sry mom, I love monsters

an MSc in clinical psychology and a MASSIVE list of fictional monsters I’d love to fuck (Sunny | 20+ | I don’t mind any pronouns) AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyinLove/pseuds/SunnyinLove

[afreakforyautja]

Yautja Masterlist

Trapped 💚

Unbound 💚 (continuation of Trapped)

I Bite Back (18+) 💙

The King’s Right Hand ❤️

Eyes on me (18+) 🤎

The Predator and The Pretender 🧡🖤 (Halloween Special)

Be Still, My (Very Large) Heart 🩷 (Valentine’s Day Special)

I’d Choose You Anyway 🤍 (one-shot)

Last One Standing 🖤 (one shot)

Target… Confusing 💚 (one shot)

Visual Guide for my OCs

[afreakforyautja]

I had a thought

Keth'raal finding a device that disguises him as a human for a limited amount of time. He goes on a date out with reader and is so curious and happy to explore human culture and to understand reader more and use it later, like he looks so imposing (in my head, Yaut'ja are still big af even disguised as human compared to the human average, but it's still up to you) but acts so cute. Some mishaps here and there, perhaps a friend or co-worker notices the stranger with reader and they make an excuse that he's their boyfriend and only realize they fucked up after.

Genuinely, these two are so married couple to me and they give me so much serotonin gjfhggffhfff

P.S. Sorry for any typos. I love your work so much!

Anon come here and let me give you a hug because this is genuinely the cutest prompt 💚 hope you enjoy everyone! Let me know what you think in the comments!

Keth’raal had been far too proud of himself when he found the cloaking device during a raid on an old research outpost.

“Temporary human disguise,” he had announced, mandibles clicking with excitement. “I will walk among your people. I will understand you better. This will be… educational.”

Although you had a feeling “educational” was going to mean messy, but you agreed anyway. How could you resist his excited eyes?

The device worked surprisingly well, when he activated it, the big 7’7” Yautja shrunk down to a very tall (still 6’7”), broad-shouldered human man with sharp facial features, green eyes with yellow specks and forest-green tinted hair that looked too perfect to be natural.

He was still very imposing, people instinctively gave him space on the sidewalk, but the way he looked around with wide-eyed wonder completely ruined the intimidating effect.

On your date, he was uncontrollably happy.

He held your hand like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever touched, gently turning it over in his much larger one. “Your skin is so soft compared to mine,” he murmured.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t held hands before, but never like this. Not so openly. Not in public.

The simple joy of being able to touch you freely had Keth’raal completely enchanted. He could lean in close without fear, slide his hand around your waist to pull you against him and stare at you with open adoration, just like a real human boyfriend would.

At the café he insisted on trying “all the human caffeine drinks,” then spent ten minutes staring at the foam art on his latte like it was ancient magic.

Every little thing thrilled him.

“These ‘fries’ are excellent weapons,” he declared, holding up a single fry like a tiny spear. “Small. Sharp. Greasy. I respect them.”

When a dog on the sidewalk barked at him, he crouched down immediately, still towering over most people and trilled softly at it, trying to communicate. The dog ended up wagging its tail. The owner looked terrified though.

It wasn’t that he looked scary, but Keth’raal was simply too big for this human form.

His back was broad and heavily muscled, the borrowed shirt straining across his shoulders and biceps. Every time he lifted a hand to run it through his hair (a new habit he seemed to love), the hem of the shirt rode up, revealing a strip of toned abdomen. The fabric clung to every ridge of muscle, leaving very little to the imagination.

You kept worrying he might feel uncomfortable with so much of his skin showing, but Keth’raal looked almost naively confident. He carried himself with that same effortless pride he had in his true form, completely unaware of just how devastatingly attractive he looked.

Everything was going surprisingly well… until your coworker, Mary, spotted you two outside the movie theater.

Her eyes went wide as she took in the giant, ridiculously attractive man standing protectively close to you, one arm looped around your shoulders while he curiously sniffed the popcorn.

“Oh my god… is this the mysterious boyfriend you’ve been hiding?!” she squealed.

You froze.

Keth’raal, not understanding the social trap at all, lit up with pure pride. He puffed out his chest (exactly how he did in his Yautja form) and declared happily, “Yes. I am her boyfriend. She is mine. I have claimed her.”

You felt your soul leave your body.

Mary looked like she had won the lottery.

“He’s so… tall. And intense. Wow. Nice to finally meet you!”

You laughed nervously and dragged Keth’raal away before he could start explaining how he had “won you through honorable combat and almost bleeding to death beside you.”

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Keth’raal asked, startled as you pushed him back against the shadowed wall behind the movie theater.

It was dark enough here that your coworker hopefully wouldn’t spot you. Your breathing was still fast, hands pressed firmly against his broad chest as you tried to steady yourself, head bowed in embarrassment.

His much larger hands gently covered yours, fingers curling carefully around your smaller ones. The touch felt strangely soft in this human form.

“I cannot hear your heartbeat clearly like this,” he murmured, sounding almost guilty. “Tell me what is wrong.“

“I’m sorry I dragged you here—” you started, still trying to process why you had panicked so hard the moment your coworker laid eyes on him.

His palm slid up to rest against the side of your neck, thumb pressing lightly over your fluttering pulse, reading it like a language only he understood.

“Na’kai…” Even disguised, his voice was low and raspy, carrying that same deep timbre that always made your stomach flutter. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Look at me,” he said gently.

His thumb brushed along your cheek, tilting your chin up. When you finally lifted your gaze, the softness in his expression nearly undid you. His brows were drawn together, green-tinted eyes gleaming with quiet wonder as he studied your face.

“You look so beautiful through human eyes,” he admitted quietly.

“What do you mean?” you breathed.

“You look different to me in my true form. Softer now.” His thumb swept tenderly over your eyelid and you instinctively closed your eyes at the gentle touch. “I don’t have to worry about hurting you like this.”

His thumb continued its slow descent, tracing the line of your jaw before settling on your lips. He brushed the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip twice.

“You never hurt me,” you whispered, your fingers trailing lightly over his wrist.

Keth’raal was quiet for a moment, simply savoring the closeness.

“I know,” he said softly. “But it is still… nice. To touch you without fear.”

When he finally let you, a fresh wave of confidence surged through you. You grabbed him by the wrist and strode back toward the movie theater without hesitation.

You didn’t care about the stares. Not the prying eyes of strangers, not the way people openly ogled the towering man at your side and surely not the fact that you were practically dragging a 6’7” wall of muscle behind you with zero resistance.

By the time you were seated in the dark theater, a bright, giddy smile had taken over your face. Having Keth’raal with you, even in this strange human form, felt like a privilege. You wanted to enjoy every second before the disguise ran out.

You kept stealing glances at him. His sharp green-tinted eyes gleamed as they fixed on the massive screen, one hand absently reaching for the popcorn.

“What is it?” he asked without turning his head, his voice low.

You blinked, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“I might look human right now,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching, “but my instincts remain the same.”

He lowered his head slightly, lips brushing the top of your head as he spoke. “You do not like the movie you chose?”

“Do you like it?” you countered, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. You were far too restless, tempted to squeeze and pinch his arm just to feel the solid muscle beneath that tight shirt.

Keth’raal tilted his head, still observing the screen. “These humans… they interlock their lips constantly.” His tone was genuinely fascinated as the actors fell into yet another passionate kiss. “They seem to enjoy it a great deal. They moan quite often. Is it truly that pleasurable?”

Your face burned. “Yes, yes, it can be,” you whispered quickly, waving a hand at him to keep his voice down.

He turned to look at you fully now, those striking eyes catching the light from the screen. “Do you like it?”

You pressed your lips together and stared straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze. He looked far too good like this, unfairly handsome, the tight shirt doing nothing to hide how broad and powerful he still was.

“I want to hear you say it,” he pressed, voice dropping into something velvet and irresistible.

You finally turned to him. His eyes were already locked on you, patient but intense.

“I… I like it,” you admitted softly.

A small, pleased sound rumbled in his chest.

“You want to try it with me?”

You let out a breathless chuckle. “Usually there aren’t this many questions before kissing.”

“I want to know if it is okay,” he explained, though his gaze had already dropped to your lips.

Your eyes traced the shape of his mouth, the full bottom lip, the deeper color, the way it curved so invitingly. Even disguised, he was so annoyingly tempting.

You caught him staring at your lips with the same intensity. He was studying them, trying to understand how they would feel before they even touched.

“Keth—”

You didn’t get to finish. His right hand slid to the side of your neck, long fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you in. His lips crashed against yours, hungry and eager. The moment you gasped, his cool tongue (chilled from all the soda he had been drinking) traced your bottom lip before slipping inside.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You leaned into him, opening your mouth wider, a soft, involuntary moan escaping as his tongue explored yours.

“Don’t make a sound,” he whispered against your lips, the curve of a smile showing even in the dark.

You nodded, breathless, then bit down gently on his plump lower lip. He stayed almost perfectly quiet, letting you lead while still holding you close. Every time a moan threatened to slip out, he pulled you closer, muffling the sound with his mouth and the steady pressure of his hand at the back of your neck.

It was a delicious push and pull. He let you take control, but you could feel the restraint in every tensed muscle, in the way his fingers tightened against your skin, in his slightly shaky breaths. He was holding himself back.

“Na’kai…” he breathed, breaking the kiss only to trail his lips down the side of your neck. He licked a slow stripe over your pulse, teeth grazing your collarbone without biting. “We need to stop.”

His voice sounded pained.

You pulled back slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Keth’raal rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing uneven. “In this form… I can’t control my body the way I can in my true one.” He let out a shaky chuckle, almost embarrassed. “I can suppress it normally. But not like this.”

Your gaze dropped.

The very obvious, very impressive bulge straining against his pants was impossible to miss.

He noticed where your eyes went and let out another soft, embarrassed laugh.

“I’ll never get used to how ethereal you look through human eyes,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb tenderly under your eye. “Is this truly how humans see you?”

Your face burned. You shook your head, smiling shyly. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I should be more jealous,” he said quietly, eyes soft. “That others get to see you like this every day.”

For the rest of the movie, he barely looked at the screen. His hand stayed wrapped around yours, thumb gently stroking your knuckles, while his gaze kept drifting back to your face, like you were far more interesting than anything happening on screen.

Later that night, back at home, the disguise flickered off as the device reached its limit. Keth’raal returned to his full green, Yautja self, but he was still buzzing with energy, pacing around you excitedly.

“Did I do well?” he asked, tilting his head. “I was a convincing human boyfriend, yes? Your friend seemed impressed. I even drank the bitter bean water for you.”

You groaned, covering your face. “Keth… everyone at work is going to ask about my giant, mysterious boyfriend now.”

He paused. Then clicked his mandibles in amusement and leaned down, purring as he nuzzled against your neck.

“Good. Let them ask. I will visit again. Next time I want to try the ‘roller coaster’ thing. And hold your hand in public more. And kiss—”

You cut him off with a sudden kiss over his mandibles, before he could plan your next ten fake-human dates.

He made an amused sound against your lips, clearly pleased with himself.

“So… you like my original form just as much,” he said, mandibles twitching with satisfaction.

“There was never a question about it,” you replied, smiling up at him.

[afreakforyautja]

Unbound (Part 2)

(Yautja x Human)

[Continuation of my original story Trapped]

(Bet you didn’t see that one coming 😅 I was just feeling down lately and writing about Keth’raal always brings me joy 💚 missed you guys, hope you enjoy this one and can’t wait for your comments as always 🖤)

You could feel his eyes on your back as you hurried around the kitchen, trying to throw together something quick. Keth’raal leaned against the wall nearby, massive arms crossed over his chest as he silently watched you move from counter to counter.

Your stomach had growled so loudly a few moments ago that you had practically launched yourself off the bed in embarrassment, rushing to the kitchen before he could start questioning the strange noises humans apparently made when starving.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder to catch his relaxed posture as he studied you cooking.

“I’m okay.” The mechanical rasp of his vocoder answered.

You hummed softly, rinsing the lettuce one last time before chopping through it quickly.

“Let’s say you were hungry,” you continued, “could you even eat human food?”

“Not really. Some fruits are acceptable.” He paused briefly, the translator crackling for half a second before continuing. “The rest taste… off.”

That last word came delayed and you frowned slightly, unsure whether the vocoder had malfunctioned or if he had simply hesitated.

“What kind of fruit?” you asked, reaching for a tomato.

But you completely missed the shift behind you.

Keth’raal had gone perfectly still.

Three crimson targeting dots slid silently across the kitchen floor, settling over the tiny shape creeping near the cabinets. Before you could even notice, his form shimmered and vanished beneath his cloak.

Meanwhile, you remained entirely oblivious, still focused on your dinner.

“Keth’raal?” you called after a moment, turning around with a confused blink.

He was suddenly back where he had been before, leaning against the wall again, though his head remained tilted slightly toward the floor as if he had been watching something there moments earlier. Then his gaze snapped back to you.

“What kind of fruit?” you repeated, smiling before returning to your cutting board.

“Melons. Star fruits—”

“Have you tried grapes?” you interrupted quickly.

You crossed the kitchen in a hurry, opening the fridge before plucking a grape from one of the containers. Then you walked straight back to him, stopping close enough to feel the cold radiating from his armour.

He looked down at the grape between your fingers before slowly shaking his head, his thick dreadlocks shifting over his shoulders with the movement.

“Can you try one?” you asked, suddenly unsure whether feeding him random human food counted as a terrible scientific decision.

For a second he simply stared at you and then nodded.

His fingers hooked beneath the edge of his mask, slowly lifting it just enough for his mouth to show, his mandibles spreading open for you.

You blinked at the sight of him opening his mouth.

And somehow, even more unexpected than that, was the fact you were about to feed him. As if this was something normal between you. Something that had always been waiting to happen.

You had fought together. Bled together. Nearly died together.

But you had never shared something as simple as food.

You took a small breath, suddenly aware of how close you were standing to him. As if sensing your hesitation, his hand rose and wrapped gently around your wrist, guiding your hand closer to his mouth. Your fingers slipped carefully between his parted mandibles as he opened them wider for you, and then his mouth opened too, revealing that serpent-like tongue.

No matter how many times you had seen his anatomy, studied it, worked around it as an extraterrestrial biologist, it still fascinated you beyond reason.

But this was different from the lab.

Back then, Keth’raal had been wounded, restrained, unconscious half the time.

Now he was letting you see him.

Letting you touch him.

You slowly pushed the grape between his teeth before his mouth closed around it. Your fingers began retreating carefully, but halfway through, you changed your mind.

Instead, your hand settled lightly beneath his mandibles, fingertips resting against his chin. Your thumb brushed once, twice, over the cold texture of his skin before you finally pulled away completely.

A low sound rumbled through his chest as he chewed, soft and deep, almost like a hum.

Your eyes lit up instantly.

You recognised that sound.

Approval.

“Good?” you asked with a grin.

He pulled his mask back down immediately afterward, tilting his head at you.

“Was it good?” you repeated.

He stared at you for a second before nodding once.

“It’s tolerable.”

You burst into a quiet laugh, almost certain he had probably tried grapes before and disliked them, but couldn’t bring himself to refuse you.

“You don’t have to try things if you don’t want to” you said, turning back toward the stove.

“I want to.”

Even through the distortion of the mask, the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable.

You were humming a soft melody now, a song you didn’t even recognise and you felt truly at ease. The safety of your home wrapped around you, becoming warmer by Keth’raal’s presence nearby.

Then his voice broke the silence.

“Why here?” He asked, still watching you as you moved around the kitchen.

You let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “That’s a good question, but I might disappoint you.” The memory felt strangely distant, even though it had only been two years. “After we escaped the lab, I ran straight to the airport. I didn’t even have clothes with me, just the ones on my back. The first flight on the board was this one, so I took it. No real plan. I just needed to get as far away from that place as possible.”

“It’s quiet here,” he said, voice low through the vocoder. “It suits you better.”

“I kind of miss the chaos of the city sometimes,” you admitted with a small shrug.

“I can take you there,” he offered without hesitation.

You clicked your tongue in gentle refusal. “I’m not going back.” You smiled, but there was no humor in it.

You really meant every word. You would never return to that life. Not while this quiet, remote island kept you safe from the world that had once tried to destroy you both.

This place, far from everything, had become your sanctuary.

You would only step back into noise and crowds again if it was for his safety.

“You need help with that?”

His voice came from behind the mask as you shook your head immediately, still struggling with the can in your hands.

You had learned to adjust to little things like this over the years. Since your left hand never healed properly, you couldn’t fully close it anymore, so even simple tasks sometimes turned awkward and frustrating.

But Keth’raal hadn’t questioned it once.

Not a single pitying look. Not even curiosity.

As if he didn’t see it as weakness at all.

Only an injury earned surviving beside him.

He had offered to help once and when you refused, he respected it without pressing further.

“It didn’t heal all the way,” you said casually, still working at the can. “I can’t fully close it anymore, but honestly? That’s a pretty small price considering your injuries.”

His posture shifted slightly against the wall.

“Did it hurt?”

The question caught you so off guard you almost laughed.

An alien built like a tank, with battle scars all over his body, asking about your pain.

“Like hell,” you scoffed softly, finally managing to open the can before reaching for another grape and tossing it into your mouth.

“But I couldn’t stand the thought of you bleeding to death. I mean—” you gestured vaguely with one hand, almost laughing at yourself. “Are you kidding me? I’d go through that pain again if it meant you survived.”

Silence followed for a second.

“You are too selfless.”

The vocoder sounded unusually serious this time. Lower somehow. Heavier than before.

You shook your head quickly.

“I don’t feel selfless. I just acted on instinct.” You glanced back at him with a small smile. “You would have done the same for me.”

You turned back toward the stove, completely unaware of how deeply that smile settled into him.

“You were ready to get captured again if it meant not leaving me behind,” you murmured after a moment, quieter now as the memories resurfaced. “Talking about selfless.”

“I was selfish back then,” he corrected immediately. “I did not listen to you. I was stubborn.”

A soft laugh escaped you.

“I was stubborn too.”

Your movements slowed as the memory hit harder this time. The final shove forcing him out of the lab while you trapped yourself behind instead.

“You were.”

His voice came closer now.

Closer than before.

But you didn’t turn around.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked quietly.

And honestly, you weren’t even sure what you meant anymore.

Mad because you forced him to leave?

Mad because you never found him afterward?

Or because fear had kept you frozen for far too long?

You didn’t even know yourself.

“I was.”

His voice came from right behind you now.

You felt the change in the air before you felt him, the coldness of his body somehow making the space around you warmer instead, charged like live wires stretched too tightly.

“For the first hour.”

His longer dreadlocks slipped over your shoulders as his head lowered, resting carefully against the crook of your neck.

Heavy. Helmeted. And somehow still careful, touching you with just enough weight to remind you he was there without ever truly pressing down on you.

Maybe everything about Keth’raal was softer than he wanted the universe to believe.

Or maybe you simply could not see him any other way anymore.

“What happened after the first hour?” you asked quietly, remaining perfectly still beneath him.

You barely even breathed.

One wrong movement and the moment might break apart completely. He might retreat again, hide behind silence the way he always did when he felt you hesitating.

A low sound rumbled from deep inside his chest, thoughtful and rough, something instinctive in his language before the translator could catch up.

“I was…” another growl-like hum vibrated against your shoulder, “…devastated.”

This time you heard the word beneath the vocoder too, his real voice slipping through the helmet from how close he was. Deep. Guttural. Honest enough to make your chest ache.

His hands settled on the counter beside yours, caging you, his chest pressed carefully against your back as if he was still learning how much of his weight you could carry.

And when you finally breathed again after holding it for far too long, you felt him exhale too.

The tension slowly left his body, his shoulders easing as he let himself lean against you properly now, almost like exhaustion had finally caught up to him the second he realised you were truly here.

His breath warmed the space near your ear.

One of his hands flexed against the counter before relaxing again, restless fingers curling as though he wanted to touch you, hold you, make sure you were real.

“Keth…” His name left your mouth softer than you intended.

You wanted to say something else.

Anything else.

But the words dissolved before reaching your tongue.

His hand made of metal and artificial flesh rose first, gripping the edge of his helmet before slowly pushing it upward just enough to expose his mouth. His mandibles spread open in silence and your eyes fluttered shut instantly, nervously.

You felt the brush of his mandibles against the crook of your neck.

Your head tilted slightly, giving him more room without even thinking about it.

The moment you felt a talon hook beneath the collar of your shirt, dragging the fabric lower to expose your shoulder, a shiver ran violently down your spine.

Cotton gave way beneath the sharp edge of his claw with a soft rip.

He didn’t stop until your shoulder was fully bare beneath him, exposed, sensitive.

And then nothing.

No sudden movement.

No aggression.

Just the feeling of his unmasked face resting there against your skin.

Cold skin brushing yours carefully.

Feeling you.

You heard him inhale deeply against your shoulder, the sound dragging straight through your nervous system.

Your jaw clenched immediately, forcing yourself silent before any sound escaped that you wouldn’t be able to explain afterward.

His hand settled on the counter beside yours, close enough that the heat of his palm traveled over your skin. His mouth hovered just above the curve of your neck, breath ghosting warm across flushed skin. Even though his body ran cooler than a human’s, the sheer presence of him wrapped around you like a furnace. Or perhaps it was only your own temperature rising, blood rushing hot beneath your skin in a dizzying fever.

You couldn’t see him. That alone made the moment feel like one of the half-remembered dreams that had haunted you for two years.

His voice, his touch, the solid wall of his chest at your back, but never his face. The image of him had blurred with time. Yet this was real. He was here, his claws shredding the front of your shirt open, inhaling your scent like a predator savoring prey he had no intention of harming.

You tried to turn, desperate to look at him, to convince yourself he wasn’t another cruel dream.

But his bionic hand rose swiftly, the synthetic skin warm and startlingly lifelike as it covered your eyes. You shivered and obeyed, lashes fluttering shut and with your sight stolen, every other sense sharpened. The slow rise and fall of his chest, the faint metallic scent of his armor, the low thrum of his breathing through the vocoder.

“If you look at me with those eyes…” the vocoder murmured softly, “I do not know what I will do.”

Your breath faltered.

Only then did you realise he must have lowered the mask again just enough to tell you that himself. Not through distance. Not safely hidden away in his native language.

Close enough for you to understand he was struggling to get the words out.

“What do you want to do?” you whispered, barely audible.

His free hand slid over yours on the counter, claws barely grazing your skin while the artificial hand continued shielding your eyes.

A low sound vibrated in his chest before the translator finally caught up. “No language I know can describe it.”

Beneath the translator’s flat tone, you caught the real sound of him, rich, guttural, layered with clicks and that rough accent that made your stomach flutter. You almost smiled.

“Your voice has changed,” you murmured.

“You sound… older.”

“I am older,” he answered, matter-of-fact, yet the low rumble of it felt almost suggestive against your ear.

You swallowed. “What did two years change for you?”

Instead of answering immediately, he lifted your hand from the counter and guided it upward. Your fingertips brushed the thick, rubbery dreadlocks that framed his head. You caught one gently between your fingers, stroking the strange, smooth texture.

“What didn’t change,” he said, voice dropping lower, “is how desperately I wanted to see you again.”

Your smile faltered. Heat flooded your cheeks, a deep, embarrassed flush that spread down your throat and across your chest. You took a small, shaky step backward, pressing yourself fully against the hard plane of his torso, letting his slow breaths guide your own breathing. His hand remained over your eyes, protective, possessive and just a little teasing as his thumb brushed lightly over your temple.

How could he admit something like that so easily? After two whole years apart, how could he lay his heart bare without a trace of reluctance?

Then again… this was Keth’raal. He wasn’t just a tease. He was the most brutally honest being you had ever known. Once something took root in his mind, he pursued it with the focus of a hunter who had already marked his prey. Unapologetic. Assertive. When he wanted something, he claimed it.

“You’re here now,” you breathed, voice small and trembling.

His bionic palm slowly lifted from your eyes. You wondered what he would do next, but you never expected what actually came.

His hand slid down, talons grazing over your throat before his fingers wrapped around it with soft pressure. His thumb settled over the front of your throat, right where your pulse beat wildly.

“Say that again,” he whispered, voice rough and low. The translator barely masked the desperate click beneath it, the begging tone of his voice. And when you stayed silent a second too long, his thumb pressed a little firmer, coaxing.

“Na’kai.”

You swallowed against his palm. “You’re… here now.”

The moment the words left you, his thumb stroked slowly over your throat, savoring the vibration of your voice against his skin. A deep, rolling purr rumbled from his chest, followed by a series of soft, satisfied clicks right beside your ear.

“Keth’raal,” you whispered, your own hand drifting up to cover his. Your fingers traced over his knuckles, then higher, until they found the cool steel of his mask. Your nails dragged down the metal with a slow, scraping screech that made his grip tighten for a second.

“Again,” he demanded softly, hips moving forward in a slow, impulsive roll against your back. The movement pressed you more firmly between his body and the counter, an invisible and undeniable pull drawing you together.

You closed your eyes on purpose this time, surrendering completely to sensation. His heavy breath hissed through the mask. His dreadlocks brushed and tickled across your bare shoulders. The heat of his torso burned against your back and the firm press of his hips made your thoughts scatter. You said his name again, slower, letting the vibration of your throat caress his palm like a secret you had decided to share only with him.

You could feel the war inside him, the desire to keep you trapped like this, safe between his chest and the counter, your voice singing against his hand forever. His thumb brushed one last time along your throat before he finally released you, claws trailing lightly down your collarbone.

But beneath the heat of the moment lingered a heavier tension, one you weren’t ready to face. Not yet.

What could possibly exist between a human and a Yautja? Was something like sex even possible? How would your bodies fit? And if you tried, how would he—

A loud crack from the living room stopped your spiraling thoughts.

Keth’raal’s shoulder cannon was already tracking the sound, red lasers cutting through the darkness. He didn’t speak. He simply stood there, ready and lethal as always.

You turned back to the kitchen counter, heart hammering against your ribs. The ghost of his body still clung to you, his solid chest at your back, the low click of his mandibles, the possessive weight of his hand wrapped around your throat as he drank in every vibration of your voice.

Swallowing hard, you picked up the knife and tried to focus on the vegetables, but your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

His heavy footsteps moved away, giving you space. You heard him lean against the far wall, arms folded across his broad chest as he watched you again.

“What is that thing wandering around your home?” The vocoder made his voice sound dry, almost skeptical.

You kept your eyes on the cutting board.

“What thing?”

“That black thing.” He lifted a clawed hand, pointing toward the shadows in the living room.

“That’s Ke—”

The word died in your throat before you turned back toward the counter and resumed mutilating the poor lettuce for what had to be the tenth time.

“Ke?” Keth’raal echoed, the single syllable low and curious.

“Kelly!” you blurted, forcing a bright, fake laugh. “Her name is Kelly.”

You could feel his gaze burning into you and you knew—knew—that damn biomask was feeding him every spike in your heart rate, every degree of the blush crawling across your skin.

You prayed he wouldn’t connect the dots.

“What is Kelly?” his voice asked through the vocoder.

And somehow, despite your spiraling panic over almost revealing you had named your cat after him (well, after “Keth”) the innocent question caught you so off guard your panic subdued immediately.

A laugh escaped you for real this time.

“She’s a cat,” you said, finally turning to face him with a shy smile. “A small Earth mammal. She lives with me.”

And you didn’t notice.

How could you? Your back was turned as you finished plating your food, completely unaware of the way Keth’raal’s clawed fist rose and struck his own chest once, hard, as if trying to punish his heart for pounding too fiercely against his ribs. The smile you had given him had hit his insides harder than any blade he had ever faced. He would remember that moment long after you forgot it.

“And why do you keep the mammal around?” he asked as you carried your plate to the table. “Does it protect you?”

“No,” you replied softly, setting the plate down. “She’s just for company. Humans get lonely quickly.”

“You were lonely?” Keth’raal asked as you sat down at the table.

The already-torn shirt he had ripped open earlier slipped further, exposing the curve of your shoulder and the top of your chest. You yanked the fabric back into place quickly, but Keth’raal’s gaze never left you.

You risked a quick glance at him before dropping your eyes to your plate again.

“Were you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Lonely?”

He gave a small nod, his dreadlocks barely shifting with the motion.

Your stomach twisted into a tight knot.

You pushed the plate away and stood, drifting toward the couch in the living room. You didn’t need to ask him to follow, his footsteps were already right behind you, obedient and inevitable.

He surprised you by sinking to his knees in front of the couch, bringing the two of you eye to eye. At this height, he didn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

“How did you manage?” you asked quietly.

“I didn’t,” he admitted, voice low and steady through the mask. “I simply kept moving. Fighting whatever stood between me and returning to you.”

Your chest ached at the sincerity. You reached out, fingers threading gently into his thick, rubbery dreadlocks, pulling him a little closer. He leaned into your touch without resistance, a soft purr rumbling in his throat.

“Are you in trouble?” you asked, concern painting your words.

Another quiet purr.

Yes.

“I won’t bring trouble to your door,” he promised.

“I don’t care if you do,” you answered quickly. Your hand slid down to his chin, gently lifting his masked face so you could look straight into the dark voids of his mask. “I don’t care… as long as you’re here.”

The moment stretched, fragile, tender, until your stomach gave a loud, embarrassing growl.

Keth’raal tilted his head. Without a word, he rose to his full height, retrieved your plate from the table and returned. He knelt once more, offering it to you with a small nod, silently urging you to eat.

He was adorable in ways no one would ever believe, naive in his curiosity, yet impossibly sharp. Lethal beyond measure and still so gently protective. Keth’raal was a walking paradox and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

He watched you eat, head tilting one way every time you lifted the fork to your mouth, then the other when you swallowed. You didn’t tell him to stop staring, even though the weight of his gaze made your cheeks warm. You understood that look. He was studying you the same way you loved studying him, trying to memorize every small habit, every tiny detail.

“How did you find your way back home?” you asked after swallowing another bite, your eyes lifting from your plate to meet the steady glow of his mask. This was the question you had carried for two long years.

Keth’raal gave a slow nod, silently encouraging you to keep eating as he answered. “After I recovered my ship. Its last recorded destination was my planet. I was meant to return there, right before the humans captured me.”

Your fork froze halfway to your mouth. A heavy wave of grief and guilt settled over your shoulders, pressing down on your chest. It wasn’t you who had taken him. You had been just as much of a prisoner in that lab as he was. Still, in this moment, you felt the full weight of humanity’s sins resting on you alone.

“Why didn’t they accept you back home?” you asked, your voice dropping softer on the next question. “What about your brothers?”

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to ask about his family. You wanted to respect whatever invisible boundaries existed, even if he had never drawn any.

Keth’raal remained silent for a long moment. The vocoder crackled once and then fell quiet.

“My homeworld was eradicated,” he finally said. “A new King has seized control of our planets. I—”

The translator cut off. You blinked, realizing he had hesitated.

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, setting your plate aside. “You don’t have to talk about it—”

“If there is any being in this universe I wish to speak with,” he interrupted, “it’s you.”

Then, slowly, he lowered his head until it rested on your lap. Your eyes widened in shock. This was the first time you had ever seen Keth’raal look truly exhausted.

Not when you had fought xenomorphs together. Not when his arm had been severed. Not even when both of you had been bleeding out, clinging to life. None of those moments had left him bare like this.

But now, kneeling before you with his head heavy in your lap, the weight of years of loneliness and loss seemed to crash down on him all at once. His broad shoulders sagged. A deep, tired exhale left him, mandibles clicking faintly beneath the mask.

You placed your hands on his head without thinking, fingers sinking gently into his thick locks. You brushed through them slowly, until you found the nape of his neck. Your warm fingertips pressed against the cool skin there, right along the faint blue line you remembered from your time in the lab. You rubbed slow, soothing circles against the sensitive spot.

“I have no family left,” Keth’raal continued, voice quiet. “And those who survived no longer consider me one of their own. I wasn’t there to fight beside them. I was still trapped in that lab while my world burned.”

“I’m sorry…” The words left you in a broken whisper. The guilt settled heavy on your shoulders, humans had stolen his last chance to defend his home.

His head lifted slowly from your lap, dreadlocks sliding off your knees as he tilted his masked face toward you.

“It was never your fault—”

“But humans did this to you,” you insisted.

“You helped me escape. You saved my life, Na’kai.” His large hand rose, cold fingertips brushing your cheek, tracing the honored mark he had once given you. “You are not like the ones who captured me. You were as trapped as I was.”

Your throat tightened. “But now you have no home to return to…”

“I will find a new one.” The mechanical voice sounded softer somehow, almost tender.

“Half of my memories from those years are gone anyway. What remains… is mostly you.”

You glanced at him, then quickly looked down at your fidgeting hands. “How? We didn’t even know each other for that long.”

“I knew you,” he said quietly, echoing the confession he had made back in the lab. “I remember the hours you spent examining me. Talking to yourself. Taking samples. I was sedated, but not fully unconscious.”

You had been fascinated by him, his alien physiology, the striking power of his body, the silent strength in his eyes even when weakened.

Every day you had whispered apologies while drawing blood and tissue, watching him grow frailer under your hands.

Seeing him now, vibrant, powerful, muscles full and skin glowing with health, filled you with relief.

“I couldn’t understand your words,” he continued, “but you were always gentle. I never thanked you for that.”

“Don’t,” you breathed, shaking your head. “I spent every session apologizing for what I was doing to you. There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“Remember the days you weren’t assigned to me?” he asked. “Because I do. No one else was gentle. Only you.”

“Keth’raal…” His name left your lips like a plea.

“We are both here because of you,” he said firmly. His hand moved to your shoulder, pressing it gently until you finally met his gaze. “And I am grateful for that.”

You nodded, even though the guilt still sat like lead in your chest. No matter what he said, you weren’t sure you would ever fully forgive yourself for what you had done to him in that lab.

Keth’raal lowered himself back to the floor, kneeling in front of you once more. His large hand came to rest on your knee, feeling warm despite the coolness of his skin. For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, natural. You let out a long, slow breath and allowed your body to relax into the quiet you had dreamed about for two years, his presence beside you, his gentle nature no longer just a memory.

His fingers began to tap a slow, rhythmic pattern against your knee. You had no idea he was matching the beat of your heart, but he did. He always knew how to calm you down since the beginning.

“So… you didn’t have anyone back home?” you asked, avoiding his gaze by pretending your half-eaten salad was suddenly fascinating.

“You mean a mate?” he replied without hesitation, his masked eyes fixed on you, never letting you dodge.

You nodded, fidgeting with your fork.

“Is that what you mean, Na’kai?” he pressed, a clear tease in his tone.

“Why do you want me to say it if you already know?” you groaned, reaching out to push his face away in embarrassment.

“Because you react like this,” he said simply. “And I like it when the blood rises to your cheeks.”

Even without sweet words, the honesty made your heart jump inside your chest. He enjoyed your shyness. After years of survival and violence, your softness must have been something entirely new to him and it did make you feel special.

“Did you have a mate or not?” you asked, faking an exaggerated sigh before stuffing another bite of salad into your mouth.

“I don’t remember,” he answered. “But I wasn’t blooded when I was captured, so I assume not”

“And what about those two years you were travelling—”

“Surviving,” he corrected.

“Right, sorry. Surviving.” You set your fork down, food completely forgotten now.

“What about those years?” he asked, even though you were almost certain he already knew exactly what you were asking.

You kept your eyes fixed stubbornly on your plate. “Did you meet anyone?”

A soft clicking sound came from beneath the mask, almost amused.

“I did not have time to bond with anyone.”

“Oh.”

“Nor did I want to.”

Your fingers tightened around your fork.

“Oh,” you repeated quieter this time.

Keth’raal’s mask tilted. “Where is your mate, then?” He made a show of looking around the room before his mask’s eyes returned to you.

One of the mask’s lenses flashed white for a second, almost like a wink.

You stared at him. “Did you just wink at me?”

“No.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I am asking a question.”

You snorted despite yourself, shaking your head before mumbling, “Relationships are complicated these days. Who has time for that?”

But he clearly wasn’t satisfied with your answer.

“So you didn’t bond with any humans?” he pressed.

“I went on a couple of dates, but—”

“Dates?” He rose from the floor in one fluid motion and settled onto the couch beside you.

“Yeah, it’s when two people go out to see if they match—”

“Did you match with any of them?” His voice dropped lower as he tugged you toward him. Your torn shirt slipped again under the pull of his hand.

“They were… nice—” you started, but the words vanished as his fingers caught the edge of the ripped fabric and lifted it higher.

“Nice?” he echoed, the single word sounding dangerously unimpressed. Before you could protest, he pulled you smoothly onto his lap, your legs curling against your chest as his massive arms caged you against him.

“Yeah, they were okay,” you shrugged, fingers

finding one of his dreadlocks and rubbing the thick, rubbery tip. “But they didn’t have… that something I was looking for.”

A low rumble started in his chest before he quickly silenced it, pretending nothing had happened. But you noticed. The way his body tensed beneath you, the subtle change in his breathing. And you were surprised by how much you enjoyed this side of him.

“They weren’t tall enough,” you added.

Keth’raal tilted his head. “But you’re rather small—”

“I like them massively tall, okay?” you interrupted, faking annoyance even as a smile tugged at your lips. He still wasn’t catching the very obvious hint.

“And they were too… soft.”

“Soft?” He sounded genuinely confused. “Are you not all soft? You’re hu—”

Realization hit him mid-sentence. The vocoder couldn’t hide the knowing click that followed.

“You like them rough-skinned,” he murmured, tilting his head to press the side of his mask against your cheek. You burst into quiet giggles as he continued, “And tall.” His fingers pressed lightly into your ribs, making you squirm. “Maybe even green?”

A deep, thrumming purr rolled through his chest, the Yautja equivalent of a chuckle. In one smooth motion he dropped you onto the couch, your back hitting the cushions as he climbed over you. The furniture groaned under his weight. He caged you between his powerful forearms, dreadlocks falling around your face like a dark waterfall.

You nodded, biting your lip to hold back a grin.

“Hmm…” The low sound vibrated through him as he stared down at you. “Where are you going to find a mate like that?” he teased. “I don’t see anyone on Earth who matches your… specific preferences.”

“I don’t mind if they’re not from Earth,” you said, smiling up at him sweetly.

“You are a very open-minded human,” he replied, nodding slowly. His clawed hand rose to cradle your cheek, a talon grazing your skin.

“Do you have anyone in mind you could introduce me to?” you smirked, tugging on two of his dreadlocks.

Keth’raal lowered his body instantly, pressing you deeper into the cushions. His mask hovered inches from your face.

“You shouldn’t play with a Yautja’s locks,” he warned, voice dropping into a rougher tone.

“Why not?” you asked, surprising yourself with your boldness.

“Because,” he murmured, bumping his mask gently against your forehead, “I can feel everything.”

Your hands froze.

You knew his dreadlocks were sensitive, but you hadn’t fully understood until now. The way his breathing grew heavier above you, rougher, more strained, made the realization sink in. Every touch had affected him far more than he let on.

You released his locks immediately. He exhaled sharply, as if you had been holding his very life in your palms.

Slowly, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, his massive body enveloping you completely. His arms and legs caged you on the couch, yet instead of feeling trapped, you felt safe. Exactly where you wanted to be.

“Where is your hair ring?” you asked softly, remembering the single ornate bead he used to wear on one of his locks.

He lifted his head, bringing you eye to eye with the dark voids of his mask. “I took it off after my clan rejected me. But I keep it safe.”

“It was your only memento,” you murmured. In the back of your mind, a quiet thought started forming. Maybe I could give him a new one. Something to come back to. Someone to belong to.

He didn’t belong on Earth… but perhaps he could belong with you.

The thought made your heart miss a beat. What are you even thinking?

“Can I…?” you whispered, hands rising hesitantly toward his mask. Your fingers curled around the edges. The lenses flashed red for a brief second , startled, before you gently lifted it away.

The mask dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

Without it, his mandibles flexed and parted, the vibrant green of his eyes finding you. They were stunning up close, intense and strangely vulnerable as they searched yours. You whispered his name and his eyes fluttered shut. A soft series of clicks escaped him as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Da’to thwei,” he rumbled in his native tongue, the words low and intimate. His hands cradled the back of your head, talons carefully threading through your hair as he rubbed his forehead gently against yours.

He seemed lighter without the mask. Freer. As if speaking without the translator’s barrier allowed him to finally breathe. His body relaxed fully against yours, native clicks and rumbles leaving him effortlessly.

“If you’re saying you missed me…” you murmured, unaware of the true weight of his words, “I missed you too.”

In his language, however, he had already claimed you. Completely.

“Can you stay longer?” you whispered. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”

But Keth’raal was already reaching for his mask.

“No, wait, please.” You caught his wrist. “I don’t have the courage to say this while you can understand me . I… I want you to stay. I want you to come back to me after every hunt. I want to be your—”

His hand moved quickly, pressing two fingers gently against your lips, silencing you. He slipped the helmet back on and shook his head, the red glow of his lenses steady on you.

“You’re not going to tell me what you just said, are you?”

“No,” you breathed, a small, shy smirk tugging at your lips. “Not yet.”

“Are you going to tell me what you whispered in Yautja earlier?” you continued.

“No.” He pulled you up from the couch with, your hands resting in his open palms.

“Then we’re even.” You smiled brightly up at him. His head tilted at the sight, as if wanting to commit this moment to his memory.

“You will tell me eventually,” he said, his thumb brushing beneath the scar on your cheek.

“You’ll have to come back to me if you want to find out.”

“Is that so, cunning human?” A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest.

You shrugged playfully, “don’t underestimate me. Humans evolved by outsmarting bigger predators like you.”

“So you’re tricking me into coming back?”

“Exactly.”

Keth’raal let out another amused click. “I would return even if you didn’t want me here. I need to check on the soft human—”

“Ow!” He feigned pain when you slapped his arm, rubbing the spot dramatically.

“Don’t talk down to a blooded warrior, Keth’raal.”

“My apologies,” he replied, the translator somehow making the words sound anything but sorry.

You plopped back onto the couch, crossing your legs and folding your arms.

“So you’re a marine biologist now?” Keth’raal asked, settling on the floor across from you. He mirrored your posture, head tilting slightly to the left in that familiar, curious way.

“How do you know?” You raised your eyebrows in mock surprise. “Were you stalking me?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Your robe has it written on it.” He smoothly avoided answering the stalking question.

You glanced at the white lab coat draped over the chair and muttered, “Right…”

Something hot erupted in your chest at the thought that he might have been watching over you these past two years, keeping his distance for your safety.

“I’m just a junior researcher,” you continued, “but I like it. It’s quieter. Safer.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing every word.

“I mostly work with marine mammals right now. Orcas, specifically.” You shifted on the couch, stretching your legs out with a soft sigh and leaning back against the armrest. The tension in your shoulders finally began to ease.

Keth’raal rose from the floor without a word. The couch creaked in protest as he sat at the far end, his big frame taking up most of the space. You started to pull your legs back to give him room, but his hand caught your ankle gently, tugging you toward him until your legs rested across his lap.

Your breath caught.

His large hand settled warmly on top of your thigh, his thumb brushing slow, absent circles against the fabric of your pants. You froze for only a moment before scooting closer. When his arm lifted in a quiet invitation, you leaned into his side, resting against the cold wall of his torso.

It felt almost too natural.

You knew Yautja weren’t like humans. They weren’t supposed to crave gentle touch or closeness the same way. And yet here he was, initiating the touch, pulling you closer, offering the exact comfort you hadn’t realized you had been starving for.

Or maybe… he needed it too.

He had always been proud, sometimes even arrogant about his strength and skill. But this was different. This wasn’t pride. This was quiet certainty. He knew you wanted to be closer. He could read every racing heartbeat, every change in your breathing and he gave you exactly what you needed without hesitation.

It was pure confidence.

And it made your stomach twist with something like pleasure. You bit the inside of your cheek hard, fighting the sudden, overwhelming urge to ask him to claim you the way only a Yautja could.

Your time in the lab had taught you far more about Yautja than most humans would ever know, their traditions, their rigid hierarchy, even the brutal reality of how they reproduced. That last part still made you nervous.

Yautja mating wasn’t simple or gentle. It was a ritual. The strongest were chosen and the much larger, more dominant females left scars on their mates, breaking their spines before carrying their children. Keth’raal had quietly admitted earlier that he had never been claimed. Never gone through that rite. Which meant…

He was untouched.

The realization sent a fresh wave of heat rushing to your face. The arrogant, reckless young hunter you had met in the lab had been all bluster and show. But this version of him, calmer, quieter, radiating confidence, felt entirely different. He wasn’t showing off anymore. He simply knew his worth. He knew what he wanted.

And he knew he could have you.

Keth’raal’s finger curled, the cool tip gently brushing your flushed cheek. His head tilted in silent question: Why are you blushing again?

You let out a nervous laugh and quickly changed the subject.

“You know, when I started here, I never expected to end up studying orcas,” you said, eyes fixed on your fidgeting fingers. “It felt like the universe was pulling a prank on me.”

His thumb kept tracing circles over your knee as he listened.

“Orcas are the apex predators of the ocean,” you continued.

His head tilted further. “You have a favorite?”

You blinked.

That was his question? Out of all questions?

“What if I do?” you asked, fighting back a grin.

“Tell me where this orca is—”

“I’m joking, Keth’raal,” you laughed, pressing your lips together to keep from bursting out. His masked gaze stayed locked on you, clearly expecting a real answer.

You reached out, resting your left hand on his broad chest. “I can’t communicate with them the same way I do with you,” you murmured, rubbing gentle circles over the hard plating as if trying to calm the heart you could feel beating faster beneath your palm.

You were fighting a losing battle with yourself, the urge to tease him just a little more, to push until you drew out those frustrated growls from under his mask.

You wanted to see the beast he kept so carefully leashed.

He stayed silent after that, still, as you continued rubbing your hand over his chest.

Yet his arm slid around your shoulders, his large hand stroking protectively down your arm while he searched for words.

“I have some books on orcas I could show you—” You started to pull away, but his grip on your arm tightened instantly, tugging you back against him.

You yelped, the sound quickly turning into a suppressed laugh as your lips twitched with a smile.

“Keth’raal…” you called softly.

No response. Not a tilt of his head, not a single click. He kept his gaze lowered, arm still wrapped around you like a steel band.

You whispered his name again, tapping his chest. When that earned you nothing, you decided to make a bolder attempt to get his attention. Lifting your legs from his lap, you turned and straddled him fully, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his massive thighs.

His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, as if he didn’t know whether he was allowed to touch you or not.

Your hands settled on his broad chest. Only then did the full weight of your compromising position hit you, sitting on his lap, straddling him like this, with nothing but thin fabric between you.

A nervous chuckle escaped you as you tried to climb off, terrified by your impulsiveness.

But before you could, his bionic hand caught your thigh, squeezing once, making you gasp.

“I thought—”

“Don’t leave,” he said, voice rough through the mask. His hand slid from your thigh to your lower back, claws grazing lightly over your clothes. Your already torn shirt slipped further down your shoulder and you quickly tugged it back up.

“Your face,” he murmured, his knuckles brushing your burning cheek. “It’s all red again.”

“It’s just… hot in here,” you exhaled, fanning yourself weakly.

“How do humans usually cool their skin?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious, though the way his other hand joined the first at your lower back, locking around you, felt far from innocent.

“Sweat… or by taking a shower,” you answered, slowly allowing yourself to sit fully on his lap despite the burn under your skin.

“How do you produce sweat quickly?” His thumbs stroked up and down your back, sending shivers across your spine.

“Exercise, mostly. If we move fast and long enough… we sweat.”

“Right…” he rumbled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then he finally lifted his head and looked straight at you.

And for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

Your eyes stayed locked on the dark voids of his mask, every sense heightened to the point of a meltdown. You were somehow still straddling his lap, your thighs spread wide and your backside pressed against his crotch. His body was solid and cool beneath you, pulling you in like a moth to freezing flame.

You couldn’t help yourself but imagine his arms locking around you, holding you while your mouth found the exposed skin of his neck, tongue tracing lines as he fought not to make a sound. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, loud enough that you knew he could hear every beat. He could read you so easily, it was almost unfair.

You drew in a shaky breath and forced yourself to climb off his lap.

This is insane. He’s a Yautja. You don’t belong with him. A bond like this isn’t even possible… right?

He let you go without resistance this time. His hands slipped from your waist, leaving your skin colder than before. Only then did his chest begin to move again, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time you were pressed against him.

“Want to know why I chose marine biology?” you asked softly, offering him a small smile. You crawled a little closer and pressed a quick, shy kiss to his bicep before pulling back.

Keth’raal glanced down at the spot you had kissed, then lifted his head to stare at you.

“It was the closest thing to alien biology I could find,” you admitted, eyes dropping to his lap. “Something that… reminded me of you.”

A long second of silence passed, as if registering your words before he spoke.

“I kept your voice in my helmet’s audio log.”

Your mouth fell open, the sudden confession hitting you harder than anything you had just admitted. You stared at him, stunned into silence.

He kept recordings of me?

A series of soft, uncertain clicks escaped him. He looked down at his lap, almost… shyly.

You tried to speak, but no sound came out. Your mouth simply stayed parted, heart racing as the weight of his words settled over you.

He had kept your voice with him? This whole time?

Keth’raal drew in a deep breath, exhaling roughly through his mask. “We use recordings like that to lure prey,” he admitted, almost to himself. “But I kept yours. I listened to it… sometimes.”

He didn’t elaborate further. He didn’t need to really. The honesty behind the words was enough to steal the air from your lungs. You had a thousand questions, when had he recorded you? How often did he listen? Why did he listen… but you didn’t push. Not tonight.

“It gets lonely,” he continued, his voice quieter “when the whole galaxy is hunting you.” His arm slid behind your back, fingers splaying possessively over your waist as he pulled you closer.

“Can I hear it?” you asked, settling against him.

He let out a short, rough sound, almost a scoff, clearly amused and shook his head.

“Maybe some other time.”

“So there will be another time,” you teased, tilting your head. “What is this? Are you trying to convince me to see you again?”

“As if I need to convince you.” He lowered his head until his masked forehead rested against yours. “I still have things to settle on your planet.”

“Mmm? Like what?” you murmured, hands instinctively rising to cradle the sides of his head, pressing your forehead firmly to his.

“Much more… urgent things.” His actual voice bled through the mask, rough and strained.

He pushed you back slowly until your spine met the couch cushions for the second time tonight, his massive frame hovering over you. His hands captured your wrists, pinning them above your head.

Well… that was a first.

His dominance was smooth yet quiet, making you melt under him.

“So you missed me so much,” he rumbled, amusement clear even through the translator, “that you started studying something that reminded you of me?”

“Roughly,” you countered, biting back a smile. “Nothing compares to real alien biology. It’s one of a kind.”

A deep chuckle vibrated through his chest. “We are one of a kind.”

“You think you’re special?” you challenged, tugging at your wrists just to be difficult.

He held them firmly above your head with one hand, pressing you deeper into the couch. “Am I not?”

“You’re more arrogant than I remember,” you huffed.

“Or maybe I simply know what I mean to you now.” His voice dropped lower, with that calm, unshakable confidence.

“You can’t possibly know,” you protested. “I’ve never told you.”

“Even without the translator, I would still know how you feel about me.”

Your heart pounded hard once before it went back to normal. “And how do you feel about me?”

Keth’raal’s head dipped closer, his masked face hovering just above yours. As he leaned in, the braided necklace around his neck slipped free from the edge of his armor. The emerald green stone swung gently between you, catching the lamplight and gleaming with a soft, inner glow. It looked strangely… earthly. You weren’t sure if it actually was, but the color and polish made you curious.

He didn’t bother tucking it back. Both his hands were occupied pinning your wrists and he clearly had no intention of letting you go.

His broad chest pressed heavier against yours as he let out a slow breath, the cool stone now brushing lightly against your sternum with every small movement.

This was it.

After two years of waiting, of wondering, of aching, this was the moment you had been waiting for.

How do you feel about me?

But then his gauntlet shattered the moment with a loud, insistent beep.

You gasped before you realised, Keth’raal was already on his feet, lifting you with him as though you weighed nothing. His arms wrapped around you, crushing you against his chest in a needy embrace. He rested his helmeted head atop yours, whispering a low apology that vibrated through you.

Before you could speak, he lifted his mask just enough to expose his mandibles. He guided your hand upward, pressing your palm between them. His hot breath ghosted over your skin as he inhaled your scent deeply.

The intimacy of it had you staring because this wasn’t just a gesture. It felt like a kiss. An actual one. The one you would read on old fairytales where the knight presses his lips to a royalty’s hand to show his devotion.

Your skin burned where he breathed you in and just as quickly, he lowered the mask again. His hands rose to cradle your face, thumbs stroking tenderly beneath your eyes as if memorizing every detail. You didn’t need to ask if he had to leave. It was written in every urgent movement, every silent apology.

Your eyes stung, your throat tightened as you desperately tried to hold onto the moment, the way he felt, the faint tremble in his hands as he fought not to hold you too hard, the rough exhale that sounded like it physically hurt him to let you go.

“Keep this for me,” he said quietly.

He reached behind his neck and tore off the braided cord with a single sudden tug. The emerald stone dangled from it and when you opened your palm, he didn’t drop it there. Instead, he pressed his closed fist against your chest, right over your heart. Only then did he slowly open his fingers, letting the necklace settle against you.

It didn’t feel like a simple gift. It was heavier than that. Deeper. More like a promise. A piece of him he was leaving behind for you to guard.

You covered his fist with your hand, holding it there against your heart.

And then he was gone.

Months passed before you saw him again.

And when he finally returned… it felt like the last time you ever would.

a/n: it’s always so lovely coming back to you guys, hope this one compensates for my absence 💚 I’d love to hear your thoughts on this cute little chapter! Also Keth’raal acting all jealous wasn’t in my plans but I just love imagining him all grumpy and bothered because of his feelings 😳 and the way he held mc’s throat to hear the vibrations of their voice??? still not over 🫣)

[afreakforyautja]

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ oneshot

Target: … Confusing.

(Yautja VS Human)

(Yep this is a Yautja VS human, you read that right 💚 prompt idea came from @magnuspool who wanted to see an exceptionally lucky human dealing with a Yautja hunting them! Hope you all enjoy this little story 🥰 looking forward to your comments!)

Your heart hammered against your ribs as you stood face-to-face with the seven-foot-something nightmare that had been glued to your ass for the last two days.

The predator was fuming. Its mandibles flared wide, neon-green blood dripping from a gash on its forehead and another along its arm. One leg was clearly messed up, so it kept most of its weight off it, claws curled tight around the wound like it was personally offended by the injury. Its eyes, once cold and calculating, had widened into something between pure rage and utter disbelief.

It just couldn’t comprehend how you were still alive. Not a scratch. Not even a torn sleeve.

Honestly? Neither could you.

Two days ago you had been terrified, stumbling through the dense forest after losing your friends, convinced every shadow wanted to eat you. But somehow… you kept not dying. Every near-miss felt less like skill and more like the universe had decided to troll this alien hunter on your behalf.

And now here you both were.

The predator lifted one clawed hand and pointed straight at you, opening its fanged maw to let out a deep, guttural roar that vibrated through your bones, like a threat or maybe a frustrated demand for answers.

“Oh, stop it!” you yelled back, throwing your hands up. “I don’t know why I’m still here either!”

Flashback to forty-eight hours earlier…

You had been quietly losing your mind in the undergrowth when you first noticed it watching you. A shimmer in the trees. A faint outline that vanished the second you blinked. It was clearly studying you, deciding whether you were worth the time or the hunt.

You had climbed high to get a better look at your surroundings. The alien beast had been perched on a thick branch opposite yours, barely ten feet away, fiddling with the gauntlet on its wrist. Sparks flew. Its invisibility cloaking field flickered once, twice, then died completely with an audible pop.

The predator froze.

It slowly looked down at its malfunctioning tech, then lifted its masked head to stare directly at you. The red lenses of its bio-mask flashed once in what you could only describe as… embarrassment.

For one long, awkward second, you both just… looked at each other.

“What the f—” you started.

The branch under your foot gave an ominous crack.

You lunged sideways onto the next branch just as the first one snapped clean off and plummeted to the forest floor. The predator deciding this was beneath its dignity, dropped from its perch and vanished into the greenery with a frustrated click of its mandibles.

You exhaled shakily, clinging to the new, miraculously sturdy branch.

“Huh,” you muttered, blinking. “That was… lucky.”

It wasn’t long before exhaustion won out. You drifted off right there in the tree, the branch somehow cradling you like a hammock all night long. No falling. No sudden gusts of wind. Not even a single mosquito bothering you.

Your sleep was still restless, though. Every creak of the branches had you half-waking in a cold sweat, imagining the alien dropping down with its invisibility cloak fixed and a fresh murder-boner. It’s probably fixing that thing right now, you thought. Sharpening its claws, polishing its murder-mask, muttering alien curses about the soft human who’s about to die.

By morning you were sore, stiff and determined. Do or die, you told yourself as you climbed down. You tied a bright piece of rope around the base of the tree (your makeshift breadcrumb trail) then struck out north, deeper into the woods.

Every step felt watched.

You couldn’t tell if it was normal forest eyes or the very large, very-off extraterrestrial that had clearly decided you were its personal trophy. Strangely, the fear had started to dull. In its place was a weird, tingling curiosity. Why me? you wondered. Out of every hiker in this forest, why is this murder machine so obsessed with little old me?

If its goal was to terrify you into submission, it was doing a terrible job.

The trees gradually thinned, the underbrush easing up. Your spirits lifted. Maybe I’m finally getting out of here.

Then something shiny caught your eye on the ground ahead, glinting like it had been placed there specifically for you to notice.

You hurried over, crouching down with wide, hopeful eyes.

Snap.

A metallic thwack sounded right behind you. An elaborate arrow, nothing any human could have crafted, whistled past and buried itself deep into the tree trunk just above your head, quivering angrily.

You froze on all fours, eyes huge, a scared squeak dying in your throat.

The shiny thing in your hands? Just bait. A trigger plate. And the trap had missed you by inches.

You swallowed hard, then carefully crawled forward. Your palm brushed something thin hidden under the leaves you had disturbed.

A rope. A trip rope, connected to God knows what.

You looked up, scanning the surrounding trees. “Is that… supposed to be a trap?” you called out, faking your amusement.

“Dude, come on.”

No answer. But you could feel it watching. Somewhere up there, cloaked or not, the alien was probably having a full-blown existential crisis.

You brushed the leaves aside with your palm, studying the size of the snare. It was clever, deadly even. One wrong step and you would have been yanked upside down like a piñata at a predator birthday party.

Instead, you simply stepped around it like it was a mildly inconvenient puddle.

The forest stayed eerily quiet for a beat.

But from somewhere above and to your left, you heard a very distinct sound.

A low, guttural growl that sounded suspiciously like alien frustration mixed with the galactic equivalent of “Are you fucking kidding me?”

You dusted your hands off and kept walking, whistling a nervous little tune under your breath.

Behind you, claws dug into bark hard enough to leave deep gouges.

The predator had never felt this level of embarrassment in its entire hunting career.

“You know, I’m starting to think you don’t really like me,” you called out into the empty forest, knowing fully well it was listening.

Why were you taunting a murderous alien?

Excellent question. You had no idea. Maybe some wires had gotten crossed in your brain after hours of pure survival mode.

Or maybe, deep down, you had started to suspect the big guy just wanted to get to know you in its own violently awkward way.

…Yeah, probably not.

Your entire body jolted as the alien dropped from the trees right in front of you, invisibility cloak flickering off arrogantly. It landed heavy, dreadlock-like locks swaying with the impact. Its masked face tilted and a low, menacing click rattled from behind the steel.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean— I just thought maybe we could—” You stumbled backward, hands raised. “I have no idea what you want!”

Your heel caught on something. The rope trap. Your stomach dropped. This was it. Game over for you.

…Except nothing happened.

You blinked down at your feet, then back up at the approaching predator. Its talons flexed with a threatening shink as a wrist blade extended from its gauntlet.

Your hands waved frantically in surrender. “Waitwaitwait—please, I swear I’m not—”

Another step back.

FWOOSH.

The rope suddenly snapped taut behind the predator. In a humiliating blur, the trap you had somehow avoided whipped around it instead, yanking the massive hunter upside down with a startled growl. It dangled from the tree like a very angry, very muscular piñata, ropes creaking under its weight.

You stared, mouth open.

The alien jerked and thrashed for a moment, then went still, slowly rotating to face you. Even behind the mask, the pure, seething frustration was unmistakable.

“I swear I have no idea how that happened,” you said, lips twitching as you fought back a laugh. “You have to believe me…”

It roared, raw, furious, the sound of a predator that had just been utterly owned by its own equipment.

You almost felt bad for it. Almost.

“Listen, if I help you down, will you stop chasing me—”

Another roar cut you off, louder this time. Your blood ran cold.

“FINE!” you shouted back. “Hang there then, you stubborn asshole!”

You scoffed and walked right under it, trying to look annoyed even as a grin threatened to break free. The beast went still as you passed, as if refusing to give you the satisfaction of struggling while you were watching.

“Oh shit—my bag,” you muttered, spinning on your heel and heading back the way you came.

You had only taken a few steps when another sharp click and crackle sounded behind you. You ducked instinctively. A second trap, a sparking electrical net, triggered exactly where you would have been walking if you hadn’t turned back for your bag.

You straightened up slowly, staring at the crackling wires, then turned to look at the still dangling predator.

“Did you… just set that off?” you asked, your tone dripping with accusation even an alien could understand.

The hunter hung there in silence, mandibles clicking once, at what you assumed was a yes.

You shook your head, a slow grin spreading across your face. “You’re either the unluckiest predator in the galaxy… or I was born under a lucky star.”

There really wasn’t any other explanation.

With far too much newfound confidence, you grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder and kept walking. Your destination unknown, but you were strangely certain that nothing bad was going to happen.

Behind you, the alien remained hanging quietly, its clicking growing softer, almost thoughtful.

As if it had finally started to wonder the same thing.

It wasn’t long before your paths crossed again.

“Oh, give me a break!” you shouted, sighing dramatically before bolting again.

The damn alien had found you once more, gauntlet raised and already aiming something sharp and deadly in your direction. Your legs moved on pure autopilot, feet barely feeling like they belonged to you anymore.

A low-hanging branch suddenly appeared out of nowhere—okay, fine, it had always been there, but panic made an excellent excuse—and smacked you straight across the face.

You went down hard.

But the timing was… perfect once again.

The blade that shot from the alien’s gauntlet whistled through the air and embedded itself deep into the very branch that had just decked you.

“Oh shit” You clutched your stinging nose and whipped around to look at your pursuer.

The predator stood frozen, staring between you and its gauntlet like it had betrayed him. Pure, burning rage radiated off of it.

“Ha! Ha!” You burst out laughing, scrambling back to your feet. “Nice shot!”

You took off running again before its furious roar could catch up with you, a nervous, unhinged grin stretching across your face. You weren’t sure anymore if the fluttering in your chest was terror or actual joy at how badly this predator’s luck had tanked.

You still hadn’t found any sign of civilization when an old, abandoned cabin came into view, more of a barn than an actual cabin, but sturdy enough to maybe buy you a few minutes.

You yanked the door open, hurried inside and shoved a heavy wooden plank against it for good measure.

The interior was dusty and empty. At least you weren’t completely exposed anymore… though you were arguably more trapped than before.

Too late to rethink your decisions.

Heavy footsteps thudded across the roof above you. The alien wasn’t even trying to be stealthy now. It wanted you to know it was right there, done playing hide and seek.

Only “seek” remained.

“Fuck…” you whispered, crawling backward across the floor, hoping it would somehow not see you.

It knew exactly where you were though.

CRACK.

The roof gave way with a loud snap. You barely had time to scramble aside as the hunter plummeted through the ceiling and crashed onto the floor just a few meters away from you.

You stared, wide-eyed.

“Did you really just fall through the roof—?” You slapped a hand over your mouth to smother the giggles already trying to escape your lips. Guilt tried to creep in, but it was losing badly to disbelief.

Who was unlucky enough to fall through a roof?

Apparently this predator.

It rose with surprising grace, but the deep, rumbling growl that followed made it very clear it was done with your shenanigans and your absurd luck.

Its head snapped toward you, rubbery locks swaying as it began stalking forward with heavy, furious steps.

“Wait-wait, wait!” you begged, still crawling backward.

Another loud crack echoed from above.

Both of you froze, heads tilting upward at the same time.

That split second was all you needed.

You scrambled to your feet and sprinted toward the opposite exit. The predator roared and lunged after you, moving impossibly fast, yet somehow still keeping just enough distance.

You slammed your shoulder into the door, bursting outside right as the rest of the ceiling collapsed behind you in a thunderous crash of wood and dust.

The alien dove through the doorway at the last second, rolling across the ground and coming up in a crouch.

Your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your teeth. A few meters away, the predator was bent over with its clawed hands on its knees, breathing heavily.

The sight was so strangely… human that it threw you off for a second. For just a moment, you almost felt bad for it.

That moment died instantly.

“Fuck!” you yelped as fresh adrenaline flooded your system. You took off running again as it bolted your way.

“What the fuck do you even want from me?!” you shouted over your shoulder, exasperated.

But you already knew the answer, luck was still on your side. Somehow, you would keep figuring it out.

And figure it out you did.

The next time it caught up with you, you managed to knock a massive beehive straight onto its head. The enraged swarm exploded around the alien as it frantically ripped its mask off, roaring in frustration. The bees ignored you completely while you snatched the discarded mask off the ground and sprinted away like your life depended on it (which it very much did).

The time after that, you had been wearing its mask like an oversized helmet and accidentally screamed the right command. The plasma caster on its shoulder suddenly swiveled and blasted its own arm. The alien’s shocked roar still echoed in your ears.

But luck was running out.

Next time you two met, it fired a strange mechanical wire at your legs.

The cords wrapped around your ankles and yanked you to the ground. Just as it raised its weapon for a clean finishing shot, some furious wild cat launched itself at the alien, slashing a deep gash across its thigh before the predator snapped the animal’s neck in retaliation.

And now here you both were.

The Yautja stood a short distance away, limping, bleeding neon green from multiple wounds, maskless and exhausted. Its gold eyes burned into yours with fury and genuine bewilderment.

“I don’t even know why I’m still here!” you screamed at it, throwing your hands up.

It answered with a loud roar, mandibles flaring wide.

Somehow, after days of running, the sight of that deadly predator wasn’t as terrifying as it used to be. It was starting to feel… almost familiar.

“I’ll give you your mask back if you just please—” You exaggerated your own frustration with a dramatic groan.

The beast let out a lower, rumbling growl this time. Not really a roar. More like a warning to stay away from it.

“Oh… okay then,” you muttered. “Take it. Just stop following me. Nothing good has come out of this for either of us!”

The alien roared again, sounding almost… offended.

You startled, then immediately frowned.

“You want the mask or not?”

You tossed it gently toward the alien, then took two cautious steps back.

It eyed you warily from head to toe before slowly approaching the mask, moving like it had been Pavlovian-conditioned to expect chaos anytime you were involved. Every time it had tried to attack or intimidate you, something ridiculous and painful had happened to it instead. It had clearly learned to be careful around the tiny, unassuming human.

Its head tilted, rubbery dreadlocks shifting with the motion as its golden eyes stayed locked on you.

It crouched down carefully, claws reaching for the mask.

A loud, booming sound suddenly erupted from the trees to your left.

Both of you snapped your heads toward the noise at the same time.

A hoard. Something big. Loud. And definitely not friendly.

The Yautja snatched its mask, slammed it onto its face and leaped over a fallen tree in one graceful motion. You stumbled backward and pressed yourself behind the nearest thick trunk, heart racing again.

The roar of the incoming horde grew louder, heavy footsteps, snapping branches and guttural snarls echoing through the trees.

You peeked from behind the trunk just in time to see the predator crouch low, blades extended, clearly ready to fight. Its mask scanned the treeline, its shoulders tense.

For a split second, you considered running again. Then your stupid, exhausted brain had a better idea.

“Hey!” you hissed, waving one arm to get its attention. “Truce? Just for now? I really don’t want to die today!”

The alien’s head snapped toward you. Its gold eyes narrowed behind the mask, mandibles clicking once in clear disbelief. After everything you had put it through, you were asking for an alliance?

A massive, boar-like creature burst from the trees, followed by three more. They were ugly, spiked and very territorial.

One charged straight at you.

You yelped and dove sideways. At the exact same moment, the predator fired its plasma caster. The shot meant for the beast went wide because you had moved and instead clipped a dead tree branch above you. The branch snapped off and plummeted, smacking the creature squarely on the head and knocking it out cold.

The other three monsters came to a halt, confused.

You lay on the ground, blinking up at the sky. “Okay… that one wasn’t even my fault.”

The predator (and temporarily your ally) made a sound , maybe the alien version of a long-suffering sigh.

What followed was the most paradoxical team-up in the galaxy’s history.

Every time the alien tried to strike, your luck turned its attacks into the perfect accidental ambush. A thrown spear missed its target and ricocheted off a rock, knocking out two beasts at once. When it leaped to slash at another, you tripped over a root at the perfect moment, causing the predator to accidentally use you as a springboard and crash into the final creature with twice the force.

By the end, the entire horde lay unconscious around you.

Silence finally returned to the forest.

You sat up slowly, covered in dirt and leaves, breathing hard. The alien stood a few meters away, staring at the battlefield, then at you, with defeat painted all over its figure. Neon blood trickled from fresh wounds. Its armor was dented. One of its locks bleeding.

You gave it a sheepish little wave.

“I’m serious this time. No more running. I’m exhausted. Let’s just call it a draw.”

The alien approached you slowly, still careful, as if expecting the sky to fall the moment it got too close. It stopped just out of arm’s reach and tilted its head, studying you like you were the most baffling creature it had ever found in all its hunts.

But what had you staring in disbelief was its reaction once he fully stood in front of you.

It took its mask off and let out a low, rumbling sound, not like the roars that have been hunting you, no, that almost sounded like a chuckle. Dry. Reluctant. Amused against its will.

You couldn’t help but grin, letting out the breath you’ve been holding since it came closer. “Yeah, I don’t know what the hell happened either.”

The alien clicked its mandibles once, then slowly placed the mask back on. The red lenses flared to life. It straightened to its full imposing height, but the usual menace felt… muted.

It pointed one claw at you, then at the ground, then made a sweeping motion with its hand, the universal sign for “stay here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re coming back?”

Another click that you took as a “yes”.

Before it turned to leave, it paused. His claw hand reached to its belt and tossed something small at your feet. A small, glowing device that blinked, some kind of tracker or beacon, maybe? Then it leaped into the trees and vanished with far less grace than usual, its limp still obvious.

You picked up the device, turning it over in your hands.

A few hours later, when a rescue helicopter finally appeared overhead (guided by some mysterious signal), you couldn’t stop laughing.

Somewhere deep in the forest, a very tired, very unlucky alien predator was probably nursing its wounds and replaying the last three days in its head, wondering how one small, ordinary human had managed to turn a simple hunt into the most humiliating experience of its life.

And maybe, it was already looking forward to the rematch.

Maybe not.

a/n: This was harder to write than any dramatic scene I’ve ever written 🥲 comedy needs so much writing skill, but I hope you enjoyed this comedy relief story 😊 we’re gonna need some fun for the story updates that are coming 😅

Can’t wait for your comments, I missed you all 💚

[afreakforyautja]

Predator: Badlands

(Kwei prompt pt. 2)

Read: Part 1

Unexpected ally! Kwei who is waiting just beyond the ship’s threshold, half-turned toward the forest, aware of you behind him, every instinct telling him to leave, run away from you, and yet he doesn’t move until you do.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him slowing his pace without realising it, adjusting each step to match your limp, as if your survival has somehow become part of his path.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him reacting before thinking when you stumble, his hand snapping out to catch you, his grip strong, holding your weight against him as you steady yourself, your voice repeating those same soft sounds over and over… “thank you, thank you” the meaning unknown to him, but your intention is clear.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who is not pulling away when you stay close after that, your shoulder brushing his arm as you walk, your presence agitating him more than he can understand.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who is listening in silence as you speak nonstop , your voice filling the space between you, telling him things he cannot understand in your language, about abandonment, about fear, about being left behind by the others and though the words are foreign to him, the emotion isn’t.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who is glancing down at you when your tone changes, your voice breaking in between sobs, committing the sound of it to memory without knowing why.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who stops at the edge of his ship, turning to face you fully for the first time, a deep growl rumbling from his chest, two guttural words in his own language and then… he waits.

Unexpected ally! Kwei but it’s him giving you the choice. It’s him watching carefully as you hesitate, your eyes flicking from him to the ship and back again, you feel fear, you feel uncertainty… and then you decide to step forward.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who steps aside to let you pass first.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him keeping his distance once inside, as if unsure what to do with you now that you are there, yet never letting you out of his sight.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him watching you as exhaustion finally overtakes you, your body giving in after days of pain and fear, collapsing into rest without a second thought.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who remains unmoving after you fall asleep, watching you, listening, trying to understand you and your fragile nature.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who places alien fruit within your reach before retreating again, an offering he doesn’t think too much into, because if he does it will drive him crazy.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who keeps watch over you for two full cycles, barely moving, his senses are alert to every sound outside the ship, guarding something he still doesn’t fully understand.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him staring at the slow rise and fall of your chest, the rhythm of a creature so unlike him and yet, somehow, under his protection.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but he is there when you wake up. He sits across from you in silence, sharpening one of his blades, the metallic scrape almost lulling you back to sleep. He doesn’t look at you at first, but he is overly aware of every movement you make.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who finally lifts his gaze when he hears you shift over his bed, sees you reach for the strange fruit with hesitation, hunger winning over doubt.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who watches you drift off again right after finishing the fruit, his head tilting slightly as he studies you, wondering, just for a moment, if he gave you something poisonous… if that’s why you’ve gone so still again.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who stays where he is at first, trying not to move, trying not to react, his instincts telling him this is nothing, that fragile things like you don’t matter… but his eyes don’t, can’t leave you.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who finds his breathing growing a little faster, a little louder than before, even as he tells himself to stop. Yautja don’t worry, not like this… not about something so small, so breakable, so not his.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who lasts barely a couple of minutes before he has had enough of not reacting, rising abruptly and closing the distance between you in a few quick steps.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who crouches beside you (closer than necessary), his mask scanning your vitals, something he could have done from across the room… but didn’t want to.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who leans in just slightly, as if proximity alone could confirm what the readings of his mask already tell him, that you’re breathing, that your heart is still beating.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who freezes when you mumble in your sleep, the faint sound coming from your lips enough to ease something tight in his chest.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who exhales slowly, the tension leaving him in a way he doesn’t want to admit and barely understands.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who grows frustrated with himself right after, at the way his chest tightens every time you go too quiet, at the way his thoughts keep circling back to you not making it through the night.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who doesn’t like how often he looks at your injured leg, anticipating the worst.

Unexpected ally!Kwei who decides, in his own quiet way, that next time you are awake, he will try what he’s been avoiding this whole time. Actually communicating with you.

a/n: is this considered a cliffhanger?😅 hope you enjoyed part 2! Love writing about this gentle giant so much 🙂‍↕️ let me know what you think in the comments, I love reading them! 💚

[afreakforyautja]

Predator: Badlands (Prompt)

(but it’s just Kwei because I miss him dearly 💚)

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him freezing in the doorway of the abandoned ship, heat signatures long gone except for the faint, flickering one curled in the corner. You, small, fragile, human… still alive.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him clicking his mandibles in suspicion, his invisibility cloak shimmering as he circles you, scanning, assessing, refusing to get too close to something so unfamiliar (and yet he doesn’t leave)

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him realizing you are trapped, your leg crushed beneath cold steel, the scent of blood heavy in the air, your breathing uneven. And still he hesitates, torn between instinct and something strangely soft.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him stepping closer only when your weak voice breaks the silence, not understanding your words, but understanding your tone, the pain, the fear… and something like trust directed at him.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him tilting his head when you don’t retreat, when your eyes find him through the blur of tears and exhaustion, and instead of terror there is pure relief, as if he was meant to find you.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him letting out a warning growl when your hand lifts toward him, trembling, yet he doesn’t move away from your grasp.

Unexpected ally!Kwei , but it’s him crouching beside you at last, massive and silent, his claws hovering over the metal pinning you down. He misjudges his strength at first, the metal groaning under his grip, stopping immediately when you gasp in pain.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him finally lifting the weight off your leg, holding it there as you drag yourself free, your hand gripping his wrist without thinking and he allows it.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him going completely still when you cling to him in relief, your forehead pressing against his armor, whispering gratitude he cannot understand.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him standing and expecting you to follow, only to pause when he hears the slow drag of your steps behind him.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him looking back.

Unexpected ally!Kwei but it’s him… waiting.

(My need for him is beyond human comprehension 🙂‍↕️ hope you enjoy this!!! 💚 let me know if you want a part 2 🤭)

[afreakforyautja]

Yautja x Human (nsfw prompt)

prompt idea came from @gamergirlbones who was wondering how would my OCs react to reader giving them attitude (fuck the attitude out of them prompt 🤭)

NSFW Disclaimer:

Pure consensual smut ahead! The reader is intentionally giving attitude to tease and rile up their Yautja mate, knowing exactly where it will lead.

Giving attitude to a Yautja? Bold. Dangerous. And apparently very effective. Here is exactly how each of our boys would react when their human starts catching an attitude. And yes, they all have one very clear solution: fuck it right out of you.

Keth’raal

The second you snap at him with that sharp tone of yours, his mandibles flare and his head tilts, glowing green-yellow eyes narrowing in surprise and pure delight Oh? My soft human has teeth tonight?

He doesn’t get angry, no, he gets excited. He will stalk toward you slowly, purring lightly and tease You want to use that mouth for something else? Good. Let me help.

He is the gentlest dominant of the four, but still very much in charge. He will pin you against the nearest surface (wall, table, his chest), strip you with eager claws and bury his face between your thighs until your attitude melts into moans. Once you are dripping and panting, he will slide into you with one smooth thrust, setting a deep rhythm while purring right against your ear

Still angry? Tell me again. I want to feel you clench around me when you try.

He bites softly along your shoulder and neck, never actually breaking skin, but marking you up beautifully. He keeps praising you between thrusts Good human… so tight for me… until you’re sobbing his name and the attitude is long gone. It will end with lazy but still affectionate aftercare and him nuzzling you with a smug face See? Much better when you purr instead of hiss.

Zha’kor

Your attitude barely gets two sentences out before he is on you.

He doesn’t raise his voice. He simply appears in front of you, one large hand wrapping around your throat with, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet those deep crimson eyes

You dare speak to me that way

His voice is soft velvet and sharp razors all together. He will drag you to the bed (or the floor, or against the wall… wherever is closest), rip your clothes off with his claws and pin your wrists above your head with one hand.

Then he literally fucks the attitude out of you, slowly, deeply, thrusting into you making your eyes roll back. Every time you try to talk back, he bites down on your throat, purring in his deepest purr Try that again. See what happens.

He wants you to keep snapping at him until you physically can’t, until all that comes out of your mouth are broken moans and pleas. When you finally give in, whimpering “please” instead of arguing, he rewards you with harder, faster thrusts and a satisfied growl There she is… my good little mate.

Afterwards he holds you close, still buried inside you, purring softly while stroking your hair like he didn’t just ruin you.

Tarr’kon

Your attitude hits him like a challenge. He goes dead silent, his eyes burning as he stares you down. He can’t speak at first. You can only hear that low, dangerous growl building in his chest.

Then he snaps.

He grabs you, lifts you clean off the ground and slams you onto the nearest flat surface. Your clothes are torn away in seconds. He doesn’t tease or talk much, but he shows you.

He fucks you hard and deep, hips snapping fast, one massive hand pinning your hips while the other grips your jaw so you have to look at him. Every thrust feels like a statement

Mine. Mine. Mine.

When you keep trying to mouth off, he leans down, bites your neck hard enough to leave a bloody mark and snarls against your skin Speak again. I want to feel you break around my cock.

He only slows when you’re shaking and sobbing his name instead of attitude. Then the soft purr finally comes, deep, breathless, almost desperate, as he fucks you through the last of your defiance until you’re limp and pliant beneath him.

Aftercare is quiet but also intense. He holds you against his chest like you are made of glass, one big hand stroking your back while he still vibrates inside you softly, refusing to pull out for a long time.

Kel’Rakur

Your attitude makes him grin, wide, fanged and dangerous Ohhh, you have claws tonight? How interesting.

He will chase you if you try to storm off, laughing deeply as he catches you and pins you face-down over the nearest surface. He leans over your back, mandibles brushing your ear Please keep talking… Every word makes me harder.

He fucks you like he punishes you, he rolls his hips deep and slow at first, making sure you feel every inch while he murmurs filthy praises in your ear Look at you… so wet for me even when you’re mad.

When you keep giving him attitude, he switches to hard, uncontrolled thrusts, one hand fisting your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. He bites along your spine and shoulders, purring loudly every time you moan instead of speak.

He won’t stop until your attitude is completely fucked out. He wants you begging and crying please to him. Only then does he flip you over, kiss you deeply and finish with slow and deep thrusts while purring There’s my sweet mate… all soft and smiling again.

Afterwards he is all smug and grinning, cuddling you and licking your tears, keeping you wrapped around him for hours.

So attitude with any of these boys ends exactly one way, on your back (or stomach, or against the wall), getting railed until the only thing left in your head is them.

Which of the boys patience would you test? Let me know in the comments 🤭

[afreakforyautja]

Hellllloooo just wanted to say that i absolutely adore your fic's and our Yautja Boys! Here comes my question/scenario:

How would the boy's react when reader suffers from Insomnia? how would they try to help? (Totally not writing this at 3:00 am on a work night (；・∀・) )

Hello dear anon 💚 Thank you so much for your kind words, they mean the world to me ! And uhh insomnia hitting at 3 AM on a work night? I feel you in my soul 🙂‍↕️

Our four Yautja boys would not let their human suffer through sleepless nights alone. Here’s exactly how each one would react and try to help when you are wide awake, exhausted and staring at the ceiling.

Keth’raal

He notices immediately. You’re tossing, sighing, heart rate elevated. His head tilts, mandibles clicking softly in concern. “You do not rest. Why?”

He is the most proactive and sweet about it. First, he starts asking a million questions: “Is it the temperature? The sounds? Your thoughts? Tell me everything.” He wants to understand human insomnia like it’s a new prey species.

Help mode: He will gently pull you against his chest and start a deep, steady purr that vibrates through your whole body, like the world’s best weighted blanket with built-in white noise. He will talk softly about cute, boring things, the plants he saw on the last hunt, how fast you are for a human, anything to distract your racing mind. If that doesn’t work, he will carry you outside, or to the ship’s observation deck for fresh air, letting you point out constellations while he wraps you in his cloak.

He will stay awake with you as long as you need, even if he’s a little arrogant about it.

“See? I am better than any human medicine.” Secretly, he worries and starts researching human sleep cycles on his gauntlet when you finally drift off.

Zha’kor

He doesn’t say much at first, just watches you with his glowing crimson eyes from the shadows. He has seen centuries of creatures struggle with rest, he knows the mind can be its own worst hunter.

Help mode: He becomes your silent guardian of the night. He will pull you into his lap without asking, one massive arm wrapped around your waist, the other slowly stroking your back with careful claws. His purr is low, deep and hypnotic, almost like a lullaby. He will murmur velvet-soft things against your hair: “The night is long, but you are safe. Let the worrying thoughts pass like prey you can’t catch.”

If you’re really struggling, he will take you somewhere dark and quiet, wrap you both in furs, and simply hold you while he breathes slow and steady, coaxing your body to match his rhythm. He won’t sleep until you do. Ever. And if insomnia keeps winning? He starts leaving tiny calming herbs on your pillow (never admitting they’re from him.)

Tarr’kon

He notices the bags under your eyes and the way you move slower the next day. At first he just grunts, he doesn’t know how to fix “not sleeping.” His own trauma means he is no stranger to sleepless nights either.

Help mode: Action over words. He will pull you against his chest without ceremony, one heavy arm draped over you like a living shield. His body heat is intense and his rare, low rumble (when he does purr) feels like thunder you can sink into. He won’t talk much, but he will stay awake with you, staring at the ceiling right beside you so you’re not alone in the dark.

If it keeps happening, he starts adjusting the environment, dimming lights, blocking noise, even hunting down softer bedding because “this one is better.” The biggest sign he cares? He begins training less aggressively during the day so he’s not exhausted when you need him at night. When you finally fall asleep against him, he stays perfectly still for hours, guarding your rest like it’s the most important hunt of his life.

Kel’Rakur

He wakes up the second you do and immediately turns it into playful concern. “What’s this? My little siren refusing to sleep? Trying to lure me into exhaustion with you?”

Help mode: He is the most hands-on and shameless. He will scoop you up, throw you over his shoulder and carry you somewhere comfortable “If you won’t sleep, then you’ll entertain me instead.” But the teasing always softens, he starts purring loudly, nuzzling your neck, rubbing slow circles on your back with his big warm hands.

He will tell you ridiculous stories about his hunts until you’re laughing despite yourself or he will challenge you to a “who can stay quiet the longest” game that always ends with him losing on purpose just to hear you giggle. If nothing works, he gets serious for once, pulls you tight against his chest, tucks your head under his chin, and purrs softly while whispering, “I’ve got you. Nothing hunts you here. Rest, princess. I’ll keep watch.”

He’ll stay awake the whole night if he has to, trading sleep for making sure you finally get some.

No matter which one of them you are with, you’re never suffering through another sleepless night alone. They will purr, hold you, guard, tease, or talk until your body finally gives in, because their human’s rest is now their highest priority.

Which boy’s method do you think would actually knock you out the fastest? Or who would you want keeping you company at 3 AM? Tell me in the comments 👀😏

(And please get some sleep anon 🥹 the boys would be disappointed if you didn’t 😉)

[afreakforyautja]

Hi, I saw your last post and wanted to ask if you could make one where the boys react to MC being jealous or angry with them? I think it's going to be super funny and adorable. If you could also make them like jealous of another female human and another female Yautja, would be great!

Now anon… you’re asking the right questions 😏

Here is how each boy handles it when their human is visibly jealous, whether it’s over another female human flirting with them or a female Yautja showing interest 🤭

Keth’raal

He panics the second he clocks your crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

Over a female human: He is confused at first, “She was just asking about my gauntlet, why are you making that face?, then realization hits him and his mandibles start clicking nervously. He immediately starts over-explaining in the most earnest, adorable way: “No no no, she’s nothing. You’re the only one I want. I mean–“ He trails off, flustered, then just grabs your hands and presses his forehead to yours. “Tell me how to fix it. I’ll ignore every human forever if you want.”

Over a female Yautja: Instant defensiveness. He puffs up, steps in front of you like he’s shielding you from her and growls “She’s not my type. Too… aggressive. I like soft things that get jealous and glare at me.” Then he gets all sweet and teasing, “you’re cute when you’re mad. Want me to fight her for you? I would win. For you.” Ends up trailing after you like a puppy until you forgive him, offering to let you play with his locks as an apology.

Zha’kor

He doesn’t flinch, but you can tell he is uneasy because he goes overwhelmingly still.

Over a female human: He watches your jealousy with those half-lidded red eyes, then slowly tilts his head. “You think I would look twice at someone so… temporary?” His voice is dark and velvety, but there’s a hint of amusement. He steps close, one claw tipping your chin up “Your fire is far more interesting.” If you stay mad at him, he gets possessive in the quietest way, pulls you into his lap without asking, mandibles grazing your ear, “No one else gets this close. Ever.” He won’t apologize with words, he’ll just keep you glued to him until your anger melts.

Over a female Yautja: Cold fury. Not at you, at her. He turns, gives the Yautja one long, unimpressed stare that makes her back off instantly, then returns to you like nothing happened. “She overstepped, but it ends there.” If you’re still simmering, he leans in, voice dropping: “You doubt my loyalty to you? Let me remind you who I chose.” Cue to slow love making session until you forget why you were mad in the first place.

Tarr’kon

He freezes like a deer in headlights when he realizes you’re angry. At him.

Over a female human: He literally doesn’t understand at first. “She spoke. I answered. That is all.” When you snap or glare, his mandibles twitch and he looks… lost. He grunts, rubs the back of his neck (a very human gesture he picked up from you), then mutters: “You are the only one.” If you don’t soften, he does the most awkward thing ever… he picks you up gently, sits down with you in his lap, and just… holds you. No words. Just his massive arms around you and a low, rumbling purr until you stop being mad. It’s his only defense.

Over a female Yautja: Instant territorial shutdown. He steps between you and her without hesitation, a single snarled word in Yautja: “Mine.” Then he turns to you, still tense and for once his voice is softer: “I did not want her attention. I want yours.” If you’re still angry he’ll just sit there looking guilty, waiting for you to yell or hit his chest or whatever you need. He’ll take it all. Just don’t leave.

Kel’Rakur

He laughs at first… big mistake.

Over a female human: “What? She was just talking, wait, you’re actually jealous?” His grin fades the second he sees you’re serious. Then he’s on his knees dramatically: “Princess, you wound me. No soft-skin could ever compare to my fierce little mate.” He starts listing reasons why you’re better, getting more and more ridiculous: “She doesn’t have your glare. Or your laugh. Or the way you bite when you’re mad- Ow, okay, I deserved that.” Ends up begging for forgiveness with big puppy eyes and offering to let you “punish” him however you want 😏

Over a female Yautja: He gets cocky at first (“She wishes”), but when he sees real hurt or anger in your eyes? Instant switch. He scoops you up, throws you over his shoulder and marches off: “We’re leaving. Now. No more talking to anyone but you.” Later he’s all soft apologies, softly licking every inch of you, murmuring “Only you get me like this. Only you make me stupid.” He will spend days being extra attentive, showing off for you only, until you’re laughing again.

Which reaction is your favourite and let me know what more scenarios you want the boys in 🤭💚

[afreakforyautja]

Eyes on Me (part 4)

(Yautja × Reader // Yautja × Female Human)

Read Previous Chapters Here: Masterlist

Warning: Explicit Content 18+ (mdni)

(An unexpected update of our baby boy Kel’Rakur and his princess 😘)

His hand stayed heavy on your hip, warm but unmoving, while the sticky mess of both your releases trickled slowly down your thighs. You stared into his gold eyes, unable to look away, your own gaze too long, too intentional.

But who could blame you?

Your personal guard, your annoyingly handsome, stubborn and deadly guard, had just asked, in his own subtle way, if you would be okay with him needing you.

Claiming you. Not just for the night.

Your hands had curled into loose fists on his chest. The mechanical purr in his ribcage had faded to almost nothing, leaving the silence between you thick and serious. Too serious for the haze still burning under your skin.

The aphrodisiac hadn’t let go yet, hot, insistent, whispering that all you had to do was grab him, drag him closer, drown your soft moans in his mouth and pretend his question never happened.

So you did.

Your fingers found the lower curve of his tusks, tugging him closer. You kissed him hard, tongue sliding past his mandibles to taste the faint neon sweetness still clinging to him from the drinks you had shared all night.

He let you kiss him, groaning low into it, but then his hands caught your wrists, easing you back just enough to break the kiss.

You surged forward again, chasing his mouth, but he held you steady, refusing to let you hide.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” he rasped, “I need you to answer me first.”

You tried to muffle him with another kiss, desperate to keep things light, easy, fun.

But he didn’t let you.

“I want you, Princess,” he said, holding your wrists tighter, forcing your eyes to his. “But not just for tonight.”

His forehead creased, worry flickering in his eyes as they searched yours. He looked… anxious.

“Why can’t we just… have fun for tonight?” you asked, voice smaller than you meant it to be.

“We can.” He cut in quick, “but when we get back to Yautja Prime and you start treating me like a stranger again…” He swallowed, mandibles tightening. “I’ll leave the clan the next second.”

“I won’t treat you like a stranger—”

“Won’t you?” He tilted his head, eyes dark and half-lidded, like he already knew the answer.

And the worst part? You weren’t sure if he was wrong.

You hadn’t thought that far.

This whole trip, the sneaking out, the drinks, the teasing, the way you had finally cracked his silence, it had all been about freedom.

No strings. No expectations. No one tying you down, not even the most beautiful Yautja you had ever met.

You had told yourself that from the beginning.

But now he was looking at you like you had already made your choice and it definitely wasn’t him.

You frowned down at him, your knees had started aching against the velvet couch, his hands still loosely cuffed around your wrists.

The sticky heat of both your releases clung to your thighs uncomfortably now, cooling slowly, but the real problem was deeper, somewhere in your chest where logic and want kept colliding.

You were the king’s daughter. Adopted yes, human, soft-skinned and breakable in a world of natural killers, but still carrying the weight of a crown you hadn’t asked for. Your father had plans, a strategic marriage to some prince, more territory, more power. You had always been fine with it, content even, as long as the deal included freedom afterwards. A quiet life on your own lands, ruling however you pleased, taking whoever you wanted once the alliance was sealed.

That was the plan.

Simple. Easy.

Until Kel’Rakur showed up.

His face darkened the longer you stared, gold eyes dimming as your silence stretched. His grip eased, his fingers loosening, ready to retreat, to vanish back into the role of the silent guard.

Well that’s a first.

Usually they ran because they were scared of breaking you. This one was running because he wanted more than your body.

You groaned, frustration knotting tight in your throat.

Your mind raced, years of negotiation training kicking in, searching for the perfect answer, the perfect compromise.

But this wasn’t politics.

“Damn it…” The word slipped out.

Before he could retreat further, you grabbed his wrists, shoving them up until they hit the cushion behind his head. You leaned forward, pinning him beneath you, chest to chest.

“Damn you,” you hissed, your voice low and angry.

The invisibility cloak still shimmered around you both, you had to keep quiet, but the words burned anyway. “Why can’t you just shut up and have fun for one night?”

He didn’t flinch but he didn’t pull away either.

“You knew who you were messing with,” he said quietly, voice steady despite the way his mandibles twitched. “I’m not the king’s favorite for no reason.”

“I can see why,” you snapped. “You stubborn—”

“So what?” He tilted his head, eyes catching the purple strobe light of the room, glowing brighter. “I’m not good enough for you?”

His mandibles curved, almost like a grin, looking up at you like he was daring you to say it out loud.

You stared down at him, your heart hammering, his wrists still pinned under your grip.

And for once, you didn’t have the perfect answer.

Because the truth was that he was more than good enough.

And that scared you more than any arranged marriage ever could.

“I know the way you’re looking at me right now,” he murmured, releasing one wrist to slide his fingers into your hair, tugging you down until your faces were inches apart. His breath scorched your lips. “You want me just as badly.”

You bit your bottom lip hard to trap the whimper clawing up your throat. The aphrodisiac still lingered in both of you, but he seemed to have better reins on it, enough to toy with you while you were coming apart at the seams.

“I do,” you admitted through clenched teeth, the words tasting like betrayal to yourself.

His free hand drifted lower, his knuckles grazing your throat, then sliding down to cup the swell of your breast, thumb brushing slow over your nipple.

“If we walk out of here and the aphrodisiac’s gone from your system,” he said, voice dropping to a guttural whisper, “will you still want me?”

You moaned low, head dropping forward until your forehead rested against his. “I’m pretty sure I wanted you long before any of this.”

The confession felt like an open wound. Vulnerable and exposed. You hadn’t planned to say it out loud. But there it was.

His mechanical purr stuttered, then kicked back harder, deeper, vibrating through your whole body. His eyes snapped open. brighter, playful, almost relieved.

“Was it when you blasted that human music through the ship just to get under my skin?” he asked, freeing his other wrist and you let him.

His hand found the back of your head again, guiding you closer until his tongue traced the corner of your lips.

You huffed a shaky laugh against his mouth.

“No… that was just to mess with you,” you lied.

Because that was exactly when it started.

Everyone else bent over backwards for you, served you, feared you, obeyed you without question. But him? He resisted. Looked through you. Made you feel like a person instead of a title. And the second you realized you actually cared whether he noticed you… that was it.

It was over for you.

The fact that he turned out to have the softest center underneath? That was just a pleasant bonus.

“I could bend you over this couch right now,” he growled, tongue dragging slow up the column of your throat until his mandibles clicked beside your ear. “Fuck the tightest pussy I’ll ever feel in my life. It would be so easy Princess, trust me. I’ve been with too many of my kin.”

The words and the confidence should have stung. Instead they lit something vicious and possessive in your chest.

“So everyone’s had your cock, huh?” you scoffed, sounding almost mocking. You had never felt this kind of power before.

Authority? Yes. People obeyed you. But this? Making him groan with nothing but words? Humiliating him in the kindest way?

That was intoxicating.

His tongue stopped as he pulled back just enough to look at you, mandibles parting in that smug grin.

“Have you seen me?” he asked, voice dark and teasing, eyes gleaming under the violet lights.

The arrogance should have annoyed you even more.

Instead it made your thighs clench around his hips.

You leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his tusk, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, lips curving into a wicked smile as your hands pressed against his chest, easing him back until his head rested against the couch’s high back.

He didn’t resist, just watched you rise over him, eyes never leaving yours.

“You can always say no to my used cock,” he snarled, hands sliding back to your thighs. His claws dug in just enough to make you hiss.

“I’ll have you exiled from the kingdom,” you shot back, voice serious but still trembling, the aphrodisiac still burning hot under your skin. But the words weren’t just the drug talking anymore. They were yours.

“And who’s going to reproduce all these Yautja?” he countered, mandibles twitching arrogantly. “You know my genes are superior—”

“So if you claim me as your mate, you’ll still fuck other Yautja?” You raised an eyebrow, nails raking down his chest hard enough to make him twitch, his hips jerking up once helplessly.

“That’s how it usually goes,” he said, voice dropping lower as your nails pressed deeper. “But I wouldn’t dare look at anyone else with you by my side.”

“Is that so?”

“You don’t know the lengths I’d go for you.”

“Hmm. So no more warrior babies for the kingdom?” You scoffed, leaning closer. “No one else gets to use that already-used cock of yours?”

His eyes flashed. “You like degrading me, Princess?”

The words came out rough, biting back.

“That’s the same cock you’re begging for right now,” he added, hand sliding to your nape, pulling you down until his mouth hovered a breath from yours.

“You’re no better than me.”

His voice was low, vibrating with that mechanical purr making your face burn because, fuck, he was right.

“I’m not,” you admitted quickly. You saw his mandibles tighten, like he was fighting every instinct screaming to take you right there.

“So I can’t use that already-used dick unless you claim me as your mate?”

He exhaled slow, the back of one claw brushing your cheek, turning the moment tender.

“Would you ever consider the possibility of having me as your mate?”

The question hung between you, soft and with no trace of teasing now. His eyes searched yours, waiting.

You nodded once, small, your eyes staying on his chest.

He nodded back slowly, eyes softening as they dropped to your mouth, watching the way your breaths came out of your lips.

Your hand tapped the device on his shoulder without a warning. The cloak shimmered and vanished.

“What—”

His arms snapped around you instantly, one shielding your head, the other locked across your lower back protectively.

“We’re leaving,” you said, climbing off him with a knowing smirk, grabbing his hand.

He snatched his helmet in one fluid motion, slamming it on. The red voids of the mask flared bright once, as he let you pull him up.

His steps were heavy behind you, letting you lead even though he could have thrown you over his shoulder and carry you out in seconds.

The moment you reached the bottom of the stairs, the roaring crowd swallowed you again. Lights flashed wildly, bodies surged and right in the center of it all stood Serion—Prince of the Sylthari— owning the makeshift stage like he had been born for it.

His voice cut through the heavy metal riff, angelic and brutal altogether, velvet wrapped around razor blades.

You stopped dead in your tracks, mouth falling open into a stunned smile. “What the fuck?”

You rose onto your tiptoes, stretching to see better, but before you could, a thick arm hooked under your knees and lifted you clean off the floor. Kel’Rakur slung you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing, one arm braced across the backs of your thighs.

That was certainly a better view of the stage.

Your fingers instinctively threaded through his locks, partly to steady yourself, partly to squeeze them in a silent thanks. He groaned low in response, that mechanical engine purr rumbling up through his chest and into your body.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, sounding almost annoyed underneath the nonchalance. “Enjoy the show.”

He didn’t move right away. Just stood there in the middle of the chaos, letting you watch.

Serion owned the stage, his voice soaring over grinding guitars, hips rolling with the beat, his sweat gleaming silver under the lights. A handful of Sylthari crawled at his feet, reaching desperately, while others tried to climb him for a kiss.

His guards plucked them off quickly, until Serion caught one mid-lift, pressed a kiss to his own palm and laid it over the fan’s mouth like a blessing.

The stage hadn’t even been there earlier. He had brought you here to see this, you realized. But you wouldn’t trade a single second of the night you had just spent with Kel’Rakur for it.

Still… Serion’s performance was a goddamn spectacle.

When his eyes finally found you, towering above the crowd on your guard’s shoulder, he flashed the naughtiest, most suggestive smile you had ever seen. All teeth, all charm, all invitation.

You grinned back wide, your cheeks burning, but then your gaze dropped on Kel’Rakur’s helmet.

“Are you not jealous?” you asked, tugging one rubbery lock to get his attention.

He snorted, the sound vibrating through you. “I’m the one fucking you tonight,” he growled over the music, loud enough for everyone around you to hear. “He’s the one that should be jealous.”

And you burst out laughing, loud, uncontrollable, nearly sliding off his shoulder. His whole frame shook with silent laughter too, shoulders rolling under you and for that one perfect second the most feared guard in the kingdom broke character and laughed with you.

Serion ended the song with a guttural roar that shook the room, throwing his arms wide and inviting the crowd onstage. Bodies fell forward, hands reaching and he pulled a few up to dance with him, grinning like he owned every soul in the building.

You glanced down at Kel’Rakur again. His head was turned toward the stage, watching.

“Should we join—”

“No fucking way.”

His hand squeezed your thigh, until you gasped and he turned on his heel, cutting through the crowd.

“Hey!” You tapped the top of his mask, whining. “I wanted to sing!”

“You’ll sing to me,” he threw back without missing a beat, his voice low and unbothered.

“But what if I wanted you to sing too?” You leaned in closer. “You’re my guard. You’re supposed to follow orders.”

“Then order me around, Princess,” he rumbled, “make me crawl for you. I don’t give a fuck. I’m still not going up on that stage.”

“Afraid your throat-singing won’t impress the crowd?” you giggled.

The moment the words left your mouth, his palm cracked against your thigh, sharp and embarrassingly loud.

You gasped, but your lips quickly turned into a smile. “You’d think I would be mad at you for slapping my thighs all the time, but you should know—”

“I know you like it,” he interrupted.

“Your blood’s rushing straight to your pussy. I can smell it.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flooding your face. “Why do you keep reading my body like that?” you whined, fingers tugging playfully at his locks.

“Why does your pussy keep throbbing every time I do?” he snarled back.

His hands shifted, easing you down from his shoulder. You locked your legs around his waist on instinct, clinging as he kept walking. But right before you reach the exit doors, he made a sudden left turn.

You hummed in confusion.

Then his hand clamped the back of your head and he slammed his body into a door, shoving it open wide before kicking it shut behind you.

The world went quiet.

You blinked, taking it all in.

Emerald-green floor, walls painted matte black with living veins of purple and gold that shimmered like they were breathing. Exotic plants spilled from corners, leaves glossy and heavy. In the centre, a small, glowing pool of water, steam curling lazy off the surface.

“Woah—” you breathed, eyes wide as he set you down.

The room felt like a secret haven, private, luxurious, secluded from the pounding chaos outside.

“I saw this place when that Sylthari dragged me in here earlier,” he said in a casual tone.

“What?” You turned to face him, brows raised.

“They passed out the next second. So they brought me—”

“What did they want from you?” you demanded, your voice sharpening with accusation.

Before you could finish, his palm clapped over your mouth, muffling your words. Your eyes widened.

“As I was saying,” he continued, unfazed, guiding you closer to the pool’s edge with his chest pressed to your back. “I saw this place and thought you’d like it.”

He finally lifted his hand from your mouth, but his mask stayed close to your cheek, mandibles clicking softly underneath as he waited for your reaction.

His face traveled from your cheek down to your nape, head lowering until his mask hovered just above your skin. Goosebumps erupted wherever he touched.

You tried to hold your breath, fighting the urge to moan at how close he was. Instead, you turned your head slowly toward him. He was already waiting, watching you with that silent intensity that always made your stomach flip.

You glared, lips pressed into a tight line, then folded your arms over your chest and turned away, staring at the glowing little pool in the center of the room instead.

You refused to look at him. Not while images of that Sylthari crawling all over him kept flashing through your mind.

“Stop being jealous,” he murmured, his voice sweet but taunting at the same time, as he leaned in closer.

His masked face nuzzled against your nape, “I didn’t even touch them.”

“Yeah, sure,” you mumbled, but your hand still drifted behind you, fingers slowly caressing the thick, rubbery strands of his locks.

“Do you like it?”

“I do,” you answered, your voice softening despite yourself, lips curving into a small, defeated smile.

“Wanna get in the pool?” he asked right after, the low vibration of his chest pressing against your back, that mechanical engine giving two soft, encouraging roars.

“What if someone walks in—”

“We’ll use the cloak,” he said immediately, hands sliding down your arms, coaxing you closer like he already knew you would say yes.

And why deny him? The second you had seen that glowing water, you wanted to dive in. Not just for the luxury of the pool itself, but for the privacy.

Back home, every glance of yours, every breath, was watched by others.

But here, you were just a guest. No expectations, no crown. No one to answer to.

Only Kel’Rakur’s eyes were on you.

And those were the only ones that mattered right now.

“Fuck it,” you whispered.

He let you go instantly. You peeled off the remains of your torn dress in one motion, your soft breasts spilling free.

Only then did you remember your underwear was still lost somewhere upstairs, left behind during all those long, grinding hours against him.

You clicked your tongue, glancing around once before your gaze settled back on Kel’Rakur.

He wasn’t moving.

Not even breathing, it seemed.

His towering frame stood frozen, hands clenched into fists at his sides, mask tilted down at you like the sight of your bare body had stopped time itself.

You tilted your head, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hey…”

Still nothing.

The most feared guard in the kingdom, the one whose presence made warriors flinch, was completely immobilised, like you had stolen every ounce of air from his lungs.

And that’s when it hit you.

You looked down at yourself, soft curves, full breasts, rounded hips, hair spilling over your shoulders gracefully. You knew how you looked. And you looked good.

“Come on,” you coaxed, stepping closer, voice softer now. “I can’t be the only one naked. Take this off.”

Your hands went to his armor. You expected resistance, him to catch your wrists, growl a warning, tell you to quit playing.

But he didn’t.

Your fingers slid over cool chest plates, pushing them aside one by one. They hit the floor with heavy, metallic thuds. You kept going, pausing only when you finally heard his breath hitch behind the mask.

The same mask that was still staring down at you, red voids tracking every slow drag of your hands over his rough, scarred skin.

“You’re really letting me undress you?” you asked, your voice painted with amusement as your finger dragged slowly down the hard plates of his abdomen armor.

“I would do anything at this point,” he rasped, the words rough behind the helmet. His body twitched under every touch, small, involuntary shivers running across his muscles. You wondered if it was the lingering aphrodisiac still burning in his blood… or if your fingers alone were enough to make him react like that.

“Anything?” You narrowed your eyes, lips turning into a mischievous smirk.

“Anything. Just ask for it.”

His confidence surged back instantly.

He took a step closer, his hand finding your waist, claws grazing your bare skin. You stepped back, testing him, giving him space to chase.

Another step. Then another. Slow, methodical, like a predator in its natural element. You kept retreating until your back met the cool wall. He stopped just short of pinning you completely, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head, his thick bicep casting a shadow over your face as he towered over you.

He waited patiently for your next order.

You leaned in, grabbing his arm and sinking your teeth into the thick muscle of his bicep. Your eyes never left the mask as your canines pressed into his rough skin, not hard enough to break it, but enough to leave a mark.

A muffled sound escaped him, like he had tried to hold everything in and failed. His head turned slightly toward you, locks shifting as you kept your teeth on him. His free hand curled into a fist against the wall, knuckles popping as you bit down a little harder.

Another low, muffled groan escaped him.

His hand left the wall and landed on your face, thumb and forefinger gripping your cheeks, forcing your head up to meet his mask.

You expected a reaction, but this one felt rougher, more raw than you had anticipated. Still, you smiled up at him, cheeks flushed, because that gentle roughness was exactly what you hadn’t known you needed so badly.

His chest heaved, breaths short and shallow, every exhale a low warning growl.

“I thought Yautja liked it rough,” you tried to say, your voice muffled by his grip.

He squeezed your cheeks a little tighter.

“You’re no Yautja,” he clicked roughly under the helmet.

“So?”

“So don’t act like one,” he warned, his tone suddenly serious, “unless you want to be treated like one.”

You had grown up among Yautja your whole life, but no one had ever made you feel quite this intimidated.

You slowly frowned at him, watching as his fingers on your face slowly softened, his grip easing into something almost tender.

“Are you holding back because I’m the princess… or because I’m human?”

“You think I care about your status right now?” He let go of your face, but his fingers still lingered, thumb and pointer sliding under your chin to tilt it up, forcing your eyes back to his. “I won’t treat you like my kind. We’re too rough.”

He leaned down until the cold front of his mask hovered just inches from your lips, his grip on your chin still firm. “I can handle it,” you said, but your voice came out soft and breathless, not convincing either of you.

“You don’t have to.” His tone gentled, thumb brushing slow circles over your cheek as his hand cradled your face. “If I wanted rough sex, I’d go find a Yautja.”

“So I can’t bite you?” you asked, more curious than annoyed.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. “Just… don’t try to match my rough nature. I want you. Your soft fingers—” He caught your hand, guiding it to his chest. “Your dull canines.” He pressed your fingertips gently against your own teeth. “This.” He dragged your fingers slowly across your lower lip, tracing the plush curve that was so uniquely human, made for soft kisses and even softer sounds.

He liked you for what you truly were.

Nothing like him.

You had spent your whole life among Yautja feeling like you had to prove yourself. No matter the fact that you were royalty, the whispers had always followed you.

How could a soft human rule over them? Your father loved you in his own rough way, protecting you fiercely, surrounding you with the best guards, but he rarely listened. You were a weapon of negotiation, a bridge between worlds, but never quite one of them.

You had always assumed Kel’Rakur was the same.

You were wrong.

Your softness had never been praised by a Yautja before.

Yet here he was, admiring every difference. The way your body curved with gentle lines, your hair fine and flowing, your eyes a quieter shade, your mouth meant for kissing far more than tearing flesh.

“But you’re holding back,” you said, voice quieter now. “How is that going to be enjoyable for you—”

“Let me worry about my enjoyment,” he scoffed gently, taking your wrist and guiding your hand lower, until your palm rested over the hard plates of his lower armor. “I’ve never wanted to be touched so badly by anyone.”

The confession hit you like an actual weight, you even felt it in your stomach.

His mask’s voids flashed once before he lifted it with his free hand and let it drop to the floor with a heavy clunk.

You saw his face then, always rough with scars and ridges, but his eyes were gentle, almost vulnerable, flicking between yours and your mouth like he was trying to read every thought, every feeling flickering across your features.

Your hand tugged at his lower armor, your lower lip caught between your teeth without you realising it. You looked at his eyes.

And if eyes could beg, they would look like his.

His hands rose to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in as he leaned closer. That low, artificial rumble started in his chest again, the one that always made you chuckle under your breath because it sounded like he was barely holding back from revving up and taking off.

You tugged harder at the lower plates of his armor until they finally loosened and dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

Almost immediately, a softer purr replaced it, the deep, satisfied sound Yautja made when they were truly at ease. You had heard it before from others, but never from him.

Not like this.

Your palm slid lower, resting over the slit at his crotch where his cock was still hidden, warm and waiting. You tilted your head softly, eyes searching for his as you used that same hand to guide him closer.

He obeyed without hesitation, like always.

“So you like it soft?” you smirked, your free hand landing on his chest, fingertips grazing the hard skin of his pecs.

“You’re a strange Yautja.”

“I never claimed otherwise,” he answered, amusement thick in his voice.

“You are here to serve me,” you reminded him, your voice dropping, “not to mess around with me.”

“Exactly.” His mandibles slowly stretched, eyes darkening with that familiar smug glint.

“So tell me what you need from me, Princess.”

“Get on your knees for me,” you whispered, holding his gaze.

For a second he just blinked, flustered, like the words hadn’t quite landed yet.

Then his hand lifted, a single talon traced up your throat lightly, until it hooked gently under your chin, tilting your face up. The heat of his touch left a faint reddish trail behind.

His head tilted as he studied you. Then slowly, proudly even, he dropped to one knee, forearm resting casually over the bent knee as he looked up at you.

You were almost eye level now.

But even on his knees he looked proud, powerful. Like the knight your father had promised would keep you safe. And for the first time you understood why your father favored him so much. He was lethal, obedient and made you feel stronger than you ever had, because a being this dangerous was willingly on his knees at your feet without a second thought.

He extended one hand, claws settling on the soft curve of your ass, kneading the flesh. A quiet moan slipped from your lips and you didn’t even try to hide it.

His grip tightened, slowly pulling you toward him.

You heard that soft, pleased purr rumbling from deep in his chest as his head nuzzled against your stomach, warm breath fanning over your skin.

Your fingers pushed between the thick rubbery locks, stroking through them as he let out a quiet sigh, mandibles extending while he shook his head lightly to clear the strands from his face.

He lifted his gaze then, golden eyes meeting yours from below.

“What do you want me to do?” His voice came out deep, thick with that rough Yautja dialect you had never quite mastered as a human. His words sounded almost broken, more noise than words.

Your hand slid to the back of his head, fingers threading deeper into his dreadlocks until you fisted three thick strands and tugged, forcing his head up so he had no choice but to look straight into your eyes.

“I’ll give you a chance to surprise me—”

You barely finished the sentence.

His hand shot to your left thigh, hoisting it over his broad shoulder in one smooth motion, the other arm wrapping around your lower back, steadying you.

His head dropped between your legs so fast you yelped, a startled sound that melted into a gasp as his hot, wet tongue dragged slowly over your silky folds.

Your head fell back against the wall, mouth parting on a soft, stunned breath, eyes wide as they stared up at the mirrored ceiling.

Oh.

Mirrored ceiling.

Now you understood why he had brought you here.

That mirrored ceiling was the perfect cherry on top.

You slowly smiled as you watched the reflection, you flushed and naked, with Kel’Rakur’s head buried between your thighs. His tongue lapped slow and thorough over your folds before flicking once against your swollen clit with his forked tongue.

You gasped again, hips twitching.

He pulled back just enough to leave your clit pulsing and needy, resuming those slow, teasing licks everywhere else. Then his head tilted up, golden eyes finding yours in the mirror.

The moment turned even lewder, staring down at him through the reflection while his tongue worked between your legs, his gaze never breaking from yours.

His eyes darkened, mandibles stretching wide until you realized he was grinning with pure, wicked satisfaction.

What a fucking tease, you thought.

But you were no better.

Your hand found his dreads again, fisting them tight as you pulled his mouth closer, pressing him harder against your aching pussy.

He groaned into you, the sound vibrating straight through your core and you couldn’t stop the soft, needy moan that escaped your lips.

The mirror above reflected every detail and you couldn’t look away.

Another gasp tore from your throat when he finally closed the last inch, his tongue finding your clit again. Saliva dragged slick and hot down your folds as he settled into a relentless rhythm that had your legs shaking, air punching out of your lungs in desperate little bursts.

You clenched your jaw, the pleasure so sudden and overwhelming, you tried to push his head away, fingers clawing at his shoulders with a broken cry.

He stopped suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at you, not at the mirror this time, but straight into your eyes.

You blinked down at him, lips swollen and bruised from how hard you had been biting them, hands still gripping his shoulders.

“Do you know how pretty you look like that?” he murmured, giving your pussy one slow lick.

“Like what?” you managed, voice shaky.

“All gasping and sweaty…” His tongue flicked again, eyes never leaving yours. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen another being react like that.”

“It’s because of you,” you shot back, still breathless. “All that long experience impregnating Yautja has clearly paid off.”

Before you could finish the sentence, a sharp sting bloomed across your thigh.

You looked down fast. His mandibles had pierced your soft skin just enough to leave marks, his eyes already waiting for yours, daring you to react.

“What the—”

“Do you really think I’ve been sticking my dick everywhere?” he asked, voice muffled as he kissed the fresh bite, tongue soothing over the sting that was already blooming into a bruise.

“Enough with shaming me, Princess,” he purred, hands sliding under your thighs to grip your ass, lifting you up, your pussy hovering inches from his mouth as he stood.

You clutched his shoulders for balance, giggling despite your frown, as that unexpected bite had annoyed you almost as much as it had turned you on.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, walking you toward the glowing pool, tongue flicking lazily over your skin.

“Your heartbeat quickened,” he noted, slowly lowering you until your feet touched the cool floor.

You looked up at him as he looked down, his hand reaching for your thigh, fingers gently tracing the bite mark he had left.

“Did I hurt you?” His forehead came to rest against yours, nuzzling softly as that familiar purr started vibrating through his chest again.

“I bit you before, so it’s only fair,” you scoffed, but his hand froze over your thigh.

“Did the princess of Yautja just claim me as her equal?” His voice turned playful, eyes gleaming as he studied your face.

“When have I ever treated you with inequality?” you shot back, squinting up at him.

“No, my princess,” he purred your title, the sound warm and smooth like honey. “You have always been benevolent with your people.”

His face dropped to your neck, mandibles clicking softly while his hand rose to fist a handful of your hair, holding you in place.

“But you can forget your selfless ways for tonight,” he murmured against your skin, voice dropping lower, sounding hungrier. “Tonight, I want you selfish.”

“Kel…” you murmured his name, eyes fluttering shut for a second, letting yourself simply feel instead of overthinking.

“Sorry,” you whispered, palms finding his chest before you pressed harder against it shoving him back with everything you had.

He stumbled, his balance lost, and fell backwards into the glowing pool with a loud splash.

Your hands flew to your mouth in disbelief.

How could the princess of the Yautja, royalty no less, do something so reckless? So childish?

So… fun?

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, hands helplessly trying to muffle the giggles spilling from your lips.

Under the water, you saw him swimming towards the edge, smooth and predatory. Without surfacing fully, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your ankle and yanking you.

You yelped as you stumbled forward, falling into the cold water. Your eyes opened beneath the surface just in time to see him, then he pulled you up, strong hands gripping your waist, holding you steady against him.

You coughed, sputtering, hands landing on his chest for balance. But your lips were already breaking into a smile when you caught the worried look on his face.

“I’m fine,” you managed between coughs, still grinning. “But you’re gonna pay for that.”

He pushed the wet strands of hair off your face with his talons, “If it’s okay with you, Princess,” he said, “I’ll pay in kind.”

His mandibles opened, hugging your face softly as his tongue lapped slowly over your lips.

You welcomed him instantly, moaning into the kiss as his hand cradled the back of your head, his other arm wrapped around you. Your legs locked around his torso so you wouldn’t slip back into the water.

“You’re too playful for a Yautja,” you murmured between kisses.

You felt him nod, mouth brushing your jaw.

“Did you pretend to be stoic when I first saw you?” you asked.

He shook his head, lips finding the side of your neck, nibbling softly. “I adjust.”

“You look the most beautiful when you’re happy,” he said quietly.

Your breath hitched. Your body went stiff at the genuine compliment and your heart stuttered in your chest.

He must have felt the shift because he leaned back, thumb drawing slow circles on your cheek. “I wanted that look on your face more often,” he murmured, his eyes somehow turning softer. “Does that make me selfish?”

“Maybe,” you smiled back, your hand reaching behind his mandibles to find that sweet spot that always made him purr. You scratched gently and the sound rumbled from him, deep almost involuntary.

“Then maybe you need to punish me,” he rasped, mouth hovering over your ear, “show me that royal mercilessness.”

“How about you give me what I’ve been asking for?” you murmured, still scratching that sweet spot. He melted under your touch, the mechanical purr in his chest growing louder, deeper, vibrating between you.

Something flashed in the room. The water in the pool suddenly turned a rich, glowing purple and began to bubble softly.

You glanced around, confused, until you noticed Kel’Rakur’s hand resting on the edge, pressing a few hidden buttons.

“That Sylthari showed me how to change the temperature of the pool—” he started.

But you didn’t let him finish. You shoved against his chest, trapping his massive arms beneath your smaller hands and pushing him back against the pool wall.

It was almost comical how easily he let you manhandle him, this towering wall of muscles, letting you push and pull him however you wanted, completely lost under your spell. He could snap your bones with one hand, yet here he was, obeying every single one of your whims.

“How much did you do with that Sylthari in here?” you frowned, brows drawn tight as you pressed him harder against the edge.

“Not much,” he answered, voice low. “I wanted to get rid of them so I could get back to you.”

“But you came here willingly.”

“So?”

“What were you planning to do?”

“What were you planning to do with Serion?” he countered, turning your question right back on you.

“None of your business!” you raised your voice, surprised at his boldness.

“Then none of your business what I did with that Sylthari.”

“No,” you snapped. “You’re my guard. You are supposed to report to me. What did you do with them?”

“Why? Did you get jealous again?”

“Did you?” you shot back, brows raising.

Kel’Rakur didn’t answer.

You called his name again. Still nothing.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” he finally said, eyes fixed on his own hand, talons clicking rhythmically against the marble edge of the pool. He looked… awkward. Quiet.

“Kel…” you tried, softer this time.

And he finally looked at you, shaking his head as your smile grew bigger.

“You got jealous?” you whispered, your face inching closer to his. “Of Serion?”

“So what?” he muttered, pushing your face away with his massive hand, nearly forgetting who he was talking to.

Your royal title felt meaningless in moments like this.

And damn if that didn’t feel good.

“You’re the one who kept searching for me in the club anyway,” he said, avoiding your eyes, his mandibles clicking louder. “You’re just as needy as I am.”

“Yes, I am,” you admitted without hesitation, shrugging as you nuzzled your forehead against his.

“Say it then,” he said without missing a beat.

“I need you—” you leaned closer, your lips brushing over his rubbery locks, “to fuck me.”

He scoffed, as if he had expected that kind of reaction from you.

“You’re a brat,” he shook his head, his shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

“But brats must be disciplined,” he growled, grabbing you under your thighs and lifting you so your legs draped over his arms, spreading you open for him. “Didn’t your father teach you any manners?”

You felt his hips thrust up under the water, the thick head of his cock sliding along your exposed pussy, hot and insistent.

The air left your lungs in a sudden gasp, but your lips couldn’t help but turn into a breathless smile.

“Didn’t he teach you to pay respect to your elders?” he growled the accusation, his hips rolling again in a slow, but long thrust that sent water splashing around you.

His cock rubbed between your folds again, eager and pulsing.

You grabbed onto his shoulders, letting yourself hang from his arms, exposed, vulnerable and embarrassingly wet.

“You’re not much older than me for a Yautja,” you managed, your voice shaky.

“Matter of fact, you’re younger in Yautja years—”

The words choked off from you as his hips drove up again, the pointy tip of his cock pressing against your entrance for the first time, stretching you open just enough to make your eyes fly wide.

The sheer size of him hit you all at once. Far bigger than you had imagined, even after feeling him in your hands. That bratty attitude you had been clinging to, vanished the next second.

“No, keep talking,” he purred, leaning in until his mouth hovered next to your ear, tongue dragging over the shell. “I’d like to see you keep that attitude while I’m fucking you.”

His voice, deep and guttural, wrapped in your own language, did terrible, wonderful things to you. It pinned you in place, made your thighs tremble around his waist, turned every word into a shiver.

“Do you want it?” he asked, hips thrusting up again, the tip nudging your entrance but not pushing inside.

You dropped your head to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, biting back the pathetic, needy whines that wanted to escape.

You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction that easily though, not when he was breaking you with nothing but words and the slow grind of his cock against your aching pussy.

It was the most pathetic you had ever felt.

Yet the way he purred for you, the mechanical rumble vibrating through his chest and into yours, soothed something deep inside you. It calmed your racing heart, made the overwhelming need feel almost… safe.

You sighed, lips finding his chest, pressing soft kisses to the hard muscle of his pecs, something you knew he had never experienced before.

“Want me to stop?” he asked softly, mandibles brushing the side of your head, waiting.

You shook your head, teeth sinking into the softer skin of his neck, biting down before you started sucking, marking him.

A low groan vibrated from his throat. “What are you doing to me?” he rasped, voice breathless. His hips jerked involuntarily, the thick head of his cock pushing just inside you.

“Do it,” you whispered against his skin, still sucking that tender spot on his neck.

“I want to feel you,” you begged, “Please, Kel’Rakur.”

The moment his full name left your lips, he groaned, deep, almost pained before his mouth crashed into yours.

His tongue pushed in, hungry and demanding, fighting yours for control in a messy, desperate kiss.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath between kisses, the word vibrating against your tongue, sending fresh sparks between your legs.

“I want more,” you whispered into his mouth.

And he obeyed instantly.

His hips snapped up, the head of his cock pressing into you for one blinding second before he pulled back, leaving you empty and gasping.

“Agh—” The sound tore from your throat, breathless and stunned. You finally understood why he had been so careful. Why he kept asking if you wanted to stop.

He could rip you in half.

Literally.

“Princess,” he purred your title, but there was something even softer underneath it now.

“I’m okay,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to his chest again. “Keep… going.”

But everything stopped.

His hand left your leg for a split second, tapping the device on his shoulder. The invisibility cloak shimmered around you both, wrapping you in its hazy shield.

You froze, eyes wide, staring at him.

Someone was coming.

You were spread open for him in the middle of the pool, completely exposed and he still had the presence of mind to protect you from prying eyes.

“Don’t move,” he whispered.

The water around you stilled.

The door clicked open. Two Sylthari stumbled in, giggling, their footsteps heading straight for one of the large stalls.

They didn’t even glance at the scattered clothes and armor on the floor, too lost in each other to notice anything else.

The stall door shut behind them with a soft click.

You finally let out the breath you had been holding and looked back at Kel’Rakur. He was perfectly still, arms braced under your knees, eyes locked on you.

“Let’s go—” he started, already beginning to lower you.

You grabbed his shoulders, legs tightening around him. “Keep going,” you whispered. “They can’t see us.”

“But they can hear us,” he rasped, his voice painted with something close to panic.

“So you’re that loud?” You gave him a smug smile, “afraid you’re gonna scream while you come—”

The words died on your throat.

His hips snapped up hard.

His cock pushed inside you. The thick, pointed tip stretched you open, hot and slippery, forcing your walls to part around him. He didn’t retreat this time. He kept pressing forward, slowly, every inch of him sliding deeper, filling you until your breath caught and your nails dug into his shoulders.

The stretch burned in the most exquisite way.

You bit your lip hard, trying not to cry out, but a soft, broken whimper still escaped.

Kel’Rakur groaned low in his throat, forehead dropping to rest against yours, his whole body trembling while he was holding back.

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You feel… so tight.”

He stayed there for a moment, buried halfway inside you, letting you adjust while the Sylthari’s giggles echoed faintly from the stall.

Then he rolled his hips again, softer but deep enough to make your eyes flutter shut and your mouth fall open in a silent moan.

The water rippled softly around you.

And for the first time all night, the teasing stopped.

There was only him.

There was pressure, a deep, burning fullness that made your toes curl, but it was the kind of ache that melted into pleasure almost instantly.

“Fuck—” he cursed again, his mandibles finding your shoulder. He didn’t bite down this time, just held you there, trembling against your skin.

“I feel like I’m going to melt inside you,” he whispered, voice nothing like the terrifying hunter everyone else knew.

“Kel—” you gasped as he started to pull back. “No, no, please—I want it,” you begged, face buried in the hard pecs of his chest.

“Don’t… don’t beg me, Princess—” His words broke, mouth pressing harder into your shoulder like he was fighting not to lose control completely.

“I want you. I want to feel you. Please, Kel, please—”

A pained groan vibrated from his throat, like a whine you had never heard any Yautja make before.

You turned your face to his, hands gently guiding his mouth away from your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes.

“You won’t hurt me,” you said softly, reading the hesitation written all over his face. “But if you do, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

He still looked torn, so you kept going, voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m not doing this just because I want sex. It’s because I want to have sex with you.”

“But it’s your first time,” he rasped. “I don’t want to—”

“You won’t hurt me. Besides…” You let out a soft chuckle, lips brushing the side of his face. “You’ve seen me using all those penetrating devices in my chambers, you freak.”

His purr stuttered and then deepened.

“I needed to make sure you were safe—”

“You didn’t,” you interrupted, grinning.

“Fine.” He exhaled, his mandibles twitching. “You just sounded so fucking hot, Princess. My ears were tingling every time I heard you moan through the walls.”

“Did you ever masturbate while watching me play with myself? Hiding behind that cloak of yours?”

“No.”

You smiled, dragging your tongue along one of his locks caught between your fingers. “I believe you. You’re a man of your word.”

The purr in his chest grew louder, hungrier.

“So that’s why I believe you’re going to fuck me so good,” you whispered against his ear, “I’ll feel you for days.”

His hips rolled forward, slower this time, but you knew they weren’t going to stop. Inch by inch he sank into you, stretching you open, until you felt there was no space left. You held onto his shoulders, your breath lost, fingers twisting into his dreads as you squeezed tight.

“Yes… yes, just like that,” you moaned, voice breaking as the ridges and bumps along his cock dragged against your sensitive walls, pulsing hot and alive inside you.

He groaned deep in his throat, forehead dropping to rest against yours, every muscle in his body taut.

“Ah—fuck, yes, yes—” you encouraged him, voice breaking on every word.

Only when you spoke did his hips start moving again, obeying every single command like he was helpless to do anything else.

His head dropped to your shoulder, hiding his face so you wouldn’t have to watch him struggle.

“Again,” you moaned, tugging harder on his dreads. “I want to feel you again—”

The words had barely left your lips when you felt the sharp sting, his mandibles finally giving in, piercing your shoulder just enough to break the skin.

You gasped.

His tongue was there instantly, lapping at the small drops of blood with a broken, apologetic groan.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped against your shoulder, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

“Keep going,” you breathed, needy and breathless. “Keep—fucking me.”

His hips snapped up, cock sliding deep inside you in one smooth thrust. Your breath was stolen again as he found a rhythm he wasn’t about to lose. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders so you wouldn’t fly out of his grip with every powerful thrust.

His cock drove into you again and again, the ridges and bumps dragging perfectly against your walls. That soft, whiny sound he had been making slowly turned into the deep, guttural groan you knew Yautja made when they were lost in mating.

“Yes—yes, just like that,” you begged, your voice trembling. “Kel, I love it. I want more—more—”

His hips slammed faster, water splashing violently around you both. You were almost certain the Sylthari in the stall could hear every wet thrust, every moan, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Ugh—” The moan choked off in your throat the moment you felt it.

The vibration.

It wasn’t the usual low purr all Yautja could produce of course. The artificial lungs he had told you about were humming inside him, sending powerful waves straight through his cock and into your core.

Before he could bury himself to the hilt, while his vibrating length was still pulsing inside you, he suddenly stopped.

With a strained growl he pulled you off him completely, arms wrapping around you in a crushing hug.

You whined at the sudden emptiness, insides clenching around nothing, cold and aching.

The bathroom stall door clicked open. The two Sylthari stumbled out, still giggling, clothes messy, hands intertwined. One leaned in to kiss the other. Their eyes flicked toward your scattered clothes for a second… but they kept walking, too wrapped up in each other to investigate.

You stayed clinging to Kel’Rakur, face buried against his chest, lips brushing his cool skin as you kissed a slow path up to his neck.

“If they told me I would die tonight,” he whispered, “I’d be okay with it.”

You felt his throat vibrate under your mouth as he spoke.

“I’ve never felt anything like this in my chest. Every time you kiss me, my skin burns. It almost scares me.” His thumb traced your lips,“I love how they feel on me.”

You giggled softly, pushing lightly against his chest. “Are you still high on the aphrodisiac?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, one hand cradling your face while the other kept you pressed close. “But I don’t think this feeling in my chest is going to disappear once we leave here.”

He leaned in until his mouth hovered just inches from yours. You could feel the warm brush of his breath, the soft click of his mandibles close, but never quite touching. He was waiting. Giving you the choice. Checking if you still wanted this.

You looked up into his eyes. They were golden and soft, but the longer you stared, the darker they became, pupils slowly swallowing the light until they looked almost black with need.

“Kel,” you whispered his name, your hands resting on his shoulders as you leaned in to kiss the side of his neck.

A low growl vibrated under your lips. His head tilted back slowly, offering you more skin, more access.

Even though you weren’t making out, even though his hands weren’t roaming your body, the moment felt more intimate than anything else that had happened tonight.

Electric. Your skin prickled with static at every small touch.

He was exposing the most vulnerable part of himself. The one spot Yautja were taught to protect above all else.

The thought that his defenses were completely down for you made your heart stutter in your chest.

“I thought Yautja didn’t expose their necks that easily,” you murmured against his skin.

“We don’t,” he purred, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, gently pressing your lips closer. “Even if you decided to hold a blade to my throat… I’d still accept it.”

“Why?” You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Do you trust me that much?”

“I can see there is no harmful intention in you,” he said quietly. “You’ve only given me this weird feeling in my chest I’ve never felt before. You don’t scare me because you could harm me.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, eyes never leaving yours.

“You scare me because you confuse me.”

The words settled between you. For a moment the playful push and pull faded, leaving only the quiet weight of what was growing between you.

You slowly pulled back, your mouth leaving the soft skin of his neck as his words settled over you like a heavy blanket.

“You also confuse me…” you admitted softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the side of his face.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, eyes fluttering shut as your lips brushed over his eyelids.

“No,” you whispered. “Not really.”

He exhaled shakily. “If I give myself to you… will you keep me?”

The question came out almost the same as before, vulnerable, with the same quiet fear that you would go back to treating him like a stranger once the trip ended. His heart was hammering under your palm, fast and unsure.

You pressed your hand against him, feeling the frantic beat, making sure you weren’t imagining it.

His body shifted when he realized what you were doing.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice barely above a breath.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” you asked back, lips finding that sweet, sensitive spot just behind his mandibles.

You had never kissed it before, but the second your mouth touched it, a deep, involuntary sound poured out of his throat, coaxing you without him even meaning to.

“Princess—” He grabbed your wrists, but there was no strength behind it. He couldn’t push you away. You were slowly breaking every defense he had left.

Your hand traveled lower, nails lightly scratching over the warm olive-tan skin of his torso. His muscles flexed helplessly under your touch. You found the hard plane of his abdomen beneath the water, then kept going, agonisingly slow, until your fingers brushed the slit at his crotch.

There it was. Hot. Pulsing. His cock, as if neglected, waiting for you.

You traced the skin with your fingertips first, then wrapped your hand around the thick, ridged shaft. The little bumps along his length made your palm tingle as you gave him one slow, experimental stroke.

He gasped a heavy sound that barely resembled his usual dialect anymore. His head fell back, eyes closing as you moved your hand from base to tip, not rushing, not squeezing too hard, just feeling him. Memorising every part, every twitch of his hips when you brushed over the sensitive head.

He was completely lost to it, instincts surrendered, letting you do whatever you wanted.

You started pumping your fist a little faster, making sure to squeeze gently around the pointy tip each time, the motion that made his hips jerk forward every single time, chasing more friction.

His head stayed thrown back, guttural groans filling the marble room around you. Curses and muffled sounds slipped past the hand he pressed over his own mouth as water splashed with every stroke of your fist. You bit your lip when his free hand suddenly grabbed your waist, nails digging into your flesh as he pulled you closer.

You leaned in, using both hands now to work his cock, mesmerised by the lewd, wet sounds the water and his precum made together.

You felt his hips rock slowly against your hand, muscles flexing as he pushed himself further into your palms. The tip of your thumb stroked over the sensitive head of his cock, drawing a low, broken sound from deep in his throat.

The sight was almost breathtaking, the water rippling around you with every thrust, his thick length sliding through your fingers, the pointed tip emerging from the surface before disappearing again. Each time he drove forward, the ridges dragged against your skin and you squeezed a little tighter, watching the way his tip flushed a deeper, darker shade.

A small spurt of cloudy precum leaked from him, glowing faintly green under the purple light.

His hands had left your body completely, now gripping the edge of the pool so hard his claws scratched the marble. He thrust again, smoother, deeper, his abdomen flexing powerfully as he chased the friction of your fists. You couldn’t stop imagining how it would feel inside you, that same precise, confident rhythm finding your g-spot and hitting it over and over until you cried his name in pleasure.

The thought made your mouth water.

Without a warning, you lowered your head, lips parting as you took the tip of his cock into your mouth.

His hips stuttered, turning shaky and almost uncontrollable. Small, desperate thrusts pushed him deeper between your lips, the head bumping against the roof of your mouth while your hands kept working the rest of his length.

You sucked harder, sealing your lips tighter around him, tongue swirling over the sensitive underside.

A deep, guttural roar tore from his chest, as his head fell back. His eyes were either squeezed shut or lost on the mirrored ceiling above, watching the reflection of your head bobbing between his thighs.

Water splashed softly with every movement. His claws scraped louder against the marble edge, body trembling as he fought not to thrust too hard into your mouth.

You looked up at him through wet lashes, lips stretched around his cock and the pure hunger in his gaze made something hot and possessive bloom low in your belly.

He was completely at your mercy.

One of your hands left his length, reaching up to fist a handful of his dreadlocks, forcing his head down so he had no choice but to look at you. Your mouth kept working him slowly, as you watched his gaze turn dazed, a faint frown creasing his features while a vivid green glow washed over his face and it made you wonder just how close he was to coming undone right then.

You pulled off his cock with a loud, wet pop that earned you a deep, chest-rumbling groan. His eyes stayed locked on your mouth, like those swollen lips were the sole reason for his suffering.

“Are you going to stop me?” you asked, tugging his dreads a little harder until he leaned forward helplessly. Your other hand never stopped its steady, slick strokes that dragged another frustrated groan from deep in his throat.

His mandibles parted, breath coming in short bursts as he stared down at you.

You smiled around the head of his cock before taking him back in, tongue swirling, eyes never leaving his.

His hand shot up, grabbing your face as his tongue pushed into your mouth, groaning the words against your lips.

“Not here.”

You kept stroking him, only slowing down now, your foreheads pressed together while his breath ghosted hot over your mouth.

“Where?” you asked softly, eyes dropping to watch the way his mandibles stretched every time your thumb circled his tip.

“Ship,” he managed, choking on the word as another groan tore from his throat. His hand fisted in your hair, pulling you back gently so you would stop touching him.

The moment you released his cock, he slapped the device on his shoulder. The invisibility cloak shimmered and vanished around you.

He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him as your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso. Your lips found his chest while he carried you out of the water.

He set you down carefully near your scattered clothes and his armor, but his arms never left your waist, talons digging softly into your skin. He seemed almost addicted to it by now.

Your knees felt weak. His eyes burned over every inch of your bare body, chest rumbling with a need so strong you could almost feel it radiating from him.

Once you dressed back into your ruined dress and he had reattached his armor and helmet, his hand landed on your shoulder, pushing you back until you took two steps and your spine met the wall.

You stared up at him like prey caught in a trap.

“Yeah,” he murmured, the voids of his mask flashing red once. “That look you’re giving me right now… are you worried I’ll corner you?”

He pressed his hand against the wall beside your head. “You still have time to back away.”

Your mind went blank. You blinked up at him, suddenly registering the sheer size of him again, even realising exactly what you had been begging for all night and from whom.

Nothing felt easygoing anymore. Everything had become complicated.

Because whatever this Yautja wanted from you wasn’t going to end tonight.

It wasn’t a one-night thing for him.

He had asked you, over and over, to decide what you really wanted from him.

And since you had said yes… you had to keep that promise.

Right?

But your plan… ruling your own lands after your father married you off, that had been your life’s blueprint. It was supposed to stay that way.

It couldn’t change this easily… over one guard.

One infuriatingly handsome, incredibly sweet guard…

You cursed internally while he tilted his head, searching your face for any clue to your intentions.

“Do you think,” you said, pressing a single finger to his chest and pushing lightly. He moved back as if you held all the power in the world, “that I can’t handle a mere guard like you?”

You flashed him a smile, before you feel him exhale, all the tension draining from his shoulders.

“Are you trying to scare me off?”

“Maybe,” he answered, voice mechanical through the helmet.

“It doesn’t work, Kel’Rakur.” You grabbed his hand, your steps bold and loud as you dragged him out of the bathroom.

“If I don’t feel that vibrating cock inside me again, I’m not returning to Yautja Prime.”

You sounded confident, a little too confident than you meant to.

His answer came in three quiet words that made you smile to yourself.

“Yes, my lady.”

a/n: Our lovely boy is back and he is definitely more than just a tease 🫣 l wanna hear all about your thoughts in the comments and how do we like submissive Kel’Rakur so far 🤭 I missed you guys so much, a lot has been happening in my life lately but returning back to you is always the best thing. Thank you all so much for supporting me and messaging me this whole time, I love you all and can’t wait to catch up with you 🩷🙏

[shmoopah]

Wip my vision of @afreakforyautja ‘s Tarr’kon (probably my fav of the boys) 🤭

ugh I’m so bad at armor. This piece was a bit ambitious😬

[afreakforyautja]

TARR’KON FANART!!!!!???? 😭🙏

Look how gorgeous my boy looks 🥹 His long hair? His crimson colour that looks like he bathed in blood? His royal armour? His expression that’s so calm yet so imposing?! I can’t stop staring at him 🫠 (I need to kiss him goodnight but also fuck the grumpiness out of him)

@shmoopah you will forever be in my heart for the beautiful art you’re creating of my OCs 🥹🙏 You are a gem 🩷 your fave boy Tarr’kon sends grumpy kisses 🤭

[afreakforyautja]

I love the section about how the boys would react to certain situation, It's impossible not to want more, so I wanted to ask if you could make one of them jealous, either of a male of their own species or a human

Oh anon, I like the way you’re thinking 😏 Jealous Yautja are my favorite Yautja 💚

Here’s how each boy handles jealousy when their human is getting attention from either another Yautja or a human (because yeah they’re getting both scenarios 🤭)

Keth’raal

Jealousy hits him fast and so obvious. He’s still young enough that he doesn’t have full control over his emotions yet.

VS another Yautja: Instant posturing. He steps right between you and the other hunter, mandibles flaring, chest puffed, letting out a series of sharp clicks and a low, warning growl that’s more possessiveness than actual aggression. He will grab your wrist and pull you closer while staring the other down. Afterwards he is extra clingy, following you around, asking questions like “Did you like his color better? His scars? Tell me.” He needs reassurance and praise (I can’t with him 😩🫶). Tell him he is the most impressive hunter you’ve ever seen and watch him instantly melt.

VS a human male: He looks more confused than angry at first Why is this small soft-skin touching my human? But once he clocks flirting, he changes dramatically. Full height, arms crossed, staring until the guy literally backs away. Then Keth’raal turns to you with big curious eyes, asking “He wanted to court you? With words? I can do words,” and then proceeds to awkwardly (but earnestly) compliment you for the next hour straight. He is almost arrogant, but you can tell he only craves your attention and reassurance.

Zha’kor

Jealousy? Nah he doesn’t do obvious jealousy. He does cold possessiveness.

VS another Yautja: He remains silent. Uncomfortably silent. The other male will suddenly feel eyes boring into him from across the room. Zha’kor won’t growl or show off, he will just appear behind the Yautja mid-conversation, one clawed hand on your shoulder, voice low but velvet You speak to what is already claimed. The other Yautja usually backs away very quickly. Later, Zha’kor will pin you against the nearest wall, mandibles tracing your throat, purring: “You let him look too long. Shall I remind you who you belong to?”

VS a human male: Even worse. He sees humans as lesser threats, so the jealousy is quieter but more powerful. He will watch from the shadows while the guy talks to you, then when you’re alone he will materialise out of thin air, tilt your chin up, and murmur, “he thinks he can have what’s mine? Ridiculous.” You’ll find mysterious hickeys and soft bite marks the next day and a very smug Zha’kor who “coincidentally” shows up whenever that human is around from then on.

Tarr’kon

Jealousy with him is rare and stoic but explosive when it finally surfaces.

VS another Yautja: He doesn’t show off but he acts immediately. One second the other male is too close, the next Tarr’kon has him pinned by the throat, his gaze deadly as he mouths a single snarled word: “Mine.” No explanation, no posturing, just plain killer energy. Afterward he’s silent for hours, brooding, until you touch him and he finally exhales. He won’t say he was jealous, he’ll just pull you into his lap and hold you until he feels calm.

VS a human male: He doesn’t understand why a fragile little human would even try, but the second he sees handsy flirting? Something snaps. He storms over, grabs the guy by the collar, lifting him clean off the ground , growls “Leave. Now.” in his scariest, lowest voice, then drops him like trash. He will turn to you with zero emotion on his face “He touched you.” If you reassure him he’s the only one, he will grunt and walk away… but you’ll catch him watching you more intently for days, like he’s making sure no one else dares again.

Kel’Rakur

Jealousy turns into a show off competition. He loves proving he’s better.

VS another Yautja: Fully territorial. He laughs loud, steps up chest-to-chest with the other Yautja, mandibles wide in a grin that’s all teeth: “You think you can take what’s mine?.” Then he proceeds to show off scars, trophies, size, while keeping one arm slung possessively around you. If the other doesn’t back down fast enough, Kel’Rakur will “accidentally” shoulder-check him hard enough to send him stumbling. Later he’s all over you: “See? Told you no one compares to me.”(Expect extra PDA the next days just so he can further prove his point 🤭)

VS a human male: He finds it hilarious at first (“This tiny thing thinks he has a chance?”), but the second the guy makes you laugh or touches your arm, it’s over. Kel’Rakur scoops you up bridal-style right in front of him, grins down at the guy “Keep talking. Every word just makes the victory sweeter when I carry her away from you. ” Then carries you off while loudly praising how perfect you are for him. He will spend the rest of the day marking you up (bites, hickeys under clothes) and calling you “my little trophy” extra loud.

Who do you think is the most jealous of the boys? Tell me what you think in the comments!!! Send me more prompts like these I love them 😍

[afreakforyautja]

I love your writing & your yautja boys are so charming in their own way, it's hard to pick a favourite! 😍.

Can I ask their reactions be if their human is really good at singing (I mean siren singing & belts out notes) while doing mundane tasks? who in yautja boys secretly listens & pretends not to know or who praises & asks sing for them bluntly? (Maybe make it ironic if their human is singing songs like scylla from epic musical, my jolly bold sailor or Davy Jones from potc if you want to)

Oh anon 🥰 thank you for this cute prompt, I love seeing the boys in all kinds of different scenarios 🤭

A human with a voice like a siren, high notes, rich belts, ethereal sounds while just… folding laundry, cooking or cleaning weapons? And choosing sea siren songs about monstrous sea beasts, lost loves and doomed sailors? The irony is giving 😍 especially with these apex predators who hunt across galaxies but suddenly get hit with human myths that feel weirdly personal. Here’s how each boy handles it:

Keth’raal

He’s instantly hooked. The first time he hears you casually singing “Scylla” while scrubbing dishes, his mandibles flare wide in absolute fascination. He freezes mid walking, head tilting like he is analyzing his next prey… except this “prey” is making beautiful sounds.

He doesn’t pretend not to notice, he’s too young and too curious to play it cool. He will come closer, lean against the doorway with his arms crossed, trying (and failing) to look casual. “Human… your throat makes weapons of sound. Sing that one again. The part about the monster in the deep.”

He will bluntly ask you to perform for him, purring compliments like “Your voice could lure even a Yautja to their death… impressive.” And when you hit those siren highs? His purr stutters, mandibles click rapidly, he is flustered but owns it with cocky grins. He secretly records snippets on his gauntlet to listen later when he is alone on hunts.

Zha’kor

He hears you humming, “Cruel and cold like winds on the seas, will you ever return to me…”, while cooking, and he just… melts into the shadows.

Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t move. Just watches with glowing red eyes half-lidded, mandibles clicking ever so slightly . Your siren belts make his chest rumble with the deepest, quietest purr. He’s entranced, comparing it to ancient Yautja battle chants but softer, more charming in its pull.

He pretends he “just happened” to be there every single time. If you call him out he responds with a low chuckle, “Your noise… it carries. It’s hard to ignore.” But he never asks outright, he teases you into singing more by lingering closer, brushing his claws along your back mid-note, murmuring “Continue, little human. Let me hear how a siren takes her prey.”

He will sit in the dark hours later, replaying the echoes in his mind, letting your voice haunt him like a good hunt memory.

Tarr’kon

He’s not prepared. At all.

You are belting “My Jolly Sailor Bold”, longing about a sailor who will never return, while polishing armor and his body goes rigid. Mandibles clamp tight, eyes narrowing. He doesn’t understand why a simple human sound makes his chest ache like an old wound reopening.

He turns away quickly, pretends to inspect weapons or stare at nothing. Growls low if you notice, “Focus on your task.” But he never leaves the room, just stays out of sight, listening in silence.

He won’t praise or ask, but if you sing when you think he’s gone? He lingers longer than necessary. Once, after a particularly beautiful belt, he mutters, “Your voice… is strong. Like a warrior’s cry.” Then storms off before you can respond, but deep down your singing soothes parts of him he thought were dead forever.

Kel’Rakur

The second you start siren-singing “Hear my voice sing with the tide, my love will never die…”, he’s right there, crowding your space, his big hands on either side of you against the counter. Grin wide, mandibles flared in delight.

“You’re trying to lure me to my doom? Because it’s working.” He laughs, deep and rumbling, then demands “Sing it again. Louder. For me.”

He will bluntly praise you, “that throat of yours could bring down ships. Do it while I hold you,” and manhandle you playfully into his lap so he can feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. Teases you mercilessly about the irony “Singing about sea monsters when you already have the biggest beast here.”

No secret listening, he wants front-row seats every time. And if you get shy? He will pull you closer “Don’t stop now. I like when my little siren performs.”

Who do you think would try to perform their Yautja throat singing to their human? 🤭 send me more prompt ideas I love writing those!!!🩵

[shmoopah]

Wip Sweet boy R’kai, from @afreakforyautja ‘s story (one of my faves) The King’s Right Hand https://www.tumblr.com/afreakforyautja/792023640341381120/the-kings-right-hand-yautja-x-human-you-know

Predator expressions are hard for me🥲 I wanted to give him a sweet face and puppy eyes🙈 and he’s doing just fine, thanks for asking.

Tumblr is a place to express yourself, discover yourself, and bond over the stuff you love. It's where your interests connect you with your

[afreakforyautja]

My sweet boy R’Kai got his own art 🥹 my amazing friend and artist @shmoopah served yet again 💚💚💚 I’m so grateful for every single art you’ve given to my characters 🙏 you are a gem to this community and a blessing as a friend (∩˃o˂∩)♡

(Guys look at his cute and innocent eyes 😭 you really nailed the puppy look omgggg)

[afreakforyautja]

The King's Right Hand Pt21 (Yautja x Human)

Warning: Mentions of Blood (mdni)

Read Previous Chapters Here: Masterlist

You found yourself stretched out on the rugs, their softness easing your body that had been carrying pain for far too long. One arm was folded beneath your head as you watched him from the floor, his hands busy with one of his blades, drawing it slowly along another until the metal sparked.

He had let you stay in his chambers longer than you had expected. The torches along the walls burned low, washing the room in a dull orange glow as shadows stretched and transformed with every movement. It was warm here. Quiet. Too comfortable.

You caught yourself yawning.

“If you’re tired, you should return to your cell,” he said without looking up, his voice clear as his hands continued their work.

“I’m scared to go back,” you admitted. The words left you, unfiltered and entirely true.

His hands paused, just long enough for you to notice, before the sharpening resumed.

“No one’s going to harm you,” he said.

“Tarr’kon…” You pushed yourself upright, sitting cross-legged on the rug, the fur warm beneath your palms. Your jaw tightened as the memory came back, the noise, the blood, the confusion. “What happened after R’kai…?”

The rest refused to come. You swallowed, forcing the question to change.

“Why did everyone react like that? Why did it all turn so violent—”

“There are more moral beings in this castle than you think,” he cut in, his eyes never leaving the blades.

“Not many agree with killing our own kin,” he went on. “The King wanted to know who stood with him… and who didn’t.”

His mouth pulled into something like a frown, though you couldn’t tell if it was real, or just the firelight playing tricks across his face.

“And what now?” you asked. “Is there going to be a war?”

You already knew you wouldn’t like the answer and when it came, it felt like swallowing your own tongue.

“There’s already a war,” he said. “You saw them preparing. We’re only waiting for the right moment.”

“K’rethya too?” your thoughts rushed to the only other being in this place you had allowed yourself to care about. The only one you had ever thought of as a friend, at least by human standards.

“She… has been by my side from the beginning.” His hands slowed over the weapon and then stopped. His gaze drifted somewhere for a second before finally finding you again. “She’s a trusted warrior to the King.”

Something in the air changed right then.

“She told you everything, didn’t she?” he asked, like he already knew. His mandibles tightened slightly as you nodded.

“Her and my brother…” He hesitated.

You had never heard him like this before, each word catching, stumbling, as if he didn’t know where to place them or how to let them go. He bent back over his blades, the sound of metal scraping metal returning, a poor distraction as he avoided your eyes.

You didn’t move, holding your breath. The moment felt delicate, like two worlds brushing against each other in a space that had never allowed softness before.

“They shared a bond,” he said at last. “He needed medical aid far too many times. K’rethya saw him more than the bars of his prison.”

His voice had slowly changed. It was quieter now, nowhere close to his usual controlled manner.

Your eyes widened as the truth settled in. K’rethya, the only one who had spoken to you openly , who had warned you, who had explained things even when she didn’t have to, had endured all of it. Had watched Tarr’kon’s brother suffer, she had tried to save him and had lost him in the end.

It all made sense now.

The way Tarr’kon listened when she spoke. The way he lowered his head when she scolded him. How he let her yell, let her rage, let her treat him like a reckless child who refused to listen. All because she knew him since he was actually a kid.

You didn’t want to imagine how many times she had patched him together. How many times she had feared losing him too. The memory of her frantic roar returned, her hands slick with blood as she worked over his wound, her voice loud with terror and fury.

And it made sense why she had shared his story with you that day. Why she had trusted you with memories that didn’t belong to you, memories of Tarr’kon and his brother that should have stayed buried. She hadn’t done it lightly.

She didn’t want to watch Tarr’kon meet the same fate.

In that desperate moment, when no one knew if he would live, she had handed you something intimate and personal. A piece of him. A piece of them.

What she hadn’t shared was herself.

She hadn’t spoken of her own grief. Of the way losing Tarr’kon’s brother had hollowed her out. She had spared you that truth and kept carrying it alone.

Every thread fell into place so perfectly. And you hated that it did.

The understanding felt like swallowing poison, bitter and lethal, gliding down your throat. Every new detail was a cruel reminder of how badly this could still end.

“Will she help you now?” you asked.

You didn’t know where K’rethya stood anymore, caught somewhere between loyalty and loss, a grey area no one dared to question.

All he gave you was a shrug.

“She’s always been there for me. Maybe it’s good that she’s on the King’s side.”

Your breath left your lungs suddenly, as the truth showed itself. If they weren’t allies, K’rethya might one day stand against Tarr’kon.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, already reaching for another blade. The metal rang softly as he lifted it from the table. “But I’m glad she’s protected. She’s valuable to the kingdom. Their finest medic. The King won’t let anything happen to her.”

He began sharpening again

“She vowed for me back then,” he added, quieter now. There was hesitation in his voice again. His hands worked harder, faster, as if the noise could hide him. “She wanted to make me a medic.”

“A medic?” You tilted your head, startled. “But you’re a born warrior.”

You were echoing K’rethya’s words now, how he and his brother had been chosen for their strength, their intimidating presence, the colour of their skin striking fear before a single blow was dealt.

“My brother was.”

His hands froze for a second before resuming the same motion.

“But you’re the strongest now… right?” you asked, confusion painting your voice.

It didn’t fit. Not with everything you had seen. The way soldiers bowed. The way fear followed him through the halls. The way his name alone carried weight.

“I am,” he said.

But there was no pride in it. No arrogance. Just a truth stated, like something long accepted.

“But I wasn’t born the strongest. The King wanted to toss me to my death the moment he saw my face.”

His hands came to a halt again, fingers tightening around the handles of the blades until the metal cried softly under the pressure.

“Why?”

Your voice was small, as if speaking too loudly might make him stop trusting you with his story.

“My eye.”

That was all he said.

And it was enough.

You had known. Some instinct deep in your gut had knew it long before this moment. There was no scar. No jagged mark of violence. Nothing to suggest a proud injury taken in battle.

This wasn’t something that had been taken from him.

It was something he had been born without.

A curse.

Of all beings in the universe, Yautja were allowed no imperfection. Their brutality spoke of it, the way they fought, the way they ruled over planets through fear and dominance. Weakness was erased. Disabilities were not tolerated. Survival itself was proof of worth.

And yet here he stood.

Half blind since birth.

And still feared.

The realization pushed hard inside your chest. How much must he have fought to earn that respect? How many times he had to push past what should have broken him? To fight with such precision, such grace, with only one working eye, until he became the King’s Right Hand.

If being born Yautja was a trial in itself, you couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for him.

You wanted to ask him then, why the King had taken his brother’s life. It didn’t make sense.

Tarr’kon had been the weaker one. The one who never stood a chance. The one the King should have discarded first if survival was all that mattered.

Tarr’kon kept sharpening his blades, as if he had just told you a story long forgotten.

But this wasn’t a tale.

It was his life.

And it sounded like a sentence more than a past, something written for him the moment he was born.

Born to suffer.

It explained so much. The anger that lived under his skin. The way the world seemed to fight against him no matter how hard he stood his ground. Even the way he snapped at you, how your defiance frustrated him even when he was trying, in his own broken way, to keep you alive.

Your lips pressed together, your breath leaving unevenly through your nose. The weight of it all, the cruelty, the unfairness, crashed down at you. Too much. Far too much. Your thoughts fought each other, your chest tightening until your body simply gave up trying to hold it all inside.

You rose slowly from the warm rugs, your legs unsteady as you crossed the short distance between you. He didn’t react. Didn’t turn. Didn’t even pause his hands as you lowered yourself beside him on the floor.

“What is it?” he asked at last.

You kept your eyes on his hands, on the careful, repetitive motion. The words sat heavy in your throat, refusing to move. All you could do was sigh, again and again, as if breathing might loosen them.

When you finally looked up, he had already turned toward you.

And for just a second, you saw it, his eye blinking faster than the other, the smallest fracture in his composure.

“I’m so sorry.”

Your voice broke with the words. Tears falling, hot and thick, like something that had been waiting to be released for ages.

R’Kai.

K’rethya’s story.

Him.

You tried to hold his gaze, tried to stay upright, but the sob broke you before you could stop it. Your hand flew to your mouth, smothering the sound as your shoulders trembled.

Humans are such sensitive creatures, emotional, fragile and that is the beauty of their kind. You had denied that part of yourself too long, forcing strength where it wasn’t required, wearing an emotionless facade like armor even when you were alone.

All that struggle, all that pain and quiet denial, finally collapsed in on itself. It broke through you in desperate, muffled sobs behind your palm, ugly and uncontrolled.

You squeezed your eyes shut, keeping them closed so you wouldn’t have to see his reaction.

You didn’t want him to think you pitied him.

You didn’t want him to feel obligated to comfort you.

But you couldn’t stop.

The crying came from somewhere deeper, a primal response you had no power over. Because this was your nature and you were done rejecting it, done punishing yourself for being human.

A hand touched your shoulder.

Your eyes flew open, your vision blurred and swimming with tears as you struggled to focus. He had crouched in front of you, his large hand gripping your shoulder and it felt... Awkward. As if he had never touched anyone like this before.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

You looked up at him. His dreadlocks dropping over his shoulders, long dark tresses falling like a black waterfall around you, framing a face that felt suddenly too close.

His golden eye searched yours.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again.

His hand slid slowly down to your wrist, fingers tightening before gently pulling your palm away from your mouth, coaxing you to speak.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Your voice cracked as another sob pushed your throat and you swallowed it down hard.

“Hey.”

The word rumbled low in his chest, guttural, deep. But you could swear he was trying to sound gentler.

His rough thumb brushed your cheek, gathering the tears that refused to stop and wiped them away. The touch was clumsy but somehow soft, as though he feared hurting you even like this.

You stared up at him as he cradled your face, stunned by the tenderness of it, by the fact that it was him doing this.

“Why did you have to go through that?” Your voice broke again. “You were just a child—”

Another sob broke free, only to be met with a sound you didn’t expect.

A low rumble rolled from his chest. Not mocking, but almost like laughter.

You blinked, the sound cutting through your tears, pulling you back into the moment.

“I don’t know what human children go through,” he said, lighter now, “but for us? This is pretty ordinary.”

His thumb swept beneath your eye and you shut it instinctively as he wiped away the last of your tears away.

“Your kind is too brutal,” you muttered, a scowl tugging at your features. His world had always felt too cruel, too unforgiving.

“Yeah,” he agreed simply.

But his thumb didn’t stop moving. Even when the tears were gone, it lingered, slow almost careful against your cheek.

“Humans have this thing called empathy,” you said quietly. “When we hear or see something painful, sometimes we feel it like it’s happening to us.” Your hand lifted without thinking, your palm settling over his where it rested against your face.

You felt him tense under the touch.

“I can’t stop thinking about how hard it must have been for you.”

“I survived,” he said, quieter now. So quiet it sounded like it was meant for no one but himself.

And that was when it hit you.

How close you were.

Your faces inches apart. Breaths mingling in the warm space between you. Your skin prickled where his thumb still rested, where your hand covered his, where the heat of him seeped through your skin. You could feel the faint tremor in his fingers, like he was holding himself back from something bigger than either of you dared to acknowledge.

“That doesn’t make it easier, Tarr’kon,” you whispered.

His thumb froze mid-stroke.

That single golden eye focusing somewhere on your face, your mouth, maybe, or the way your lashes still clung together with unshed tears. You couldn’t tell. You only knew he wasn’t looking away.

The rumble in his chest died completely.

His mandibles clicked, just once, like he was tasting the weight of your words, or maybe the weight of how much he wanted to believe them.

The torchlight flickered, throwing soft gold across the scars on his neck, across the faint green stain still visible on his bandaged hand.

“You’re not saying my name right.”

The words caught you off guard. He had always corrected you with irritation, or outright threats, whenever you dared use his name. This time, there was no bite to it. And it made your skin crawl.

You frowned, confused. “What?”

“Say it again.”

His breath washed over your face. He smelled like smoke and metal and something sweet beneath it all, something you couldn’t place, but your body reacted to it anyway.

“Tarr’kon,” you said carefully.

His thumb slid to your mouth slowly, pressing gently until your lips parted for him. You didn’t even think about obeying. Your body just listened.

“Again,” he murmured, quieter now.

His golden eye was locked on your mouth, unblinking. His thumb pressed against your bottom lip, pulling it down just enough to expose the warmth inside, his mandibles clicking softly, as if he was concentrating.

“Tarr’kon,” you repeated, your voice thinner this time. Weaker.

Heat rushed to your face, your pulse spiking where his fingers touched you.

His thumb didn’t pull away.

It stayed right there, pressed cold against the soft swell of your lower lip, like he was testing how far he could go before something inside him snapped.

The pad dragged over your lips, tracing the edge of your mouth with a touch so light it felt more like a question than anything else.

Your breath caught in your throat, painful in your chest, and you knew he heard it.

He felt it.

Your heart was pounding so loud you were certain he could feel the rhythm through his fingertip.

You didn’t move. You tried to resist.

But your body had a mind of its own, leaning in just enough so your lip pressed fuller against his thumb, chasing the contact like it was air and you had been drowning this whole time.

His mandibles gave a single, low click, the sound vibrating down your spine like a warning he was giving himself more than you.

His thumb slid again, slower this time, following the wet curve of your lip until the tip dipped just inside, brushing the edge of your teeth.

Your eyes fluttered half-shut. A soft, involuntary sound slipped out, almost a whimper, but enough to make his own breath hitch and his mandibles drawn together.

The air between you turned thick, hot, every inch of space between you electrifying your skin.

He exhaled roughly through his mandibles, the sound almost pained.

But his thumb didn’t retreat.

Instead it glided deeper, along the edge of your bottom teeth, dragging against them like he was testing the sharpness.

He pressed harder.

Just enough to dimple the soft flesh inside your lip, to make your canines catch the hard ridge of his thumb. He held you there, waiting, his breath going completely silent behind the closed clamp of his mandibles.

You felt the tiniest give of his skin under your teeth.

A long, low exhale hissed out of him, almost disappointed. Like he had been hoping your bite would be more dangerous than this.

His thumb eased back, sliding wetly along your lower lip, leaving a faint sheen behind.

His index finger hooked under your jaw, tilting your face up so you had nowhere else to look but into that burning gold eye.

“Remember when I told you, you will need to take orders from me?” His voice was deep, painted with something darker than before.

You barely nodded, your pulse roaring in your ears.

“You’ll listen to me, right?”

Another nod from you.

A faint “yes” that sounded more like a breath than a word, so quiet you weren’t sure he heard it.

His thumb and finger tightened on your chin, lifting your head until your mouths were a breath apart.

“Make me bleed then.”

The words were soft, almost content.

Your heart stopped completely, then slammed back into your ribs so hard it hurt. You blinked fast, trying to process his words.

What?

“Bite down on my flesh,” he murmured, thumb pressing back into your mouth, finding the sharp point of your canine and dragging over it again, encouraging you.

“I need to know if you can use those.”

“I don’t think—”

The protest died instantly. A low, warning growl rumbled in his chest and vibrated straight through you.

Like a reminder.

You had agreed you’d would take orders from him . You would let him lead you toward whatever freedom looked like in this hellhole.

And god help you, part of you wanted to know.

Wanted to feel the give of his skin under your teeth. Wanted to test how much he could take before he growled in pain. Wanted to see why every single being in this castle whispered his name in fear.

Your curiosity was as dangerous as his command.

You leaned in and your lips brushed the pad of his thumb again, your teeth grazing the same spot he had tested.

His mandibles parted slightly.

Waiting.

You closed your eyes, before you could second guess yourself and then bit down.

Hard enough to tear, your teeth sinking into his flesh, feeling the tough, cold resistance of his skin.

His whole body tensed, his shoulders locking and a deep rumble built low in his throat, vibrating into your mouth.

The growl soon turned into something darker, a faint satisfaction. His free hand found the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, holding you still.

You felt the first warm trickle against your tongue. His blood. Thick, bitter, hot.

And when you finally leaned back so you can breathe, his thumb stayed in your mouth a second longer, smearing the taste across your lips.

His eye was focused now, fixed on the faint smear of green at the corner of your mouth.

“Good,” he rasped, his voice heavy.

Your eyes fluttered open, heavy-lidded, your breath shallow as you stared up at him.

He was already watching you.

Words hung thick and unspoken in the space separating your mouths, you could almost taste them, the desire, the fear, the trust, all tangled together, too dangerous to name out loud.

His thumb brushed your bottom lip one last time.

You swallowed hard as the question rose in your throat, Why did you want me to bite you? Why make me tear into you like some feral thing?

But you already knew the answer.

He wasn’t testing your cruelty. He was testing your survival.

He needed to know you could be dangerous. That your teeth could draw blood when they had to, that you could rip and fight and protect yourself long enough to stand beside him in this bloody war he had quietly declared against the king.

He wanted you fast. Deadly. Ready.

Because freedom wasn’t a gift he could hand you.

It was something you both had to claw out of this place with your bare hands.

And he had chosen you, not because you were weak and needed saving, but because your stubbornness burned brighter than fear.

Because you had already proven you would rather die standing than live crawling. Because that same fire in you, mirrored the one that had kept him alive through every lash, every betrayal, every moment the king tried to break him.

You would tear down anyone who stood between you and the open sky, or die trying.

He knew it.

That was why he had trusted you with his truth.

Why he had bled for you tonight.

His thumb lifted away at last.

“So… have I been saying your name wrong the whole time?”

You asked it quietly, almost playfully, but your voice still carried that shaky tone from everything that had just happened.

You wiped the back of your hand across your lips and when you pulled it away, a streak of neon green caught your eye.

His blood, glowing like something alive even after it left his body.

You stared at it.

The colour shimmered on your skin, the smear looking almost beautiful. Alien. Yours now.

“No,” he murmured. The purr wrapped around the word, soft and hypnotic. “I was wrong.”

He exhaled slowly, letting his breath hit your face.

“You’re saying it just right.”

The words sounded like a confession. Honest and heavy with everything he had been holding back.

“Did you lie to me?”

You asked softly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you wiped the back of your hand across your face, brushing away the last traces of dried tears.

“Yeah.”

He nodded once, simple and unapologetic. His hand lifted and pushed a damp strand of hair off your forehead, his fingers lingering long enough to tuck the lock behind your ear, his thumb grazing the shell.

“So I’m pronouncing it right?” You leaned into the fading warmth of his hand.

“You roll your r’s just right, Z’kira.” He said.

“This word you’ve been calling me.”

You tilted your head at him,“what does it mean?”

“Something that suits you.”

His fingers were still laced through your hair, as he pushed the strands back, then down the nape of your neck. The motion was gentle, but the tips of his claws grazed your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms.

“May I know?”

You reached up without thinking, gathering one thick dreadlock between your fingers. Your thumb rubbed along its length, fascinated as always by the strange, rubbery texture, smooth yet tough, warm from his body heat.

He didn’t pull away, his fingers playing with your thinner strands, claws combing through them, trailing down your back in lazy strokes that made your breath catch helplessly.

“Little strike,” he admitted quietly.

The words landed low, almost reluctant. His claws raked gently through your hair again, the sharp tips grazing your spine, reminding you how easily he could hurt you if he wanted to.

You nodded, your lips turning into a small smile. The nickname settled over you, fitting and earned.

You could almost picture the exact moment he had chosen it, a witty comeback you had thrown at him, a moment you bared your teeth instead of backing down, a night you had fought with everything you had against him.

“You always bit back, Z’kira,” he said, stating it like an undeniable truth.

A strange pride bloomed in your chest. Defiance had kept you alive here and hearing him name it, claim it as something worthy, made it feel less like a curse now.

“But I understand you now.”

He finally let your hair slip from his fingers. His hands came together, clasping loosely in front of him.

“Tarr’kon…”

You said his name quickly, before the moment could shatter, before he could retreat behind his blades and silence.

“Remember when we fought? In my cell?”

The question dragged the past with it. That night came rushing back, the fury, the relief, the way it had burned through your skin until you had to touch him, had to fight him just to prove how deeply his absence had hurt you.

Your gaze dropped to your hands, fingers twisting together. You couldn’t look at him now. Not while your body remembered so much.

“You asked me if I came to your chambers while you were fighting for your life,” you continued, quieter. “After you were stabbed.”

Your breath caught. “But how could I? I was locked up…”

Your hands trembled despite your effort to stop them. Heat flushed over your neck, into your face, uninvited and confusing. You didn’t understand why your body reacted like this, why your nerves felt raw, why saying it aloud made it worse for you.

“I was burning with fever.”

The slow click of his mandibles followed, as though he was weighing every word before letting it leave him.

You waited.

And silence stretched, long enough to feel intentional.

He couldn’t show it the way you could, not in the simple, human way your body spoke with.

But his gaze betrayed him instead. It dropped to your mouth and stayed there and in that second you felt it, like he was waiting for you to ask. Waiting for proof that you truly wanted the whole truth.

He was asking to be seen without saying a word.

And you knew enough about his kind to understand that silence carried far more weight than confession.

He wouldn’t give you everything unless you demanded it.

“I’m listening.”

You lifted your gaze to him then, bracing for whatever was about to follow.

You wanted this.

You wanted him, this part of him he had guarded so carefully until now.

Not just wanted. You were begging for it.

“I hallucinated,” he said at last.

His eyes didn’t leave yours, not even for a moment, as if he needed to make sure you were truly listening.

“Multiple times.”

Your pulse jumped, your eardrums felt like thrumming with the same rhythm.

“But I kept seeing you,” he continued. “Walking into my chambers.”

Your gaze snapped down to the floor as if it could save you from the meaning of what he had just admitted.

He said it so plainly it stunned you. No embarrassment. No retreat.

No taking back.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he didn’t give you the chance.

“You were whispering to me.”

“What…?”

Your eyes dropped to his hands, clasped together, thumbs moving restlessly against each other. That small, familiar tell freed something in your chest and you finally left the breath you had been holding.

He was nervous too.

He hid it better than you ever could, but you knew him now. You had learned the quiet signs, the moments where his control shuttered.

He was feeling it too, the pull, the tension.

“I don’t remember your words,” he said, quieter now, almost distant, “but your voice…”

He didn’t know what that confession did to you. How it burned itself deep in your chest, how unreal it sounded that he admitted it so easily, that he had heard you while he thought he was dying. That your voice had found him in that place between fever and death.

And what did that mean to him?

You didn’t know.

You would probably never know.

Because you never asked.

Your mind was too busy spiraling, trying to steady your breath, trying not to let your heart beat itself out of your ribcage. Panic crept in fast, stealing the question from your tongue before you could even shape it. You never asked him what seeing you in those moments had meant, what it meant that you were there, of all things, when he thought he was dying.

“Stop shaking,” he said suddenly. “I can almost hear your teeth rattle.”

His voice had changed, clearer now. Commanding. The way a leader would speak in the middle of battle without room for argument.

“I’m not shaking,” you shot back, but that was a lie. Your hands clutching at each other, fingers digging in hard.

You were shaking.

You were terrified.

Of your own feelings.

Of his.

Of the thick, suffocating heat pressing down on both of you, turning the air heavy and charged.

“We both know you’re lying,” he growled, his hand gripping your shoulder, squeezing twice, before he straightened and stepped away. “But I’ve lied to you too.”

You frowned, confusion knitting your brows together as you tilted your head.

“I had to. Even the walls have ears,” he continued. “Especially in that cell of yours.”

And then everything clicked.

The late-night visits. Always at the same hour. Always careful. Always brief.

The way he never spoke freely there, never lingered, never treated you with the patience or openness he showed you now.

That cell wasn’t just a prison.

It was a trap.

And suddenly it made even more sense.

Why R’kai had been executed. He must not have known, must not have realized he was being watched when he came to warn you in the middle of the day.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

People were dying around you.

Because of you.

For you.

“Then why did you visit me if there was danger?” you asked through clenched teeth.

“I know when they’re watching,” he replied simply.

Your body reacted before your mind did, muscles tightening, shoulders drawing inward and you shifted uncomfortably on the floor.

“Besides,” he went on, his tone changing, as if he sensed how close your anger was to erupt, “I thought you should know,” he paused.

“That night, your whisper annoyed me so much I came back to life.”

You stared at him.

“Thank you,” he added, sitting back against the desk.

Those words didn’t stutter. There was no sarcasm in them.

“If it wasn’t for your voice,” he continued, already reaching for his weapon again, dragging metal against metal, “I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

You were standing now, closing the distance, drawn in by something you couldn’t name for the life of you. He didn’t answer, didn’t even look at you, until your hand reached for his.

Your fingers closed around his wrist.

He looked up slowly, his eye lifting to meet your gaze, then flicking just once down to your lips, his mandibles pulled tight.

“What do you mean, Tarr’kon?” you asked again.

His hands had completely frozen on the blades.

“Why are you asking me?” he said.

His voice dropped, more guttural, rough, so deep it vibrated more than it sounded. His mandibles clicked sharply.

As if the answer was dangerous.

As if you were.

“I need to know that I’m not the only one who feels this way.”

It felt like standing in front of something immovable and hoping, foolishly, that your need alone will might make it move. That if you stared long enough, wanted hard enough, it would finally give in.

“This is not the time or the place for that,” he said.

His hand slid beneath yours, breaking free of your grasp.

“For what?” you asked immediately, your fingers grabbing his wrist again before he could pull away.

Behind closed doors, he had no armor left with you. You knew that now.

“For what you feel,” he answered.

“If you didn’t feel the same,” you said, your voice rising, sharp with accusation you hadn’t truly meant, “you wouldn’t even recognize how I feel right now.”

He turned away from you, standing abruptly. Your hand was still clinging to his, stretched between you like a thin thread.

His eyes refused to look at you. Didn’t acknowledge the way you stood there, exposed, waiting, a thousand questions trapped behind your lips.

“Why is it so difficult for you to say it?” you asked.

You pushed lightly against his chest, but nothing could move him, nothing ever could.

“What difference would it make?” he asked.

And when he finally looked at you, he looked terrifying.

His golden eye darkened in the low firelight, mandibles spreading as he spoke, shadows carving his features into something feral and scary.

You swallowed hard.

He was never softened edges or gentle lines.

He was a bloodbath, his was violence and inevitability, taking everything in his path.

“It would make a difference to me!” you said, your voice breaking through the air between you, loud and pained.

The words rang out, echoing in the room.

And then you fell silent, stunned by yourself, your heart hammering violently as you realized you had just shouted the truth straight into the face of a creature who could destroy you.

His face slowly looked down at you.

And now he looked…. Defeated.

His eyes pleading.

Hands clenched into fists at his sides so tightly the tendons stood out beneath his skin.

“Don’t do this to me… not now,” he said.

His jaw tightened, mandibles drawing tightly, the words forced out. It was a plea, even if he would never call it that.

And that was when you understood.

He wasn’t just denying you.

Wasn’t just refusing to name what was happening between you.

He was afraid.

Afraid of the closeness, of what would happen if he let himself step even an inch closer to you. His eyes said everything his mouth never could.

You wanted to yell his name.

To shove him.

To demand the truth from him with the same stubborn cruelty his world had demanded things from you.

You didn’t want everything you had endured to mean nothing.

You had hated him.

Mourned him.

Punished him for leaving and trusted him anyway.

You had missed him in ways you never allowed yourself to admit.

And now you were standing in front of something worse than hatred, something quieter, something burning. A feeling you didn’t have a name for because no word fit it properly. It wasn’t love. Not something clean or safe. And it wasn’t something you despised either.

It was confusion, slow and suffocating, dragging you deeper with every unanswered look and every word unspoken.

But one thing was certain.

How your chest pained every time you felt it.

And if you didn’t face it now, you weren’t sure you would survive long enough to face it later.

“I can’t lose you,” you said quietly.

“Not again… not like last time.”

You let go of his hand then, your fingers falling away as your gaze dropped to the floor.

Heat washed over your face, just like it always did when you trusted him with something so honest.

“I know it sounds stupid,” you let out a bitter scoff, “we’re in the middle of a war. But I needed you to know—”

The words died in your throat when you felt him move.

His massive frame shifted closer, your breath caught as realization struck, your eyes widening.

He wasn’t stepping away.

He was coming toward you.

And then, before you could decide whether to back away or reach for him, he lowered himself.

Kneeling in front of you.

The difference in height was jarring, his towering frame lowered until you were nearly eye level. He reached for you, taking your hand in both of his.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to leave this kingdom right now.”

You found his eyes as he spoke, his golden iris reflecting the low orange glow of the room and something inside you sank, your heart dropping straight into your stomach.

His hand tightened around yours, his other coming up to cup it.

“But if I give you hope, Z’kira,” he said quietly, “you would hate me for the rest of your life, wouldn’t you?”

Your hand burned where he held it. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. No witty comment. No anger. No strength left to fight him with.

“I need you to promise me something,” he continued, his voice low, quiet, so much it hurt more than if he shouted. “If I tell you to run, you run. You don’t look back. You don’t hesitate. You just go.”

The words twisted painfully in your chest, dragging a memory with them.

That first night in your cell, where he had stood over you, his voice empty of mercy, if I tell you to kneel, you kneel, he had said.

Back then, you were nothing but flint and stone, colliding, cutting, striking sparks without understanding what fire you were creating.

Now the fire was real.

Lit through blood and loss and survival.

Through things neither of you had been ready to endure together.

“Run with me,” you whispered, desperation creeping into your voice as your hand lifted, fingers brushing his mandibles, cupping them before pulling him closer, his eyes finding you. “Don’t stay behind.”

He reacted instantly, his hands closing around your wrists, stopping you.

“You know I can’t do that.”

His thumbs traced circles over your skin, holding you back while his eyes pleaded silently for understanding, asking you not to make him choose something he already knew he couldn’t have.

“Then…” Your voice shook. “Promise me you won’t die. And that you’ll find me again.”

He rose slowly from where he knelt, his height towering over the space between you, his presence overwhelming, as always, but his hands never left you.

“I can’t die,” he said finally, his voice rough, certain “until the King is dead.”

His thumb slid beneath your chin, tilting your gaze up until your eyes were locked on his.

“I want to help,” you whispered.

The words barely audible. The closeness of him, his breath, his hand beneath your chin, that strange warmth radiating from his body was bleeding into you. You forced yourself not to look away.

“Teach me how to fight.”

Flashes of that dark night came uninvited, the guards, their strength, the way they had overpowered you without effort. The helplessness. The humiliation. The memory of R’kai being dragged away while you could do nothing but watch.

You wouldn’t allow yourself to feel that useless again.

Never stand frozen while someone else paid the price.

“We don’t have time for that,” he said and there was something close to regret in his voice.

As if part of him wanted to give you exactly what you were asking for, but he couldn’t.

His gaze dropped to your lips when you spoke again.

“If the King calls for me again…” Your throat tightened, “I’m going to die.”

You said it so plainly, because it felt inevitable. Because it felt like the only future waiting for you.

Your eyes widened slightly as the realization settled heavy in your chest, “Please…”

“The King is not after you,” he interrupted.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your hand rising to hold his where it rested against your face. Your fingers trembled around his wrist.

“The King wanted to test my loyalty,” he said quietly. “When he put you up for execution.”

He exhaled slowly, his thumb stroking over your cheek again.

His brow was drawn tight, tension painting over his features. This wasn’t anger, no.

This was fear. Pure and scary.

“Tarr’kon.”

You barely recognized your own voice, soft and broken. Your body moved before your pride could stop it, before the memory of kneeling under the King’s gaze could break you again.

This time, you chose it.

You lowered yourself in front of him.

Not in obedience or fear.

But in trust.

Your eyes searched for his as you knelt and he stared down at you like he could barely register what you had just done. Like the act unsettled him more than your defiance ever could.

He was your only choice now.

The King had tested his loyalty through you, through the possibility of losing you. Through forcing him to stand there and face the idea of your death.

And Tarr’kon had told you.

He had trusted you with the truth that made him the weakest, because this time, he was the one vulnerable.

And his vulnerability had your name.

“He’s after me,” he admitted.

His voice was low, like a whisper. His golden iris shifted between your eyes as though searching for something, that human empathy again, perhaps.

“I know,” you whispered.

You lifted your hand slowly, finding his hand where it hung at his side and guided it upward, pressing it to your lips.

It wasn’t a kiss, not really. Just your human way of showing trust.

He went rigid at first. You felt the tension flooding his body, the instinct to pull away, but he didn’t.

He let you hold him, his body stiff, like he was bracing for pain. Yet he didn’t move.

As if he was fighting himself, with every fibre of his being shouting at him that this was weakness and yet he chose to stay.

The torches cracked in the silence.

You could feel the fear in him, but not for the King.

Fear of needing something other than what he knew his whole life.

And still, his hand remained against your mouth, your breath warming his skin, the line between fear and that unspoken feeling, was becoming blurrier now.

There was a weakness in him, a fragile part that had your name carved into it and even the King had seen it now.

You wanted to ask him. Force the words out of him.

Make him say it, make him tell you that whatever was burning inside you wasn’t yours alone.

What am I to you?

The question burned against your tongue.

But this wasn’t the moment. War breathed over your necks. Affection felt reckless in its shadow.

He had made that clear.

For once, you swallowed the urge to give in.

Your mouth opened and you chose different words.

“You have many on your side.”

Your hand turned his slowly, exposing his palm. You traced the lines with your fingers, following the scars that spoke silently of his story.

He lowered himself in front of you again, his gaze dropping to where your skin met his. Watching you, as if knowing this might not happen again.

Your heart pounded so hard you could hear it in your ears, feel it in your throat, but you didn’t stop touching him. Didn’t stop feeling the weight of his stare as it moved over your face, studying you.

Maybe this would be the last time.

The last time you touched him without blood between you.

“The thing is…” His voice cracked, for the first time. “I’m afraid he’ll go after everyone before he gets to me. That’s what—”

He hesitated.

His hand twitched under yours, his eyes remained fixed on your fingers against his skin.

“You’re worried about the others” you breathed.

Your hand stayed on his. Almost shaking now. You could feel the heat of him, pulsing beneath your touch.

He knew the King was after him, knew the blade was meant for his throat.

And still, he worried about the others.

It would have sounded absurd to you a few cycles ago. Laughable, even. Tarr’kon, the King’s right hand, that menace forged to obey, losing sleep over the fate of those who chose to follow him.

But it was true.

Beneath everything, the command in his voice and the violence in his hands, there was something more. Some empathy even he couldn’t escape.

He wasn’t afraid of dying.

He was afraid of watching everyone else fall first.

“I started something I don’t know how to finish,” he said.

His gaze was distant now, somewhere beyond the walls of his chamber.

“Everyone says they’re fighting for freedom. But I’m not.” His jaw tightened. “I’m fighting for vengeance. And it will cost them their lives just so I can see the King dead.”

The confession dropped heavily between you.

“They’ve made their choice,” you answered quietly, but there was certainty in your voice that you needed him to hear.

“They know the cost. They’re fighting for their own reasons, Tarr’kon.”

Your fingers squeezed his lightly.

“You gave them that choice. Whether they live or die… that part belongs to them.”

“I’m fighting for me,” you said. “For R’kai. If I die, that’s on me.”

“If you die—”

His hand closed over yours immediately, his palm wrapped around your fingers. Your cheeks burned and you knew he felt you, the way the air thickened between you.

“You better not die,” he said.

His eyes never leaving your joined hands.

“You’re their leader,” you insisted. “They trust you. So trust them. They know what they’re walking into.”

“Do you?”

His hand began to withdraw, nails grazing the center of your palm, slow lines that made your skin crawl.

“I do now.” You caught his hand before he could pull away. “Train me,” you said. “I want to fight too. There has to be something I can do.”

All those times you refused to kneel. All the defiance that had nearly cost you your life, it had led you here, with him. And you were ready to prove yourself.

“I need you to inflict a different kind of wound,” he said at last. “You’re the only one who can.”

“How?” you asked.

“You’re human,” he continued carefully. “He doesn’t fear you. I don’t mean that as an insult, but I know how he thinks. To him, you are insignificant.”

The word stung, but you asked anyway.

“And?”

“And I need you to distract him.”

The sentence felt like an order, commanding and tactical.

But his body told another story.

He wouldn’t look at you. His mandibles were closed tightly , as though he already hated himself for saying it.

As though he knew exactly what it might cost you both.

And in the silence that followed, you felt it too

This was the kind of choice that would leave a scar forever.

a/n: Posting the longest chapter for our lovely Tarr’kon, since everyone’s been asking for it ❤️ also I loved writing that biting scene so much 😩 there’s something about this kind of intimacy that makes me melt 🫠 as always thank you everyone for reading and I’m sooo looking forward to your comments!!!

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[afreakforyautja]

Hey lovelies! it’s my birthday today 26/2 and I wanted to thank you for being the best followers I could have ever asked for 🥹 your comments and asks are the best thing when I come back to this app 💚 I love writing stories for you and I promise to come back with more 😘 love you all

[afreakforyautja]

oh my gosh you got me eating up all your fics like an addict. I love your story telling style!!! My favorite would have to be Keth’raal as he was the first fic I read of yours. But now I have to ask, how would any of your yautja boys handle being confronted with a small human child? Perhaps lost or abandoned after an attack? 🍒

Thank you so much anonnn 😭💚 That’s the highest compliment. Knowing people are binging the stories of my boys makes my whole week. And Keth’raal being your favourite? 🥹 He would be so smug about it 😆

Keth’raal

He freezes at first, big green eyes wide, mandibles parting in genuine surprise, because this is not prey and it’s definitely not an adult human. Then his curiosity and caring instincts kick in. He crouches down slowly, his voice dropping to the softest rumble he can manage. “You’re okay little one”

He would scoop the kid up carefully, checking for injuries. If they’re scared and crying, he starts purring deep in his chest, the same soothing vibration he uses on his human mate when they’re upset. He would carry them to safety, probably talking the whole way, explaining everything like the kid can understand: “I’ll protect you, like I protect big human. You safe now.”

Once his human shows up? He is proudly showing off “our new small one” like he just found a trophy. Expect him to be extra gentle and attentive for weeks, teaching the kid how to “hunt” leaves, letting them ride on his shoulders. He has basically adopted them on sight.

Zha’kor

He doesn’t move at first, just watches from the shadows with those glowing red eyes, studying it. A child isn’t a threat, but it’s… unexpected. Vulnerable. Reminds him of things long past.

When he finally approaches, it’s slow and careful. No sudden moves. He kneels, extends one big clawed hand palm-up and waits. If the kid flinches, he simply stays frozen until they calm. Voice low and smooth, “Fear is useless here, small thing. I do not hunt the helpless.”

He would pick them up with surprising gentleness, cradling them against his chest and carry them somewhere quiet. He doesn’t talk much, but the steady purr-rumble he lets out is almost hypnotic. He would make sure they’re fed, warm, cleaned up, then quietly guard them until he can return them to safety… or decide they have no one left. In which case? They are his now. He would never admit it, but the tiny human sleeping against his side stirs something protective he thought was long dead.

Tarr’kon

His first reaction is a low, warning growl, not at the child, but at the situation. A small, defenseless thing left in the wreckage? It offends every instinct he has about strength and survival.

He stares down at them for a long moment, mandibles tight, face unreadable. Then, without a word, he reaches down, lifts the kid by the back of their shirt like a kitten and tucks them against his side under one arm. No cooing, no explanations.

He would march them straight out of danger, shielding them with his body from any threats. If they cry? He doesn’t know what to do with tears, he would awkwardly pat their head once, like he’s handling live explosives. But he doesn’t put them down until they are somewhere secure. Deep down, seeing something so small and vulnerable triggers memories of his own losses. He won’t say it, but he would quietly make sure no one ever hurts this child again. Even if it means adopting them in his silent, brooding way.

Kel’Rakur

He laughs at first, not to be mean but surprised. “What is this? A tiny ooman?” He crouches, grinning widely. “You lost, little thing?”

But the second he sees real fear, he drops the teasing. Picks them up, one big hand supporting their back, the other under their legs “Shh. No more crying”

He would bounce them lightly to calm them (Yautja version of rocking), purring loud and obnoxious until the child giggles. He would play with it gently the whole time “You’re braver than most big humans, huh?” But underneath the playfulness he’s fiercely protective. If anyone comes near the kid with bad intentions, he turns into a snarling beast instantly. He would probably end up carrying them around like a trophy for days, showing them off to his human mate: “Look what I found. Ours now.”

It’s a good thing their humans have taught them empathy 😆

Which one of the boys would make the funniest or more caring accidental dad? Can’t wait for your comments!!!

P.S I don’t do asks lately and I’m so sad about it 😣 I wish I had more time to answer everyone, but know I read everything and I’m grateful for all your questions 💚