally, but in twenty sparring sessions, you are lucky to draw his blood once. 

He finds that the sparring helps to spend your general fury at him, and the time afterwards—your muscles trembling, your body fatigued and bruised—is almost pleasant.  Mah’tu has always been interested in the ooman civilizations, and when he asks his questions, you usually answer them honestly.

“Who were your sire and dam?” he asks.

“My mom and dad?”

“Yes.”

“Then say ‘mom’ and ‘dad,’ you weirdo.”

This is how Mah’tu learns that word choice is important to oomans, that your species uses words to differentiate things that are essentially the same thing.

“I never knew my dad.  He took off before I was born.  My mom was an alcoholic.  She died when I was twenty.”

“You did not know which clan sired you?”

You narrow your eyes at him.  “Fuck you.  I knew my dad’s name, but that was it.”

“Did you share your si…dad and mom with others?”

That, for some reason, makes your mouth turn up at the corners, your lips curved upwards.  “We call those siblings.  Brothers and sisters.  And no, I was an only child.”

“Ah.”  Mah’tu nods knowingly.  “Your dad was not worthy to sire many oomans.”

And that, for some reason, makes you laugh.  It doesn’t sound like a Yautja’s laughter, but it isn’t unpleasant, Mah’tu finds.

“Mom would have liked that.  Not worthy.  Well, the bastard never paid a cent of child support anyway.”

-----

The two of you continue like this:  misunderstanding each other, clarifying what confuses the other, navigating your two separate species and cultures.

It’s not easy, but it grows easier with each passing moment.  He no longer has to lock you in your room each night, as you no longer try to escape.  He no longer fears your fury (not that he feared it much anyway), so he doesn’t keep such a close eye on you.

He deems you worthy of a blade.  He knows you’ll likely never be trained to a level of plasmacaster, but a small blade, designed and weighted for your size and strength seems appropriate for the rare Blooded ooman.

He spends long hours in his workshop crafting it for you.  His sire was a renowned weapons master, and he passed his skills onto all of his offspring.  Mah’tu forges the metal, hones the edge to such a sharpness that it could split one of the hairs on your head.  He carves the handle to fit your hand perfectly, and finally, he tools a fine sheath out of leather, because he worries that you’ll cut yourself sooner than you’ll cut an enemy.

On the leather sheath, he picks out the symbols for your Yautja name.  His Vexing Thorn.

-----

Mah’tu learns much from you, and he adds all of it to the great shared codex of information so that other Yautja may know and learn.

Your mention of child support, for example.  It is a thing that a sire must use to support his offspring—money, which is the paper goods that represents wealth.  He questions you heavily on this point; Yautja honor is derived from the Hunt, but ooman honor seems to come from which of your species can acquire the most of those paper goods.  It determines who may live in a fine home and who may starve, and when he explains it back to you—to make sure he understands it correctly—you stare at him, then nod.

“I mean, basically.”  But then you try to explain a thing called a stock exchange, and a thing called capitalism, but when he presses certain points, you get confused too.

“I dunno, dude.”  You throw your hands up, a gesture of helplessness.  “I never went to college, and if I had, I wouldn’t have majored in economics.”

-----

Early on, he calibrates to the ebb and flow of your body, and the questions he asks you in regards to your biology is what makes you the most anxious.  Through his bio-mask, he can see how the heat courses to your face.  He can hear your heartbeat increase in cadence, but he cannot understand why you respond in such a way.  A body is a body.  It’s systems and rhythms are what they are.

“You are injured,” he tells you, early.  He’s still locking you in at night, and you’re still scowling at him and calling him, among other things, a fucking lizard asshole. 

“’m not,” you reply.

He breathes the air of the cockpit.  “I smell blood.”

The heat floods your face; it shows white-hot in his mask.  “Shut up.”

“If you are injured—”

“I said I’m not.”

“If you are bleeding, I can get a med-kit—”

“Fuck, dude!  I’m on my period, okay?”

Mah’tu tilts his head and thinks back to the rudimentary studies he’d read about oomans.  “Ah, you are menstru—”

You cut him off with another scowl, but your eyes fix on the stars in front of you outside of the cockpit.  “And by the way, having one’s period in deep space is not as fun as it sounds.  I bet Princess Leia never had to worry about it.”

He does not understand your ire.  “Is this Princess Leia a famed statesman on your planet?” he asks, kindly as he can, but you cut him an icy glare and launch yourself out of your chair and out of the cockpit.

You manage to toss a strained “fuck you” over your shoulder before you leave, as you often do.

-----

So Mah’tu comes to understand the seasons of your body.  He also comes to understand how your feel about those seasons.  He does not mention when you are on your period, though he can tell.  He is sure to give you more privacy, and that helps ease the strain between the two of you.

But with other things, your face does not get inflamed.  When your head aches, or when you twist a joint in sparring, you are free with discussing these things with him.  When you feel hunger or thirst, when you require a blade to trim away the excess hair that grows from your head.  When you feel tired.  You share these things with him.

The only other thing  you don’t share is when you are in heat.  Mah’tu can tell that too, can scent you when your heat is upon you.  It runs in the same rhythm as your period does, the two part of the same cycle that seems to come every thirty or day earth days.

It happens so often, he thinks.  Yauja females only have a handful of heats in their entire long lives, yet you could spawn eleven or twelve oomans in one earth year.  His mind is baffled by the math of it until he checks the codex and learns that no, oomans do not spawn that much.  Despite their numerous heats, they only produce roughly the same number of pups as a Yautja female would. 

Mah’tu sighs and leans back in his seat once he reads that.  He has so much to learn.

The next section in that part of the codex details observed ooman mating rituals, and below that, known instances of Yautja and ooman mated pairs. 

It is the latter that makes Mah’tu lean forward, then glance over his shoulder, then lean forward more:  a furtive move that would put one in mind of a teenaged human boy looking at pornography for the first time, though of course Mah’tu would not know that.

*****

Sometimes you wonder if you were in an accident that has left you in a deep coma somewhere.  How else can you explain the hell that broke loose that night, your small town overrun by monsters?

And how else can you explain the monster who…what?  Kidnapped you?  Saved you?  Because he stole you away from home, but you also saw that mushroom cloud from the porthole in his ship.  Did earth even still exist?  If you could escape, where would you go?

It’s easier to imagine this all as a fever dream.  A coma.  Some consequence of a broken brain throwing out insane story lines around monsters and aliens and space travel to worlds you couldn’t even fathom.

But then reality comes rushing back at you, usually in the form of the giant beast named Mah’tu, swiping at you or tripping you or hitting you with the dull blades of his goddamned fucking spaceship dojo.

Then you realize, arm or leg throbbing, bruise forming on your stomach, eye swelling shut or lip split:  this is no coma.  It’s real life.

-----

He doesn’t kill you.  You learn, over time, it’s because you killed one of those disgusting black things with the giant head full of teeth.  He had traced its blood onto your head, and you finger the scar sometimes when you struggle to sleep at night.

“You are Blooded,” he explains, like you know what the fuck that means.  “You are a member of my clan now.”

Great.  Wonderful.  You finally had a found family of giant lizard aliens.

You try to explain it to him.  Killing that thing was dumb luck.  It was some animal instinct, flailing as it cornered you.  Your hand had found the piece of metal, and the monster came at you, and you had swung in a move of self-preservation. 

“Dumb luck,” you tell him.

But his beady little eyes shine at you, and he lays a heavy paw on your shoulder.  “A warrior’s instinct,” he corrects you.

You snort.  You, a fucking warrior.  You barely passed gym class in high school, cringing during dodgeball, puking during the timed mile run. 

“A mistake,” you counter.

He shakes his head.  “Fate.”

-----

It’s not terrible.  You’re no warrior, but your childhood with an unsteady mother left you with the ability to adapt pretty easily.

He trains you, or tries.  He goes hunting for his psycho room of trophy skulls, but he doesn’t force you to eat the raw, dripping meat he harvests.  He takes the time to feed you a fruit-type stew, great chunks of roasted vegetables, some kind of flatbread.  You recognize the hypocrisy of it—you loved a good burger on earth—but now you’re a vegetarian by default.

He gives you your own space, a narrow storage closet that he cleans out and makes a little nest of furs.  When you hurt too much or get sick, he administers some sort of alien medicine that heals you and gives you a boost of energy, like you imagine old-style Coca-Cola used to do when they made it with a little cocaine.

So you endure, and sometimes—you’ll never admit it to him, the goddamned asshole who stole you away from home—sometimes, you actually enjoy this new life.  When the stress of work and debts and making rent each month and trying to save up for a new car fall away, when you are whittled down to a more essential sort of life, you find that your anxious mind calms. 

You find that you sleep pretty well in that nest of soft furs, all things considered.

-----

The training, though.

The goddamned training.

He is unfailingly patient, at least.  He never once gets frustrated when you fail to move the right way.  In the rare off-chance you land a blow on him, his happiness is outsized, like a parent crowing when their toddler takes their first steps.

It should be humiliating, but sometimes his praise makes you smile in spite of yourself.  You know he’s humoring you, but still.  You’ll take your wins where you can get them.

The problem with your handful of training successes, though, is that he thinks you ready for more.  He introduces weapons with dull blades.  Today, you’re training with some fucking spear thing, and he raps you over and over with his own.  A stinging blow across your knuckles.  A stab to your belly that lands like a punch.  Finally, a curt jab to your ankle that strikes you right on your ankle bone, and you hit the ground with a shriek at the pain that crackles like lightning from your foot.

“Asshole!” you wheeze.  You pull yourself into a fetal position on your side, and you pull your injured foot up towards you.  You flex your foot.  It doesn’t seem broken, but you know it will bruise.  And you know he’ll make you swallow a vial of whatever healing shit he has, and the bruise will heal within the day, and tomorrow you’ll be back here, tears leaking out of your eyes as you stare up at him.

“You were supposed to move to the left.”  He tilts his head, studies you.  “You stepped into my blow instead.”

“Fuck you!”  You spit it out with all the venom you can muster.  Sparring is as much choreography as it is strength and speed, and guess what?  You’ve never danced in your life, aside from some drunken flailing at bars and wedding receptions when you were younger.

At your words, though, he tilts his head the other way, and his bright yellow eyes bore into you.

“Not now,” he replies.  “Perhaps when you are in heat next.”

That immediately takes your mind from the throbbing in your ankle.  You gape at him, and he stares down at you wordlessly.  Did you misunderstand him?  It seems a miracle he can speak at all, and English at that, but he is very literal. 

“What?” you finally manage to choke out.

“If we are to mate, we should wait until you are in heat again.”  He says it so matter-of-factly, and you can feel the blood flooding your face and neck.

“I don’t—”

“It will be upon you in four or five earth days.”

You uncurl yourself and sit up.  “How the fuck do you know that?”

“I can smell you.”

You curl your nose in disgust.  “Oh, gross.  You can smell me?  You sound like a fucking serial killer.  Hannibal Lecter in space.”  You struggle to your feet, and when he reaches out his hand to help, you bat it away.

He tilts his head again, but now there is a question in his eyes.  “Is this a misunderstanding, little sain’ja?  You have said numerous times you would like to mate with me.”

“The fuck I have!”

“Is that not what it means, when you say ‘fuck you’?  The codex indicates that ‘fuck’ means ‘to mate.’”

You gape at him again.  Then you close your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose.  You take a deep breath.  He’s not wrong.  You’ve said ‘fuck you’ a thousand times to him.  Goddamnit.

You keep your eyes squeezed shut, and you manage to say as politely as you can, “yes, it’s a misunderstanding.”

You hear the huff he breathes out, the low growl, and then he replies, “another instance of ooman words meaning different things, then.”

“Yeah, update the codex, dude.”

“I will.”  A beat, and then he adds, “this Hannibal Lecter.  Is he a great warrior in your species?”

-----

The problem is, once he says it, you can’t get it out of your head.

Why do you seem more open to it as time passes?  You read once that Stockholm Syndrome wasn’t real, but perhaps it is and you have some version of it.  Or maybe you’re just lonely, and had been lonely before you got kidnapped by him, or saved by him, depending on the lens you took on the matter.

It’s true that you had been in a dry spell on earth.  You lived in a small town with few prospects.  Everyone your age was already paired up, many married with kids.  You and your ex had broken up a year before the alien invasion, and you’d had no dates in the interim, no offers, no tempting moments with another person.

And anyway, your ex hadn’t been that great.  It had been a relationship of convenience until you had gotten wise to the fact that life with him was not convenient at all.  The sex was mediocre at best, he was always borrowing money from you, and never rinsed his toothpaste down the drain when he brushed his teeth.

He never got you anything as a gift either.  Mah’tu, in comparison, crafted a custom knife for you…which isn’t exactly a necklace from Tiffany’s, but there is no other knife like yours in the known universe, either.

He’s also considerate to your temperament, your likes and dislikes.  He makes sure you have food you’ll eat.  He does his skull-cleaning grossness out of sight now.  More than once, he’s taken a detour to a planet just to show it to you, just to watch you stand on alien soil and gape like an idiot at flora and fauna that no other human has ever seen.

The craziest thought you’ve ever thought:  maybe this fucking alien is the closest thing to a healthy relationship I’ve ever had in my life.

“You’ve lost it,” you whisper in the darkness of your quarters one night.  “You’ve lost your goddamned mind.”

Because you lie there for a long moment, thinking about it, and you find that you don’t need to be in heat (the word alone makes you groan in disgust) to feel the sharp knife of desire lance through your belly at the thought of him.

-----

One night, around the fire of a planet where he’s hunting, you ask him.

“Why did you save me?”  You watch him as he looks up from polishing his knife.  He seems to consider his answer.

“Because you are Blooded, in my clan.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to do that.”

He shakes his head, the dread-like things on his head moving as he does.  “It is required.  You killed a kiande amedha.”

“I’ve told you, that was an accident.  Dumb luck.”

“Many Yautja die in the attempt to kill one.”

“But I’m no warrior.  I could never kill another.”

He makes a low trill, which seems to be his version of a chuckle.  “No.  But you only need kill one to be Blooded.”

You look down at your hands.  They are calloused now from all the training, the nails trimmed short.  “So it’s just that, then?  Just dumb luck that got me here?”

“Not only that, little sain’ja.  You could have killed me but did not.”

“So you owe me?”

“No.  There is no debt.”  He pauses.  “Why do you question me?”

You lift your hands in a helpless gesture.  “I dunno.”

“The codex says that oomans often question their fate.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you snort.  “I just was curious.  I thought maybe it was that thing, you know.  The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“You think I brought you here because we mutually aided each other against the serpents?”

You nod.  “Sure.”

Mah’tu shakes his head again, and he chuckles in his way.  “No, little sain’ja.  I brought you here because you are Blooded in my clan.  I’ve kept you with me because I enjoy your presence.”

It’s not Shakespeare, you suppose, but it’s a sweet sentiment, in his own sort of way.

*****

There is a series of Hunts, and Mah’tu fails in one, succeeds in the others.  His trophy room has much more Honor added to it, though you remain unimpressed by his prowess.

“Gross,” you say when you peek in at it.

He points to the long skull of the kiande amedha, the one he killed to become Blooded.  “Had we more time, I would have beheaded yours so you could keep your trophy.”

You make a face and lift a hand to touch the scar on your forehead.  “I think I have plenty to remember it, but thanks.  If I ever end up back home, I’ll need to look up a plastic surgeon to handle this.”

It takes some explaining what you mean, but when Mah’tu grasps your meaning, he is outraged.  You think the mark makes you unworthy.  Ugly, you say.

“It marks you as worthy.  A special ooman,” he spits out.  “The others of your kind would be fools to not see you as such.”

Normally, you’d do that thing with your eyes, but instead you study him.  Stare at him, steady and unblinking.  Finally you say, “you may be the only creature who sees me that way.”

He huffs.  “Then I am the only creature with eyes to see and a brain to think.”

-----

He is not sure what changes with you.  Perhaps you only needed time to adapt to life with him.  Oomans, he knows, are highly adaptable.

You have stopped the verbal abuse entirely.  You make an earnest attempt when training, and by applying yourself, you earn the right to learn the net-gun.  You earn your own bio-mask, and Mah’tu labors over it for several star cycles.  You have such a tiny skull, and your eyes are so far apart.  It must be custom made.

You join him on a Hunt.  It is just a small one, a training to whet a new spear he has made.  The prey is hardly worthy, but Mah’tu uses the opportunity to teach you how to stalk, how to move silently, how to be still and watch.  You are much better at that than you are at fighting, and though you kill nothing on your first Hunt, you earn Honor for yourself by successfully stalking a herd of very jittery prey.  They never once suspect you, and Mah’tu trills in pride when he sees you get close enough to reach out and touch one.

That night around the fire, he gives you much praise.  You like that, he finds—you duck your head as if ashamed, but it is to hide your smile.  Which means you are pleased. 

“Had you been a moment quicker, you could have killed one,” he tells you.  “Though it would be a small skull.  Our younglings often kill them to learn their blades.”

You laugh.  “Oh, fuck you.  Our younglings.  Yeah, yeah, I get it.  This weak-ass human is less skilled than a Yautja infant.”

That phrase again.  He knows what it means now, though he was greatly disappointed that it wasn’t what he thought.  Still, he bristles; he sits up straighter and looks at you when you say it, and when you realize what you’ve done, you give him a sheepish look.

“Be at ease,” he says.  “I know what you mean.”

Incredibly, you lower your head, and he sees no smile there.  You kick your foot in the dirt, scuffing it, and you mumble, “maybe I meant it the other way.”

“Which way?”

You groan, and you place your hands over your face.  He isn’t wearing his bio-mask, but he can guess that your face is inflamed. 

“Don’t make me say it.”  The words are muffled, and your voice is tight.

“Say what?”

“Ugh, the gross way you phrase everything.  You know what I mean.”

“I do not, little sain’ja.”  Though he does—it is a lie to say he does not understand.  As you’d say, it’s a kind of joke.  Pretending one thing when another is true.  A ooman sort of jest.

“You know what I mean.  Fuck’s sake, I mean mating.”  You whisper the last word, make it small in your mouth, but he hears it anyway.

He wonders what changed in this respect too, but he can consider it later.  “We should wait until your next heat is on you.”

That makes you squawk, a sound of outrage.  “Absolutely not!  I’d never survive it if I got pregnant!”

He chuckles at your horror.  “There would be no risk.  There are no Yautja-ooman hybrids.  It is an impossible thing.”

You sag in relief.  “Then why wait?”

“We cannot if you are not in heat,” he points out.

Now it is your turn to laugh at him, and then Mah’tu has another clarification to add to the codex:  oomans can mate nearly any time, any place, so long as the mood is upon them.

As it turns out, the mood is upon you now, and Mah’tu is grateful that his face does not show his emotions as blatantly as yours does—otherwise, you may see how he is flustered, then aroused in equal measure.

*****

He would take you outside, you think, but you douse the fire and lead him back into the ship.  For one, you don’t want this to be out in the open, where any creature could witness. 

For another, you want to be as close as possible to his array of med-kits and healing sprays.  God knows how this is going to work.  He’s bigger than you in every way possible.  It may not work at all.

He seems confused, but he lets you lead him.  You, for once, hold your hand out to him.  He makes a low trill, and takes it, and he follows you into the ship.  You start to lead him into your quarters by habit, but he stops, tugs you towards his.

“More space,” he says.

In his quarters, he only stands and watches you.  Waits for you to make a move.  Which is novel, for you:  you’re used to letting your partner lead, though your partner up until now has exclusively been a disappointing and generally clueless human male.

“Um.”  You kick off your boots.  You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, then take a breath and pull it off, as quick as you can.  “How do you usually?”

That curious head tilt of his.  “Usually what?”

You swear to god that he’s toying with you.  His stupid face gives nothing away, but he’s not usually so dense.

“How do your kind mate?”  You undo the snap on your pants, the zipper, and you push them over your hips.  You kick them off, peel out of your socks, and stand in front of him in your underwear.

They mate like they do everything else:  with ceremony, rules, customs, elaborate steps that either mean honor or dishonor.  They mate due to some confusing clan alliance, and the mating is always towards breeding the next generation of Yautja.  They don’t generally mate for pleasure, though of course it is pleasurable to mate, he explains.

“But you are not beholden to those customs,” he adds.  “As you cannot add glory to our clan by breeding with me.”

“Noted.”

“Even if we could have offspring, they would be very weak.”

“I said I got it, thanks.”

While he gives his explanation, he strips too.  He lays aside his greaves, his gauntlets, his weird footwear.  The data pad he wears on his wrist.  The fine netting of his invisibility tech.  The thick belt that holds more weaponry than Batman’s setup.  He leaves his loincloth-thing on, though, and stands to look at you.

He makes no move.  You give him a long moment to lead, but when he only stands and watches you, you decide to lead.

You bridge the few steps between you, and this close—sans most of your clothing and most of his—the size difference has never been more stark.  Hell, the difference in your damned species has never been more stark.  He’s objectively ugly, you suppose.  You must be just as ugly to him, but you wonder if he finds you as fascinating as you find him?

He's a greyish green at first glance, but you’ve noticed that his coloring depends on the light.  Sometimes he looks more like a gem, glimmering a darker green like an emerald.  Now, in the lower light of his berth, he shimmers almost iridescent. 

You’ve touched him plenty in the training sessions, so you know that your first impression (cool and slimy) is incorrect.  His skin is dry, warm to the touch.  You reach out a tentative hand and lay it on one of his massive pectoral muscles, and when you do, he lays his own hand over yours.  Engulfing it.

“How do your kind mate?” he asks, and honestly?  He kinda nails the bedroom voice because he lowers his register and growls it, and the sound makes the ache between your legs grow stronger.

Who knew he had it in him?

You think on how to answer him, but he adds, “show me, little sain’ja.”

*****

It takes much of his strength to not overpower you.  He can smell your arousal, sharper even than when you’re in your heat.  He can hear your heartbeat growing faster, can hear your breathing getting a harsh edge to it.  Mostly, though, it’s just his instinct to want to fight you, to submit you to him.  To treat you like a Yautja female, really.

But you’re not Yautja.  The sight of you in your thin underthings is proof of that.  Your fragile skin has no variations aside from a few scars.  Your fleshy mouth, your too-wide eyes, the strange lifeless hair that sprouts from your head…he should find you repellent, but when you touch him, he leans into the sensation of your hand on his chest.

He orders you to lead.  He does not want to hurt you, so he puts the moment in your hands.

You pause, considering your moves.  Thoughtful of what to do in order to make this work.  You nod then, and remove the remainder of your clothing, and Mah’tu takes in what has been hidden from him:  your breasts, despite having no younglings to nourish.  The curls that cover your sex.  You gesture to him, and he removes his loincloth, and your already-wide eyes go wider to the point where he fears they may fall out of your skull.

“Fuck,” you breathe out.

He nods.  “Yes.”

You laugh at him, and it’s the merry version, not the frustrated kind.  “We have to go slowly.”

“Yes.”

“I mean it.  You have to….”  You pause, and he hears the way you swallow as you study him.  “You’ll basically have to not move until I, uh, get used to it.  Once we…start.”

Another nod.  “Yes.  I understand.”

"But you can, uh, touch me. If you want. Before we start."

He lies down on his furs when you tell him to, and you approach him carefully.  You cast a wary eye on him as you kneel beside him, then shuffle closer.  He takes a hand and chances to touch one of your curves, the one from the dip in your waist to the swell of your hip, and you like that.  He can smell the way your arousal blooms, so he continues touching you.  Slowly.  Carefully.  He leads you to lie down beside him, and he touches all the parts of you he never has touched in your training sessions.

Each place is a revelation.

Your breasts are soft, malleable, yet they are tipped with firm nipples.  He molds his hands around the shape of them, which makes you moan, but when he skates a blunt nail carefully over each nipple, one and then the other, you part your lips and swear at him.

“Fuck’s sake,” you say, and your voice is tight, like you’re pained.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.  God, no.”  Another hard swallow.  “That’s…that’s good.  You can do that again.”

So he does.

Oomans, he finds, perhaps like their pleasure with a little pain, or even just the threat of it.  He is gentle with you, careful of his strength and his claws, but your arousal grows sharp when he draws a nail over your tender skin or when he wraps one hand around your neck to hold you still from your wriggling.

His exploration leads him lower, to the source of your arousal.  He slides a gentle finger between your legs, feels how hot you are, how wet you are, how the slick seeps out of you in anticipation for the joining with him.

All the same…

“Your sex is very small,” he mutters.  He drags the pad of one finger through your folds and finds your entrance.  He tests it, pushes it into you, and it goes fine with how wet you are, but a lone finger is nothing compared to his cock.  Still, when he breeches your entrance with his digit, he hears the breathy way you whisper his name.  Better, he feels how your sex twitches against him.  Like it seeks to draw him in deeper.

So he adds a second finger, which makes you curse, but it is much the same.  The same twitching from the smooth muscles of your sex.  A fresh pulse of wetness coats his fingers, and he pushes them in, draws them out, mimics mating in this way.  Spreads his fingers inside you, to stretch you in preparation.

“God,” you whisper.  “Please, don’t stop.  Keep…keep doing that, okay?”

He nods.  He’s an eager pupil, and you can teach him this.  A moment later he feels it:  your tiny hand, fumbling for his cock.  Circling your slender fingers around his girth.  You have little strength but it’s enough to give him pleasure, and he wonders how much is due to your grip and how much is due to the fact that it’s you, his Vexing Thorn, gripping him there.

“This gives you pleasure?” he asks.

“Yes.”  You hiss it, draw the word out.  With your other hand, you reach down yourself and show him another part of you, a firm little bud also slick with your arousal, just above your entrance.  “If you, you know, touch that carefully.  Rub it?  Carefully.  It will be…ah, fuck, yes.  Like that.  Just like that.”

As he works his hand, he feels you relaxing.  Loosening.  You are still very small, but it seems more likely that you can take him now, so he keeps going, and you writhe against him, stroke him as you whine out all sorts of words he’ll have to study later. 

You reach some point where you deem yourself ready, and you push his hand away.  You take your own hand from him, and he grumbles in disappointment, but then you are on him, on top of him, pushing him back, and he lets you.

“Are you okay with this?” you ask.  You straddle him, and he feels the hot slick of you pressed against the length of him.  “I mean, I don’t know the politics of this.  Is this even consensual?”

“Explain your question more.”

You sigh, but you also slide against him, your lower body moving back and forth in small motions as your hands brace on his stomach.  He feels how you’re coating him in your arousal, and the mechanics of it make sense.  If your sex is slick and his is as well, it will make the mating easier—

“I mean, we never reviewed consensual sex with other species in high school sex ed.”

“I do not understand.”  He grips the fat of your ass, you’re so soft there, and he urges your movements.  There is pleasure even in this, and he feels himself growing harder underneath you.

“Am I…fuck, I don’t know how to say it without just saying it.  Is this what you want?  Am I coercing you for sex?”

He chuckles under you, trills deep and long.  “Little sain’ja, how could you coerce me?  You are so weak.”

You pout, the fleshy lower lip of yours stuck out and wet.  “Asshole.”

“I could throw you off me in an instant.  I could be on top of you before you could even blink.”

That makes a fresh beat of arousal pulse out of you, coating him more.  He notes it.  Perhaps you would find pleasure underneath him, just as he is enjoying being underneath you.

“Okay, yeah.  Good.  So we’re good, then.”

“This is what I want,” he clarifies to your question.  “You can feel how I strain to seat myself in you.”

“Well, then.”  You gaze at him a beat longer, but you shift, reach your hand down.  You grasp him at the root of his cock, and you lift yourself up enough to slot the flared head of him against your entrance.

“I mean it.  Please don’t move at all until I tell you.  This is…”  You trail off, and your pink tongue darts out to lick your lips.  “This is a lot.”

He nods.  “I will not move until you order me to.”

At that, you begin to lower yourself onto him.

It goes so slow.  It must, despite your arousal.  You are so small, and he is large, but your anatomy is such that it can take far more than he thought.  But it must go slow, so your sex can adapt to him.  Wonderful, adaptable oomans:  your sex twitches and grabs at his cock as you work yourself onto him, but he enters you bit by bit, and you breathe deep and mumble curses, but you also groan at what you’re feeling, and it sounds like a pleasurable noise to him.

But you take him to the root, in time.  In time, you sit flush on him, no space between where he ends and you begin, and Mah’tu has never felt a mating like this in his long life.

“Fuck, I can feel you in my throat,” you whine, and you wriggle at where you sit on him.  It sends him a fraction deeper, and he can feel the end of his cock nestled against some inner part of you, though he assumes it is your womb and not your throat.  But he also assumes it is one of those things where you say a word and it means something else, but he doesn’t ask for clarification because he needs all of his strength to lie still and wait for your command to move.

It doesn’t come just yet.  You sit on him, the back of your thighs flush with his hips.  You don’t move much; you move and resettle, you wince and then move, and your tense face cedes to one of panting pleasure.  Little by little, you start to move:  lifting yourself off of him a fraction, lower yourself back down.  Your arousal keeps it as easy as it can be, and in moving, he feels your sex relax more, molding itself to the shape of him.

“Is this okay for you?” you whisper, and he nods his head.  He keeps his grip on your ass but only as a place to touch you, not to harry you along.  How can he describe what he’s feeling?  He has no tricky words like you do, and he fears his blunt speech may anger you.

If he could say what he’s feeling, it would simply be this:  that you’re his mate, and now that he’s felt this once, you’ll be his mate for life.  He would not give you to another, nor allow another to touch you, and if you wanted to return to earth, he’d go with you and find a way to live amongst the other weak, tricky oomans.

Eventually, you begin to move in earnest.  Riding him in a steady rhythm:  raising off of him until only the broad crown of his cock is nestled in you, then sinking back onto him.  Over and over, in this way, your constant phrase of ‘fuck you’ is realized, and Mah’tu growls at this new way of mating.

“You can…you can move,” you finally tell him.  “But slowly, slow….ah, fuck!”

You don’t finish the thought because he moves.  Not as you expected, probably, but Mah’tu is a quick study.  He shifts one hand from where it kneads at the softness of your ass, and he draws the pad of his finger at where the small nub peeks out at the apex of your sex.  He rubs it carefully, mindful of his claw, and it makes your hips jerk against him.

“Yes, don’t stop.  Jesus, you’re….keep doing that.  Just that.”  The pace you’re riding him picks up in speed, and it makes your breasts bounce, drawing his gaze for a moment before it snaps back to where he disappears into the confines of your body.

“I’m close,” you tell him a moment later.

“Close to me?” he guesses.

You laugh, breathless.  “Close to coming.”

“Coming where?”

Another laugh, and your rhythm falters for a moment.  You reach out and steady your hand on his chest, and your face is perfectly relaxed, radiant in happiness, and Mah’tu thinks that even if you are ugly with your ooman features, he finds you beautiful.  Perfect.

“Close to…my pleasure,” you clarify, and you resume the quick pace of fucking him, riding him, drawing him into your body.

“Ah.”  He strokes the hot, swollen bud above where he slides into you, and he considers himself.  His own pleasure has been close for a while now, his seed close to bursting.  “I am close too, then, little sain’ja.”

“You can….come….with me.”  You’re panting now, pushing out your words in time to each time you reseat yourself.  A sheen of sweat glistens along your skin, making you look almost part Yautja in the low light.  “If you…want.  Want to…feel you.”

He nods.  “I will do as you ask.”

Another breathless laugh, but then you say no more, and he can only observe your body for any clues.  Ooman pleasure is blatant, he finds, because your sex gets wetter, and then you moan loudly.  Then your entire body seizes in a way, trembles and shakes above him, but your sex tightens against him like a fist, and it’s easy for his pleasure to break as well.  He feels it in a way he never has before, like a great wave carrying him towards you, and he spills inside you with a roar that must shake the walls of his ship.

-----

With Yautja mating, once it is complete, the two part.  If they meet again, it is only incidental, a consequence of sharing younglings.

So it is strange, how you nestle against him after you both reach your pleasure.  He remains nestled inside you, a snug fit that keeps his seed confined in your body—but you lean your upper body down onto him, nuzzle your face against his broad chest, and just lie there.

It is very strange.  But it is not unpleasant.  A beat after you settle, he places a hand on your back to hold you firmer against him.  Your skin is warm and soft under his palm, and he strokes you softly.

“I did not hurt you?” he asks after a long while of lying like this. 

“Only in the best way.”  Your mouth is near his skin, and he can feel your warm breath against him.

“Explain your meaning.”

“I’ll definitely be aching in the morning.”  You pause, seem to think on it.  “But it’s a good ache.  Like…the ache of training really hard.”

Mah’tu chuckles, and he drags the blunt tips of his claws along the skin of your back, which makes you squirm against him.  The motion makes his cock, only half-hard now, twitch back to life.

“You are much better at mating than training,” he tells you.

“Asshole.”  You turn your head against him, and he feels the blunt edge of your teeth.  You are biting him, but there is no pain.  The sensation—your wet mouth on him—makes his cock twitch harder, make the blood pool there to make him grow harder.

You can feel it.  You breathe against the wet spot you’ve put on his chest, but then he feels you move—a deliberate rocking, very carefully. 

He has many questions he’d like to ask you—other ways your kind mate, for example—but he saves them for later because the mood is upon you again, just as the mood is upon him.  And anyway, in the course of your second mating, some of his questions are answered by showing, and Mah’tu is an eager pupil.

[monstersflashlight]

Commissions masterlist

The spiral to insanity happens in a hole (Werewolf x fem!reader)

“Don’t run” (Werewolf x fem!reader)

Plug you up to shut you up (Werewolf x were-cat!reader)

Through better and worse (Orc (POV) x fem!reader)

Big and Beefy (Orthon x fem!reader)

The dragon’s bride (Dragon x fem!reader)

Tangled in you (Fem!orc x fem!elf (3rd person))

The hole in the wall (Orc x minotaur x werewolf x chubby trans masc!reader)

Date a were-rabbit they said (Were-bunny x fem!reader)

Date a werebunny they said… (part 2) (Were-bunny x fem!reader)

Quest to ecstasy (Monsters (werewolf, gator-monster, pale man) x transmasc!reader)

Ruined Skirt (succubus x trans fem!reader)

Mark me, mate (dragon x male!reader)

Maybe I'm a bit of a creep (werewolf x fem!reader)

Naughty booth (orc x fem!reader + tentacle monster x fem!reader)

[Patreon] Library fun (minotaur x chubby fem!reader)

[Patreon] Monster-tale (tentacle monster x fem!OC x fem!reader)

Measuring tape (mothman x trans masc!reader)

The key to productivity (werewolf x were-bunny fem!reader)

The princess desire (orc x fem!reader)

[Patreon] Bunnydoll (werewolf x were!bunny fem!reader)

Heat salvation (xenomorph alien x fem!reader)

[Patreon] “You know I don’t like coffee?” (werewolf x chubby vampire fem!reader)

[Patreon] Are you stupid? (minotaur x fem!human x chubby fem!reader)

Best. Night. Ever (multiple monsters naga, werewolf, alien and mothman) x trans masc!reader)

[Patreon] Intergalactic idiots (alien x orc x fem!reader)

[Patreon] His toy (ghost x fem!reader)

[Patreon] After clossing (tentacle monster x orc x warlock fem!reader)

[Patreon] One more (minotaur x chubby fem!reader)

[Patreon] Expert in pussy-ology (werewolf x chubby vampire fem!reader)

[Patreon] Kissing an orc (orc x fem!reader)

[Patreon] Sex induced coma (werewolf x fem!reader)

On the edge (minotaur [Ambrose] x fem!reader)

Out of jealousy (orc x fem!reader)

All info on commissions can be found here. And what I don't write here.

I do not consent to have any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent. This includes reposting my stories on other websites, platforms, etc.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Y'know what? I think it'd be funny as hell if a human farmer (y/n) befriended a xenomorph. And it acts like a cute, drooling, ..alien dog. And their male Yautja parter tolerates the Xeno while in front or near his human mate. But when y/n disappears. They both are just at each other's throats?

If that's okay, also I love your writing! And I cannot wait to see more! And I hope you have a lovely day/night

Lost Dog

Character: Con'tei (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader with Xeno

Word Count: 1784

Summary: As a farmer on a planet not many know, you live your life contently. Waking up early to go out into the fields and work. It's just yourself and your mate, Con'tei. Until a special alien shows up and worms its way into your soft heart instantly.

Author Note: This is such a funny idea.

Masterlist

Ao3

Ever since that day you stumbled upon an injured Xenomorph, it’s been attached to your hip. Since that same day, Con’tei has wanted nothing more than to tear the alien apart. No matter how many times you asked him to at least be civil with the thing. The Yautja has his own thoughts of the Xenomorph. That being having its head upon his wall. Specifically above the bed. Its nonexistent, lifeless eyes peering down at you. Con’tei was sure to let you of every detail to paint a picture inside of your mind. Every time.

When the Xeno looked up at you, guts nearly splattered across the edge of your corn field, you had fallen. Though it has no eyes, you felt compelled to help it back to your dwelling. Con’tei had been off on a hunt and left you enough time to patch up the creature. Until the Yautja returned and smelled the scent of a hard meat on the property. It took lots of sweet talking to get the male to calm down and listening to your voice.

Finally, Con’tei was able to think clearly after he saw you were okay. No injuries. No smell of blood. Not even fear in the air. The Yautja was more than confused on the what, why, and how. That only grew worse when he only had to take step to the side.

There in the bath tub of the dwelling sat the observing hard meat, just peering at him. You physically had to wrap your arms around Con’tei’s thin waist and pull the newly blooded away.

Worst of all, the xeno morph lept out of the tub when it saw the struggle. Its instincts flaring to life. It thought you were fighting the enemy and rushed out to help. Water dripped down its black, scared hide. Sharp silver teeth were bared at Con’tei. Its long, black tail whipped side to side.

A yelp slipped from your lips. Con’tei pushed you off of him a bit too harsh and lunged at the creature. You fell down to the ground and landed wrong on your wrist.

The two clash for a second when your sharp cry sounded an alarm. Each held onto the other, ready to draw blood. They whipped their heads over to your lying, prone form. One pushed at the other and nearly climbed over each other.

Con’tei reaches you first and kneels down at your side. But, he’s shoved off to the side by a black, skeleton hand. A deep bellow tumbled out of his chest as he reared back up to kill the hard meat somehow in your shared home.

It’s your crying that breaks the two of them up again. They separate once more to rush to your aid. For the moment, they were able to ignore the other. Con’tei’s dark orange hands touches at your hands. One was pinned to your chest by the other. Pain radiating from one. A deep purr vibrated from the Yautja in a comforting manner. His bright yellow eyes scanned over the rest of you. The only thing that was of concern was the wrist you were clutching onto.

Across from you, the xenomorph was whining and nudging its elongated head against your cheek. The move didn’t go unnoticed by Con’tei who snarled and scooped you away from the creature. This nearly became a tug-of-war match until you shouted, “stop it!” Each alien stilled.

“Stop fighting, please! I’m in pain and you’re only making it worse.” Con’tei whimpered and bowed his head in a manner that resembled a kicked puppy. “And you’re not making it any better by flailing around.” The xeno lowered its own head, tail dropping to the ground.

“Now, please, put me down. I think I just pulled a muscle in my wrist no thanks to the two of you,” you snapped at the two of them. The anger mostly coming from the pain sprouting from your throbbing wrist.

One look in your heat gaze had the Yautja listening to you. Your feet gingerly touched the ground. Con’tei was hesitant to let go of you at first. His gaze couldn’t stop flickering towards the creature he was sworn to kill. His muscles twitched as he fought every single cell in his body not to leap over you and slaughter it where it stood.

Instantly, you turned towards Con’tei and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Hey! Look at me, sir,” you demanded. The burnt orange Yautja had to drag his gaze off of the xeno. You had just turned your back to it with little care of your safety. “I know you are freaking internally and externally but let me explain.”

He bristled. Of course, you better explain in why in Cetanu’s name is there a hard meat in your home. And why was is following you around? Why was is it protecting you? His first thought was dismissed when smelled no change to your body. It hadn’t implanted anything into you. Con’tei snorted and crossed his arms.

You couldn’t help the sigh, shoulders sagging a little. “Okay, I deserved that.” Con’tei could agree with that. “But, you must see it from my side. I was working the field when I stumbled across this poor thing, all injured and begging for help.” He was ready to shake some sense into you. “I took it home and nursed it back to health. Now, its like a dog! It follows around and helps me around the house and even in the field.”

His anger flooded back to Con’tei’s mind and nearly blinded him. How could the one person he loves in the universe say such stupidity in the moment? He knew you were smarter than this. Yet, here you were proving him wrong with each word that falls out of your mouth.

The xeno made its point by coming up behind you and nuzzling its ugly face into the crook of your neck. His muscles flexed. “And why do you have it our home? Why isn’t it dead?” Injured, you should’ve had little trouble by exterminating the cursed thing. Why did your heart have to be so big? Why did your luck have to be so terrible?

Your face soured. You stepped back and patted the top of the xenomorph’s smooth, shiny head. It gave a chuff and rubbed against you some more. “Because, it was injured! I had to save it. I wasn’t going to let it die! What kind of person do you take me for to leave an injured creature for dead?” By Paya’s name, if he didn’t love you so much. He desperately wanted to shake some sense into you. Maybe rattle the thought of care for it out of your head.

“Exactly why it should be dead. You had a chance to kill it. Why didn’t you take it?” His hunter mind couldn’t grasp the thought process of your ooman brain.

Those were the wrong words to say.

“I told you! It was injured and I’m not like you. It looked so sad and pathetic. Now, look at it! It’s like a puppy I’ve always wanted. A very…” you trailed off to glance over your shoulder. “A very big, scary puppy who would protect me!”

There was truth to your words. Clearly, it was willing to protect you from someone who could easily kill it. But to leave it to live, Con’tei couldn’t let himself live with that knowledge. Even if it showed compliancy to you at the moment, who knows when its baser instincts kick in and slaughter you or use your body for a host.

Con’tei huffed and narrowed his bright eyes on you. “I said no.” The Yautja was still young and recently gained his clan marking during his chiva against these blasted creatures.

The way your brows jumped at his denial; then, your gaze darkened. Con’tei felt a drop of fear fall into the pit of his stomach. “No? Well, mister, it’s not up to you. You go off on these hunts all by yourself for a week or so. I’m left all alone!” You turned your head and nuzzled against the unforgiving, smooth surface of the xenomorph’s cheek. “What happens if something attacks our home? I can’t protect it to save my life. With it, I could at least stand a chance.”

What were you thinking?! After everything he’s told you about his near failure during his chiva, you had wished for the hard meat to stay. You go against his direct order to protect you keep it!

Yet… the truth behind your words sunk deep into the soft tissue of his brain. The knowledge this planet held many dangers while you sit at home, unprotected and weaponless, churned his stomach. Con’tei gritted his mandibles and looked over your shoulder. The creature had its face turned towards him, chin resting on your shoulder.

He tried to think of ways to convince you. Maybe, he’ll spend what little credits he had to get you a creature to protect you. Something he could train from a young age. Something that wasn’t a hard meat that could tear out your throat in a instant.

When his gaze returned to you, his stubbornness finally cracked. A groan sounded from him. “Little one, I swear…” he trailed off then let his shoulders sag. “Alright, alright. Fine. But, you must have it trained. A collar will be put on it. It will send an electric shock through its body, immobilizing it should it turn on you. I’m warning you, my mate.”

All of his stories he’s told you were fresh in your mind. His near defeat of his own life by these creatures. But, the loneness of sitting in an empty house made life difficult.

A squeal pierced the air. Your arms snatched around his waist. Con’tei jolted at first then let himself settle in your embrace before his own arms return the motion. The hunt had been long and made him long for this affection with you this entire time. What is he going to do with his little ooman who has him wrapped around their tiny pinkie finger?

With a sigh, he lets you go.

“Okay, you two be good then. I’ve gotta go clean up the bathroom!” You blew each of them a kiss before skipping towards the bathroom. The door was closed behind you to clean up the mess the xenomorph had left behind in his wake of protection.

Both of the alien’s watched as the door closed behind you. Then, they snapped their heads towards the other. A second paused the still air. Each lunged at the other in a clash of fangs, claws, and snarls.

[ozzgin]

Here's a complete list of all my horror works to date.

Alien & Predator

Predator x Predator! Reader Headcanons

Predator x Predator! Reader Headcanons (II)

Predator x Predator! Reader Headcanons (III)

Predator x Predator! Reader Headcanons (IV)

Predator Headcanons: Predator! Reader in Tournament

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Asks: Do Xenomorphs pass the Harkness Test?

Doodles: 5 Xenomorphs 1 Reader Meme

Creepypasta

Yandere! Creepypasta x Reader (Jeff the Killer, Slenderman, Offenderman)

Creepypasta x Tall! Male Reader (Ben Drowned)

Yandere! Creepypasta x Eldritch! Reader (Ben Drowned)

Yandere! Creepypasta x Chav! Reader (Ticci-Toby, Eyeless Jack, Ben Drowned)

Yandere! Creepypasta x Reader (Ticci-Toby, Eyeless Jack)

Yandere! Creepypasta x Haunting! Reader (Eyeless Jack)

Yandere! Creepypasta x Reader (Jane the Killer)

Doodles: Ben Drowned Fanart

Horror Movies & Games

Yandere! Valak x Reader

Pyramid Head x Reader

Yandere! Edward Scissorhands x Reader🎃

Yandere! Hannibal Lecter x Reader (Thanksgiving Special!)

Yandere! Devil x Fem!Reader [The First Omen]

Yandere!Art the Clown x GN!Reader [Terrifier]

Doodles: A work of Art [Terrifier]

Monsters

Complete list here

[foxy-128]

The young hunt...🦴

GN!TEEN!READER X PARENT!MALE!YAUTJA(platonic)

Summerary:what would happen when you goes on your first hunt alone?

Tw:mention of killing, hunt, fight, gore(i think), mention of weapon and blood!(if i forget any warning...just tell me!)

In the vast, dense jungles of a distant planet, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient trees. The air was thick with the sounds of creatures preparing for the night, and the scent of damp earth filled your nostrils. You stood beside your parent, a proud Yautja warrior, who towered over you, clad in intricate armor that shimmered in the fading light.

“Today, you will learn to wield your armor,” your parent said, their voice a deep rumble that resonated with authority and pride. “It is an extension of yourself—an ally in the hunt. Do you understand?”

You nodded eagerly, excitement coursing through your veins. This was a rite of passage you had long anticipated, a moment that would solidify your place among the Yautja.

Your parent demonstrated how to activate the armor’s functions, each piece seamlessly coming to life with a hum of energy. The chest plate glowed, the gauntlets extended with retractable blades, and the helmet displayed a multitude of scanning options, each more sophisticated than the last. You marveled at the technology, so different from the human world you knew.

“Now, it is your turn,” your parent urged.

You donned the armor, feeling the weight settle comfortably against your skin. As you moved, it adapted to your motions, enhancing your strength and speed. You practiced, lunging and striking, becoming more comfortable with each movement. Your parent watched, their expression a mix of approval and expectation.

“Tonight, you will face your first hunt. You will not be alone, but you must prove yourself.”

The words sent a thrill of nervous energy through you. You felt ready, but the weight of your parent’s expectations hung heavy in the air.

As night enveloped the jungle, your hunting party gathered—a band of fierce Yautja warriors, each one a master in their own right. They acknowledged you with nods of respect, their eyes glinting with the promise of the hunt. The leader, a battle-scarred veteran named K’thar, stepped forward.

“Tonight, we hunt the Xenomorph Queen. It is a dangerous foe, but your training has prepared you. Trust in your instincts,” he said, his tone serious but encouraging.

The group moved silently through the jungle, the sounds of the night becoming a distant murmur as you focused on the task at hand. As you approached the hive, a palpable tension filled the air. Your heart raced, not just from fear but from the thrill of the impending challenge.

Then, you saw it. The Xenomorph Queen, a towering, menacing figure, loomed in the darkness. Its armored exoskeleton glistened, and its piercing, multifaceted eyes locked onto your party, a snarl rumbling from its throat.

“Stay close,” K’thar commanded.

But in the chaos of the moment, instinct took over. You felt a surge of adrenaline and darted forward, your heart pounding. The Yautja warriors, surprised by your sudden movement, shouted in alarm, but it was too late. You were already in the fray.

The battle erupted. You dodged and weaved, using your armor’s enhancements to your advantage. You ducked under the Queen’s massive claws, retaliating with swift, calculated strikes. Your blades glinted in the dim light as they found their mark, each movement a dance of agility and precision.

The Queen roared in rage and pain, blood flowed everywhere but you did not falter. Summoning every ounce of strength, you unleashed a powerful blow to the creature's underbelly. With a final, desperate strike, you plunged your blade deep into its heart. The Queen staggered, its roar faltering as it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Silence fell over the battlefield as you stood, panting heavily, staring at the fallen foe. The realization of what you had done washed over you. You had faced one of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy and emerged victorious.

Your parent and the others rushed forward, their expressions a mix of astonishment and pride. K’thar approached, a rare smile breaking across his fierce face.

“You have proven yourself today, young one. You are truly a warrior,” he declared, placing a hand on your shoulder.

With their help, you managed to drag the massive corpse back to the gathering place of your clan. The Yautja cheered, their voices a cacophony of approval and celebration. They honored your kill, a testament to your bravery and skill.

As you stood there, surrounded by your clan, your parent stepped forward. Their gaze was unwavering, filled with pride.

“You are one of us now,” they said, the words resonating deep within you.

In that moment, you knew you had forged your place among the Yautja, a warrior ready to embrace the hunt and all the challenges it would bring.

[theyanderespecialist]

Mouthwashing Yanderes: Various Yandere Mouthwash Headcanons/Scenario (RULES AND REQUESTS OPEN!!!)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins here are the rules! Follow them!  FOR TUMBLR USERS!!! PUT REQUESTS IN MY ASK BOX PLEASE!!! 1: No Characters/My or My Co-Author OCs/Readers under the age of 18 (Yanderes are NOT Made for kids)  2: No NSFW Scenes on Wattpad (Them the rules) Will be posted elsewhere (Cannot say where cause TOS) 

3: Any sexuality for the Reader/In-Game Characters is okay! Such as: 

Gay Curly 

Lesbian Anya 

Bisexual Jimmy  Asexual Reader  Poly Reader  etc anything is good (EXCEPT FOR ANIMAL FRICKERS AND CHILD DIDDLERS YOU CAN FRICK OFF)  

4: Any Gender is fine for The Reader/In Game Characters is okay! Such As:  Trans Man (AFAB/MTF) Curly  Intersex Daisuke 

Female Jimmy (Genderbent)  Male Anya (Also Genderbent)  Genderfluid Reader  Cis Reader  Non-Binary Reader  ETC pretty much anything is good (DO NOT MAKE A MOCKERY OUR OF ANY GENDER!) 

5: Almost any Ship is allowed (AS LONG AS YOU ARE NOT ILLEGAL OR GROSS ABOUT IT AND YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! YOU DIRTY, FLAKY, BISCUITS!) Such as: 

Yandere Jimmy X Darling Curly 

Yandere Jimmy X Darling Reader X Yandere Curly  Yandere Crew (All five) X Darling Reader 

Yandere Crew (Four) X Darling Anya  and so on.  6: No racist, homophobic, transphobic, or any bigoty poo 

7: NO SPAM 

8: If I say no to an idea that is that! Respect it or leave! 

9: You can do anything special to the reader or characters like:  Chubby Reader  Pregnant Curly  Omega Anya  Soulmate Reader  Blind Reader  Stalker Jimmy  Etc (Anything that makes your stuff stand out yes, yes, yes TELL ME SO I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT!) 

10: I will Do Alternate Universes as well such as:  Alpha/Beta/Omega Soulmate Universe  Mars Settlers AU  College/University 

Pre-Game Canon and SO MUCH MORE!!! 

Please be specific on what you want which means remember to add the characters/readers: Gender, Sexuality, anything Special/Specific, and if It is an AU and SO ON! Be specific, please!

---Ones Not On Wattpad Version---

12: Robot/Alien/Monster Fucking/Relationships Is Allowed Such As:

Turning a character into a cyborg or robot version

Having crossovers with other aliens like a Xenomorph From The Alien movies or Predator

And Monster fricking with turning a character into a fantasy or supernatural monster (Mostly with fantasy au) or tentacle Porn/Porn with Plot!

(THEY HAVE TO BE SAPIENT THOUGH!)

13: (Not On Tumblr for this one either)

14: Will do Non-Con/Dub-Con (Not Always one shots but you get the idea) things like forced pregnancy, kidnapping, drugging, consensual non-consent, Ect!

15: Almost anything is allowed so don't be afraid to ask (Unless it is kiddie stuff or animal fricking then you can go to hell!)

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!] 

[monstersandmaw]

So as well as working on another grumpy monster for Patreon (male shire centaur x female reader this time), and Oats the Biker Dad Kelpie Part Two, and a few other projects, I've just started a 'reverse harem' yautja thing. It's not actually yautjas - they're the same thing as I did for Big Red's multi-chapter story a while back, which was basically me taking my yautja barbie dolls and putting them in my sandbox. No actual legit yautja lore applies - I just borrow what I like and make up the rules as I go :)

But anyway, there's a young hunter who's been sent to earth to make his first kill of their 'enemy' (discount xenomorphs). The fem. reader is a biologist studying frogs in a remote, nondescript forest, and gets snatched up by some drug runners. The not-xenomorph comes across their camp that night though, and starts killing the drug smugglers, then the not-yautja arrives and starts killing too. He finishes off the humans, sets the biologist free, then gets into a spot of trouble with the not-xenomorph. After dispatching the not-xenomorph, he collapses, gravely injured, and the human saves him.

They bond a bit while he heals, but not long after, his squad comes to get him, and she meets the rest of the gang: an elder who's quietly affectionate and fond of his crew, the medic who's sweet and shy, the big muscle of the group who's surprisingly gentle, and the scout, who's a bitter bastard. Oh, and they all kind of seem to be mated... which she discovers when she accidentally walks in on the big guy getting very aggressively railed by the scout...

I can't wait to introduce you to them, but I'm busy for the rest of the day now and I'm not around tomorrow, so hopefully I can finish it on Thursday, if it doesn't turn into another mega monster story like Big Red's did.

[darkenedreaper]

Hi, I read a couple of your Ripley x Reader fanfictions and suffice to say it's pretty much the only fanfiction out there that is actually good!! (we don't talk about the Ripley x Male Xenomorph fanfictions... it's not worth it, guys)

I was wondering if you'd write a Ripley x F!Reader around the scene where Ripley, Hicks, and Newt are escaping the xenomorphs after they fall in through the ceiling and they're running away, and then Newt falls down the air shaft (?) and Ripley and Hicks are running (y'know the scene: SHE'S ALIVE, SHE'S ALIVE)

Anyway thanks!! Hope you're having an amazing day and thanks for all the fanfiction you've written so far!

(let's just take a moment to appreciate all of the mother ripley scenes where she gave Jonesy and Newt kisses and me wishing I was simultaneously Jonesy and Newt. also the 'close your eyes baby' was literally the sweetest thing ever)

Hello darling, thank you for your kind words regarding my writing, I love writing for Ripley and there truly isn't enough. Hope you enjoy.

I Believe You

Pairing: Ellen Ripley x F!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff

Summary: The sudden attack from above of the Xenomorphs puts distance between Ripley and Newt, will it put distance between you and Ripley?

A/N: If you don't love Ripley, don't talk to me.

You and Ripley were closely huddled together whilst Gorman stood to your right with Burke hiding like the coward he was in the corner. All that could be heard was the low and distant hum of vents, the tracking device bleeping away signalling the distance of a target, the loud buzzing of the welding machine, and the heavy breaths that were shared between you all.

The two welding machines that were held by Vasquez and Hicks were sealing the door shut, preventing entrance from any threat. The machines sent off sparks which caused Ripley to pull Newt behind her warning her; "Don't look at the light". As she pulled Newt behind her, she lightly tugged on your sleeve, checking you were still beside her as she didn't look up from her tracking device. You held you gun like you were standing at ease, and you took the opportunity to wipe the dripping sweat from your forehead, you took a long at Ripley's tracking device watching the blue blips on screen close in the distance, forcing you to tell Hicks; "Come on Corporal hurry it up", "I know", he replied with a struggle to quicken the welding machine. After hearing the panicked Hudson you tried to hurry Vasquez, "Come on Vasquez, you too", "I know", she retorted back, a few seconds later they both sprinted backwards from the welded door.

Hudson was frantically reading the decreasing distance between all of you in the room and the Xenomorphs, "6 metres!", Ripley looked up and you and shoved the tracking device towards you to show you, "That can't be that's right inside the room". You both got your guns at the ready, Hicks, Vasquez, and Gorman doing the same, Burke trotting backwards to an area aware from the door. The only noise that could be heard was the blipping noise from the device and the panting noises that came from you all. You used your voice with a low tone, "Remember, short controlled bursts". Newt kept a tight hold of the back of Ripleys pants.

As the blue blips on the tracking device closed in and on top of you Hicks accused Hudson of not reading it right. You tried shaking the device and out the corner of your eye you saw Ripley lift her head up towards the ceiling. Before you could ask she nudged your arm and pointed towards the ceiling, the rest caught on to what she was getting at. "Oh my god", Hicks said with a quiver in his voice. Hudson and Vasquez held him steady on the chair. If Ripley could grab onto you she would, instead she held the gun at the ready, you did the same, making sure to stay a step in front of Ripley and Newt. You all waited in anticipation before Hicks fell down screaming, the Xenomorphs crashing and jumping down.

The violent and hurried shootout began. Hudson was giving them his all, Vasquez was at the front line gunning down more and more Xenomorphs. You and Ripley stood close and shielded Newt whilst shooting any threat in sight. Ripley took Newt and ran to the door where Gorman was frantically elbowing as Burke had locked himself in. As Hudson went down screaming and appeared to be swallowed up by the floor, Hicks and Vasquez ran to his aid, unable to save him. Hicks ran past you and to Gorman, Ripley and Newt, where he'd make his attempt to open the door. "Burke, open this door!", Ripley shouted pounding on it.

You and Vasquez were eliminating the Xenomorphs, almost relishing at the sound if their screams as acid exploded from them. Ripley ran from the now unlocked door and grabbed onto your shirt pulling you with her, you shouted to your partner at the frontline, "Vasquez!-", "Go!", Vasquez cut you off and so you ran alongside Ripley, following her and Newt into the vents, Ripley still having a tight hold onto you.

It looked as if a big wheel was turning with water dripping down it, you helped Ripley over before passing her to Newt. Shortly later as Newt was crossing before she took Ripleys outstretched hand, there was an explosion, causing a rumble throughout the vented area and with a shriek scream Newt fell down. "No! Y/N get her!", Ripley pleaded. As quick as you could, you jammed your gun into the turning wheel and threw yourself across and grabbed a hold of Newts sleeve, "I got you Newt hold on", you said to the girl before her and Ripley screamed as Newt fell down once more. Ripley had started to shout after her but you picked her up and grabbed her arm forcing her to look at your hand, "Come on Rip we can track her with this".

Ripley took a few seconds to stare deeply into your eyes, the both of you breathing deeply, the sweat running down both of your faces. She looked into your eyes and she was reminded of your kindness and help in the midst of literal chaos, anything to keep her happy, you'd do. You snapped her our of your trance and told her to climb up, heading towards Newts location. You ran hand in hand, both pairs of eyes scanning everywhere for anymore Xenomorphs. All you had to hand was a handgun, the tracking device and the welding gun the Vasquez had thrown to you.

"Down here! I'm down here!". You both rushed towards the direction of the little girls voice but Ripley left you in the dust when she saw her little fingers wiggling through the bars. You and Ripley dropped to your knees and you took out the welding gun, Ripley knew she wouldn't have to tell you what to do and so instead she watched you and comforted Newt, "Climb down honey, we'll have to cut through". You were going as quickly as the damned thing would let you cut through steel and you called out to Ripley over the noise of it, "Check the tracking device, we've gotta be careful with the noise outta this thing". Ripley looked at you and grabbed the device, eyeing up the new blue blips that appeared on screen, "Y/n... somethings here". You didn't answer Ripley instead you placed your hand down on the already cut down trying to force them down whilst still cutting with the the other hand.

Newt was drenched in the water down below, holding on to her plastic doll, she too heard the blipping and became more aware of her surroundings. Ripley watched as the blue blips were now closing in on Newt. "Y/n hurry", Ripley panicked. "Fuck!", you called out, "there's no time, help me!", you shouted to Ripley as you threw the welding machine to the side and started kicking the bars, As soon as Ripley caught sight of the Xenomorph towering over Newt, she started stomping, finally breaking through when the water was disturbed and Newts scream as now distant.

You both panted and Ripley held onto your knee as she peeked down calling for Newt, as soon as she saw Newt was gone she tried to climb down, only to be pulled back by you, "No!... No!". It was a struggle to pull Ripley back up to eye level but you got her and had to fight to keep her close to you and not let her run off. You tried calling her to calm down, "Ripley! Ripley!". "They don't kill you, they don't kill you she's alive! You know what happened to Kane!" The distraught woman brought back the memories of you old friend and crewmate Kane and his death.

She was right. They take you and cocoon you. Death is only certain when a facehugger attaches itself to you. "She's alive Y/n I'm telling you!", "Alright! Alright Ripley, I believe you she's alive!". She simmered down after your response to her pleads and she looked up into your eyes. You believed her. Of course, you've always believed her... and trusted in her. You were the only one to back her up when Vasquez and Hudson doubted hers and yours fight with the Alien on the Nostromo. Your voice that soothed her, and brought her back down to earth providing her with reassurance, "I believe you, but we've gotta go. Now. Come on." You pulled her up by her arms and she took your hand and ran along with you, both of you following the tracking device; only our way to save Newt.

[destinationtrekk]

hey! it's me, the b.o.w. reader anon again!

just wondering...

in your opinion, what do you think a female Tyrant would look like?

i'm talking like a Mr. X or Nemesis kind of Tyrant.

would she have hair? or would she be better off bald?

would she be as monstrous as her male counterparts? or would she be something like Lady Dimitrescu?

again, just wondering...

(also tall and buff women hell yeah)

no i definitely want a sexy monstrous beast!!! i'm talking xenomorph fangs and exoskeleton armor - the whole nine yards.

mayde it'd be cool to have them be able to kind of shift depending on whats going on. maybe xenomorph tyrant doesn't want to tear the bedsheets with her big claws, but i think even in a 'normal'/'not beastly' form, reader is still gonna have those virus traits - maybe hair or not, i dont think it really matters - but certainly things like unusual pupils/eye colors, odd physique (ribs, spikes, tentacles? go wild!), and maybe even a different voice/accent!

the thing i love most about this b.o.w./tyrant!reader is that he/she/they aren't sexualized monsters. this isn't anime, this is resident evil. as much as i love the sexy badasses like ada wong and jill valentine, i don't want wesker to be flirty and turned on (at first). i want him in awe, distubed, proud, absolutely mindblown at the combination of his scientific triumph and reader's extreme resilience and determination - not only to survive the t-virus, but to survive for him.

so in short, i think a female tyrant will be just as creepy and terrifying and superior as nemesis or mr. x - maybe just a little nicer to our evil little scientist boyfriend.

(but also imagine big scary xenomorph tyrant reader getting their progenitor shot like wesker does and he puts a hello kitty bandaid on them :3 )

[dominantslasherking]

Slashers x Male S/o Masterlist 1

Hello, my devilishly handsome readers, Here is my Master list.

MASTERLIST PT 2.

Btw, Dominant Male reader FOR all of them.

Warning emoji⚠️⚠️ With the one that has smut.

Hannibal Lecter

Hannibal x Male reader PT 1 Backstory: Hannibal has an Animalistic urge to make you his, god how possessive this cannibal is and he wants everyone to know who you belong to, He invites you to dinner. POWER BOTTOM HANNIBAL. Hannibal x Male reader PT 2 Backstory: Hannibal has an Animalistic urge to make you his, god how possessive this cannibal is and he wants everyone to know who you belong to, He invites you to dinner. POWER BOTTOM HANNIBAL.

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Hannibal x Male reader⚠️ (Requested): How about Power Bottom Hannibal Lecter from NBC riding male reader

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Hannibal x Male reader

(Requested): i really like the addams male reader idea! do you think you could do it with another character? maybe hannibal? i feel like that'd work well together (reader x hannibal to be clear)

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Hannibal x Male reader ⚠️ (Requested): hhhhhhh sorry if this might be annoying since you just did an ask with him (but reading it got me feeling some type way 💀) but could you write something with hannibal that includes smut? likeee not to be dramatic but ur a godsend for male readers tbh

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Hannibal x Male reader (Requested) Can I request Hannibal x reader where reader is like Michael Myers and doesn't speak much they met one night where reader was hunting he's victim and hannibal saw him and taken an interest in reader

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Hannibal x Male reader [Requested] Okey what about a reader with Hannibal Lecter who is his patient who have anger issues, and Hannibal is helping him building some patience with cockwarming.⚠️⚠️

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Hannibal x Male reader [Requested] In which, you get kidnapped by Hannibal Lecter, as he could no longer hold himself back for his desirable and insatiable love for you.

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Hannibal x Male reader [Requested]Listening to Hannibal whisper some of the most arousing things in your ear during a party. Scenarios of you two being caught fucking or him disappearing under the table to suck you off. Once all the guest leave you bend him over the closet counter or table and immediately get to work on fucking him.⚠️⚠️

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Hannibal x Male reader [Requested] Tooth rotting fluff with any slasher you have in mind

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Hannibal x Male reader [Requested]Hannibal with a boyfriend (reader) who is js like...absolutely smitten and is so in love with him and will do anything for him -- Hannibal x Male reader [Requested] the reader is so big that when they are doing the nasty Hannibal stomach is bulging a bit because of how big the reader is ⚠️⚠️

MORE COMING SOON

Hannigram/Hannibal and Will

Hannigram x Male reader You save the Murder husbands and nurse them back to health, with them falling into a possessive love for you not knowing that you were a sort of an anomaly yourself, being that you are a blood-sucking vampire some called you count Dracula, but you adored the name which was (Name).

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Hannigram x Male reader You're a famous murder investigator and you are on the case of the Chesapeake ripper, in your alone time you figure out who they are...However they know that you know...and well, you are too entranced by them to let anyone know, and maybe they also have caught a deep interest.

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Hannigram x Male reader you're an android assigned to hunt deviants in Minnesota, However, you soon realize you are also becoming a deviant because of these feelings for two certain killers

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Hannigram x Male reader [Requested]Could I request Hannigram x a demon s/o? I think it would be really interesting to see how they would interact

MORE COMING SOON

Billy and Stu

Billy and Stu x Male reader You find out about Billy and Stu, your closest friends being scream after they decided to reveal themselves to you, And have a little fun. POWERBOTTOM BILLY AND STU. SLIGHT NSFW.

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Billy and Stu x Male reader Billy, Stu, and you are at school when they start getting jealous when the new girl hits on you, they try hard to contain it around Sidney and Tatum because they still have to kill them later and are still in a "relationship" with them.

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Billy and Stu x Male reader You see Billy and Stu playing around with Sidney before they kill her, but she grabbed a knife and suddenly escaped, Right into your arms, oh god what you would do for these men.

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Billy and Stu x Male reader Everyone in the school, knows About yours, Billy, and Stu's relationship after Tatum's and Sidney's body being found dead in the woods, with some other bodies. The cops question Billy and Stu, but they have their alibi.

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Billy and Stu x Male reader You're the loner at school, and so when the two scream killers target you, they get too invested in their liking for you.

-- Billy and Stu x Male reader You're a famous well known Slasher, Billy and Stu are big fans so once they see you in the asylum they take the opportunity to be around you much to the other slasher's annoyance.

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Billy and Stu x Male reader (Requested) Ok all I need at this moment is billy and Stu being bratty to reader in bed and reader punishing them.⚠️

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Billy and Stu x Male reader (Requested) Billy and Stu were out killing, and see you feeding/killing someone, they are completely enamored with you.

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Billy and Stu x Male reader Billy and Stu with a greaser boyfriend

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Billy and Stu x Male reader (Requested) More Billy and Stu x Vampire Male Reader

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Billy and Stu x Male reader (Requested) I think a big dumb farm boy reader with billy and stu or billy lenz would be so fun. Like himbo dumbass cowboy and his slasher boyfriend

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Stu x Male reader You get a video from Stu...(I don't own the video, I found it on Pinterest and thought it was funny, credit goes to the TikTok user who uploaded it .)

Billy and Stu x Male Reader (Requested) More Addams family based male reader x billy loomis and stu macher

MORE COMING SOON

Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen

Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen x Male reader (Requested) Power bottom Danny Johnson 👀

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Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen x Male Reader

[Requested](whatever character cause i can't think of anyone rn lol) who's obsessed with and obsessed with pleasing the reader? like would absolutely do anything to worship him

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Danny Johnson/Jed Olsen x Male reader Danny is getting possessive once these idiotic copycat killers try to come after his man--(you)

MORE COMING SOON

Michael Myers

Michael Myers x Male reader Moving into a killers house wasn't to bad, until the lights suddenly turn off and you run into, the killer himself.

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Michael Myers x Male reader (Requested) Like imagine dragon male reader blowing Jason or Michaels back out⚠️

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Michael Myers x Male reader (Requested) Michael Myers x Childhood Friend Male reader Basically Michael had only one friend which was Male reader and he ends up meeting Make reader after so many years and becomes obsessed with him Love you And your work<333

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Michael Myers x Male reader (Requested) hello! could i request michael myers x a reader who's like hannibal? (seggsy smart cannibal type shit 😛) maybe they would've met in the psychiatric hospital and then worked together (eventually as lovers) when they escape

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Michael Myers x Male reader (Requested) Michael Myers x Idk Two Faced Male reader Basically the Reader portrays himself as a kind person bit is really a evil,cunning asshole. -- Michael Myers x Male reader/ [Requested] Being friends with Michael since childhood, breaking out of Smith's grove with him, all the while Michael is developing feelings for the reader. After they break out Michael decides to ride the reader for being so good to him and helping him escape⚠️⚠️

MORE COMING SOON

Michael and Jason

Michael and Jason x Male reader (Requested) Poly Relationship Michael Myers and Jason x Emotionless Male reader. Basically Michael and Jason becomes interested in Male reader due to Male reader not reacting to a victim running to them for help and just ignores the victim. You can add smut if you want <3

MORE COMING SOON

Jason Voorhes

Jason Voorhes x Male reader⚠️ Imagine Jason dating a tall dominant Male reader and gets jealous of a camper flirting with Male reader and ends up having jealousy sex So basically Power bottom Jason Ig sorry not good at requesting

MORE COMING SOON

Chucky and Tiffany

Chucky and Tiffany x Male reader Chucky and Tiffany with Dominant male vampire S/o.

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Chucky and Tiffany x Male reader (Requested) Imagine Chucky and Tiffany meeting Demon Male reader who was in the middle of a kill and Chucky and Tiffany witnessing it and becomes interested in Male Reader

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Chucky and Tiffany x Male reader (Requested) Human Chucky and Tiffany threesome orrrrrr just Chucky getting railed whatever you’re comfortable with⚠️

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Chucky x Male reader Chucky falls into an obsessive type of love with Andy's adopted older brother which is you.

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Chucky x Male reader [Requested]Okay okay hear me out; in the flashback from Curse of Chucky we find out that Charles was obsessed with and wanted a family with Sarah Pierce, right? So what about Charles Lee Ray with a breeding kink?

MORE COMING SOON

Pennywise(2017)

Pennywise x Male reader You are mates with Pennywise.

MORE COMING SOON

Norman Bates

Norman Bates x Male reader You ask norman on a date, and you hate how the people of the town treat him

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Norman Bates x Male reader [Requested]hiiii, could you do another norman bates oneshot? i really liked your first one! if you're up to it can you include some smut? if not then how about a sort of peephole scene?

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Norman Bates x Male reader [Requested] hey can i ask a norman bates x reader with the addams reader? i totally understand if you're tired or something or writing that kind of reader so if you are then all i ask is basically anything with norman bates (though i do think a peephole scene would be mmmm)❤️

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Norman Bates x Male reader [Requested]Hi! So I adore all of your Norman Bates fics but sadly there is not enough! So I would just like to request another smut one with a really seductive dom male reader who manages to seduce Norman and whatnot- does that make sense? Kind of like a succubus I guess but a male? Also if you could throw in a heap of praise kinks that would be fantastic!⚠️

Part two of this one ^^ Norman Bates x Male reader [Requested] Hi hi! I'm so grateful for all your fics because your writing is immaculate and I can never get enough about how talented you are! If it was okay with you, could I request another Norman Bates fic (once again haha) where it's sort of a continuation of the last fic with the really seductive reader but this time everytime he walks by Norman he whispers something rlly flirty/dirty in his ear ("Hey pretty boy" or "what a pretty neck you have, would look better with my lips on it" ect up to you). Just assuming Norman reaches his limit of flustered and just snaps eventually 🤷‍♂️

MORE COMING SOON

Patrick Bateman

Patrick Bateman x Male reader At first you thought your boss hated you with the way he acted, but it seems Patrick Bateman was just distant because of his rapid feelings for you, which seems to become more obvious as the days pass.

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Patrick Bateman x Male reader [Requested] hello! may i please request a Patrick Bateman x reader with smut? something like him getting jealous and the reader -reminding- him that he only has eyes for him i think it might be fun to see Patrick still trying to act bitter while they're fucking but probably couldn't keep up the act for long 💀⚠️⚠️

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Patrick Bateman x Male reader [Requested] can i request patrick bateman x reader where they are mutually kinda obsessed with eachother 😛 i don't really mind if you make it fluff/smut/a yandere sort of thing just whatever you're comfortable with!

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Patrick Bateman x Male reader Patrick realizes how much he thinks you are much more perfect then him, he's practically obsessing over you, and if he can't be you, he wants to be with you.

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Patrick Bateman x Male reader Just on a date with Patrick with some mild interruptions. --

Patrick Bateman x Male reader [Requested]Imagine railing the fuck out of Patrick Bateman after catching him flirting with one of his co-workers. Just railing him till he's a sobbing mess, begging for release knowing you won't give it to him until you've finished first.⚠️⚠️

MORE COMING SOON

Pinhead

Pinhead x Male reader Just some fluff

MORE COMING SOON

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms Heelshire x Male reader [Requested] Would it be possible to get some more Charles Lee Ray content or perhaps some Brahms Heelshire? Brahms has the perfect personality for some good bratty bottom content (and most likely he has a praise kink let’s be real) but for some reason people only seem to write him as a dom :(

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Brahms Heelshire x Male reader [Requested] So I was kind of thinking like….. reader catching Brahms fingering himself and reader just goes absolutely feral when he sees Brahms Subby Brahms maybe? Idk it was just a thought⚠️

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Brahms Heelshire x Male reader [requested] id like to request a oneshot with brahms since he's definitely my fav <3 something with like y/n being a sexy husband and brahms like totally obsessed with him not rlly smut but maybe like some thoughts about y/n from brahms lol

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Brahms Heelshire x Male reader [Requested]Imagine: walking in on Brahms humping/grinding against a pillow, trying and failing to not moan your name too loudly; and getting railed ruthlessly after being caught⚠️

MORE COMING SOON

Joe Goldberg

Joe Goldberg x Male reader You meet Joe at a bookstore, god Joe would do anything for you, you weren't like Beck or Candace, you were so much better, you weren't his normal type, but he can settle for this, for you.

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Joe Goldberg x Male reader [Requested] I just read your Joe Goldberg with Dominant Male S/o and I really like it so how about male reader blowing Joe's back out⚠️

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Joe Goldberg x Male reader

[Requested] Imagine Male reader body worshipping Joe Goldberg in bed ⚠️

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Joe Goldberg x Male reader [Requested]i was thinking something to do with him taking the readers stuff (like clothes or whatever) and getting off with it ⚠️

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Joe Goldberg x Male reader [Requested] If you want to can you please do Joe Goldberg x Addams reader? Either first meeting the reader or meeting the family or both? I'm curious how Joe would react to being with a Addams family member

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Joe Goldberg x Male reader [Requested] (sorry if requests are closed at the moment, feel free to ignore!) but i need more joe goldberg x addams! reader please. Joe is obsessed when you speak french to him especially in public when he can barely contain himself from jumping on you.

MORE COMING SOON

Male Carrie White

Male Carrie white x Male reader [Requested]You're a transfer student, to this school and see a boy getting bullied, but you notice something remakable about him, and you can't help but take an interest.

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Male Carrie White x Male reader [Requested] the reader is a part of the Addams family, Carey takes an interest and so do you.

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Male Carrie White x Male reader [Requested] Can I request more male!Carrie x reader? It's such a good idea and I just love Carrie &lt;3 thank you! It can be smut or just fluff either or I don't really mind!

MORE COMING SOON

The Collector/Asa Emory

The Collector/Asa Emory x Male reader [Requested] Hi! Can I request Asa Emory or Jesse Chromskull with a cannibal reader who cooks for them? Like he's a househusband and they always have a meal for them when they get home? Thank you, have a nice day!

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The Collector/Asa Emory x Male reader [Requested]Can I request The Collecter/Asa Emory with a cannibal male reader smut? Thank you!⚠️

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The Collector/Asa Emory x Male reader [Requested] Smut! Asa Emory x His Favorite Collection Male Reader. Basically asa was obsessed with male reader but was pissed at male reader being married so he killed his wife and 'collected him' ig Idk if it makes sense⚠️

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The Collector/Asa Emory x Male reader [Requested]Smut Asa Emory x Possessive Male reader⚠️

MORE COMING SOON

Leatherface(s)

Bubba Sawyer x Male reader Bubba just chilling with his fiancee, but some victims just have to always hit on his man!

MORE COMING SOON

Dracula(2020)

Dracula x Male reader You tell sister Agatha the tell of your stay with Dracula, but oh, it doesn't end there, Dracula wants his husband back.

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Dracula x Male reader [Reqested] Could I request a Dracula fic pls, if you still write for him. Maybe a fluff and smut all romantic like but still rough? Imagine yourself as the reincarnated Husband of Dracula, and his lust in his every movement seems through and throughout, after all, he is a rather jealous creature who doesn't like to share what's his. ⚠️⚠️ -- Dracula x Male reader [Requested] if you can just make fluffy moments. No smut or anything like that but just Dracula and his lover enjoying each other’s company. Dracula prepares a soothing bath with rose petals and scented oils. He and his lover soak in the warm water, talking and enjoying each other's presence.

MORE COMING SOON

David Mccall

David Mccall x Male reader You're Nicole's big brother adopted of course, What happens, you meet David? He seems to be a little bit obsessed with you...well a little bit would be an understatement...⚠️ Part 2 ^^⚠️

MORE COMING SOON

Arthur Harrow

Arthur Harrow x Male reader He thought Ammit was the one he needed, but he was so very wrong. Arthur found a new god, he was going to worship, whatever it takes.

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Arthur Harrow x Male Reader Falling and beginning to worship a god, that is Khonshu's close friend...wasn't a part of his plan. And somehow being able to kidnap the god in his human form, make it so much easier for Arthur.⚠️

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Arthur Harrow x Male Reader

[Requested] i can I request for Arthur Harrow with a really possessive and rough reader]

Imagine, having Arthur as your Avatar(You're a god) and you find out he's trying to bring back Ammit, you are not pleased. Yandere S/o but also Yandere Arthur as well. Arthur is like a masochist in this one. Btw Kinda fluffy---But in a good way that it fits with the story

MORE COMING SOON

DARK!Edward Scissorhands

Edward Scissorhands x Male reader [Requested]Edward goes a 'little' psycho and ends up killing a lot of people, comes to realize that he was jealous because the towns people kept taking up your time.

MORE COMING SOON

Xenomorphs

Xenomorph x Male reader The world is being attacked/invaded by Aliens, called Xenomorphs, what happens when a group of male species of these aliens makes you their King after they find out you're their mate?

Kurt Kunkle (Spree 2020) Kurt Kunkle x Male reader [Requested]i had a dream u posted kurt kunkle fic thing and tbh now that's what i've been thing about all day 😭my skrunkly little virgin streamer &lt;;33

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Kurt Kunkle x Male reader [Requested] Can I request a Kurt Kunkle story where reader gets picked up and starts hardcore flirting with him and like leaning in closer and putting his hand on Kurt’s thigh as Kurt gets more and more flustered. He eventually puts a poll up to the chat asking what to do and everyone votes fuck, and he leans over to suck readers dick. I feel like he’d sound good gagging as we praise him for how good he feels as his chat is going crazy as this is happening⚠️⚠️

PART 2 OF THIS REQUEST ^^ Kurt rides the [Name]⚠️⚠️

MORE COMING SOON

Homelander

Homelander x Male reader You are a part of the Eight under the hero allies The Scarlet Warlock, and the most dangerous superheroes want you, even if it means revealing his feelings on live television in front of millions. Yes lol, powers of the scarlet witch from Marvel

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Homelander x Male reader [requested] Can you do something smutty with Homelander plz??⚠️⚠️

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Homelander x Male reader [Requested]More homelander fics pls: Vought recently presented their new Supe, and Homelander at first wasn't cheery about it...But it seems deep down Homelander carves his attention.YANDERE Homelander. VAMPIRIC READER

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair x Male reader [requested] Hi Hiii Can I get some Vincent Sinclair x Male Reader maybe smut?⚠️⚠️ -- MORE COMING SOON Black Noir Black Noir x Male reader [Requested}hiya i really liked your homelander fic and i wanted to request another one with him (or really any other character from the boys that you'd like to do lmao)

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Black Noir x Male reader [Requested]could u make another part to that black noir one 🫶 idrc as far as nsfw goes i just love noir. You were a villain, a threat to Vought, but Noir just couldn't bring himself to kill his hunky villain.⚠️⚠️ MORE COMING SOON

Art The Clown Art The Clown x Male reader pt 1 After finishing up from a house party [Name] and his two female friends head to the diner where they meet a certain Clown, who seems to be infatuated entirely with You. And to say the least, Art the clown really wants to mate with you, he wants you to breed him. Not full on sex but leads up to it, Wanna part 2? DM me and we shall see

Art The clown x Male reader PT 2

MORE COMING SOON

Jerry Dandridge[1985]

Jerry Dandridge x Male reader You are Charley's older brother, who returned home from college just in time, to meet the new...vampiric neighbor. but you not only have a past but you are also connected to one another.

MORE COMING SOON

Predator/Yautja

Predator/Yautja x Male reader Male Yautja wants to breed with his human mate. ⚠️⚠️

Walter Deville

Walter Deville x Male reader [Requested] Hii would you write for Walter De Ville? getting married to Walter after killing his bride who was going to betray him..

[slasherkisss]

I know this will proably sound very weird and maybe even, sick... but hum, breeding kink with Xenomorph ? I know, it looks horrifying but everything about this creature screams this

[I personally don’t headcanon Xenomorphs with breeding cycles because they’re a Hive-Based creature but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it/come up with some FUN IDEAS]

Xenomorph Breeding Kink Headcanons

FEMALE XENOMORPHS

Female Xenomorphs have more of a ‘care kink’ than a ‘breeding kink’. When they go into heat they are fiercely protective and temperamental

If your Xenomorph mate is a female, you will experience a lot of bursts of irritation or overprotectiveness

She will build GIANT NESTS out of anything she can get her hands on. Your entire room will be suddenly piled into one corner and the wall will be dug out to create a dark, comfortable little nook where she’ll be snoozing or fussing

You are not to get near that nook unless she gives EXPLICIT PERMISSION. She’ll get irritated at you/snap if you even try without her invitation

Though sometimes its you she gets protective of and will wrap you up in her arms and hold you down with her tail, dragging you into the dark and keeping you there with her for HOURS as she growls and purrs against you

If another Xenomorph thinks about trying to take you away she will kill them without hesitation

Lot of nuzzling and marking you with her claws, tracing shapes against your skin to signal that you are spoken for and protected already

When her eggs are laid you will have the privilege of going near them and helping her to guard them, but only for a little bit at a time. She’ll get uneasy when you touch them sometimes and snap at you to get out, but apologizes with more nuzzles and appreciative coos

Find humans to lure into the egg zone FAST unless you want your alien wife’s offspring in your chest also, she won’t hesitate. When it comes to it her babies are more important than you. It sucks but you knew this going into the relationship, lets be real.

MALE XENOMORPHS

Male Xenomoprhs are pretty docile (at least in comparison to females) for the most part but when mating season comes around OH HONEY

These boys turn into horny, aggressive bastards super fast

Your rut-ridden partner will likely spend every waking moment trying to impress you or mount you with no in between, his mind focused and needy for release as he craves a partner

In ruts, their cocks swell to be slightly bigger than they already are (an impressive feat given how bit Xenomorphs already are) and they develop a hard knot at the bottom

Can and WILL fight for your honor. If another male Xenomorph tries to come near you and make you his your partner will fight to the death with this guy

When he mounts you, he gives little preparation or warning, simply pinning you to the floor or a nearby object and shoving his cock inside of you

Lots of loud noises and screeching when he fucks you, drilling into your body as deep as his cock will go as he finds a spot on the back of your neck and bites down onto your skin, marking you as his

Leaves scratches along your body as well, marking you up with his scent along with his teeth

When he cums, he has a knot that swells and keeps him inside of you as he pumps his cum into your body. It’s a LOT of cum and likely distends your stomach as it fills you, but you can’t let it go anywhere since for the most part its stuck

Afterwards, while the two of you wait for his knot to deflate, your Xenomorph will litter more bites across your body and burn your skin by licking you gently, the light acidity on its tongue enough to give you many marks as you whimper under him (he loves it)