I feel like Yautjas would be somewhat curious about human hair. like, how its maintained, styled, and definitely on haircuts. im sure they have their own haircare for their trendrils?dreads? but they don't have the same amount of strands as humans do (closest one was feral). so I wonder if they'd see human hair as tedious.
your yautja watching you style your hair in the morning or watching it get styled and wondering if your in pain.
you'll catch him watching hair tutorials and lowkey cringing bc if it was them getting their "hair" done then OUCH! (I like to think their dreads are sensitive)
your yautja finding out you LOVE scalp scratches and making it routine before bedtime. he loves to see you drift off with his hands/claws on your head (plus he feels a bit scandalous)
A human running away from a Yautja that has decided they want to make their skull their newest paperweight and the Yautja manages to grab them by the hair and start dragging them away.
Obviously it would hurt the human, so the Yautja pays no real heed to the yells of pain. But the human is in full adrenaline mode and they think fast and grab the small knife at the Yautja’s hit and just up and slice off the hair gripped in their fist and squirm away.
Which takes the Yautja COMPLETELY off guard. They don’t know hair has no feeling in it, so they’re just left standing there with a clump of hair in their hand, a little awestruck by the realisation that they might have underestimated how formidable humans are….
divider by: @sinisterexaggerator & @enchanthings
word count: 3.9k
synopsis: When an immortal vampire bites a Yautja warrior, their instincts ignite a chase that blurs the line between prey and predator.
a/n: I have had this idea for months and I finally finished it!
warning:MDNI 18+, yautja smut, biting kink, size kink, blood kink.
The city was quiet at this time of night—quieter than usual. You crouched over the lifeless body of a man in the alley, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. His blood had been enough to dull the hunger for now. Centuries of existence had taught you to take only what you needed and avoid drawing attention, but sometimes the thirst was stronger than restraint.
You let the corpse slump against the brick wall. His dead eyes stared wide and glassy, locked permanently on the last thing he’d ever see: you. Another mystery the mortals would attempt to solve, unaware the answer was standing just outside their understanding.
At first, you didn’t realize you were being tracked.
High above, across the rooftops, something moved with silent precision—following every step you took. The Yautja had come to Earth seeking a worthy hunt. Oomans were supposed to be simple prey, but the bodies he kept finding didn’t match the usual pattern. They weren’t gutted, ripped apart, or mutilated.
They were drained completely of their blood. It was a kill unlike anything he had seen before, and that alone made it worth seeking out to see if it would be a worthy hunt.
At first, his scanners showed nothing out of the ordinary. You looked ooman and, for the most part, even acted like one. But something was off. He hadn’t witnessed you kill the ooman in the alley, yet the body matched the others he’d found—drained clean of blood, with not a single mark resembling Yautja or ooman methods.
Your body temperature ran low—almost invisible to him—far too faint for a regular Oomani-di unaware they were being hunted.
However, unknown to him, you were no regular human. In fact, you weren’t human at all—at least, not anymore.
You stilled, every sense sharpening as the faintest sound and feeling told you that something was watching. Calmly, you stepped out of the alley, pulling your coat tighter against the drizzle as you continued down the empty street. Your stride remained unhurried, casual even, but your senses stayed wide open. You swept the shadows and rooftops with subtle glances, careful not to betray how closely you were paying attention. And then you saw it—just barely.
A faint distortion in the air, so slight that any normal human would have missed it entirely. If not for your enhanced sight, you wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
Certain you were being followed, you took a sudden, sharp turn down a narrow side street—a bend that would hide you from sight for only a moment. It was all the opportunity you needed. In the instant you slipped out of his line of vision, you took the opportunity to use your speed.
Your presence vanished from his scanners in an instant.
He let out a frustrated growl, the sound low and vibrating through the rain-slick alley. The air around him shimmered as his cloak disengaged, revealing the towering form of your hunter. He scanned the area in sharp, jerking motions, confusion simmering beneath the clicks and hisses of irritation.
“Now, you don’t look like the Catholic Church,” you purred from behind him.
He spun around immediately, an animalistic growl coming from him as he shifted into a defensive stance. You lounged casually against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed as though this were little more than a late-night conversation.
“Which begs the question,” you continued, voice smooth as velvet, “who and what are you… and why the hell are you following me?”
You didn’t move, letting him take you in. You kept your posture relaxed, eyeing the the seven-foot alien pointing weapons your way, as if he were simply an inconvenience. Your head tilted slightly, eyes gleaming with the same hunger that had unsettled men for centuries.
“Interesting,” you murmured, unbothered by the three red targeting beams of his plasma caster sitting squarely on your chest. “You’re not human. That much is obvious. But you bleed, don’t you?”
The growl he gave in response vibrated deep and resonant, animalistic in sound. You found yourself briefly wondering what hid behind the metal plating—what expression, what face, you could feel the intelligence he held. He was wholly focused on you, no doubt assessing you.
Still, you only cocked your head curiously, lips curling faintly to reveal the barest hint of your fangs.
“Careful,” you murmured, voice dropping to a low, teasing warning. “I bite.”
For the first time in centuries, you felt something stir that wasn’t hunger or boredom. He wasn’t prey—and you weren’t entirely sure he saw you as prey either.
He moved first.
The plasma caster on his shoulder gave a sharp, rising whine before it spat fire, the bolt slamming into the stone where you’d stood a heartbeat earlier. You were already gone, slipping several paces away in a blur faster than any human could ever hope to move.
“Now that was rude,” you scolded, clicking your tongue. “Has your kind never heard of ladies first?”
He whipped around, a clacking sound coming from him in a way that conveyed harsh display of irritation, just in time for you to launch yourself at him. You were faster than he expected—faster than most creatures he’d ever hunted. You ducked beneath the arc of his wrist blades, momentum carrying you upward as you climbed his broad frame like a cat scaling a tree.
Your fingers hooked into the leather harness across his chest, muscles coiling as you used the strap to swing yourself up onto his back. The heavy, rope-like dreadlocks brushed against your cheek as you shoved them aside in search of exposed skin. In the process, your hand clipped the edge of his mask—sending it flying off his face and clattering across the alley.
You didn’t pause.
Your fangs sank into the thick hide of his shoulder. His blood flooded your mouth—thick, hot, and spiced with something distinctly alien. Your venom slipped into his bloodstream instantly, long before he could reach back to tear you away.
The roar that tore from his chest was deafening. One clawed hand shot back, seizing you with brutal force and ripping you off his shoulder. The next second, he hurled you across the alley. Your body struck the stone wall hard enough to crack the masonry, dust raining down in a gritty shower.
You rose smoothly regardless, brushing debris from your sleeve as if he had done nothing more than shove you aside. You took a short moment to study his face. His skin was a mottled pattern of rough, reptilian texture. Four mandibles framed his mouth, flexing with sharp clicks of agitation. His eyes—deep-set and predatory—burned with fierce golden fury, pupils narrowing as they tracked your every movement. Bone ridges curved along his brow, giving his face an almost crown-like structure.
He definitely wasn’t human—nor did he resemble one in the slightest.
A smear of bright green blood marked your lip. You lifted a finger to collect it, studying the glowing drop for a heartbeat before slipping it between your lips. The taste hit your tongue—surprisingly sweet at first, then earthy, rich in a way no human blood had ever been. Alien, strange… but not unpleasant.
Your brows lifted in mild surprise.
“You know… you taste surprisingly delicious,” you remarked, licking the last trace from your fingertip.
He stalked toward you, growls reverberating from deep in his chest, his plasma caster lowering in favour of blades and claws. But you only tilted your head, watching him with curiosity rather than fear. Your venom was already threading its way through his system—you could see it in the way his stance shifted, the sudden stumble in his step, the faint hitch in his breath as his body fought something entirely unfamiliar.
He shook his head hard, a guttural growl ripping from his throat. One clawed hand smacked against the side of his head, as though he could physically shake the haze free. The world around him tilted—colours bled brighter around the edges, his own pulse hammering louder than a storm.
By the time he managed to steady himself, you were already gone.
The alley lay empty except for the shattered stone. His blood dripped steadily from the wound on his shoulder where your fangs had pierced him. He turned in a slow circle, mandibles twitching with agitation, mask sensors sweeping desperately for any trace of you. No heat signature. No presence. Nothing. You had vanished, slipping into the night with that maddening ease that mocked him.
A deep, frustrated roar shook the ruined walls, sending a flock of pigeons exploding into the air. His fists clenched tight, claws scraping hard against the metal of his gauntlets. For the first time in a very long while, the hunter was the one being toyed with.
And worse, he could feel your venom threading through his system like fire, the unfamiliar feeling awakening his nerves. It wasn’t poison in any way he recognized. His muscles weren’t weakening. His lungs weren’t failing. Instead, his body burned. Heat coiled low in his loins. It was as if his body was cycling through a rut which shouldn’t have happened for many more months.
His cycle had been pushed abruptly, unnaturally forward, triggered by your bite.
In his eyes, you hadn’t just bitten him. You had marked him. A female stronger than he was had laid claim—an act that, in his species, carried deep biological weight. His body recognized it instantly, responding with the most primal instinct encoded into his kind: the drive to answer a dominant female’s claim, to prove himself worthy and breed with her.
A deep, rumbling snarl vibrated in his chest as he straightened to his full height. The venom rushing through him like a command, urging him to hunt, to chase, to complete the mating cycle that had begun.
In one powerful leap, he launched himself up the fire escape, claws scraping metal as he scaled the building in seconds. Once he reached the rooftop, he paused, mandibles twitching as he inhaled deeply.
There—faint, almost nonexistent, but unmistakable.
You.
Your scent lingered in the air, floral and earthy with a note of something ancient woven through it. The moment it touched his senses, the fire roaring through his blood flared even hotter. His whole body tightened with the instinctive recognition.
He didn’t hesitate.
He propelled himself forward, barreling across the rooftops with single-minded intensity. His claws dug into brick and concrete as he tore through the night, driven by the powerful urge coiling through his veins.
You were no longer simply prey. You were the only thing his body demanded he pursue and he was answering that call.
Meanwhile, you were already nearing the borders of the city when a distant roar echoed across the buildings—the sound low and furious.
It made you smirk.
“Persistent,” you murmured, amused.
But you weren’t bothered. You’d put enough distance between you and him. The venom should have left him dazed, disoriented, eventually taking over no matter how hard he tried to fight it. There was no conceivable way he’d catch you tonight.
Confident in that belief, you slipped your hands into your coat pockets and wandered down the empty street toward the rural outskirts where your home waited. The night air was calm, the sky moonless, a perfect blanket of darkness that had always suited you. Your footsteps were unhurried, relaxed. After centuries of existing as the apex predator, it was far too easy to feel untouchable.
So you didn’t expect him to track you this quickly.
You didn’t expect him to fight through the venom.
And you certainly didn’t expect him to continue the hunt.
Something slammed into you with the force of a charging bull.
A startled scream tore from your throat as your body lifted clean off the ground and crashed into the tree line. Bark exploded around you, the impact rattling your bones before you hit the dirt and dead leaves in a harsh tumble.
The world spun. Branches snapped.
A heavy, growling shape loomed over you.
Your fangs dropped in instinctive anger, a vicious hiss ripping from your throat as you tried to shove yourself upright. But before you could rise even an inch, a massive clawed hand slammed into the soil beside your head, sinking deep and pinning you down with sheer weight and presence.
The forest floor trembled beneath him. His breaths were sharp and ragged, each one vibrating through the ground and into your ribs.
You bared your teeth; he bared his mandibles.
For a heartbeat, the two of you only glared—two predators locked in a silent snarl.
Then—you felt it.
Something hard pressed against your thigh. You stilled as you realized what you were feeling. The anger bleeding out for curiosity and your head tilted as you studied the alien above you.
Your lips parted in a small, incredulous breath. “Well,” you murmured, voice no longer furious but edged with fascinated disbelief, “that explains why you’re acting like a wild animal.”
It wasn’t uncommon for your venom to leave victims aroused, but it usually pushed them into a dreamy, complacent euphoric haze, so relaxed that they were too high to do much of anything.
But this alien was different. He was very much aware and very much aroused. Your venom hadn’t softened him at all. Instead, it seemed to have hit his system like pure adrenaline, flooding him with sharp, restless energy rather than dulling his senses.
He let out a low, guttural growl, his entire frame trembling as he fought the instincts surging through him. The massive, sharp-clawed hand beside your head dug deeper into the soil, carving a trench into the earth from the sheer force of his restraint.
You watched him carefully. After centuries of existence—and the dull, monotonous routine that came with immortality—very little managed to catch your interest anymore. Most of your human values and morals had long since eroded with time, which was precisely why you found yourself even considering helping this creature.
Even lying with humans had lost all appeal; they were too fragile, too easily breakable beneath your strength. As for your own kind, they were an option in theory, but you had never been particularly fond of them. Their company grew stale, their egos unbearable, their unpredictability irritating rather than exciting.
You exhaled slowly. “Well… You’re certainly in a predicament,” you murmured.
His head snapped toward you, mandibles flaring in warning or frustration — you couldn’t tell which. His pupils were blown wide, glowing faintly with whatever cocktail of instinct and venom churned in his blood.
You lifted a brow. “Relax. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.”
A harsh, rattling growl rolled through him as if to deny that statement.
You huffed out a laugh, “Oh please. My venom is coursing through your veins. If you were any other creature, you’d be slumped against a wall right now, blissed out and enjoying the high I gave you.” You let your gaze sweep over him, taking in the tremors he was barely restraining, “You’d be easy pickings for anyone who stumbled across you.”
He answered with another growl—softer this time, almost involuntary.
“I could help you, you know,” you murmured, letting your hand rest atop his chest.
Your touch stilled him instantly.
You lifted a brow, trailing a single finger down the centre of his torso in a slow, teasing line.
“Would you want that?” you purred. “I’m sure I could handle you, big guy.”
His reaction was immediate. He jerked his head sharply, mandibles flaring wide as he rasped out,
“Oomani-di pyode… weak… you die.”
You paused, blinking once in surprise.“Oh,” you breathed, realization flickering across your features as the meaning behind his words settled into place. You managed to piece together enough of his tone and intent to understand. “So you think I’m human.”
Your smile sharpened. “How adorable.”
Before he could react, you moved.
In one smooth, fluid motion, you shifted your weight, twisting beneath his braced arms. In the next instant the two of you had switched positions—your smaller frame straddling his massive torso, your thighs bracketing his hips as you pinned him to the forest floor.
“I can take much more than you think, so what do you say, big guy?”
His answer was a low growl, his hips shifting upward so his hardness ground against you. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as a soft moan escaped your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Your head dipped toward his neck, tongue dragging up the stripe of blood dripping from your bite before laving over the wound itself—your saliva healing it quickly. Meanwhile, your hips rolled back down against what you could feel was a very well-endowed length, earning another growl from him as his clawed hands gripped your waist, pressing you more firmly onto him.
Your hands wandered shamelessly down his armoured chest and toward his torso where there was no plating. His skin was softer than you expected—almost reptilian—yet you could feel the hard muscles beneath flexing at your touch. Whether it was from your gentle strokes or the coldness of your undead skin, you couldn’t be sure.
In a sudden movement, you slipped off him entirely, using your speed, and his eyes snapped open with a sharp growl. Smirking impishly, you gestured to his clothes. “You’re going to have to help me out, big guy.”
Realizing what you wanted, he began stripping away the layers between you, and you did the same. Your gaze followed every motion attentively as he finally removed what you assumed was the equivalent of a loincloth, revealing his very large and very stiff cock. It was a few shades lighter than the rest of him, and while its overall shape resembled something human, it was bigger, thicker, and marked with ridges and subtle bumps along its length.
You licked your lips in anticipation as you sped back over to him, sharply shoving his chest backward as you straddled him once again. Your dominance made his mandibles snap at you, but he didn’t fight you.
Smirking, you reached between the two of you to grasp him, your thumb sweeping over his tip to collect the drops of pre cum that had gathered there. Curiosity tugged at you as you brought it to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste him.
A low moan slipped past your lips; just like his blood, he tasted sweet and earthy. You wondered if you could keep him—your own personal walking dessert. If he was staying on Earth, you just might have to. Vampires were naturally territorial, and this alien was now yours.
Spitting into your hand to make sure it was slick, you reached down again and gave his cock a few good strokes before aligning his tip with your entrance and slowly sinking down. Your head fell back as another moan escaped you, your body stretching around him. He was most definitely the largest you’d ever taken, and the ridges along him rubbed against your walls in all the right ways, massaging sensitive nerves you hadn’t even known existed.
“Fuck,” You breathed, your hips still for a second as you savoured just how full you felt. “You really are a big guy.”
Only the tip fit inside you at first, and you slowly worked your hips to take more of him. The alien let out a series of pleasure-filled sounds—growls and sharp clicks—as he steadied you while you began to ride him. You were so tight and warm, your walls soft around his cock. Yautja females were nothing like this, and as he sank deeper into you, he wondered why his kind had never tried this before.
Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you began to move faster, pushing yourself to take him deeper. Whimpers and moans spilled past your lips; this felt even better than being blood-drunk. You doubted you could ever go back to a normal man—those bumps and ridges rubbed against you too perfectly.
“Pauk,” He growled in pleasure. You had no idea what the word meant, but the tone alone was enough for you to draw your own conclusions.
Your fangs ached, begging to drop, and you gave into the urge. Your gaze hungrily zeroed in on his muscular neck. When your eyes flicked up to the alien, you found him already watching you.
“Please,” you breathed. “Can I taste you again?”
He rumbled, shifting his head just enough for you to realize he was giving you permission. You lunged, sinking your teeth into his flesh. His blood was addictive, and you moaned as you took a mouthful. You hadn’t even realized you’d stopped moving until his hands tightened on your hips and he drove up sharply into you.
You let out a short scream of pleasure, your hands digging into his shoulder as he began to take control, fucking his cock up inside of you.
The renewed venom coursing through him sent him into a frenzy, and you only managed a few more mouthfuls of his blood before the world spun. In an instant, your face was pressed to the ground and your ass lifted high. You opened your mouth to protest, but all that escaped was a breathless moan as he slammed his cock back inside of you, using your hips as leverage and timing each pull and push so he filled you completely as he dragged you back onto him.
Stars danced across your vision from the blinding pleasure of how hard he was fucking you. A small ache built from the force of his movements, but you didn’t mind the bite of pain—if you were still human, you were certain you’d be walking funny for days with bruises to show for how hard he was gripping you.
You felt your hair gather into his hand before he yanked you up, his hips never faltering. You were nothing but a doll against his strength and size, and this time it was him pulling your head to the side. A sharp cry caught in your throat as multiple teeth sank into your neck, his mandibles locking you in place.
You’d been bitten by vampires before, so you weren’t a stranger to fangs — but this was different. There was no venom to dull the pain, no neat pair of punctures. Just rows of razor-edged teeth, and the shock of it was enough to send your body spiralling over the edge.
You tightened around him as your body began to shake with pleasure. You could hear him growling as he sped up, driving into harder as he fucked you through your orgasm. For a moment you thought he might stop, but he didn’t — his pace only quickened, inhumanely so, and you’d barely come down from your first climax before you were spiralling into your second with a scream.
He followed you this time, and you felt the hot rush of his release filling you. He slowed to a languid pace, yet kept those deep, squelching thrusts going — as if he could push his cum even further inside you. As if he could breed you.
A soft moan slipped out as your body went limp in his arms, trembling with every harsh push until he finally slowed and pulled out.
Gently, he lowered you to the ground, and you rolled onto your back, letting out a shaky breath as you looked up at him. “Fuck… I think I might just keep you.”
divider by: @sinisterexaggerator & @enchanthings
word count: 3.9k
synopsis: When an immortal vampire bites a Yautja warrior, their instincts ignite a chase that blurs the line between prey and predator.
a/n: I have had this idea for months and I finally finished it!
warning:MDNI 18+, yautja smut, biting kink, size kink, blood kink.
The city was quiet at this time of night—quieter than usual. You crouched over the lifeless body of a man in the alley, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. His blood had been enough to dull the hunger for now. Centuries of existence had taught you to take only what you needed and avoid drawing attention, but sometimes the thirst was stronger than restraint.
You let the corpse slump against the brick wall. His dead eyes stared wide and glassy, locked permanently on the last thing he’d ever see: you. Another mystery the mortals would attempt to solve, unaware the answer was standing just outside their understanding.
At first, you didn’t realize you were being tracked.
High above, across the rooftops, something moved with silent precision—following every step you took. The Yautja had come to Earth seeking a worthy hunt. Oomans were supposed to be simple prey, but the bodies he kept finding didn’t match the usual pattern. They weren’t gutted, ripped apart, or mutilated.
They were drained completely of their blood. It was a kill unlike anything he had seen before, and that alone made it worth seeking out to see if it would be a worthy hunt.
At first, his scanners showed nothing out of the ordinary. You looked ooman and, for the most part, even acted like one. But something was off. He hadn’t witnessed you kill the ooman in the alley, yet the body matched the others he’d found—drained clean of blood, with not a single mark resembling Yautja or ooman methods.
Your body temperature ran low—almost invisible to him—far too faint for a regular Oomani-di unaware they were being hunted.
However, unknown to him, you were no regular human. In fact, you weren’t human at all—at least, not anymore.
You stilled, every sense sharpening as the faintest sound and feeling told you that something was watching. Calmly, you stepped out of the alley, pulling your coat tighter against the drizzle as you continued down the empty street. Your stride remained unhurried, casual even, but your senses stayed wide open. You swept the shadows and rooftops with subtle glances, careful not to betray how closely you were paying attention. And then you saw it—just barely.
A faint distortion in the air, so slight that any normal human would have missed it entirely. If not for your enhanced sight, you wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
Certain you were being followed, you took a sudden, sharp turn down a narrow side street—a bend that would hide you from sight for only a moment. It was all the opportunity you needed. In the instant you slipped out of his line of vision, you took the opportunity to use your speed.
Your presence vanished from his scanners in an instant.
He let out a frustrated growl, the sound low and vibrating through the rain-slick alley. The air around him shimmered as his cloak disengaged, revealing the towering form of your hunter. He scanned the area in sharp, jerking motions, confusion simmering beneath the clicks and hisses of irritation.
“Now, you don’t look like the Catholic Church,” you purred from behind him.
He spun around immediately, an animalistic growl coming from him as he shifted into a defensive stance. You lounged casually against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed as though this were little more than a late-night conversation.
“Which begs the question,” you continued, voice smooth as velvet, “who and what are you… and why the hell are you following me?”
You didn’t move, letting him take you in. You kept your posture relaxed, eyeing the the seven-foot alien pointing weapons your way, as if he were simply an inconvenience. Your head tilted slightly, eyes gleaming with the same hunger that had unsettled men for centuries.
“Interesting,” you murmured, unbothered by the three red targeting beams of his plasma caster sitting squarely on your chest. “You’re not human. That much is obvious. But you bleed, don’t you?”
The growl he gave in response vibrated deep and resonant, animalistic in sound. You found yourself briefly wondering what hid behind the metal plating—what expression, what face, you could feel the intelligence he held. He was wholly focused on you, no doubt assessing you.
Still, you only cocked your head curiously, lips curling faintly to reveal the barest hint of your fangs.
“Careful,” you murmured, voice dropping to a low, teasing warning. “I bite.”
For the first time in centuries, you felt something stir that wasn’t hunger or boredom. He wasn’t prey—and you weren’t entirely sure he saw you as prey either.
He moved first.
The plasma caster on his shoulder gave a sharp, rising whine before it spat fire, the bolt slamming into the stone where you’d stood a heartbeat earlier. You were already gone, slipping several paces away in a blur faster than any human could ever hope to move.
“Now that was rude,” you scolded, clicking your tongue. “Has your kind never heard of ladies first?”
He whipped around, a clacking sound coming from him in a way that conveyed harsh display of irritation, just in time for you to launch yourself at him. You were faster than he expected—faster than most creatures he’d ever hunted. You ducked beneath the arc of his wrist blades, momentum carrying you upward as you climbed his broad frame like a cat scaling a tree.
Your fingers hooked into the leather harness across his chest, muscles coiling as you used the strap to swing yourself up onto his back. The heavy, rope-like dreadlocks brushed against your cheek as you shoved them aside in search of exposed skin. In the process, your hand clipped the edge of his mask—sending it flying off his face and clattering across the alley.
You didn’t pause.
Your fangs sank into the thick hide of his shoulder. His blood flooded your mouth—thick, hot, and spiced with something distinctly alien. Your venom slipped into his bloodstream instantly, long before he could reach back to tear you away.
The roar that tore from his chest was deafening. One clawed hand shot back, seizing you with brutal force and ripping you off his shoulder. The next second, he hurled you across the alley. Your body struck the stone wall hard enough to crack the masonry, dust raining down in a gritty shower.
You rose smoothly regardless, brushing debris from your sleeve as if he had done nothing more than shove you aside. You took a short moment to study his face. His skin was a mottled pattern of rough, reptilian texture. Four mandibles framed his mouth, flexing with sharp clicks of agitation. His eyes—deep-set and predatory—burned with fierce golden fury, pupils narrowing as they tracked your every movement. Bone ridges curved along his brow, giving his face an almost crown-like structure.
He definitely wasn’t human—nor did he resemble one in the slightest.
A smear of bright green blood marked your lip. You lifted a finger to collect it, studying the glowing drop for a heartbeat before slipping it between your lips. The taste hit your tongue—surprisingly sweet at first, then earthy, rich in a way no human blood had ever been. Alien, strange… but not unpleasant.
Your brows lifted in mild surprise.
“You know… you taste surprisingly delicious,” you remarked, licking the last trace from your fingertip.
He stalked toward you, growls reverberating from deep in his chest, his plasma caster lowering in favour of blades and claws. But you only tilted your head, watching him with curiosity rather than fear. Your venom was already threading its way through his system—you could see it in the way his stance shifted, the sudden stumble in his step, the faint hitch in his breath as his body fought something entirely unfamiliar.
He shook his head hard, a guttural growl ripping from his throat. One clawed hand smacked against the side of his head, as though he could physically shake the haze free. The world around him tilted—colours bled brighter around the edges, his own pulse hammering louder than a storm.
By the time he managed to steady himself, you were already gone.
The alley lay empty except for the shattered stone. His blood dripped steadily from the wound on his shoulder where your fangs had pierced him. He turned in a slow circle, mandibles twitching with agitation, mask sensors sweeping desperately for any trace of you. No heat signature. No presence. Nothing. You had vanished, slipping into the night with that maddening ease that mocked him.
A deep, frustrated roar shook the ruined walls, sending a flock of pigeons exploding into the air. His fists clenched tight, claws scraping hard against the metal of his gauntlets. For the first time in a very long while, the hunter was the one being toyed with.
And worse, he could feel your venom threading through his system like fire, the unfamiliar feeling awakening his nerves. It wasn’t poison in any way he recognized. His muscles weren’t weakening. His lungs weren’t failing. Instead, his body burned. Heat coiled low in his loins. It was as if his body was cycling through a rut which shouldn’t have happened for many more months.
His cycle had been pushed abruptly, unnaturally forward, triggered by your bite.
In his eyes, you hadn’t just bitten him. You had marked him. A female stronger than he was had laid claim—an act that, in his species, carried deep biological weight. His body recognized it instantly, responding with the most primal instinct encoded into his kind: the drive to answer a dominant female’s claim, to prove himself worthy and breed with her.
A deep, rumbling snarl vibrated in his chest as he straightened to his full height. The venom rushing through him like a command, urging him to hunt, to chase, to complete the mating cycle that had begun.
In one powerful leap, he launched himself up the fire escape, claws scraping metal as he scaled the building in seconds. Once he reached the rooftop, he paused, mandibles twitching as he inhaled deeply.
There—faint, almost nonexistent, but unmistakable.
You.
Your scent lingered in the air, floral and earthy with a note of something ancient woven through it. The moment it touched his senses, the fire roaring through his blood flared even hotter. His whole body tightened with the instinctive recognition.
He didn’t hesitate.
He propelled himself forward, barreling across the rooftops with single-minded intensity. His claws dug into brick and concrete as he tore through the night, driven by the powerful urge coiling through his veins.
You were no longer simply prey. You were the only thing his body demanded he pursue and he was answering that call.
Meanwhile, you were already nearing the borders of the city when a distant roar echoed across the buildings—the sound low and furious.
It made you smirk.
“Persistent,” you murmured, amused.
But you weren’t bothered. You’d put enough distance between you and him. The venom should have left him dazed, disoriented, eventually taking over no matter how hard he tried to fight it. There was no conceivable way he’d catch you tonight.
Confident in that belief, you slipped your hands into your coat pockets and wandered down the empty street toward the rural outskirts where your home waited. The night air was calm, the sky moonless, a perfect blanket of darkness that had always suited you. Your footsteps were unhurried, relaxed. After centuries of existing as the apex predator, it was far too easy to feel untouchable.
So you didn’t expect him to track you this quickly.
You didn’t expect him to fight through the venom.
And you certainly didn’t expect him to continue the hunt.
Something slammed into you with the force of a charging bull.
A startled scream tore from your throat as your body lifted clean off the ground and crashed into the tree line. Bark exploded around you, the impact rattling your bones before you hit the dirt and dead leaves in a harsh tumble.
The world spun. Branches snapped.
A heavy, growling shape loomed over you.
Your fangs dropped in instinctive anger, a vicious hiss ripping from your throat as you tried to shove yourself upright. But before you could rise even an inch, a massive clawed hand slammed into the soil beside your head, sinking deep and pinning you down with sheer weight and presence.
The forest floor trembled beneath him. His breaths were sharp and ragged, each one vibrating through the ground and into your ribs.
You bared your teeth; he bared his mandibles.
For a heartbeat, the two of you only glared—two predators locked in a silent snarl.
Then—you felt it.
Something hard pressed against your thigh. You stilled as you realized what you were feeling. The anger bleeding out for curiosity and your head tilted as you studied the alien above you.
Your lips parted in a small, incredulous breath. “Well,” you murmured, voice no longer furious but edged with fascinated disbelief, “that explains why you’re acting like a wild animal.”
It wasn’t uncommon for your venom to leave victims aroused, but it usually pushed them into a dreamy, complacent euphoric haze, so relaxed that they were too high to do much of anything.
But this alien was different. He was very much aware and very much aroused. Your venom hadn’t softened him at all. Instead, it seemed to have hit his system like pure adrenaline, flooding him with sharp, restless energy rather than dulling his senses.
He let out a low, guttural growl, his entire frame trembling as he fought the instincts surging through him. The massive, sharp-clawed hand beside your head dug deeper into the soil, carving a trench into the earth from the sheer force of his restraint.
You watched him carefully. After centuries of existence—and the dull, monotonous routine that came with immortality—very little managed to catch your interest anymore. Most of your human values and morals had long since eroded with time, which was precisely why you found yourself even considering helping this creature.
Even lying with humans had lost all appeal; they were too fragile, too easily breakable beneath your strength. As for your own kind, they were an option in theory, but you had never been particularly fond of them. Their company grew stale, their egos unbearable, their unpredictability irritating rather than exciting.
You exhaled slowly. “Well… You’re certainly in a predicament,” you murmured.
His head snapped toward you, mandibles flaring in warning or frustration — you couldn’t tell which. His pupils were blown wide, glowing faintly with whatever cocktail of instinct and venom churned in his blood.
You lifted a brow. “Relax. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.”
A harsh, rattling growl rolled through him as if to deny that statement.
You huffed out a laugh, “Oh please. My venom is coursing through your veins. If you were any other creature, you’d be slumped against a wall right now, blissed out and enjoying the high I gave you.” You let your gaze sweep over him, taking in the tremors he was barely restraining, “You’d be easy pickings for anyone who stumbled across you.”
He answered with another growl—softer this time, almost involuntary.
“I could help you, you know,” you murmured, letting your hand rest atop his chest.
Your touch stilled him instantly.
You lifted a brow, trailing a single finger down the centre of his torso in a slow, teasing line.
“Would you want that?” you purred. “I’m sure I could handle you, big guy.”
His reaction was immediate. He jerked his head sharply, mandibles flaring wide as he rasped out,
“Oomani-di pyode… weak… you die.”
You paused, blinking once in surprise.“Oh,” you breathed, realization flickering across your features as the meaning behind his words settled into place. You managed to piece together enough of his tone and intent to understand. “So you think I’m human.”
Your smile sharpened. “How adorable.”
Before he could react, you moved.
In one smooth, fluid motion, you shifted your weight, twisting beneath his braced arms. In the next instant the two of you had switched positions—your smaller frame straddling his massive torso, your thighs bracketing his hips as you pinned him to the forest floor.
“I can take much more than you think, so what do you say, big guy?”
His answer was a low growl, his hips shifting upward so his hardness ground against you. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as a soft moan escaped your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Your head dipped toward his neck, tongue dragging up the stripe of blood dripping from your bite before laving over the wound itself—your saliva healing it quickly. Meanwhile, your hips rolled back down against what you could feel was a very well-endowed length, earning another growl from him as his clawed hands gripped your waist, pressing you more firmly onto him.
Your hands wandered shamelessly down his armoured chest and toward his torso where there was no plating. His skin was softer than you expected—almost reptilian—yet you could feel the hard muscles beneath flexing at your touch. Whether it was from your gentle strokes or the coldness of your undead skin, you couldn’t be sure.
In a sudden movement, you slipped off him entirely, using your speed, and his eyes snapped open with a sharp growl. Smirking impishly, you gestured to his clothes. “You’re going to have to help me out, big guy.”
Realizing what you wanted, he began stripping away the layers between you, and you did the same. Your gaze followed every motion attentively as he finally removed what you assumed was the equivalent of a loincloth, revealing his very large and very stiff cock. It was a few shades lighter than the rest of him, and while its overall shape resembled something human, it was bigger, thicker, and marked with ridges and subtle bumps along its length.
You licked your lips in anticipation as you sped back over to him, sharply shoving his chest backward as you straddled him once again. Your dominance made his mandibles snap at you, but he didn’t fight you.
Smirking, you reached between the two of you to grasp him, your thumb sweeping over his tip to collect the drops of pre cum that had gathered there. Curiosity tugged at you as you brought it to your lips, your tongue darting out to taste him.
A low moan slipped past your lips; just like his blood, he tasted sweet and earthy. You wondered if you could keep him—your own personal walking dessert. If he was staying on Earth, you just might have to. Vampires were naturally territorial, and this alien was now yours.
Spitting into your hand to make sure it was slick, you reached down again and gave his cock a few good strokes before aligning his tip with your entrance and slowly sinking down. Your head fell back as another moan escaped you, your body stretching around him. He was most definitely the largest you’d ever taken, and the ridges along him rubbed against your walls in all the right ways, massaging sensitive nerves you hadn’t even known existed.
“Fuck,” You breathed, your hips still for a second as you savoured just how full you felt. “You really are a big guy.”
Only the tip fit inside you at first, and you slowly worked your hips to take more of him. The alien let out a series of pleasure-filled sounds—growls and sharp clicks—as he steadied you while you began to ride him. You were so tight and warm, your walls soft around his cock. Yautja females were nothing like this, and as he sank deeper into you, he wondered why his kind had never tried this before.
Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you began to move faster, pushing yourself to take him deeper. Whimpers and moans spilled past your lips; this felt even better than being blood-drunk. You doubted you could ever go back to a normal man—those bumps and ridges rubbed against you too perfectly.
“Pauk,” He growled in pleasure. You had no idea what the word meant, but the tone alone was enough for you to draw your own conclusions.
Your fangs ached, begging to drop, and you gave into the urge. Your gaze hungrily zeroed in on his muscular neck. When your eyes flicked up to the alien, you found him already watching you.
“Please,” you breathed. “Can I taste you again?”
He rumbled, shifting his head just enough for you to realize he was giving you permission. You lunged, sinking your teeth into his flesh. His blood was addictive, and you moaned as you took a mouthful. You hadn’t even realized you’d stopped moving until his hands tightened on your hips and he drove up sharply into you.
You let out a short scream of pleasure, your hands digging into his shoulder as he began to take control, fucking his cock up inside of you.
The renewed venom coursing through him sent him into a frenzy, and you only managed a few more mouthfuls of his blood before the world spun. In an instant, your face was pressed to the ground and your ass lifted high. You opened your mouth to protest, but all that escaped was a breathless moan as he slammed his cock back inside of you, using your hips as leverage and timing each pull and push so he filled you completely as he dragged you back onto him.
Stars danced across your vision from the blinding pleasure of how hard he was fucking you. A small ache built from the force of his movements, but you didn’t mind the bite of pain—if you were still human, you were certain you’d be walking funny for days with bruises to show for how hard he was gripping you.
You felt your hair gather into his hand before he yanked you up, his hips never faltering. You were nothing but a doll against his strength and size, and this time it was him pulling your head to the side. A sharp cry caught in your throat as multiple teeth sank into your neck, his mandibles locking you in place.
You’d been bitten by vampires before, so you weren’t a stranger to fangs — but this was different. There was no venom to dull the pain, no neat pair of punctures. Just rows of razor-edged teeth, and the shock of it was enough to send your body spiralling over the edge.
You tightened around him as your body began to shake with pleasure. You could hear him growling as he sped up, driving into harder as he fucked you through your orgasm. For a moment you thought he might stop, but he didn’t — his pace only quickened, inhumanely so, and you’d barely come down from your first climax before you were spiralling into your second with a scream.
He followed you this time, and you felt the hot rush of his release filling you. He slowed to a languid pace, yet kept those deep, squelching thrusts going — as if he could push his cum even further inside you. As if he could breed you.
A soft moan slipped out as your body went limp in his arms, trembling with every harsh push until he finally slowed and pulled out.
Gently, he lowered you to the ground, and you rolled onto your back, letting out a shaky breath as you looked up at him. “Fuck… I think I might just keep you.”
It’s after a battle and he’s still covered in sweat with his enemies’ blood on his hands.
And he wants to know what a human would feel like wrapped around cock.
He takes no hesitation in grabbing you, stripping you, putting you down on a surface. But you notice, that despite his violent nature, he doesn’t hurt you. He could rip you apart, split you in two but his curiosity keeps you intact and whole.
But his lust keeps you pinned. Keeps him rutting against you until the heat between your legs forces a moan from your lips. He laughs, tusks clacking and he knows he has you. Pathetic and wanting your captor to do as he pleases.
Sweat or slick isn’t near enough to accommodate his size and he has to use lube. It’s everywhere and wet and suddenly he’s everywhere and wet; arms on either side of you, sweat pooling off his chest. His cock pushes into you, barely an inch, then two. He’ll split you in two, one way or another.
But he doesn’t thrust in, not out of kindness or even size. You realize when you hear him sigh in a way you’ve never heard him before. Soft, strained with want and desire, but succumbing to your heat, your tightness that’s too much for him. He’s never been inside a human’s tight hole and you’re his first.
It does something to you, stirs in your stomach. It hurts when you arch your hips back, to force him to slide deeper, to take just one more inch.
You’re the one to make the warlord unravel before he can truly complete his conquest.
He comes hard, inside, on you, your hair, the bed.
He pulls back and leaves you gaping, filled and spilling his cum. Breathless. You’re both breathless.
But he grabs you.l and roars. There are guards by the door who heard, maybe saw, their leader last no more than 5 minutes with a wretched human.
“Ooman sorcery.” He grows to you and your collar translates for you. “I have mounted many before you and you are no acception.”
Except you are. He pins you again, forces you to look at him, your face in his claws. He could crush your skull but he leans in close. He can smell him; the earth, sweat, blood, iron. He overwhelms you, stirring the unsatisfied heat in your stomach.
“You will fit me.” He threatens, promises. “I will not be undone by a human. I will train you. And I will have you.”
fire twirling / eating
- they will always love watching people risk their lives.
martial arts tournaments
- the structure, the discipline, the mutual respect between opponents, it all appeals to them.
professional wrestling
- they might need to it be explained to them that it's all a big show but they would find it amusing, comical even.
Ninja Warrior
- humans showing off their agility, strength, and bravery reminds the Yautja why they are worthy prey.
fencing
- not as brutal or bloody as they prefer, but like the martial arts tournaments it's all about the technique and the respect between opponents.
cooking competitions
- some curious about human culture might be interested in learning about their cuisine, and adding a competitive edge makes it more entertaining for them.
acrobatics / gymnastics
- some might enjoy the displays of strength and grace, the precision.
Human things yautja would not enjoy watching
reality shows
- they don't get it. Why do the humans all stay in the house if they hate each other so much?
soap operas
- they don't find the petty drama of humans all that interesting.
sitcoms
- again, they are confused. Why do the humans constantly miscommunicate, they are not typically this stupid. Why would that human female choose such a slovenly male for a mate?
• Sure 95% of them are, Especially with how dangerous they are and how so many of those who wish to be Blooded hunters die.
• But those 5%
• There has to be those funny weird moments.
• These are skill young Yautja afterall.
• We all saw how Scar pulled a prank of Lex
• There is a level of immaturity still being broken out of them
• Dek even had a few moments despite trying to act tough.
• So there are some comical moments despite trying to attack and claim their spots with the skull of their Xenomorph or Hunt.
• Wouldn't be the first time a Yautja went in for an attack and messing up a bit.
• Even Celtic on a solo mission before he went to earth had attacked his prey and unfortunately was met with a rather ungrateful fall. Cursing as he fell down the side of the cliff bouncing on rocks- or the far too loud squeal that left him when he managed to catch some air.
• A few Yautja have even found themselves waddling through mud since they were trying to use some tracking and fell in- Sucks having a heat signature at times especially if it means trying to crawl through mud
• Or even humiliating things as trying to use the restroom and getting caught.
• Nothing like trying to take a piss and being eye to eye with your hunt...
• However the most common 'comedic' moment in hunts is when a tool breaks.
• Yautja when they are learning are purposely given shit equipment, so having a moment were something just stops working-
• Not exactly the most prideful of moments. Especially if you see the Yautja fiddling with it, or even hitting it with their palm like it was a shitty remote in order to get it to work.
Mini Story! - Yautja Reader
Your father Sh'Rai looked at you, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A rumble in his chest as he was confused- you had informed him you had completed your hunt..
Yet he saw no trophy?
'Where is the Trophy (Y/N)?'
'On the Ship-'
'Why is it on the ship?'
'...I don't know how to get it off of the ship'
He paused genuinely looking confused at his now Blooded child.
"Show me-"
The Elder slowly turned his head to the side as he looked at something he'd never actually seen before.
A Xenomorph with a spear through its neck up its mouth and awkwardly into the ships side- but it's entire torso was the problem... Protruding out of the the side of the ship with both legs shot out in their direction as if someone tried to shove it through a small hole and its body was cramped and now stuck out since it hadnt broken the skin the acid actually didnt break so the leathery hide turned into a plug truly a one in a million chance.
He stood there as he watched the recording of inside of the ship.
You had fought well a swell of pride going through his chest, you had hunted and fought well even when the creature found its way to yoir ship spearing it though however in a awkward position.
Watching the recording as you stood there for a moment clearly trying to catch your breath.
'Well I killed it on the ship... And uh, I couldn't get the spear out of it. So I was gonna pull it out once in space-'
He watched further as then it seemed once out of orbit the Xenomorph torso shot through the hole of the ship crumbling in on itself.
'-It plugged up the hole with its body and now you don't know how to get it out'
'Without destroying the ship further..'
'Or your Trophy..'
The two of yoj stood there, Arms crossed over your chest in the exact same pose. Head cocked to the side as you mentally tried to figure out how to get the rightful trophy free.
'Maybe...'
You started but stopped.
'How about-'
Sh'Rai started but also stopped. Moving forward a second and leaning in to scope out a solution but saw none
...
'Damn the Ship get your Trophy'
He finally said as he waved his hand off and walked off the hull of the ship. You growling to yourself as you looked up the ceiling of the ship and closed your eyes, Pulling your knife from your side and pouting.
You got a job as a linguist to push paper and sit in the aircon. So, why is it that you find yourself sweating to death in the middle of an alien jungle, staring at Yautja warriors running at you with swords? This cannot be good.
ao3 // main masterlist // scientific guide masterlist
It was late when Tau stumbled through the door, lugging a huge canvas bag behind them. The fabric stretched taut at its seams, and it looked like the shape of whatever was crammed inside had sharp corners that jutted out, threatening to puncture the bag as they shlepped it down the skinny hallway.
Your space vessel was small, and the living quarters left much to be desired. You were lucky enough to have a private cell, but Tau had set up their cot in the operations terminal, keeping odd hours as they ran ping after ping, hunting down artifacts and ruins as you travelled through alien territory. Over the past two months, you’d slowly managed to commandeer what was intended to be their side of the cell, shoving the beds together, sleeping in absolute luxury.
As you chewed through a dry, mysterious ration bar, you sighed, thinking ruefully to yourself: Yeah, luxury. Right.
You peered out into the hall and watched Tau struggle. The lanky anthropologist glared up at you, throwing up their arms and complaining, “You just gonna stand there and watch, or are you gonna actually use those muscles for something other than the gym?”
Sighing, you shuffled into the main capsule of the station which served as the lab slash kitchen slash sitting room, and you helped lug the sack onto a large, flat table, dumping the contents out with a few good shakes.
From the mouth of the bag, three tablets fell onto the metal workstation, each covered in runic writing that you immediately recognized.
“Oh, fuck no. Take these back right fucking now, Taubert. I mean it.” You stepped away from the large stone tablets as if they had burned you.
“What? What’s wrong?” They came and stood beside you, looking over your shoulder at their haul.
The tablets were black with deeply-carved etchings, and the very first word was one that you knew quite well.
Hish-qu-Ten.
“This is a Yautja tablet, Tau. And I need you,” you lowered your voice, hoping the tablets couldn’t hear you, “to take these back to where you found them.”
“No,” Tau threw up their hands, “We need the credits, babe. And Yautja don’t come to this sector. Look.”
Tau showed you the scanner on their datapad, targeting Yautja-class ship signatures and cloaking devices. No trace. Not even a week-old pulse trail. You let out a long, ragged sigh.
“We don’t need the credits that bad. No one’s gonna want some smelly old tablets anyway,” you argued, stepping forward to inspect the writing again, your curiosity overwhelming your fear. “And these are ancient. Like… too ancient. Wait a minute…”
Tau called out over their shoulder, collapsing into their hammock in the operation bubble, “Good luck! Don’t wake me unless you wanna get stabbed.”
“Motherfucker.” You murmured under your breath.
But, your bark had lost its bite. As you took a closer look at the writing, you realized that these tablets had been written in Old Yautja, in a time between the rise of the Hish and the predators you knew - and avoided - so well.
When you’d signed on to be a xenolinguist for Ryzom Incorporated, you’d expected a boring office job full of run-of-the-mill translations and transcriptions. But, when Tau’s partner had fallen ill last season, you jumped at the chance to be on the scavenging – correction: salvaging – team. You still weren’t sure you’d made the right call. A find like this, though…
Tau’s left eye popped open, and they glared at you, “You’re loud. What did you find?”
“This is a prayer to the Goddess Kayana, and I think… No. That can’t be right.” You looked at the second tablet, trying to figure out the strange syntactic formations that were so different from modern Yautja. “I think it’s a map.”
“A map!” Tau leapt up, almost getting tangled in their hammock’s net, and stumbled over to you, “A map means treasure.”
You sighed, laying the three tablets out side by side, inspecting them more closely, “Treasure? Or just more broken pots and bowls? I know it’s the same to you, Tauchie.”
“I’m an anthropologist,” Tau shrugged, “Pots and bowls are where I shine. And if you throw a little gold leaf on the edge, rich schmucks will pour credits right into your grubby little hands.”
They made a grabby motion in front of your face, watching you stare past them to untangle the translation.
“This line here – the word jkh’iu – it’s changed forms over time but it’s a meeting place. Sort of like a gathering point. But, this word… naa’iish-i'ythei… I don’t think that’s right. It should be chi'ytei. No fucking clue what the nasal is doing in the beginning. And the second vowel is lengthened… a missing coda, perhaps.”
“I think I know some of those words you just said. Can you give me some map coordinates, or…?” Tau snapped impatiently.
“Tau,” you looked up at them, your eyes wide and threatening, “This is six thousand years old. Give me a goddamn minute.”
Tau sighed, but they plopped down into the creaky chair at the foot of the table and fidgeted just out of your reach.
You went back to the tablets, looking again, racking your brain for ideas on what this could mean.
“What’s a chai-yeti, anyways?” Tau quipped, badly mispronouncing the Yautja verbal participle.
Rolling your eyes, you tried to explain in terms that Tau’s dusty brain could understand. “Chi'ytei is from the root chiryt-, which means to hold or to embrace. The -ei suffix is typically the agentive case marker. Yautja – obviously – is an active-stative language. So that’s wh–”
“A what now?” Tau pursed their lips, not allowing you to go too far off on your tangent.
“Look, if I slap you,” which you very much wanted to do, “then I am the agent of the slapping, and you are the patient. So, in active sentences, for the most part, I mean… There are some exceptions in Kartvelian languages like Geor–”
“You’re about to be the patient of my slap, word girl.”
You closed your lips into a flat line, huffing through your nose, slowing your explanation down to cave-person speeds.
“In active sentences, the agent of the verb – the one who slaps – is the subject, and the patient – the one being slapped – is the object. So, in words like chiryt- you should expect an embracer and an embrace-ee. Comprende?”
“Okay, and so what’s the problem?”
“This isn’t an active sentence. It’s passive. Like… The lamp broke.”
“What lamp?”
“No! Like, in English, the sentence: The lamp broke. The lamp didn’t break anything. It didn’t like, stab itself.” You threw up your hands. “It was the thing being broken, so it should be the patient. But, it’s not the object; it’s the subject of the sentence. So, that’s why it’s passive.”
Tau’s eyes looked like they had glazed over. You regrouped.
“Okay, in this sentence, it says: Tharin-dhaa ket sh’ naa’iish-i'ythei drai m’lar'jha rki. Which word-for-word makes no sense. It would be something like: strength have for something hold, or embrace, within dark temple. Which, the last part just refers to a temple that is enclosed and not open to the elements or else it would be vayuh'ta rki, or something like that.”
“So, maybe like,” Tau waved their hands as if trying to come up with words on their own, “Have strength to embrace something in the temple?”
“Indoor temple,” you corrected.
“Indoor temple, right.” They put their hands on the sides of their head as if trying to keep their brains from slipping out through their oversized ears. “So what is the word you don’t know?”
“This one,” you pointed to the first tablet, “It’s spelled naa’ii- here. It could be naaniink, which means like a traditionally cooked clarified butter sauce, or it could be anaina, which means galaxy. I guess it could be nain-, but that’s not a word in Yautja. It’s just a participle.”
“What does it mean? Because I don’t think these mofos are holding butter sauce with strength in the temple, genius.” Tau’s snark was going to give you a fucking aneurysm.
“Well, nain-de means ‘to hunt’ in modern Yautja, or technically, it means ‘to cause to become prey’. Whatever. But, nain doesn’t appear by itself. It requires the causative marker.”
“What is a hunting embrace?” Tau scrunched up their nose, trying to solve the puzzle.
“No idea. But, I guess we’ll find out. Coordinates are marked on the last slab. Here ya go, tiger. Pots and bowls await.” You scribbled the coordinates onto their datapad and passed it over to them.
With a very annoying exclamation of glee, Tau jumped out of their chair and raced to the operations desk, typing in the heading and slamming the warp button, flinging the station into hyperspace. They were shouting over their shoulder at you, trying to talk above the whir of the engine core, “It’s really close! Should be there in no time. Suit up, soldier!”
“Me? You love getting your hands dirty. Think of the pots! The bowls! So much flatware. Exciting.” You tried to convince Tau to take your spot. You didn’t want to wander around some smelly old temple.
“No can do. I’m timed out for the week. Company policy. But, don’t worry! You’ll be fine.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
When you beamed yourself down to the planet’s surface, you decided that you most certainly were not fine. This place was a shithole.
The atmosphere was breathable, but it was hot and humid like a sauna in a rainforest. Everything around you was covered in some sticky sort of ivy, its tendrils wrapping around huge trees and overgrowing across the native shrubbery like a lime green blanket. The sky was egg yolk yellow, and a misty fog hung low over the ground, making your once-dry clothes very, very damp.
You saw the temple ahead, the angular Yautja architecture sticking out of the botanicals like a sore thumb. Their territorial race had very little need for aesthetics; it was all about efficiency.
“Ugh,” you groaned, tightening your empty rucksack around your chest and beginning the gross walk into the temple.
“Hey,” Tau’s tinny voice came through your headset, “I can hear you complaining down there.”
“Shut up.” You huffed, marching through the underbrush with a purpose.
Get in, get bowls, get out. That was your only job.
Once you got close to the temple, Tau started in on their pottery bullshit.
“Can you see any fragments yet? Evidence of their civilization? Rubbish piles are really common outsi–”
“I’m not digging through ancient trash, you fucking nerd. If I see a bowl, I’ll pick it up. I promise.”
“Wait -ksht- don’t -ksht- in the -ksht- there’s -ksht- out -ksht-”
“Tau?” You stopped walking. You put your hand on the headset as if your touch was somehow going to magically mend it. “Tau! Fix your shit!”
Nothing but static came back through your receiver.
“Tauko? Fuck!” You threw up your hands and marched into the large mouth of the temple.
Tau had promised to beam you back up in four hours, so you decided that you might as well get started on bowl hunting. At least you didn’t have to listen to their crap the whole time you were sweating your ass off down here.
The inside of the temple was surprisingly cool. The contrast to the absolutely steamy situation outside was a delight, and you stripped off your outer layer as soon as you could. Just like Tau said, there were some little piles of whatever rocks and broken bones and other useless snuts in the corners of the main entry way. You ignored them, hoping for more profitable finds deeper inside the structure.
You wanted rooms upon rooms, troves of treasure in piles so high that you couldn’t carry them – the real tomb-raider experience! But when you made it through the antechamber and into the main part of the structure, you realized that this was pretty much it.
Stretching out before you was a large stone pad surrounded by dark, black waters. You didn’t even want to guess what was lurking in there, so you steered clear of the edges, making a bee-line for the middle of the huge arching room. The ceiling of the structure must have been more than twenty meters high, and the urge to make your voice echo through the building was too great.
“Hello!”
Hello… hello… hello… Your own voice echoed back.
Suddenly, the entire room was bathed in an orange light emanating from the watery moat that surrounded you. A glowing wall blocked your exit and a voice came through the temple as your blood ran cold through your veins.
“Hey! Hey-hey-hey. No, don’t– Don’t commence! Stop commencing!”
The orange wall began to come towards you, and you backed up, quickly, until you were on the center of the circular pad. Luckily, the barrier wall stopped at the edge, keeping you prisoner.
You approached it, but it was very warm. Warm enough to know that if you reached out with your hand, it would burn you.
In a white flash of light, far outside the circle near the entrance, two figures beamed into the temple. Your heart stuttered hard enough to send a jolt of pain through your chest.
Yautja.
“Oh, fuck,” you felt your stomach sink into your feet. You were dead.
You pulled out your lampstick and brandished it like the world’s saddest weapon and held it in front of you. With any luck, the Yautja warriors would have to brush right past it as they came to chop you into little pieces.
You watched them take in their surroundings. They were a hunting pair. Although Yautja anthropology was never a topic you’d been interested in, you’d taken to the language quite well. You knew enough about them to understand the basics of their honor-based culture, intent on hunting the biggest and baddest prey in all of the galaxy, but beyond that, you were at a loss.
You should have spent more time in that xenoanthropology course back in uni. Maybe you’d have a better chance at surviving this encounter than relying on the flimsy, plastic light tube in your shaking hand.
But, it was too late for that, now.
The leader, the larger one, wore a full face mask with long tendrils hanging over his shoulders. He was in dark armor, and he strode up to you like he was in a big goddamn hurry. But, as he held out his sword, pointing at you, you watched in horror as the sword fell into your little circle and the rest of him… fucking disintegrated?
“Holy shit!” You backed away, but you tried not to step too far lest you would be vaporized as well. Then, thinking of a better plan, you scrambled for his fallen sword, tossing away your lampstick and trying your best to lift the heavy blade.
The handle was too thick for your small human hands, but it was well-balanced, and so you managed to hang on.
“Stay back!” You shouted at the other one, “Or I’ll… I’ll zap you, too, motherfucker!”
You said a series of prayers that the orange circle would hold, and you watched the other hunter remove his helmet and roar in a fit of rage over his fallen companion.
“Ell-osde pauk, lou-dte kalei!” He shouted, his mouth widening as he snapped his fangs at you.
With your extensive knowledge, you could translate a Fuck you, bitch! in just about any language, and modern Yautja was no different. But, the computer voice that the orange light belonged to decided that you needed to hear it in English, as well. “Fuck you, weak child-bearer,” the synthetic voice translated flatly.
You sighed, knowing enough to understand that these people didn’t do apologies. So, instead of trying to get him to see reason, you doubled down.
“Yeah? Fuck you, too, buddy. Come a little closer and get zapped!” You brandished the sword in what you hoped was a threatening way.
“Sei’i? Ell-osde'pauk-dhak’de, mei'hswei. Dtai'k-dte nini s’ thei-de-ket!” The ancient computer voice translated your threat for you.
“Gee, thanks,” you mumbled sarcastically, unable to hold back your annoyance at this machine.
He replied with a sickening roar, which apparently did not warrant a translation. Then, he came closer to the circle, raising his weapon above his head and bringing it down in a slashing motion. His blade cut through the force field, accomplishing nothing.
The Yautja looked at you, and you looked back at him, both of you a little uncertain. Then, just as he was about to step away, the stone plate that he was standing on glowed red hot and then flashed, killing him as it sliced him in half vertically.
Green, glowing Yautja blood sprayed across your face and you couldn’t help but scream. Then, as your cry echoed out into the temple, it was quiet again. The half-body of the warrior lay oozing in front of you, and you tried not to gag.
But, just as you were about to try and reconnect to Tau’s signal, the orange forcefield flickered and went dark.
“No…” You stared at the space in horror, waving your arm tentatively in front of where it should be, begging it to come back on. “No! Computer! Hey! Come back. Please-please-please. Oh, my God, please come back. Open! Hey! Hello! Oh, fuck…”
You stood there, shaking like a leaf with no idea what to do. You wanted to run but it was like your body was glued to the spot.
Then, you realized, you had the worst luck ever.
In the same place where the others had materialized, another white flash broke through the shadows of the temple. A lone Yautja stood at the entrance, and he held a long sword in his hand. Upon seeing the body of his fellow warrior, he approached with caution, his eyes gleaming in the low light of the building.
You shouted, “Don’t come any closer!”
The computer did not translate for you. Thirty minutes was apparently your limit on this particular ride.
“Uh…” You tried to translate as best you could, “M-di chiva s’ ell-osdha! No trial for you! Go back. Um, go back s’ tyioe-ti-elln, while you still can. Alright?”
You raised the sword up a little more, trying to keep the tip from shaking in your weakening grip.
Then, he looked at you with a curious expression, and he replied in a growly, guttural sort of English. “You come to temple of Kayana on night of blood moon, ooman, and you kill two hunters.” If Yautja could smile, he would be wearing one right now, “You are worthy mate. Blessing of Kayana will be mine.”
The Yautja hunter stepped closer, advancing on you with confidence. His green-hued skin was dotted with brown and black spots, and you could see now just how much bigger he was than you by comparison. His body was immense, and his muscles made him wide and imposing, the prominent scars of past injuries raised on the surface of his flesh, the flesh dark and gnarled where he had been cut and bitten and who knows what other wounds.
“Woah, woah… what?” You held up one of your hands and backed away slowly. “Did you say mate?”
“You test my strength as well.” He seemed intrigued but not surprised. “Good. I will feel your wrath against me.”
Then, he rushed you. With whatever survival instinct you had left, you slid out from his open-armed swipe and tried to cut at his leg with the blade that you’d stolen. But, he was too quick for you, and your sword hit nothing but air.
“I killed them!” You shouted. “And I’ll kill you, too! Leave while you still can.” You hoped your threat would be enough.
“Leaving this naa’iish-i'ythei is dishonorable.” The male’s face twisted into a sort of expression of disgust. Then, he studied you closely, and he asked, “What do they call you, ooman?”
“Um… uh…” You dug into your brain for any name that wasn’t yours, and all you could come up with was a load of nothing.
“Um’ah?” The Yautja clicked his mandibles together for a moment, and he stepped a little closer, almost within sword-reach. “I am Khet. You know our ways or else you would not come here. You survived the trial, you are compatible, but you are too weak. Submit to me, Um’ah.”
You swiped out at him in rage, and he side-stepped you, chuckling a little bit to himself.
“My brothers tired you. Still, for ooman…” Khet stepped forward in a flash of movement, grabbing you around the throat, your body immediately dropping the sword in order for you to use both hands to try and free yourself, all while your attacker studied you like a puzzle. “I am impressed.”
You scratched and clawed at his hand, gasping for air, choking on your own fear and desperation, and he seemed to take some sort of sick pleasure from your struggle. But then, you managed to swing your leg up high enough to kick him right in the mouth, your boot making contact with those sharp fangs.
Khet dropped you, lifting his hand to his face, but he didn’t look injured. Just annoyed. He reached for your throat again but you dodged him, and he only caught your shoulder.
“Let me go!” You screamed and wriggled out of his grip while he was still stunned by your kick.
Then, you sprinted for the exit. You had only taken two or three steps before Khet had you by the leg, slamming you to the ground and dragging you beneath him.
“So much fire in you.” His yellow eyes dilated as he looked upon your face. You could feel his hot breath and body bearing down on you, inspecting you like a piece of meat. “We will make fearsome beasts together. I have no clan, but you will be my mate. With Kayana’s blessing, my honor returns.”
“No!” You shouted, and then your voice turned from a wail into a whimper, “No! Please…”
“You are in heat; I smell it, and you are in no shape for another fight. Yet you resist me. You know it is my way.” He purred like a large cat. You could feel the rumble of it against your ribs as he pinned you down with his immense weight. “Fire and softness. You make me hunger, Um’ah, but I will honor your way as you have honored mine. Ooman males put their pricks through your flat fangs, yes?”
Khet used a clawed finger to press your mouth open, touching the bottom row of your teeth to feel their smooth edges.
You tried to rip your head away from him, but he held your jaw fast.
Then, Khet grabbed you by the back of your head and dragged you up to your knees, sliding you around easily on the stone floor of the temple.
You looked up at him from your crumpled vantage point, and something inside of you couldn’t help but admire his obvious power. This Yautja could crush every bone in your body like you were nothing but an eggshell. So breakable.
And yet, he didn’t.
He touched your face and neck with his clawed hands, feeling the smooth swell of your bottom lip.
“Let me go back to my ship,” you begged him.
“Enough games. I will have this blessing.” His dark eyes narrowed, and you stared back at him for a moment before deciding that sucking him off might truly be the path of least resistance.
You raised your hands, and at first, he took it as an attack, yanking your hair hard enough to knock you off balance. So, you moved more slowly, carefully righting yourself so that you were face to face with his crotch. His prick was covered by a thin strip of black suede; a loin cloth of sorts, and you pulled it aside to reveal his enormous cock.
The body of it was a dark olive brown color like the rest of him, but there were green and black spots on the underside, almost like an over-ripe banana. Between his balls and the underside of his shaft, there were plush, furling folds, almost like labia, all hanging down like wet petals, and you wondered how they felt. You watched him throb under your appraisal, and when you reached forward, the Yautja’s chest began to purr again, deeper this time, lulling you into a sort of trance.
You lifted the heavy appendage up to your mouth, bringing the tip to your lips to suck. The moment you pressed a soft kiss to the covered head of it, he groaned, tightening his grip in your hair.
His foreskin was extremely thick and pliant. It was like a generous layer of velvet was surrounding the impossibly rock-hard dick that it covered, and the more you tried to fit in your mouth, the fuller your cheeks became. Pulling your head back didn’t take him out of your throat; it only rolled the soft foreskin down, leaving you to swallow and choke against him.
“Oh, yes,” Khet groaned, “Ooman ways are strange, but I like this very much. More, Um’ah.”
Khet began to thrust himself inside of you, slowly at first, and you struggled to breathe. Your jaw was stretched at its limit, and you could taste the first briny drips of his precome on the back of your tongue.
Then, once he understood the mechanics, he used his strength to pull your face up and down his length. You felt your body writhing, trying to find air, the urge to choke unbearable. Hot tears welled up in your eyes, and you did everything you could to find a way to breathe.
Khet didn’t seem to react to your teeth grazing his length as you struggled beneath him. In fact, he seemed fond of dragging his cockhead along your smooth molars, not that there was really any room for him to avoid them.
When he hit the back of your tongue, he pushed your head down on him with force, making you deepthroat his huge prick while your mouth oozed drool onto the stone floor of the temple.
“Mrrghh… Um’ah… You make me want to spill inside your smooth fangs… So warm…”
Khet was losing his mind. You could see his eyes roll back in his head, his thrusting becoming frantic. You didn’t fight him. Once you made him come, you could probably escape while he was dazed. So, you tried your best to remain pliant, and you used your tongue to rub against the veiny, fat body of his cock, encouraging him to fill your belly. You ignored the tears that were now falling down your cheeks, and you tried to keep yourself from passing out, sucking in air through your nose when you could.
But, he was too large. You realized with a sort of sickening thought that he was still not even fully hard. You felt him swelling against your lips, watching as those hanging petals of his also began to swell, filling for what reason you didn’t know, and you sent up a silent manifestation into the cosmos that Tau would beam your ass out of here…
“Um’ah!” Khet groaned, and he buried himself inside of your throat as far as he physically could, crushing your nose into his pubic bone, pumping hot spurts of his come deep into your belly. It was so warm that you could feel it settling inside of your middle, filling your empty stomach with his orgasm.
As he held you against him, you knew you should feel scared, perhaps even disgusted. You were being used like a sex toy by this two meter tall, green, scaly, fanged monster, and you should be pissing yourself with fear.
And yet…
You could feel a tell-tale wetness pooling between your legs, and you felt a hot flush creep up your neck and across your cheeks, the fire of your shame burning you up.
A low growl came from the male above you, and you could feel his clawed hands drag through your scalp, petting your hair away from your face. You looked up at him from below, and you saw his chest heaving, his fanged maw clicking together in a curious, pleased sort of way, and there was something boyish in his eyes, now.
“Smooth fangs feel good.” He clicked his mandibles a little more, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Um’ah is so soft…”
Khet pulled himself from your mouth in one long, slick movement, and he released your head. Immediately, you slumped forward, catching yourself on your palms against the cold stone floor, coughing from the tight burn in your throat and watching as syrupy lines of spit and alien come pooled from your lips.
Suddenly, you felt Khet’s enormous hand tug at your flimsy shirt, raking it over your head like he was tearing open a present. Then, he yanked down your trousers, taking your panties with them, and when they got caught around your boots, he simply pulled harder. It was at that moment that you realized the truth: this man – entity – was being gentle with you.
You watched him carefully as you trembled in the cool open air of the temple, still crawling on the ground, trying to catch your breath.
Assuming he would jump right into action, you steeled yourself for his assault, but he did not rush. He discarded your clothing, dumping your shoes and pants into a messy pile, but he didn’t advance on you.
There was no hurry to his movements. There was no rage in his eyes. He simply watched you. Studied you.
Khet carefully bent down next to you, his cock still dripping sticky strings of come beneath his loin cloth, and his clawed fingers traced their way over your soft skin, playing with your flesh and squeezing your body where he thought you might be the most delicate. He found your nipple, and he skimmed across it, petting your hanging breasts like you were made out of lace.
His gentleness now stood in dark contrast to the violent suffocation you’d just experienced when he fucked your face.
Khet touched himself as he watched you recover, unhooking his loin cloth and laying it over your clothes. But, he didn’t grope you roughly. He was still trying to be easy with you.
And only when his desire overcame him, only when the need to mate made his prick throb and bounce against his thick torso, did he approach you again, positioning you on your hands and knees in front of him, grabbing your thighs and spreading them wide, the angle of the stretch making you fall forward, your cheek planted to the cold ground.
You took a deep breath and held it. You’d be injured by his cock; you were sure. There was no way your pussy could take his inhuman size.
But his cock wasn’t what you felt against your wet sex. It was a long, writhing tongue.
Your lungs let out the rush of air you were keeping inside, and the breath shook as it escaped, hissing around your clenched teeth.
When you looked behind you, Khet was kneeling, his face low and hovering right behind your holes, his huge alien tongue dragging across your slit and through your folds, tasting your pussy.
“Khet…” You whispered. “Stop. Let me go.”
He stopped licking you, and he let out a broken, chuffing noise. The huge male positioned himself over you, as if he would fuck you from behind, and he bent his chest down until it was flat across your back. At the same time, you felt his cock slip along the outside of your pussy, through your lips, and then over your mons and your belly, and when he finally ran out of rope, the head of his prick was bobbing much too close to your sternum for your liking.
Khet fisted himself and unceremoniously slapped his sticky cockhead against your tummy, making a point to let you feel how big he was. He spoke to you in a low voice, “H’ko, Um’ah. I cannot.”
“Please…” You closed your eyes and lay your cheek back on the ground, losing hope every moment that this ordeal dragged on. He was going to kill you with that thing.
“Kayana demands my restraint.” He sighed, and you felt him press one of his fingers between your legs, bullying its way into your hole, surprisingly careful with the claw. He struggled to fit, and you couldn’t help but let out a grunt as you tried to relax around his hand. Then, Khet leaned his head down to your ear, and you could see his gleaming mandibles up close as he whispered to you, “If I do not lick you open, my nok will break you.”
Nok. A Yautja unit of measurement, equivalent to a short cubit. Thirty centimeters.
Khet was talking about his cock.
His thirty centimeter long cock.
You let out an involuntary shudder, and your reaction earned you more of his amused fang-clacking and chuffing. But, he leaned back, repositioning his mouth between your spread thighs. “I honor Kayana. Her temple accepts me. H’ka-se, ke dari-ki s’ kjuhte-kiin.”
In your mind, the syntax came late, but you understood him fully.
Now, I will taste my little void.
You peered around your shoulder and watched him spread his mandibles wide, and as he fixed his fangs around your thighs, encircling them with his dextrous outer mouth, you were immediately treated to the full length of his snake-like tongue as it burrowed its way deep inside of you.
It was endless, and it was hot. The thick ribbon of his muscle slithered between your walls, tasting and exploring every bit of your insides.
Then, when he reached some sort of end, a place so far beyond where you had ever imagined things could go within your anatomy, Khet began to purr. That same low rumble that you had felt before was now rolling in staccato waves through your hips and thighs and pussy, heightening every single sensation to a mind-numbing degree.
His tongue retreated, and then it laved through you again, folding and curling into your cunt, allowing your mate to suck down swallow after swallow of your wet pleasure.
You couldn’t help but cry out, keening loudly into the empty temple. Just steps away from you, the bodies of the fallen hunters lay forgotten on the floor, and you couldn’t have cared less about them. Right now, you didn’t even know your own name. All you knew was the wriggling invasion of Khet’s tongue, the vice grip he had on each of your thighs with his fangs, and the thrumming vibration of his purr as it wrecked your body.
As you looked behind you, you met Khet’s gaze. He was staring at you from his inescapable position against your sex, and you noticed that - all around you - the temple had begun to glow.
It wasn’t orange this time. The light that came from the pools was a sort of greenish blue. It was faint, but it creeped across the floor and up the wall, slowly getting brighter and brighter.
Khet swiped his tongue over your asshole, and you gasped, the pleasure of it immediately shocking you.
“Wait…” You tried to plead with him, but what the hell were you going to do to stop him?
So, with little recourse, his tongue pressed between your tight, unfucked rim. You tried to relax. You felt yourself shivering from the new feeling, and the deeper he licked into your hole, the louder you screamed.
You turned your head, trying to see what he was doing, your mind desperate to regain some semblance of control over your body. But, now, he was licking into both of your holes, and you were about to come.
You could feel the bubbling pleasure of it, lingering just on the edges of yourself. Every time Khet rolled another deep purr through you, you tried to fight the urge to come.
He was very fair with his tasting. He would lick inside of you one hole at a time; once for your asshole, once for your cunt. As steady as a drumbeat. You felt like you were being fucked by two men, one in each pleasure-hot sheath. When one would press forward, the other would retreat. And now, Khet could feel your bliss building. He could smell it. Hell, he could probably see your heat rising across your skin.
“No. Fuck…” you whispered, but there was no stopping it. With no small amount of embarrassment and a little dread, you confessed to him: “You’re making me come.”
The purr became a growl, but he changed nothing else. You rode his mouth, your hips jerking forward, your muscles battling against his powerful jaws, trying to close your legs. But, it was futile. You came hard, fully open, and you felt something pooling at the entrance of your pussy only to be immediately licked clean by your mate’s hungry, deft muscle.
Khet was slowing his movements, and you noticed he was spending most of his time at the edge of your cunt, slurping and sucking at your creamy orgasm, making the most lurid noises you’d ever heard in your life. You were still coming down from your high, your body convulsing, humping his tongue shamelessly at this point, every bit of your human instinct humiliating you in this ancient sanctum.
You hoped, at least, Goddess Kayana was proud of you, whoever she was.
When you had the strength to open your eyes again, that same blue light pooled around you, moving through the cracks in the stones as if it was alive. You reached out to touch it, and although you did not instantly get sliced in half, there was an energy there. Something powerful brushed against your mind.
You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. When Khet released you, your knees immediately gave out. But, instead of letting you crumple to the floor again, he held you up with his hands, one on each side of your hip. You sagged against the stones, feeling like you’d been drugged.
Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw it. Your sword. It was almost within reach. You twisted your arm and reached for it; a last ditch effort, but your fingers barely brushed the handle, and the metal skidded away from you, sliding out of your grasp by only a few inches.
Khet reached forward with his clawed fist, grabbing your wrist in his grip and pulling your arm up. He raised your body until you were on your knees with your back to his chest, vertical and trapped against him.
His other arm curled around your belly, keeping you upright, and he stood with you still held tightly against his body. He snarled into your ear in Yautja, “Dtai’k-osde s’ bpi-de, kjuhte-iin, ay-i ell ket m-di h'chak…” Your fight is over, little void, and yet you have no mercy.
“H’kodin.” None. You answered with a nasty curl across your lip.
You felt his enormous prick throb against your lower back, like a reward for your bloodlust, and he let out a long purr. “Ell ket yin’tekai-osde. Ell s’ thar’n-de. Pyode r’ka-kiin…” You have your honor. You are strong. My soft little fire… “Ell kale-ki sain’ja-non gahn'tha-cte.” You will create ruthless warriors with me.
Khet placed your hand on the back of his neck, and you understood that you should hold onto him. With his hand now free, he traced the length of your arm, trailing the backs of his knuckles over your armpit and along the curved swell of your breast. Finally, he reached between your bodies and lifted his hard cock, notching his tip in the pliant sling of your hole’s entrance.
Your mate pressed forward, and you hissed through your teeth in a mixture of pleasure and pain. He was too big.
“Nnghhh… No… Too big… Anngh! Please, Khet… Please…” You whimpered, and you heard his fangs chittering together behind your head.
He took himself away, and then pressed forward again. This time, he slipped inside of you, just his head, the plush foreskin rolling down to reveal his bright green glans. You breathed deeply, willing yourself to become soft for him, to relax your insides, to accept him.
You weren’t sure where your sudden motivation was coming from, other than your stubborn will to survive this coupling, but as you allowed yourself to sink further and further down his throbbing prick, Khet’s purring grew louder, soothing you and making your breaths deep and even.
“Nok-osde s’ ki’kain-desintje-de…” Your cock is so hard for me… You murmured, using your new vocab word, grabbing him tighter, knowing that you couldn’t hurt him. When you looked back at his face, his body was bathed in the swirling aquamarine light of the temple. Every stone and pillar and pool was now glowing with veins of fluorescent power, pulsing bright in the large sanctum.
“Sei-i, Um’ah,” Khet growled into your ear, “Kaale-oske z'kvy-ti.” Make yourself come.
Without hesitation, you reached between your legs and started to play with yourself, your fingers slipping into their usual places, framing the hard body of your clit and making delightful little ovals at speed. Between the thickness of his invasive cock and the agile familiarity of your own touch, it was mere moments before you felt yourself clenching around him, the first pricklings of your orgasm sparkling along your nerves.
As your legs dangled in the air, held aloft by Khet’s strong arm, you reached down lower between your thighs to explore yourself. When you found your entrance, you could feel the juicy coating of your own come that covered your skin, and when you touched the thin sling of your pussy that held his cockhead inside of you, the flesh was so sensitive that even just your fingertip was too much. So, you reached further, and you touched his shaft, rolling your palm over his cock’s body to please him.
His hips rocked forward, taking you with him, and he snarled against your neck. You returned your hand to your clit and touched yourself with intent, speedy and efficient. Your pussy squeezed in on itself, milking his swollen head like a fist.
“Pauk…” Fuck… Khet dragged his fangs along your neck, opening his mandibles until you felt his inner mouth brush against your skin. The teeth there were just as sharp, and he set them against your throat.
But, oddly, you didn’t feel any fear. You knew he would not kill you with them. He was your mate. He would protect you from anything and everything in this galaxy until he took his last breath.
As you worked on yourself, Khet’s prick continued to dip inside of you and then pull out, each time going little further than his glans, but just the stretch of him was enough to make your cunt sopping wet. The feeling of him entering you over and over and over was driving you insane.
Using the hand that was on his shoulder, you moved it up to the back of his head, weaving your fingers through the long tendrils of his mane, and you pressed his mouth down onto you, commanding him: “Dari-osde s’ ki-thwei, kv’var-de. Mmff–” Taste my blood, hunter. “Mmmgh… Shit!”
You were so close to coming. Your hand was sore, and your arm was tired, but you willed yourself to continue, frantically teasing your clit at a merciless pace. Then, when you felt Khet press the sharp tips of his fangs to your neck, you knew he would send you over the edge.
When he bit you, you came hard. “Khet!” You cried out for him, and your eyes shot open, your face pointed upwards towards the glowing arched ceiling of the temple, watching as the blue and green lights swirled and danced for you, almost as if they were celebrating your pleasure.
As you continued to come, your pussy squeezed him all the way out of you, and you heard a splatter of your release spray onto the stone floor of the temple. Your whole body twisted in on itself, and the only reason you didn’t crash to the ground was because of Khet’s unyielding strength.
He hadn’t bitten you very hard, but you could feel his tongue lapping up your blood, healing your wound with the same mouth that had caused it in the first place. He was purring so loudly, you could feel it through your entire body, and when he tried to press himself back inside of you, he could sink himself inside. Your pussy was still throbbing, still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you were soft for him, just like he needed you to be.
Khet’s cock cleaved you open wider and wider for him, each pass letting him reach further than before.
With the hand that you had been using to pleasure yourself, you lay it on your lower belly and felt the outline of his bulge each time he slid all the way inside of you.
Your touch on the outside of your belly made him purr deeply, and he was breathing harder, all the while snarling his dark promises into your ear. “Kjuhte-kiin…” My little void… “Ell s’ ven’ke ni’naa’iish-i'ythei, es’ ke s'aseigan-ki.” You came here to be bred, so I am your servant.
You listened to the wet, smacking sounds that your body made against his in the echoing temple. Each time that Khet found the end of your sopping hole, you thought you could feel something being left behind. It was so hard to describe. It was like he was painting your womb with a gooey adhesive, making your cunt stickier and stickier with every swipe.
Khet still wasn’t fully inside of you, yet. And now, you knew why. Aside from his immense length, the furling labia between his shaft and his balls were now fully engorged. There were four of them, and you could feel them with your hands when you reached between your legs.
Each swollen lobe was as thick as your thumb, and they were all as rigid as his cock. When you touched them, Khet growled very deeply. It was a new noise from him; one that went right to your clit.
Khet nuzzled against your nape, his breaths exciting the sensitive nerves just below your hairline as he spoke to you in broken phrases, “Neye-de, kjuhte-kiin… neye-desintje-de…” Soon, my little void… very soon…
You were so full that your pussy was sort of riding a wave of pleasure. You felt it waxing and waning as Khet thrust himself inside of you, and when his cockhead dragged cruelly against your most sensitive spots deep within you, you felt yourself respond. Your heart raced, your cheeks grew hot, your fingernails dug into his arm and his shoulder as you hung on for dear life. Then, you would crash. Your orgasm would rip through you, and Khet would fuck you as you came, the sounds of your own silken heat sluicing out of your well-used hole.
And he was still gentle. Not gentle compared to a human – your past lovers had been far easier on you physically than Khet – but for a dominating, all-powerful, alien race, he was actually kind of… sweet. He let you fall apart through each one of your orgasms, and he never threatened you, and he didn’t shame you. Which, in fact, was more than you could say for some Terran males.
But, yes, you admitted to yourself as you opened your mouth to accept his reptilian tongue down your throat, his face was… difficult to come to terms with. And yet, somehow, you were growing fond of watching him enjoy you, the way he would worry his fangs against each other as he watched his cock spread you apart, those hunter’s eyes rapt and calculating as he bred your soft, weak human body.
Suddenly, Khet paused his thrusts, letting you come down from your most recent blissful spiral in relative peace. He removed himself in a wet schlep of disconnection, and he lay you on your back against the floor of the temple. You were still in the middle of the circle, but when you came to your senses and took a look at your surroundings, the dark temple was no longer cold and shadowed. It was full of light. The blue-green hues were a watercolor of luminescence, and the way they danced across Khet’s attentive face made you catch your breath.
Goddamn, he was massive. Your mind kept normalizing him for you, but when you saw him kneeling between your legs, holding each of your ankles in his immense clawed fists, you realized that you were just a pet to him. The physicality between you was too disparate. You’d never be equals. You didn’t stand a chance, actually. What had you gotten yourself into?
But, all that worry dissipated when Khet let go of one of your legs and positioned himself back inside the cradle of your cunt, thrusting himself forward in a loud, wet snap. Then, you had a new dilemma.
The engorged lobes of his cock were throbbing and full. He edged them inside of you, and the stretch you felt was searing.
Khet leaned forward, pinning your ankles against his chest, pressing your thighs into your belly as he knelt over you. Now that you were face to face, you could study his expressions, and you found them surprisingly easy to read. He was full of wanting, and yet he knew he had a responsibility to you.
He spoke quietly, his rough voice desperate to soothe you before he completed his task. “Ell ket-osde m-di h'dlak, kjuhtiin.” Do not be afraid, little void.
“Mmmhhh… Khet… I can’t…” You held onto his neck, your fingers rolling across his tendrils, canting your hips, trying to find some relief.
“Grrrnnhhhgh! Um’ah!” Khet shouted, his voice filling the high ziggurat and echoing around you.
He pressed, and you cried out at the burn, but suddenly, his swollen cock popped into place, and you realized that his swollen petals were emptying inside of you through the head of his prick. Khet was growling and crying out into the temple, his muscles snapping as he fought the feeling of his orgasm, his clawed hands leaving little bleeding impressions on the meat of your thigh.
All around you, the temple glowed like a star. You watched the pools beam their light around you, and on the stones, rivers of light rushed towards your bodies, warming you and making your skin buzz with energy.
Deep inside of your pussy, you could feel an almost foaming sensation. There was a lot of heavy, creamy fluid, but as it mixed inside of you, stirring with each one of Khet’s powerful throbs, you could feel it becoming viscous and pasty. It wasn’t rushing out of you like you assumed it would. True, your cunt was stuffed so full that you couldn’t imagine anything else fitting inside, but you expected the warm dribble of his seed and it never came.
Instead you started to feel yourself get heavy. You put your hand back onto your lower belly, right over your womb, and you were so shocked to find a round distention… and it was warm. With each pump of sticky come, Khet kept filling you up. As you looked at your tummy, you tried to breathe, but you were panicking.
“Wh–What… I can’t… Khet, I can’t –”
Khet nuzzled against you, purring hard, holding your body close to his chest, chittering at you in what felt like a comforting way. You were panting so hard, trying to settle yourself, laying your cheek on his shoulder, and you trembled as he peered down at you, fearful of what might happen to you now.
“What’s happening to me, Khet?” Your voice was something lower than a whisper, but you knew he would still hear you.
“Kayana accepts us, kjuhte-kiin. My seed stays in you,” he leaned back, and he ran his hand over your round belly, “Here.”
Over the next few breaths, you felt Khet’s cock slow its throbbing, and when he finally was able to pull himself free, you felt a wet gush, but not as much as there should have been. You tried to sit up, but you were dazed. The room spun, and the lights were too strong. You reached out to balance yourself, and Khet helped you to your knees.
You looked down at your belly again and marvelled at the roundness he had made within you, and you knew that you would be pregnant. This was some otherworldly biology, and this temple had done something between you. You were having this Yautja’s child.
So, what were you going to do? If you went back to your space station, they would sell you to the first lab that would pay them. A hybrid alien child? That seems like an expensive mistake. You couldn’t go back.
Khet was kneeling with you, and you watched him unwrap a chain from around his huge shoulder. Then, before you even realized what was happening, you felt him clip it around your neck. The collar clicked together, locking in place.
“Ki’tyioe-ti s’ vayuh'ta-kesh.” My ship is in orbit. Khet explained, “Ki taa’h kantra-osde sh’ chiva bpi-de-iz.”I will recite the prayer to end our ritual.
“S’non?” And? You asked, feeling the worry paint itself across your face.
Khet looked down at you and touched your cheek with his hand, petting you as if you were a precious thing. Then, he clicked his fangs together and tilted his head, telling you, “Ki-ket’osde.” I have you. Khet leaned down and put his forehead against yours for a moment, and he leaned back, staring into your eyes, whispering in his low, gravelly voice, “Ki-ket’osde, Um’ah. Zi ah’lo-kwesh s’Toh-zi.” I have you, Um’ah. We will follow our Path.
Khet helped you stand, and on shaking legs, you stood behind him and watched him put his loin cloth back on. He didn’t even bother to dress you, and you watched as he took out a ritualistic dagger from his belt, turning it over in his hands. Then, he stood over the center stone, and lifted the dagger high into the air, straight above his head.
“Kayana-omo’k! O-shu-ki kantra-d’ki!” Goddess Kayana! Hear my prayer! Khet shouted into the temple. “O-yin'tekai naa’iish-i'ythei-zi.” Honor our coupling.
Khet drove the knife downward into the stone circle, and all of the light in the temple converged upon him, and he was washed in a bright, powerful beam. The whole room turned, and you watched as the black pools of liquid erupted, soaking through the temple and flooding the flat room. It started to rise up to your ankles, threatening to wash you away.
Khet turned his head to look at you, and he reached out his hand. You took it; you didn’t even question it. You just grabbed his palm and stepped into the light.
This collab is made possible with the amazing @gloomwitchwrites!
You whimper softly, Pulling on the woven cord that kept you firmly in place against the bed post made up of the scraps of The Warlord's grand kills.
Pulling softly at it, Knowing if you didn't at least move positions you were in real danger.
"Shit"
A whimper left you as you pulled again-
You had gone too far
Flew too close to the sun and now here you are.. Tied and Laid flat on your belly like freshly caught deer on the hood of a hunters car.
It was just some harmless fun, playing with the male that called you his. The leader of the Feral Clan.
The Grendel King.
And you his little ooman.
His Plaything, His Toy- The squishy little thing he held at night and relieved his stress into with a roll of his hips.
A gift to celebrate his past achievements, Something that was met to stand next to his wall of trophies and keep them clean. However you'd become someone to keep on his lap.
Past just an ornament but a pet for his pleasure and to lavish.
If anything, you'd become a bit spoiled..
Okay very spoiled
To the point were you'd been a bit miffed- He'd returned from a hunt a few days ago. However had been so much on the high of his latest catch a Xenomorph Queen that he had neglected you.
He'd spend the evenings in roaring celebration- Him and his clan enjoying the spoils of the hunt with fights and meats. You standing by his side for most of it before hed send you off to his den when it got too rowdy since you'd be injured.
It wasn't till the morning he'd return and you'd been left alone the whole evening, Wanting.
So you'd decided to poke the bear so to speak.
Having started the evening before when you'd fallen asleep naked, knowing that he wouldn't be returning to the morning right as you'd have woken up.
Faking it was too warm, which also explained the light clothing for the day too.
He wasn't stupid.. He knew exactly what you were doing and was growing more and more irritated.
Especially went you stood just outside of his reach, swaying softly or playing with some of the carved jewelry that decorated you.
Acting extra soft with a bit of meekness when you spoke with others, especially the guards near by-
The almost perfect thing to make anything with fangs stare a bit longer, Sure you were not worth a fight but you knew what made yautja tick-
However what really did it was when you pulled at the mesh that covered your thighs and ass, faking innocence as if simply adjusting to make it more comfortable. The way your softness indented through the delicate knots of string showing off what every predator Yautja or not enjoyed.
Soft Meat-
Ready to bite into and here you are showing off what could only be seen as a delicacy.
His delicacy-
And he'd caught when one of the near by hunters had glanced your way. Even if it had been a split second it had happened.. making you look to the said Hunter
And smiled innocently.
That had been were you knew fucked up, you'd seen him move from his throne in one smooth motion and start walking towards you an irritated growl being here even from were you stood.
Which had made you U-Turn as fast as fucking possible down the hallway almost jogging. That had been a waste of effort as he easily snatched you up and dragged you to his chambers- and how you were now in your current position.
That had been nearly half an hour ago.
Now managing to finally wiggling up to your knees you try to pull harder on the cord, seeing if you could slide it up the thick bone you were tied too-
A chill going up your spine as there was a deep rumbled of growls and clicks. Your body freezing as the collar lit up around your neck.
'Trying to Escape?'
He stood at the foot of the massive bed, arms crossed over his broad chest as he stared at you. That embarrassed panic as you looked back at him from over your shoulder- you knew better then to have your back to a predator.
Your breath hitches, as you see him remove the cloak of the Xenomorph spines from his back and lay it close by.
'I've found your boldness endearing'
His tone was low, The translator not translating how clearly pissed he was by the way his voice actually seemed to vibrate your body as he stepped towards you.
'But it seems you have forgotten something dire to your survival...'
His head turned to the side as his stared at your seated form facing the headboard, Growling to himself.
'You are mine-!'
He roared loudly against your head grabbing around your throat.
Not choking, Just holding to remind you that he could barely flex his hand and could take your life.
You look up at him with those wide eyes of yours, seeing the genuine anger swirling in those red eyes of his. Making you swallow thickly, His fingers feeling the lump in your throat as you did so.
He slowly begins to make soft clicks and low growls, looking you over with calculating eyes as of deciding what to do to you..
Then he chuffed- Releasing your neck and almost with too calm of a reaction as he pulled on the cord that held you in place.
You shift back and rub your wrist, looking to him as he sat on the bed and patted his thighs. A command you knew well-
Now confused, he was giving you what you wanted?
Suspiciously you moved to his lap, Feeling him removing the loincloth from beneath you and his large clawed hands fast to grip you- Tearing through the netting you had you'd to torment him.
It seemed he was impatient as well- something you had long grown used to as the
As he sunk into you slowly, A soft groan of bliss hissing past your lips
No matter how many times he'd had you- You could never get used to the stretch.
With no grace, he moved you on him.
His pace was dizzying, your legs slapping against his muscular thighs making a clap like thunder as he growled, his large hands digging into the soft flesh of your ooman flesh as he brought you down on his monsterous cock
Broken moans left you, shattered at his pace as you felt every inch he could fit into you settle in the deepest part of you.
He knew you, He knew you well. His burning eyes studying you like the prey you are. Each expression, the way you gasp when he moved just the right way to make sure to hit those sensitive buttons of yours.
As you felt yourself at that brink- it would only take one more of those rolls of his hips and
You give a loud cry as he suddently stops deep into you and his claws press painfully into your skin ruining your orgasm.
"Nonono!"
A sob ripped from you- Feeling the deep sting of his claws as he pushed you further down on his cock, nestling so deep into you that it started to hurt.
Holding you still on his cock as you felt your high simmering down much to your distress. You look to him as he slowly turned his head to one side as if curious.
'Did you think I would be awarding to you?'
He growled, you feel his tusk press into the soft skin of your cheek amused by your naive nature.
Your heart sinking as you realized what he was doing.
Just as fast he began to move again, Snapping his hips up into you as he bounced you on his cock with bruising force. Feeling your body barely being able to keep up-
Treating you like his personal fuck toy-
Which in a sense you are..
"F-Fuck I'm sor-ry! I'm sorry!"
Your please fell on deaf ears however. Nothing but ambient like the wind.
He wasn't kind.
This wasn't for your pleasure afterall, but a punishment using your sensitivity to his touch as the weapon of choice.
Your face nestles against his massive chest as a sob rips through you. Tears staining his thick skin as your nails dig into him for dear life.
Each time you were close he would stop, stabbing his claws into your skin ruining that delicious high.
Once
Twice
Thrice
And you couldn't anymore. You try to bounce on his cock when he'd stopped again but his grip was like iron.
"I-I wanna cum! I wanna cum I wanna cum!"
You screamed, a mix of desperation and bordering insantiy. He loved when you made noises like this- those gasp, whimpers and sobs from you drove him deeper into his want of you.
'Fine Pet-'
Those words made your heart leap.
A scream ripped through you, as he went back to bouncing you. A fear in you he would take away your pleasure- your bliss. Only getting your hopes up before shattering it cruelly
However he didnt
You felt that climbing high, that peak. This time not torn from you as you came, heat washing through you as a silent scream took you. It felt like too much and too little all at the same time.
Babble of messy thanks left your lips along with fat tears running down your cheeks- Feeling your body finally meeting it desperate desire of an orgasm as you shook in his hold.
However those thanks were very very short lived-
As you felt his hold tighten suddently.
Like the world moved too fast you found yourself yanked free from him and the world blurred-
Now laid with hips lifted way too high in the air and face in the furs, your eyes widening as The Warlord was holding you down by your head- The mass of his hand wrapping almost entirely around it making sure you couldnt escape.
You couldn't even squeak out another word before he thrusted into you harshly, you feeling every inch suddently sheath itself back onto your still spasming walls.
There was no cushion to catch up as immediately he pulled out fully and thrusted back in so fast you swore you felt something within you snap-
It was too much- You can't help but let a far too shattered moan out, Your hand trying to drift back to grasp at him to slow down on his brutal pace which utterly failed and if youd been successful may have shattered your wrist.
"OhGodOhGod!-"
Already feeling as he cackled behind you and hear that terrifying growl when his mandibles click together.
'Your gods will not hear you here'
The sound of your slick covered thighs shamelessly slapping against his hardened muscle and running down your legs to the bedding below.
Your trying to move your hips higher- away from the brutal fucking. But it just drove him deeper- It felt like he was rearranging your insides somehow worse the before.
A blissed scream left you as another overwhelming orgasm shattered through your body- Vision blurry as you felt your body quake.
But he didn't stop
Eyes rolled back as thick tears began to stain the pelt below you.
The collar around your neck to translate his dirty words were no more then a robotic hum in your ears.
Time was lost only hearing the deep rumbled purr as he pressed his body deeper into you.
Only feeling the overwhelming fullness as far too hot cum spill into you- But his hips never let up, his pace unwavering despite globs of him spilling hopelessly out of you.
You're ruined-
Beyond Repair as you feel your mind is mush and body pulverized into soft sweet submission.
You didn't even know how long he had been fucking you for- Knowing how now you had your face against the furs with your knees to the floor, The Warlord behind you as he growled releasing another wave of his seed into you which ran down your legs to the floor below.
Unable to hold all he had to give to you.
Your voice was raw only giving a soft crackling groan when he pulled out of you. Looking down at his work with pride.
The massive Yautja reaching down and rubbing softly with the unsharp part of his claw against your clit driving a hiccuped squeak from you. Earning a chattered laugh from him- satisfied with your reaction.
He hoised you up, Your body still boneless mess as he took the cord from before and bound you to the bed. This time facing propped up against the headboard staring at the door- legs spread as you felt him leaking out from you in thick globs.
Purring at the sight he put back on his loincloth and cloak of bones before he turned to leave.
'I'll be back later- Don't think I'd let you get off so easily. That was only for the attempted escape afterall'
While observing a Yautja mating ritual, you enter the forest where the chase is taking place, expecting to observe and record in your science logbook. Little do you know that entering is a form of consent, and there is only one Yautja willing to protect you from the others.
ao3 // main masterlist // scientific guide masterlist
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“That’s not right,” you mutter, erasing the error.
Field work requires hands and hard tools. Paper and pencil are tangible, holds you present, keeps you focused. They’re also the only tools you have, the rest confiscated when you landed on Yautja Prime, greeted by a Yautja clan that weren’t even the tiniest bit amused to see you.
You weren’t armed. Not a threat. Unworthy prey.
They were rightly pissed you arrived on their homeworld, but thought it better to keep you when you opened your mouth and Yautja followed. Your fluency in Yautja only went so far. They were curious but also suspicious, made worse by the Weyland-Yutani ship you arrived on.
Studying Xenoanthropology in school opened the door to employment with the Weyland-Yutani Corporation. They admired your observations about different alien species, offered you a job, sent you off-world to a colonized star system, on a planet that never saw the sun because of industrial pollution caused by Weyland-Yutani mining operations.
Your job landed you in the research labs, in front of Yautja technology. The Company told you all they wanted was to expand their cultural knowledge on the species, but when you were shown the Yautja ship, asking you to decode and translate the information contained within, you knew then that they didn’t care about Yautja culture. They wanted information. They wanted to find their homeworld.
And being the spontaneous idiot that you are, you did the exact opposite. Destroyed the labs, destroyed their research, destroyed the ship. Erased it all and fled, stealing the coordinates for yourself.
You can’t go home. You can’t return to any world or star system that’s been colonized by humans. Weyland-Yutani is looking for you.
A gentle blow, a rounding of the lips, and the grit of graphite disappears from the page. Angling the notebook toward the light, you glance between it and your point of study.
“Could be worse,” you sigh, returning the notebook to your lap. “Could be better.”
On the page are two sketches, each of a Yautja torso. One female and the other male. Anatomy was never your subject, but it’s still important to document, and here, witnessing this cultural ritual, gives you a clear view of their naked bodies. Trust, built over months, is the only reason you’re currently perched on a tree stump with notebook in hand.
A clan matriarch is in heat, ready to mate, but more than one male has caught her eye. Eight yards away from where you sit are a group of male Yautja, five in total. They’re naked except for a stripe of paint on their arms, each a different color designating what subset of the clan they’re from. Females spearhead each clan, typically the strongest amongst their number. When a female Yautja is in heat, her choice must come from a different clan. Like humans, they do not inbreed, the practice causing unfavored genetic traits.
The female Yautja in question, Ahra, is separated from the males, surrounded by other females, their tendrils gray. They are elders, deeply respected and cared for. You focus on her muscled limbs, returning to your sketch, erasing lines and redrawing for emphasis. Tongue between your teeth, you concentrate on the transition from torso to chest to shoulder.
A soft crunch of grass comes from behind you. You quickly turn, finding no one. Frowning, you slowly return to your notebook, only for large hands to yank it from your grasp.
“Bhatul! What are you doing?”
Bhatul, the only Yautja you’ve formed a true connection with, holds your notebook in front of him with both hands, head cocked, black quills falling over one shoulder, several decorated with gold rings. He’s a mix of dusty red, tan, and black spots, common for the members of his clan that live in the warmer, drier regions of Yautja Prime with a healthy amount of smaller quills on his arms and chest.
Using one hand, he turns the notebook around. “Me?” he asks, indicating the half-complete male diagram.
“And what if it is?” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest.
He chuffs. “You show truth. I am strong. Virile.”
The back of your neck grows hot. With you sitting on the tree stump, and him standing in front of you, naked, you have a clear view of his penis. It’s directly in front of your face.
“That’s not—” you begin.
“Do you think she will mate with me?” asks Bhatul.
“Ahra?” Bhatul inclines his head. “Isn’t it a contest?”
“Yes,” nods Bhatul. “We chase. Subdue. Mount.”
“All of you?”
Bhatul huffs, affronted. “A female Yautja has only one—”
You throw up your hands. “Yes. I know. I can see that.” You turn your head in Ahra’s direction. “Quite clearly.”
Bhatul tosses the notebook back to you. You catch it, nearly falling off the stump from the force behind the throw. “You will not enter the forest.”
“Excuse me?”
He steps forward and kneels, bringing him eye-level. “I know you. Too curious.” Bhatul lifts his hand, imitating a head opening and closing its mouth. “Talking.” He changes to two fingers that walk along an invisible surface. “Following.”
You roll your eyes. “You tell me to follow. And I have to.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Makes other Yautja jealous.”
“Jealous?” you deadpan.
“You are…pet. Other Yautja want pet.”
Unbelievable. You’d pull on one of his mandibles but that would only rile him up more than he already is. Bhatul enjoys pushing your buttons, but it’s never mean. He was the first to approach you without an ulterior motive, to ask questions and answer yours in return. A friend, you suppose.
“So, what?” you laugh. “I’m your dog?”
Bhatul snorts, his mandibles flexing. “Dog?” he repeats slowly, the human word sounding odd in his mouth.
Since arriving, you’ve only spoken Yautja, but write your research in your native language. There are no mandibles for you to use, and the mouth structures are different, but they understand, even when you butcher their words.
“It’s an animal,” you say, switching back to Yautja. “A common pet for humans. Fluffy. Friendly. Cuddles with you. Follows you around.”
Bhatul nods. “You are dog.”
You punch Bhatul in the arm. He makes a rattling, chuffing sound you’ve come to know as the closest thing the Yautja have to laughter.
The first time you heard it, you had asked Bhatul if Yautja only see in infrared as research suggests.
“No,” he had said, tapping a finger close to his eye. “We have a gland. Links to our eyes. Helps us see body heat. Good for hunting.”
“And what if you’re not hunting?”
“The gland isn’t active.” He had leaned in, gaze observing your entire body in a slow perusal. “I can see you clearly.”
You punch Bhatul again. “Are you serious?”
“You follow me around.”
You keep hitting him. “You ask me to. Why do I have to repeat myself?”
Bhatul grabs your wrist, drawing your hand away from his massive bicep. Instead of releasing your wrist, he continues to hold it, staring into your eyes with an intensity that makes your stomach drop. It’s been happening more and more this look.
“I like your company,” he says, his already gruff, guttural voice deepening. “You ask questions.”
“I ask too many.”
“You do.” He drops your hand but doesn’t stand. “Don’t enter the forest.” And then he’s up, heading toward the male Yautja clustered nearby.
Technically, you’re supposed to listen and obey. You are human, not Yautja. You were not given the same rights or privileges. While in most circumstances, you’d listen to Bhatul, this might be your only opportunity.
With his back to you, you pack up your notebook and grab your satchel, easing into the tree line until the large leaves provide enough coverage to hide you. These are not hunting grounds, and the only predators are the Yautja.
Kneeling behind a tree, you carefully observe Ahra dashing into the trees, the males fanning out, the same amount of distance between each. You count the seconds from when Ahra enters the forest until the males takes off. Not all of them follow in her footsteps. Several branch off, splitting away from the main group, adding distance as they pass the tree line. One of the larger males charges in your direction, his speed immeasurably fast, almost a blur to your eye.
You throw yourself to the ground as he leaps. Above you, the tree violently shakes as he lands and pushes off, jumping to another. Hand over mouth, you wait until you cannot see him and the trees come to rest.
Slowly, you ease onto your knees, grabbing the tree to help haul you up to your feet. One step. Two. There is no rush, no need to run after them. It’ll only draw attention, and the point is to observe, not get in the way. You’ll keep back, follow at a distance, observe what you can, and record it all in your notebook. Bhatul will fill in the blanks.
Keeping to a crouch, you shift between the trees, listening for unusual sounds, watching for any movement. There is the wind, the occasional snapping of a twig, the buzz of insects, or a call of a bird. You’re not entirely sure what you’re listening for except the guttural grunts of mating.
You come to a stop. “What the fuck am I doing?” you groan, rubbing at your temples.
Observing a ritual of a secretive alien species that no one outside the species has seen? An amazing opportunity. Stumbling onto Yautja having sex? Less cool. In fact, not ideal.
Turning around, you take a step, intending to return the way you came. You’re mid-stride, determined, and then you’re flying, scooped off your feet by a large, powerful force. The impact is sudden and hard, temporarily pushing the air from your lungs, shoving you into a bout of dizziness.
Everything spins as you cling to whatever’s grabbed you, attempting to breathe through every jolt and jerk, yanked along like a children’s doll. Your captor lands, the impact shaking your bones. The hold around you loosens until you roll out of their embrace and onto the ground.
“I told you not to enter the forest.”
You turn onto your back, inhaling deeply through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth. You repeat the process until your hands stop shaking and there is no threat of falling if you stand.
You crack open your eyelids, staring up into Bhatul’s grim expression. “I’m observing. That’s what I do.”
He chuffs, mandibles flexing in agitation. “You do not understand.”
You prop yourself on your elbows. “Explain then.” Groaning, you sit up fully, rubbing at your neck and lower back. “Not like you said anything to begin with,” you mutter.
Bhatul releases a guttural snarl, quills swishing as he starts to pace. “This is a mating ritual. You are female.”
No shit you big idiot.
Slowly, you ease onto your knees, placing your palm against a nearby slab of rock to help ease the ascent. “I’m not Yautja. It doesn’t matter.”
Bhatul whirls on you, approaching with such ferocity you hit the rock in your attempt to back away. “It does matter. You are human but you are female.” He reaches out, one finger lightly tracing the side of your throat. “You give off a scent. Different from female Yautja. But we know it all the same.”
“You—you know—”
Bhatul leans in. “I smell it all the time.”
Female Yautja produce a specific pheromone when in heat, a signal to the males that she’s in her fertile window. Males don’t become senseless beasts. The instinct to reproduce heightens, and their behavior changes. They want to impress, to show the female their strength, that they are good providers and protectors, the fiercest hunter.
Humans don’t produce sex pheromones, but body odor can change, especially for people with female reproductive organs. Body odor can shift during different cycle stages because of hormone changes, but those changing odors don’t trigger sudden behavioral changes in other humans.
But Bhatul isn’t human. Yautja sense of smell is far stronger. What might be a mild shift in odor to you could be a beacon to him. You hadn’t considered it.
“What do you smell?” you ask tentatively.
Bhatul remains where he is. The space between your bodies is nonexistent. You are small and fragile compared to Bhatul’s height and broadness. He easily stands at two and a half meters. You have to bend your neck at a hard angle to look up at him.
“Sweet. Musky. Earthy.” He steps back. “You’re fertile.”
The urge to slap Bhatul increases by the second. You’d do it, too, if only you could reach his stupid face.
“But we can’t. Yautja and humans aren’t compatible.” Bhatul’s silence rings in your ears. He only stares, which makes it worse. “Bhatul.”
As much as Yautja look like monsters, their eyes are deep pools of expression. Bhatul’s gaze cuts through you, twisting your stomach with staunch clarity.
“Humans are worthy prey. They have killed many of our kind. They have skills we lack,” says Bhatul calmly.
You lick your lips, swallowing hard. “Bridge the gap.”
“What gap needs a bridge?” he huffs, glancing around as if one will appear.
“No,” you laugh, some of the anxiety ebbing. “It’s a human expression. It means closing a divide or reducing differences.” You bring your hands together, interlocking your fingers. “Adding the advantages to your species makes you better predators.”
Bhatul nods. “This is why you cannot enter the forest.”
“If I knew—”
“When Ahra is subdued and mating, the other males will follow your scent. Hunt you down. Fight each other for the chance to breed you.” You place your hands below his chest. It’s the easiest spot you can reach. Pushing against Bhatul does nothing to move him or shift you away, not with the slab of rock at your back.
“You walked in willingly.” Bhatul grasps your wrists, drawing your attention to his face. “That is consent. That you want to mate.”
“Take me back. Out of the forest.”
Bhatul shakes his head, his quills swaying. “Leaving will not change things.”
Prior anxiety returns, overwhelming and overloading. Your hands shake. “I don’t want this. I—” Bhatul’s head whips to the right, mandibles flexing, his forked tongue extending slightly to taste the air. “What?” you prompt. “What is it?”
“They’re approaching.” Bhatul’s attention returns to you. “Remove your clothes.”
“No!”
His next words come with a snarl. “It is me or them.”
Maybe if you close your eyes and curl up into a ball, this will all go away. You’ll backtrack, exit the forest, remain on your stump until the whole ceremony is over.
Bhatul, as if sensing your distress, relaxes a fraction. “Do you think I’ll harm you?”
No. I’m just scared.
You shake your head. “No. Not you.”
“I will fight them,” he reassures, “but it’s better to mate.”
A sad smile crosses your lips. “Accepting the mating means I’ve chosen.”
“Yes.”
“Will it stop them from fighting you?”
Bhatul shrugs. “There is always one male that fights.”
“Okay,” you sigh, shuddering. “Okay.”
You’re barely out of your clothes before Bhatul flattens you onto your back on the rock slab. Stretching out, his large frame covers the majority of your body, his weight balanced to keep you in place but not crush. Bhatul’s thick arms cocoon your head, his chin and the bottom of his mandibles brushing lightly against your scalp as he shifts.
Glancing down between your bodies, your heart drops into your stomach. At the tree stump, you received an up front and personal view of Yautja dick from Bhatul and the other males strutting around, chests puffed up as they flaunted for Ahra. What rests against your thigh isn’t some appendage swinging between their legs. This is supposed to go inside you.
Gulping, you press your face into Bhatul’s chest, hands grasping for a hold as he shifts his hips, his cock pressing against your pussy. Looking is impossible. You refuse. All you need to do is stay still for him and it will all be over sooner than you think. Bhatul will protect you from the other males. He won’t hurt you. He said so, but it’s his actions that yell over his words, the lack of aggression over these long months. Bhatul is fearsome. You’ve seen him spar with the other males, but there is none of that with you. Never.
Reaching down, Bhatul fists the base of his cock. As he pumps, large beads of opalescent semen emerge from the slit. Bhatul pumps and shakes, rubbing it all over your pussy. Every time the head of his cock brushes your clit, you bite back a moan.
Does he even know it’s there? Do female Yautja have one, perhaps something similar, or nothing at all?
“Makes penetration easier,” he says, voice low and gruff. The words come from his mouth, but even you understand the primal switch. Yautja males are not much different from human men.
Nuzzling his neck, you inhale deeply, counting down slowly to relax your muscles in anticipation. Bhatul’s response is rolling clicks that remind you of purring. It’s then that the head of him penetrates, a tight stretch that yanks a gasp from you. He thrusts deeper, and this time you crack, choking on a sob as the ribbed shaft rubs deliciously inside you.
Bhatul’s mandibles flex, that pleased clicking returning. “You are different,” he manages, before a loud crunch of breaking wood fills the air.
You freeze, a sudden chill seizing your limbs as Bhatul shifts into the predator he is. The position he takes is defensive but it is also a threat, bleeding aggression at the Yautja looking on. This male is the largest of the group, Ob-Adtoth, if you recall correctly. His skin is pale and yellowish with sections of dark mottling on the sides of his arms and legs. One mandible fang is missing. In its place is a metallic, artificial replacement. Behind him, you notice two other males, approaching slowly, keeping to the trees.
Go away. Go away.
You repeat it internally, pressing as much as yourself as you can to Bhatul’s chest. His embrace tightens, and while you cannot see his face, you can hear him.
There were times when you sat and watched some of the warriors in the practice rings, sparring for the sake of training. On observation, you took their roars for battle cries. They didn’t scare you, only amused you.
Bhatul’s roar in response to Ob-Adtoth’s does not amuse you. Almost otherworldly, the sound that emerges from him silences the forest, shakes the rock beneath you, ignites that innate flight response. It is a bloodied knife. Lethal force. A violent fist. Bhatul is marking his territory, warning the other males away.
Ob-Adtoth steps forward. Bhatul grasps the back of your head, forcing it back, exposing your neck. This is where you fight of flee, to escape danger though the threat is impossible to run from. Ob-Adoth’s mandibles flare wide but so do Bhatul’s.
Not with a roar. Not with anger.
Resting between his mandibles is your exposed neck. His teeth, each one a sharpened needle, touch your skin but do not break the barrier. The coppery tang of human blood is absent. It does not pool in Bhatul’s mouth or clog your throat. Nothing for him to swallow, and nothing for you to choke on.
Ob-Adoth’s chest puffs, shoulders squaring like he’s ready to charge. Bhatul lowers himself over your body, creating a protective shell. His hips shift back, his thick cock drawing out. It’s the thrust forward that has your eyes rolling, your little human teeth biting into Bhatul’s rough skin as he ruts.
Pain is absent. All you know is pleasure. It builds in thunderous waves, crashing against your skull, drowning. The forest is a distant thing, absent from your current reality. Between your legs is wetness, a fullness that borders on bursting, each thrust echoing in your stomach, until it feels like Bhatul is in your throat.
The orgasm is a severing. A snapped twig. The building pressure peaks, and then expands outward, temporarily stealing your breath and voice. Your body shudders, heart hammering, and then you’re moaning, bordering on screaming, the sound muffled as you bite harder into Bhatul’s skin. You vaguely notice bright green as your head falls back; Bhatul’s mandibles still locked around your throat.
Bhatul’s pace increases, and you ragdoll, unable to do much else. You don’t know if the other males still linger in the trees, or if they’re watching, waiting for him to finish, to strike out when they think he’s most vulnerable.
His arms, which were once a protective cocoon, lift you off the rock, bringing your bodies flush. Bhatul is no longer thrusting, only panting, his cock inside you but still. His mandibles flex, releasing your throat.
You turn your head, survey the forest. “They’re gone.”
Bhatul slowly withdraws his cock, and with it comes a rush of cum. He gently flips you onto your stomach, taking position again, easing his cock into your cunt until your toes curl and you whimper.
“No,” he says. “Maybe.” Your cheek meets cool rock, hands reaching to grasp the edges of the slab. Bhatul begins again. “I must mark what’s mine.”
CW for: Talk of sex, Yautja appropriate predatory behavior
Tensions were high. They always were during mating season. Yautja fighting, arguing, the occasional death, which you were, to your horror, assured was normal.
How you were supposed to survive your stay here was a mystery you couldn't solve fast enough, because here you were—naked, drunk, and laying on a bed of furs which were unlike any animal you knew.
At least they were soft, you supposed.
It wasn't like you weren't treated well. Your volunteering in the IBP, the Interplanetary Breeding Program, came with a whole bunch of perks. Including free healthcare, insurance, access to any and all drugs that wouldn't compromise your health and a fat fat paycheck.
Still, you were one of a few. And now you were finding out why.
You certainly weren't inexperienced. On earth you had bedded more than one human man or another whose package was something to gawk at, and your fair share of women, too. You could handle this, you'd thought, until you actually saw them.
On your trip here, which took place on a 'private' shuttle that was way too cramped to offer any actual privacy, you were sat a few rows short of the beasts.
"Those're young-bloods" explained the man in uniform beside you in hushed tones, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the stunned look on your face. "Means they ain't killed anything worth killin' yet. Like one of 'em slimy xeno-whatevers they found a sample of in-"
But you'd completely drowned out his talk of how humans count as worthy kill under certain circumstances, and how he'd almost had a run in with an elder but managed to appease him by speaking their language, and the following beat-boxing that you were almost certain wasn't their language.
No. The only actual thought on your mind as you stared at those two walls of yellow-green glistening muscle that look bigger than you even when they're sitting down was- oh shit.
I'm actually gonna have to fuck these things.
You froze up as the doors to your little section of the ship swooshed open, the three bottles of wine you'd all but inhaled to try and lower your inhibitions apparently doing jack shit to stop the hammering of your heart.
You barely heard them enter, but you did see them. Oh did you see them. And to your horror, they saw you too.
Piercing yellow eyes were fixed on yours, and everything in your body, every instinct your species relied on to survive, was telling you to run. To scream. To fight.
But predator knows predator, so you stay perfectly still in this little standoff, praying that they were more reptile than mammalian and that the myth about T-rexes applied to them too. That if you didn't move, they wouldn't see you.
That if you waited long enough, you wouldn't have to find out if the myth about a man's hands was also true, since their fingers alone stretched the span of yours.
Then they moved. And you flinched. And they stopped moving.
Silence again.
It was kinda awkward. You hadn't been taught anything on their species. In your mind, they should've at least given you some basic yautja 101, maybe some alien-inclusive sex Ed. But you got sent out with nothing more than a gallon of lube and a good luck! Don't die!
They move again. You flinch again.
They move again, slowly.
Crouching down from ceiling height to 'you could almost attempt to kiss them if you had a stepstool' height.
Could you kiss a yautja? They don't have normal mouths. Would yautja even enjoy the act of kissing? Many questions, all of which you couldn't get past your anxiety-sealed lips.
Instead, you let out a dignified "ah..." to which they slowly tilt their head, to which you slowly die inside.
"Hello..." you decide would be your greeting, your voice barely even carrying in the humid air that filled the entire ship "...sir?"
That was polite. Polite people don't get killed. Surely.
Somehow, you'd hoped they would magically know your language. Would speak in the silky smooth tones of Ryan Reynolds or some other stand-in hot guy about how; hey, I know I'm a giant killing machine whose hands have seen more blood than you can carry in your tiny little pathetic ooman body alone, but I'm a good guy, I promise. I will make love to you gently in missionary position, finish in the dignified 60 seconds it would take any normal man, and then drape a soft blanket over you before I kiss your head and tell you you did well.
But all you got was a 'hmpf.'
A grunt, a small nod of their head as they lower themselves further to the ground, sitting in front of you with their legs in pretzel position. Okay, so big bad yautja also sat criss-cross-applesauce. Good to know.
Still slightly terrified, but moreso curious now, you let your eyes finally drop from theirs down to their body. This one was a black yautja.
Dark skin that looked almost moist and was freckled with little specks of yellow, not covered by the usual fishnets you'd come accustomed to seeing in what little research you did. Instead, they were bare. Your eyes move down further. Yep. Completely bare.
Embarrassed, your eyes snap back up again only to see that theirs had never left your face. They make a series of clicking noises. You imagine them asking why you were shitting yourself being in the same room as them but somehow didn't have the sense to not stare at their junk.
In reality as well as in imagination you had no real answer to that.
"How are you?" you decide to once again follow standard human protocol. They once again reply in a series of clicks. This wasn't productive.
You take the risk and extend a hand. They spread their legs. You take your hand back.
"Oh, uh..." you swallow "You want me to uh...?"
They return to a normal position, then let out another huff. This time it sounded kinda annoyed. Okay, you get that.
"Listen," your voice breaks, you cough, "listen." you repeat again.
"Can you understand what I'm saying?"
For a few moments too long, silence settles over you, along with a deep feeling of disappointment and regret in your gut. As a result, the ecstasy you feel as they nod their head once, was even greater. FINALLY. You were getting somewhere.
Letting out a slow, calming breath, you nod as well, then take a second to contemplate what to say next. Better be honest, right?
"Listen," you repeat, getting tired of the word yourself and wondering if in their language they also sometimes begin their sentences with commands. How do they feel when you speak to them like this? Disrespected, perhaps?
"I'll be so real with you-" you sigh, "I don't know anything about you. And I'm a little scared? Okay, a lot scared. It's my first day here and I don't want to like, mess up and offend you and get my skull cracked or something."
Their unwavering stare, along with their unwavering silence, pushes you to go on.
"I mean- look at you. You're huge. And I'm...well. Not. You look like you could crush me with one hand and I don't really want to test that theory, is what I'm saying. And I know I signed up for this, but please be gent-"
You were cut off as a clawed hand that felt as rough as it looked yanked your naked leg toward them, making your back hit the, thankfully still fur covered, ground. "Gentle!" you finish, now panicked "Be gentle! Please! And front hole only!"
But your legs were spread before you could even try and familiarize them with the concept of foreplay, and you close your eyes tightly, mentally counting to ten to prepare yourself for counting their inches.
Though about as you hit the 8 second mark you realize the intrusion doesn't seem to be coming, not yet anyways, and you slowly open your eyes again. And for the first time, you aren't met with theirs.
Instead, you're greeted with one very large...forehead.
"Um..." you breathe out slowly, hoping your pulse wasn't visible from where they were nestling their face into your crotch "that's my um...yeah"
"Y-yeah, so..." you prop yourself up on shaky elbows, attempting to guide them through...whatever they were doing.
From what you know their mouths at least don't look like they're made for oral. If anything the idea of having those tusks on you or, God forbid, sticking something between them, had goosebumps rise on your bare legs.
"It's...very sensitive" you explain, reaching out to tug on a lock of their hair (for lack of a better word), trying to get them to back off a little and earning yourself a growl that had you instantly freeze up. "O-okay then..."
Raising their head enough to glare at you, you contemplate if now was the right time to be begging for your life, or if you should keep that for when they rip you apart. Keep it special, you know?
They sigh. You let out a breath. They let go of your legs. You close them with a speed that was anything but erotic and sit up.
Back to the start.
Honestly, you were beginning to feel a bit bad for them.
Yautja males, outside of but especially during mating season, had an insanely high libido. That was the one thing you had been breached on, since that is the whole reason the IBP was even formed- to keep sexually frustrated yautja from losing themselves in heat by losing themselves in a human, instead.
The specifics were as alien to you as their anatomy, but you imagine it to be similar to female cats. Painful, distracting, making you forget everything except the itching need to get rid of that goddamn feeling.
They were dynamite, lit and ready to explode. And you were their salvation, hesitant and afraid like you weren't paid to be here.
You hold up a lone hand like a fence between sheep and wolf, shifting onto your knees as you look them over. They were a beast, but as your gaze reveals, certainly not monstrous.
Broad shoulders, a well defined chest, thick muscular thighs that met at a sort of...knob. Like a rounded bulge that made you wonder at why they were covering that part with armor at all. They make another clicking sound, but for once you don't tear your eyes away. After all, if they were unashamed about getting an eyeful, why wouldn't you be?
And they're definitely not shy. At least you thought so, until their large palm moves to cover it up, and you look at them in confusion for a moment, prompting "How...how does it...work?"
Their response was not verbal, but came instead in an act that seemed all too familiar to how you would touch yourself, and for a moment you considered if maybe you had been wrong entirely. That perhaps the way they were rubbing their fingers against the bulging flap between their legs suggested that they had an innie, not an outie. Which would at least be something you'd have no issue working with.
But then it, in a hilariously literal sense, sprung free, and you found yourself almost amused-
If not for the sheer size of it.
At first you assumed that the drugs, and the free medicare, and the actual barrels of lube were mere incentives. Simply things to get more humans warmed up to the idea of taking on a Yautja. Like, hey, none of these are actually necessary but we provide them for you just in case, so don't even worry!
But now that you see those 15, somehow fully erect inches staring back at you, you realize that they aren't incentives- they are necessities.
"Oh fuck me." you whisper harshly, staring at their anaconda like it was about to bite you.
And as their big hands reach for you again you realize human expressions do not translate well at all.
They cup both your cheeks in one, use the other to pry your legs further apart and ignore your sputters and squeaks like a parent would a stubborn child. To them, you may as well be. What was it? One yautja year equals ten to every human?
"Wait- wait! HOLD ON!" you squack with no regards to your dignity as you feel the beginning of them press against you, but it was only when you move to yank their head back by their hair that they seem to listen.
They roar like a tiger, the appendages on their faces spreading like they were about to crush your skull with them, but you stay determined to get your point across.
"It won't fit!" you cry "It won't fit! I'm sorry! Let me down! Please let me down!"
For a moment you feel the hand spanning the circumference of your leg dig it's claws into the flesh, ask yourself what sweet god took pity on you today and made this creature at least somewhat fluent in consent as it reluctantly sets you back down, and vow that the next time you find yourself bored of your life you'll simply dye your hair a bright blue or book a random trip to Mexico.
"T-thank you," you breathe out deeply, settling back onto your knees "I'm sorry."
But despite their respect for the word no, their frustration was still evident.
They have no eyebrows but still you could see them furrow, hear a faint grumble reverberate in their chest as they must question for the umpteenth time tonight why they had been coupled with the ship's worst prostitute.
"I'm sorry." you add again, this time less out of fear and more out of embarrassment.
They growl again in response, their eyes fixing you in something that somehow manages to not feel like anger.
"Listen," that word again. You smile and wonder if they know what a smile is. "maybe we can work something else out?"
Your eyes drop again, to the part which—just like them—demands attention. And you'd give it, once you figure out a way not to die in the process.
"Do…I mean maybe if I just take half- oh!" you look back up into their eyes that seemed to never break contact with yours "Can I give you head?"
It certainly wasn't your smoothest line, but from what you could tell they don't really care for subtlety.
They nod, and you can finally breathe again.
You look down again, and realize you won't be breathing freely for long.
As if expecting further instructions, they remain seated and staring at you, legs spreading just a little further again. Okay, you think. You can do this.
On all fours, you do your first attempt at seduction tonight, crawling closer towards them—and then briefly kissing the floor before quickly and awkwardly picking yourself up again. It's hard to be sexy when you're drunk.
Though it does make it a little easier to act before your thoughts can stop you, hand reaching out to gently wrap around- fuck. Try and wrap around their cock.
They let out another deep huff, twitching against your palm.
"Damn…a-are all Yautja this big?"
You startle, almost recoiling from them as they erupt in a loud series of clicks and chirps. For a split second you think, and get weirded out by the prospect of those being, moans. Until you realize they're actually laughing. You smile.
"Is that—is that a yes? It's not a stupid question." you chuckle with them, still not sure if they're doing the same or laughing at you.
"Most" they rumble, deep and heavy, "I'm not big-est"
Not the biggest. Great. Wonderful. So a dick the length of your forearm and the width of a Pringles can was only the beginning of your journey. If that's the average for Yautja males giving birth for the females must be heavenly eas—
You startle again.
"What the fuck?!"
You let go of their cock in favor of giving them the most petulant, angry, surprised yet grateful, and just as confusing as trying to describe it, look one could have.
"You can talk? Why didn't you talk before?" you demand and they grunt again, though at this point you're pissed enough to say something about it "Stop huffing at me! You can talk!"
"Not good."
"Don't care!"
"Touch me." they say suddenly like they're trying to indulge you, voice as soft as their throat would allow "Please."
And you sigh, keeping your eyes on them for another moment like your glare would do anything to a beast of their size as you try and quell your anger at having to work with near silence to preserve their ego in the face of not-quite-perfect english.
But touching them was what you were here for, so that wasn't something you'd argue about.
Leaning down, you open your mouth as wide as you could go so your teeth wouldn't accidentally scrape them, and get almost thrown across the room like a ragdoll.
"WoaH-shit—what the fuck?!" you repeat, and they squeak, revealing that their voice could get an octave higher than venom-deep "NO BITING"
"What? I wasn't gonna-"
"NO BITING" their hand cups between their thighs, attempting to frantically stuff themselves back into their weird sheeth-thingy, standing back up to back away from you. Like a lion recoiling from a tiny snake because it knows there's venom in there.
"I wasn't-" you try again to explain, but they're already bolting from the room, 300 pounds almost putting a dent in the door when it fails to slide open fast enough.
You're left still naked, unfucked, untouched, and so very very confused on the floor of your make-shift brothel room.
Hi. What if the reader wants a child in common with We're ar-oh? What will she do? And how will he react?
Calling For The Impossible
Pairings: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x AMAB!Reader
Word Count: 1930
Summary: The culture of Yautjas are widely different when it comes to humans. There are some things you wished your own kind would adopt while thankful there are others you aren't apart of. You wish for a child with We'ar-ow. There are plenty of means of producing one with a different, advanced species. But hybrids are frowned upon in many, many clans. We'ar-ow's including.
Author Note: I tried my best to make it gender neutral since I didn't know what gender you wanted. I did lean a bit more male, sorry if that's the wrong side though. We'ar-ow's different compared to Gawtin. Different backgrounds and clans. So, this is the other side of the coin.
Masterlist
Ao3
After the rise and fall of Dwainet, you have grown more than comfortable in a life of luxury. We’ar-ow is still her normal, Yautja self. Hard outer shell, but soft and mushy inside. All for you. With this calm and laxing situation, up came an idea that nagged and nagged at you. Until the words finally slipped from your lips.
In the calm quarters of We’ar-ow’s shared home, you were strewn across the pink Yautja’s lap. Your trusty tablet in your hands. A game for breeding hunting dogs had your attention. After a year, you’ve had grown quiet a large collection of dogs. Plenty of them well bred and the perfect creature. The game offered you plenty for the selling of the best of your dogs. As a soft-hearted human, it was hard to depart with them though. They were so ugly that it made them cute!
We’ar-ow’s hand rested over your stomach and ate up the majority of the free skin. An action you’ve grown used to, even craving it. The warmth she produces had a calming effect on you. The lack of clothing as well. After the day in and day out of seeing Yautjas practically naked, you’ve adapted to live like them. On their ship, in their culture, it was kill or be killed. A fact you learned the hard way throughout the year under her care and love. She may not say it in human terms, but We’ar-ow loves you more than anything.
Her thumb lazily stroked at the exposed skin of your stomach. You hummed and let your eyes drift shut. A comfortable silence engulfed the area. The game playing on your tablet forgotten about. Said tablet lowered down to rest on the edge of your ribs.
“Did you not sleep well, little one?” she asked to you once she realized your eyes were closed. Maybe you were a little tired, slightly exhausted from the long day. Yautja’s days were two hours longer than earth’s. It has led to problems where a midday nap was required to keep awake the rest of the day. Some times those naps would run much longer than you intended. That’s when your sleep schedule was messed up.
Your head shook in denial. “I did, love. Your presences… it calms me in ways I never thought was possible,” you explained why you were so lax. Yautjas aren’t used to a life like that. But, you were well protected. Not only because of where you were at. No, because of the hunk you offer your heart to every single day. She deserves it. She’s done so much for you.
Long, black claws grazed over your skin. You shuttered with a soft gasp. We’ar-ow kept doing that, tickling you in the process. Giggles erupted from your throat. You squirmed in her lap and tried to warn her off. The Yautja leaned over. Her long, black and pink tresses created a curtain around the two of you.
“And you, my dear ooman, hold my heart in your bare hands,” she purred to you in a rumbling voice. Goosebumps rose at the feeling. A soft smile broke across your features. You reached up and cupped one side of her features. Her eyes hooded over while she nuzzled against your touch. “Hmm, your hands.” She still wasn’t used to your softness. Maybe, that’s what drew her in. A touch she’s never experienced before.
She turned her head enough for her tongue to flick across your palm. Another hum rumbles from deep within her chest. You snorted at the feeling and gently looked into her eyes. The bright yellow is a stark contrast to your own. A color a human could never achieve. They were… phenomenal.
The tablet was laid down on top of your chest. You used both hands to hold her head. Your thumbs gently rubbed at the slightly wrinkling scales along her cheeks. The page book in her grasp was discarded to the side. Her massive hands gripped your hips and simply lifted you up. You giggled again, not surprised by her sudden use of strength. We’ar-ow loved to show off in front of you. A display of might.
Your thighs were forced wide to accommodate her size and hips. The same smile still was spread across your features. Pink hands continued to grasp at your waist and held you in place.
One of your hands rested on her breastbone to steady yourself. The Yautja peers down at you, features soft and open. You were able to read her like an open book like this; and she allowed you to. “What’s going through your head, love?” She was thinking. Something hard to. The gears were moving.
A hand gently grasped your chin and pulled you in closer. Deadly claws were close to your pulse point. A place where your life essence flowed quickly. You let her access, freely letting her have it.
We’ar-ow’s thumb grazed over your bottom lip. “That is a question I should ask you. You are thinking but holding in these thoughts. Let me here them. I am curious,” she states and leans in close to you. It was impossible to get away from her strong, powerful gaze. She looked directly into the soul she holds in her hands.
Instantly, you froze on the spot while a heavy heat rushes to cover your face. Though, you might think how in the worlds would she know? But this is We’ar-ow we’re talking about. This amazing leader and mate knows you better than yourself.
You swallowed hard and tried to turn your face away from her ever-seeing gaze. But, her grip prevents the move. We’ar-ow clicks her tongue then tsks with a shake of her head. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, little one,” she ordered and darkened her eyes. You felt even more in the spotlight and didn’t know how to react. Now, your thoughts were scrambled. From the deep rumble of her voice to the way she demanded your attention. She wanted to pluck the thought straight from your head. She wanted to know.
It was hard to keep looking into those piercing eyes of hers. It took everything in your power to finally speak the words.
“Well, I want…” you trailed off at first but she was a hunter. The predator was patient in her hunt. One she’s endured countless times throughout her life. A tug on your jaw got you to spill. “I want, want a child with you.” It’s been hard to hold onto an idea such as that. Such a life changing proposition.
A family with We’ar-ow, the leader of her clan and your mate. But, it came down to biology. Was it even possible between two different species?
For the first time in a long time, you saw her brows jerk up subtly. If you weren’t paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed. As her mate, you saw the change clear as day. You had caught her off guard.
She cleared her throat, mandible twitching. “A child?” she repeated the words. Clearly, she hadn’t believed you at first. “Why would you want a child with me?” You don’t completely understand why but that had your chest aching a little. But, you had to remind yourself that Yautjas don’t bullshit around. They are straight to the point. We’ar-ow, mate or not, was no different.
Your hands were folded in your lap, nervously playing with each other. You couldn’t look at her anymore and down casted your gaze. “I just thought… it would be night. To have a part of each other in someway or another. I-I don’t know.” You grew incredibly timid after spilling that information to her. We’ar-ow hummed and forced your head back more to make you look her in the eye.
“I will let you know the possibility for a hybrid to even make it to gestation it very low.” Her hand lets go of your chin and trails down your torso. “I, myself, dislike hybrids. They are an abomination. They are to die.” You jerked, eyes flying wide. That was the last thing you expected from her.
All you could say was, “oh.” Not another word could be formed after such a declaration. How could possibly think of something after that? If the two of you somehow had a child, she would kill it. You sagged in her lap and sorrowfully looked down.
A soft sigh came from the Yautja. Both of her hands cupped your jaw and drew your sight back to hers. “It may be harsh, I understand that humans aren’t as such. But, it is the truth.” We’ar-ow paused so her words could hang in the air. As a human, you were seen as soft and mushy. This was a reminder. “But, if you are desperate for a child we could raise together, we do have adoption.”
That got you to perk up with a smile brightening your face. The gloominess of the situation leaving from the forefront of your mind.
This was the first time you heard about adoption withing their culture. Yet, the idea of it existing made sense more than not. A race and culture built on hunting. Hunting always came with a risk of death. Though, mothers rarely left their children home while going on a hunt. Food had to come from somewhere. The fathers weren’t part of the picture most of the time unless they were mates.
A new sparkle flickered to life in your eyes. “We can adopt?” you cheered and sat up in her lap, thighs clenching. Both of your hands rested on her chest.
For a fleeting moment, you saw a flash of relief entered her eyes before it was gone. The two of you were continuing to run into issues due to the cultural differences. As adults, you talked it out and figured out a solution. That’s the exact opposite with Dwainet. It was a relief for yourself to have someone who will talk it out with you.
Her pink head dipped down to confirm your question. “Yes, it’s a possibility. There aren’t many in that situation. Yet, not many Yautjas are willing to adopt. It comes from thought process of blood.” She gripped your hips again and pulled you an inch closer to her. “I have had my fair share of children. I don’t have the need to have anymore. I am willing to adopt if that’s something you wish.”
From the beginning, you knew she was willing to lay down at your ask. The leader of her mighty clan. The mate of a human she adored. It all came down to the whole talking thing again.
You wiggled happily in her lap then threw your arms around her. An excited cry left your lips. “Yes! Please, I would love that.” It was the perfect compromise to this conflict of ideas.
She returned your hug and cradled your head to her shoulder. Her other hand roamed the expanse of your back. “Alright, I shall make contact with them. We will do our research. There are different places where these younglings come from. I expect you to do the same thing.”
Again, you nodded rapidly then pulled away, hands resting on her shoulders. “I will, I promise. Thank you, love. Thank you so much for making my wish come true.” This was a different turn of event than what you originally thought would happen when the question was asked. Yet, after the solution came, you were still happy with the situation. You were finally going to have a child with We’ar-ow.
Summary: After a gruesome battle with Dwainet, We'ar-ow deserves aftercare from her newly crowned mate.
Author Note: I may have put finishing this off on the back burner. I... I didn't want to finish it. I wanted to leave it open. I hate finishing stories. It's a chapter done in my story. But, I pulled myself up by my big girl breeches and completed it. There will be two other side parts to this.
Masterlist
Ao3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17
All the way back to her quarters, not a word was said between the two of you. Your heart drowned out any noises that may have filled the breezeways. Blood dripped from her fingers and lead a path to her front door. It followed inside the quarters. You led her towards her room and guided We’ar-ow into her bathroom.
It was clean and pristine in here. Until she entered. The neon blood created spots on the tiled floor. You motioned with your hands for her to wait there. Curious, the Yautja listened to your command and watched your form trot over to the bath. A small smile gracing her features. You began to fill up the bath, fingers touching the warm water. Once you deemed it the perfect temperature, you added some incense she never thought to use. They cluttered around the edge of the bath, collecting dust.
A soft aroma filled the humid air. We’ar-ow took a lungful in and let her eyes shut. The heat in her veins was disappearing. The walk back here helped ease down the excitement that filled her entire being. Hunting and killing Dwainet was more than relieving. There may be other dangers that could endanger you, but with the main problem out of the way. You had no reason to fear the outdoors again.
The problem was in her hands. His blood staining the tiles under her feet. It had cold down some but the warmth she could feel was delicious. She had made sure you had watched as she used her own strength to rip his head clean off. To show off. To ensure you knew how strong, how mighty, how skilled she was. We’ar-ow was easily able to defend you from any attackers. Including one she wished she had killed off long ago.
Your soft gaze landed on We’ar-ow. All thoughts of the past left. We’ar-ow dropped the head in the nearby sink before stepping up to your shorter frame. The position forced you to tilt your head back, exposing your throat to her. A vulnerable position she would be caught dead in. Yet, here you are, willingly giving such a fragile portion of your body to her. Not that the rest of you was vulnerable as well. She didn’t mind. It made you, you.
We’ar-ow’s chest no longer heaved for air. The battle left her veins. Now, it was time for you to step in.
The first thing you did was tap at her armor on the top portion of her torso. Her bright eyes observed you a little more. Then, her hands got to moving.
They easily unlatched each piece of metal and let them fall to the ground. We’ar-ow would later come around to cleaning them. Right now, she was more focused on you. There was something you were planning. She was willingly to wait it out and see what you come up with.
From her shoulders, she moved down. The pink Yautja exposed her entire frame to your scanning eyes. Despite the battle being unfair from the start, a three verses one – you didn’t find much for her injuries.
Most of the blood being her enemies. There were going to be plenty of bruises to see later. All you could see was where a few throwing knives were embedded into her skin and where her tresses had been pulled out. If only that darker red Yautja had still a little life left in him. You would’ve been more than happy to stomp on his face. Her beautiful tresses had been tug straight out of her skull. A very sensitive organ.
Once the last piece of clothing had been discarded to lie at her feet. You scanned over her, admiring the frame she’s crafted from meticulously. Then, you realized what you were doing. Right in front of her.
Heat flushed your cheeks to life. You squeaked before spinning around and facing towards the tub. “Um, you can… you can get in whenever you want,” you sputtered and strolled over to the faucet. The bath was close to being filled all the way. You distracted yourself with that and carefully watched her out of the corner of your vision.
We’ar-ow stepped up to the edge of the bath and look into the water. A relaxing aroma soaked into the air, causing the Yautja to let her muscles go lax. She glanced at your crouched position, not even looking at her. She chuckled deep with in her chest.
The water drew her further in past the first step. The bath easily fitted her towering form, designed specifically for someone of her size and stature. She sat down on a ledge, arms spread out on the edge. A position of relaxation.
One of her hands motioned for you to come closer. You gulped before listening to her silent command. The heat in your cheeks still prominent as ever. She looked beautiful like this. After a hard and demanding battle, she deserved this peace to recuperate. You stopped on the other side of her spread out arms and gazed down at her. We’ar-ow used a finger to get you to lean down. Confused, you still listened to her.
Something latched onto your wrist. A tug had you flailing and falling headfirst into the tub. Your body caused water to spill over the edge. You surge past the water’s surface and gasp for air. Adrenaline buzzed to life, trying to fight for your survival. Anger boiled in the pit of your stomach as you scrambled for the edge of the bath.
Hands grasped at your waist and pulled you into a figure. You fought against the hold but it was pointless. All you were able to do was spin around and pounded a fist on her chest.
“What the fuck was that for?!” you screamed at her then wiped off the excess water on your face. We’ar-ow rumbled a chuckle, shoulders rising and falling. You steamed worse than before and harshly huffed, arms crossed.
Now, all of your clothes were soaked and clung to you like a second skin. It felt terrible. We’ar-ow rested her hands on your waist. The tips of her fingers and thumbs nearly were able to touch each other. That just made you feel even smaller than before. You still in her lap and tilted your head up. She was watching you with an unknown emotion swirling in her eyes. You didn’t know what it was.
“I’m all wet because of you,” you pouted, brows lowered, features pulling a ‘resting bitch face’ well. “Do you know how uncomfort-“ We’ar-ow snatched a handful of fabric and easily tore it from your torso. “What are you doing?!” That didn’t deter her from ripping every single article of clothing straight off of your body.
You stayed sat in her lap, unable to stop her until you too were naked as the same as her. After so long, the nakedness wasn’t as much as an issue as before. She’s stripped down plenty of times in front of you. Plus, she’s forced you to bathe despite disagreeing with her. That included what she just did to you.
Her hands returned to your waist and rested. There was no twitching or tight holds on you. It felt like you could leave at any point you wanted. Instead, you stayed there and found her eyes again.
The female Yautja started to purr and gingerly leaned forward. Instinctively, your eyes softly shut on their own and let her rub her forehead against yours. It was just a gentle manner; you almost thought it was a dream. We’ar-ow wasn’t soft. Not unless she wanted to be.
It caused you to relax in her grasp. Your hands came up to touch at her chest, to hold yourself up. One of her palms shifted to drift over the skin on your back. A curse sounded in your head. You melted into a pool of goo in her grasp. She knew what she was doing. It wasn’t like you were going to stop her in the first place.
Then, you shook yourself free from the calming manner and pulled away. One of your hands reached up to cup her jaw, feeling the smoother scales. You sat up higher on your knees and cupped some water with your hands. She watched as you let the water carefully run over her mandibles. You used the water to wash off the blood flakes that stained her mandibles and pink scales. It easily came off with your help.
A silence overcame the two of you. At first, you felt tense, unable to find your voice. We’ar-ow wouldn’t stop look away from you somehow finding your face the best thing to peer at. The stare of a predator forced your muscles to tense up. You fought against it, long enough to clean up her face and call it good.
Next, you worked on her upper torso since the water covered the soft swell of her breasts and down. The steam in the air created precipitation to run down your face. A heat you still weren’t used to. One you may never get a hang of. You ignored her gaze for the betterment of cleaning her up. Green blood of her enemies still staining her scales.
When you reached for the back of her head where the tresses had been pulled out, We’ar-ow ensnarled your wrist. You jolted at the unsuspecting move and found her gaze again. She brings your hand to her breastbone and pushes the palm to the scales. You can feel her powerful heart thump under your touch. A reminder she survived through it all.
We’ar-ow scoots a little closer to the end of the ledge was sitting on then dunked her head under the water. When she came back up, she shook her head and flung water everywhere. You gasped and turned away from the assault. “We’ar-ow!” you scolded but couldn’t hide the slight hint of playfulness in your voice. She instantly started to rub her wet features over your drying skin.
When she deemed it enough, We’ar-ow pulled back and lifted up her top two mandibles. A smirk. You pursed your lip and crossed your arms. “I was trying to be nice and help you. This is how you pay me back?” you huffed. The Yautja started to purr again. Your weakness.
One she knew when and how to use against you. A sigh left your lips. Your shoulders sagged. “You’re lucky I care so much about you.”
Her massive hands cupped your cheeks, easily dwarfing your features. “I am very lucky to have you at my side. Very much so,” she cooed and leaned again to nuzzle her forehead to yours. You let your arms wrap around her neck and stayed there in her arms, enjoying the moment of peace. One you knew would be far and few between.
Both of you clambered out of the bath. We’ar-ow using her brute strength to simply lift you out and set you down on the wet tiles. The heat of the ship and room kept you from feeling a chill. You were happy for once about how hot the mothership is kept at. We’ar-ow steps out and lets the water creates pools underneath each step she made.
After all the times in here, you find the blow dryer and stood on top of the grate. A warm gust of air helped fling off any drops of water that clung to your skin. You moved your way into her room and let the towering Yautja dry off as well. She followed after you.
Before she could stop you, you were quick to throw on some clothing. You knew if she had an opportunity, We’ar-ow would’ve denied you clothing. There was something about you being naked she enjoyed seeing. Especially in the safety of her quarters. All of your features exposed for her eyes only. She deepened her purr and crowded behind you.
Yet, you spun around and poked a finger into her stomach. “Hold up, go sit on the bed,” you demanded then pointed towards her bed. It would decrease her height and make it easier for you to care for her injuries. Her bright eyes narrowed down on your form. She snorted then stroll over to the low bed. You watched her for a few seconds afterwards before trotting back into the bathroom.
A first aid like kit was snatched from a cabinet before you were back at her side. We’ar-ow peered over her shoulder and observed what you were doing.
The kit was opened and laid out off to the side, on the bed. You found a serum and used it to rub across her side where the throwing knives were once embedded in her skin. It was rubbed into her scales and left it exposed. The wounds weren’t severe enough to warrant any bandages. You peered at the pull tresses and cringed at the painful sight.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything for your scalp?” you asked and moved to stand between her open legs. In this position, she was eyelevel with you. You cupped her cheek again and rubbed a thumb along the ridge of her upper mandible.
We’ar-ow shook her head softly. “No, there’s nothing to be done. The wounds will close but the tresses may never grow back. It all depends on if they do or don’t,” she explained and pinched your jaw between two fingers.
Being this close to her, you weren’t disturbed by the face she was still naked. A sight you’ve seen plenty of times, nearly every day. Some Yautjas liked to sleep naked. You kept your eyes strictly on her face, trying to respect her. The sight of her naked was beautiful though. A goddess carved into the most beautiful, most powerful creature to walk this universe.
“Okay,” you timidly responded. In response, We’ar-ow ensnared an arm around your waist and tugged you flush to her. A yelp surged past your lips. Your free hand was then pinned to between the two of you. She laid down on the bed and brought you down with her. Her other arm wrapped around your back, effectively pinning you to her.
You just let it happen. Your eyes slowly shut, letting the calm setting wash over you like the most soothing bath ever. Her arms were a comforting weight on your back and kept you pinned to her. One of the most safest places to be.
An unknown amount of time passed before she was shifting from underneath you. A groggily noise escaped your throat when you felt her warmth leave you. Your eyes blinked open to find We’ar-ow pulling on a simple pair of shorts. The Yautja strolled into the bathroom before heading into the main area of her quarters.
Curiosity got the best of you. You slipped out of bed and lumbered after her retreating form. She stepped into her trophy room. A place you kept a wide berth from. There were human skulls inside. It was natural to fear the fact one of those could be you. This time, you only hesitated before taking the plunge and going inside.
The room was considerably large. A work desk was built into the wall. Random gadgets and smaller bones laid about the wooden table. We’ar-ow set down Dwainet’s skull into a vat full of what had to be acid. It was angry looking and smelled like it was burning. You timidly stepped up to her side and motioned towards the vat. “What are you doing?” you asked and turned your head towards her.
We’ar-ow was watching as the acid bubbled with the added food. “Cleaning your courting gift,” she answered then plucked it from the vat. The sky-blue liquid dripped off of the now skinless skull.
White bones were all that were left in its wake. The other pieces part of the jaw and mandibles had to be scooped out as well. She brought all of them over to the desk and set the pieces down with the skull.
A stool was pulled up for you perch upon. You thanked We’ar-ow and watched. She carefully used a clear string like fishing line to reconnect the mandibles and jaw back to the main part of the skull. The way her large hands were delicate and still with the process shocked you. You didn’t doubt her. Far from it. But, for such a brute creature, We’ar-ow knew when and how to use that strength when the time calls. Including coming to your aid when you needed someone most. She became that someone.
The Yautja worked swiftly with practice. You zoned in on her work and ignored what the rest of the room held. It was best not to think about it. Or else, you’ll freak out. That would look terrible in front of her.
It didn’t take long before she stepped back from the standing desk. Despite the knowledge of who that skull is, you weren’t weirded out. Actually, it offered a sense of peace of mind. Dwainet couldn’t do anything to hurt you anymore. Now, it was just We’ar-ow and yourself to face what else the universe may throw at you. The two of you could defeat them all.
She took the skull into her hands before kneeling in front of you again. Inside the swirling emotions in her eyes, you saw the love that sparkled in them. Your name soft left her mandibles as her gaze pierced your very soul. “I wish to present this skull to you in a show of my skills and triumph of today’s battle. I show my skill and prowess to protect you. I show there is no reason to doubt me or what I can do to protect what’s mine,” she declared and lifted the skull closer to you.
Your hand rested on the dome section of the skull and smiled at her. “We’ar-ow, thank you. You don’t understand how much this means to me.” Your shoulders slightly sagged. “I don’t mean to seem like I’m doubting you but it’s human nature. I know you are strong and mighty. I don’t doubt that. I trust you, We’ar-ow, with all of my heart,” you stated, gaze softening at We’ar-ow.
The air between the two of you grew tense. You felt it squeeze at your chest.
We’ar-ow was the first to break eye contact by clearing her throat and looking away. “Do you have somewhere this should be hung up?” She stood back up to tower over you. You softly huffed through your nose with a shake of your head.
“Anywhere is good.”
The skull ended up above the bed. It’s final resting place of the male who betrayed you.
Summary: The week is up. In one last try, you throw yourself at her feet and pleads her to not do this. As much as you don't want to watch, you can't not be there. If she were to die, Dwainet will kill you, might as well make it swift. So you go. We'ar-ow looks magnific in her armor and adorned in weapons. The two arrive in grand style. You're decked out, head to toe in everything We'ar-ow has given you. The battle commences.
Author Note: It has finally arrived! This is the second to the last chapter planned for this series. The climax of it all. I hoped the fighting scenes are alright. I hate writing fighting scenes. They need to be quick, fast and I like to describe everything. So, it's the opposite to what I do.
Masterlist
Ao3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 17 | Part 18
Everyday since the challenge had been issued, We’ar-ow acted indifferent. Not a thing changed. She would take you to her throne room where she dealt with the dealings as the Monarch of her clan.
Well, besides the fact you admitted your love to the alien. Outside the safety of her quarters, We’ar-ow was the same Monarch everyone knew her as. Yet, inside those walls, specially when the night cycle fell upon the two of you, she would cuddle with you. Her eight foot and so frame was easily able to dwarf you. She’d scoop you to her torso and curl around you like some sort of brick wall. Imposing and immoveable.
It was impossible to nudge her even slightly to the side to get up when nature called. The lumbering giant female hugged you like a koala. There was little chance to escape unless you’ve threaten to piss in the bed or getting a UTI because you’re holding it for so long.
Besides the cuddling, that’s the only thing you’ve noticed. And that made you begin to think. The way she barely has changed her personality at first had you worried that she didn’t return your feelings. Then, you got to thinking.
If nothing had changed… maybe she has loved you from the beginning.
Then, to find you there, all those months ago, on the verge of crying couldn’t been fate. You don’t believe she had anything to do with Dwainet breaking up with you. It was the opportunity falling into her lap. We’ar-ow, the predator she is, took the chance to snatch you up before some other Yautja could. A lone pet without its master was a call for trouble.
Now, look where you are now. From the depths of food chain where Dwainet survived in as a newly blooded to the mate of the monarch. A clear glow up for yourself.
Including now; decked out in a finest of material Raunch designed for the day. You looked nothing less than a deity while standing in front of the mirror. The thin, see-through material flowing from around your neck and down your back was flowy. It attached at two points to your wrists. The brown easily complimenting the pink that made up the rest of your outfit Raunch threw you in.
His life must have been on the line when he created this because of how fabulous and stunning you looked in it. We’ar-ow wanted you nothing short of the deity she saw you as. You glanced at said Yautja through the mirror while she armored her up.
One creature soft, pliant, silky. The other rough, jig jagged, coarse. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly against the other. Both complimenting each other.
You couldn’t help the gentle smile to upturn your lips at the thought before it dropped. The realization of what was about to occur hitting you straight in the gut. This could be the last time you saw each other alive. Despite her plentiful reassurances that the day would go as planned, you are only human. And humans fretted, a lot. Any little thing could go wrong. And boom, she’s dead.
The blood in your veins ran cold. Death wasn’t new to you. Not when you’re surrounded by a species that hunted and prided themselves over the bodies they brought home. Or when they duke it out over a challenge thrown down. But to lose We’ar-ow. You couldn’t fathom the heartbreak it would bring upon you.
Goosebumps clouded your skin. The soft flesh of your bottom lip worried on by dull teeth. We’ar-ow’s strong gaze flickered over at you. Instantly, you straightened and found anywhere else to look at. Then, you attempted to relax and act natural in the face of your mate. Said Yautja began to stalk towards you before halting just shy of your back.
Her form towered even more with the added armor decorating her. She downright looked like a beast ready for the hunt. Your breath got caught in your throat when your eyes raked up her body in the mirror. She was stunning and terrifying all in the same boat.
The heat of her body blanketed you in comfort and helped ease the tension holding your shoulders. We’ar-ow reached around you to cup your throat and tilted your head back. “I have told you, there is nothing to fret about. I will be victorious. Not for me but for you, little one,” she growled and tugged you flush against the muscles that lined her thick thighs.
As much as you wanted to believe a hundred percent, there was that constant nagging inside of your mind. The part that will always make you human. The part that whispered from the depths that she will fail, she will fall, she will die. Then, you will have no choice but to be handed over to Dwainet. Once more in the hands of a sheep in wolf’s clothing.
A part that We’ar-ow can never quell.
“I am only human,” you muttered, eyes drifting down to look at the two of you in the mirror. Her claws lightly bit into the soft flesh of the back of your neck. But, We’ar-ow is careful, mindful of your more fragile form in her presences.
A grumble sounded from the back of her throat. “And I am the monarch of this clan. I have never lost a challenge. I will not lose this one. Not when I have something to lose, someone important,” her voice softened towards the end. Then, the pink Yautja bent at the waist to nuzzle her mandibles into your hair carefully with the decorations adorning your head. In her eyes, you rivaled Paya with your deity status.
Your orbs snapped up to the pink Yautja at your back, expression softening. “We’ar-ow,” you whispered her name then heavily sighed, eyes closing. This is a weight you never expected to bare. Not a weight that was meant for a Yautja more than you yourself.
“What can I do to make you believe me?” she mumbled into your hair then peered over to look you deeply into your eyes. “What will be the tip in the scales?” If you didn’t know any better, you could say she was begging for you to believe in her.
And that hurt you. Guilt burned a hole in your stomach. It was your own demons causing this issue to worsen with each denial that passed your lips and reflected in your eyes.
“Win the fight,” is all you can do to answer her. That will be what will make you believe her. When she brings you the head of the fallen Yautjas who will bring upon a fight that will challenge We’ar-ow in every sense of the word.
Her gaze hardened, mandibles pulled tight towards her mouth. Then, the Yautja leaned down and pressed them against your forehead in a mock kiss. “That I will, little ooman. That I will. All in the name of you. That scum will fall at my feet from my hands. Then, you won’t have to worry no longer.”
That eased the majority of the tension coiling in your muscles. But not all of it. You could still feel its burn in the back of your throat like acid. A feeling that would never go away. Not until the problem had been dealt with at the source. You prayed to their god, Paya, for this day to go the way you wanted. To see We’ar-ow’s beautiful face at the end of the day.
In tandem, side by side, you left the safety of her quarters for the hallways of her ship. Whatever shield that place put over you washed away the moment you stepped into the hallway. Less doors to protect you from the hazards of being on a Yautja mothership. You walked with your shoulders squared and back. A stance of pride that was felt in each step you took.
The doors of the elevator opened to reveal a face you were relieved to see. Xilomere. Him and his goofy, alien smile was a sight for sore eyes. You almost ran up to him to give him a hug. Today is a day you needed all the support possible. Anything to get you through the events planned.
Next to him was someone you’ve only seen once before. One of We’ar-ow’s sister’s who is on her council team. You politely dipped your head at her with a closed lip smile. The last thing you wanted to do was piss off her. We’ar-ow had enough to deal with today. She doesn’t need to put herself into a problem you created. Well, another problem you created.
“Xilomere, I’m so glad to see you,” you spoke, your face spilt with a closed smile. Your eyes shined with your feelings.
The green male set his palm on your shoulder and gave a welcoming shake. “I wouldn’t miss today even if I was legless. Plus, someone needs to keep an eye out just encase Dwainet is gonna play games. Who knows if he’ll break some more rules today.” The helped more to ease your racing heart. He was going to protect you while We’ar-ow fought. Like he said, who knows if Dwainet may send one of his goons after you while We’ar-ow is distracted.
Her sister, a beautiful shade of tans, beiges, and browns, huffed at Xilo. “So will I,” she rumbled and looked down at you. “I will protect you from any harm. I promise both you and my sister this.” Your heart soften even more from her words. The two of them, barely knowing, are willing to put their lives on the line in case of an attack for you. It was probably mainly for We’ar-ow but still.
You dipped your head deeply. “Thank you. I can’t say enough how much I appreciate that. Truly, thank you.” They returned to motion themselves.
We’ar-ow stepped up behind you and held both of your shoulders. “It is time we go. Dunkot is escorting the prisoners as we speak,” the pink Yautja wormed her way into the conversation. Not that you minded. You tilted your head back, throat completely exposed, to look up at her. The monarch of this ship was willing to put her neck out for you. To keep you protected. Not even Dwainet had done that.
Clearly, you’ve found the one.
As if the four of you were marching like soldiers, you stepped in time with one another. We’ar-ow kept the pace slow enough for you to easily keep up. You march side by side with her. Xilomere and her sister watched your backs the entire time.
Instead of the normal pathing to the throne room you were used to, We’ar-ow led the four of you down a different set of hallways and elevators. Down to the kehrites. A section of the ship you barely have been down to. Not unless you were begging for trouble that is.
All four of your entered the kehrites. Your jaw dropped though. These weren’t the mediocre sized classroom kehrites. No, they had knocked down all of the walls somehow and put in a few risers.
Every available space was consumed by the hundreds of bodies squished into the open area. There was even young children and unbloodeds who were stationed at the front for the best possible view.
A section in the middle of everyone was open and set up with a stage. We’ar-ow wanted everyone to see her beat Dwainet into the ground like the way he deserves. The way needs to be put down like the asshole he is. He doesn’t deserve to breath the same air as you. You couldn’t wait for the end but at the same time, you didn’t even want the battle to start. Not with We’ar-ow’s life on the line.
Your head held up high, you followed We’ar-ow over to a designated section carved out for you and your bodyguards. A seat that resembled a throne had been set up. The perfect size for you. It wasn’t fancy like We’ar-ow’s in the throne room but it was more than enough to state your status. She motioned you to climb the three stairs and sit upon it.
The plush seat met your butt allowed you comfort. It gave you an additional height against the larger aliens that filled this room. You didn’t feel small. We’ar-ow looked at you. You looked at her.
Everything else didn’t matter. You reached out despite your brain screaming at you that it was a bad idea. We’ar-ow leaned in and allowed for your hand to cup her cheek. Her warmth raced up your fingertips to settle in your heart. You had found a way to love again and that too was threatened all over again. It burned you had no way to help or fix this problem you created. You could only trust We’ar-ow to overcome the challenge that stood in her way to having you strictly to herself.
Xilomere and We’ar-ow’s sister stood directly on either side of you. His usually goofy expression was replaced by a hardened look that would take years to perfect. A warrior born and raised for the fight. The sister had one as well. Both were armed to the teeth with weapons. Unlike you who was adorn with soft, plush cloth for a gentle figure, they were prepared to take down an army if it came down to that.
The softer texture of We’ar-ow’s face rubbed against your palm. You tugged her closer to you and pushed your forehead against hers. Screw whatever anyone might think about this. You didn’t care. Not when everything was on the line. Your livelihood, your love, the one person you’ve found comfort in.
“Win this. My heart is yours,” you stated firmly, nails biting into the skin behind her jaw before letting go and leaning back into the throne.
We’ar-ow returned to her full height. “Mine has been yours since the beginning.”
Shock filled your system. You opened your mouth to respond but the sound of marching feet interrupted you. We’ar-ow turned her back on you to face the oncoming fleet.
Your thoughts whirled around inside your head, knocking into each and causing chaos in the making. There was no time to reel them in either. The best you could do in the moment was to shove them into a box and close the lid. Because, the moment a familiar form stepped around the corner, you pulled on your stoic façade and stared the beast. The monster who caused all of this. All of this for his moment in the spotlight.
Duknot practically dragged the dishonorable male into the room. He wouldn’t allow for him to attempt to walk and forced him to stumble and flail. Humiliation. Two other males were secured in chains behind Dwainet. Their guards weren’t as demanding.
From their faces and low amount of scars, neither were high ranking. Three low ranks against a monarch. You were feeling a little better at the realization. Her chances of winning had increased.
All three of them were shoved onto the stage. Their chains didn’t allow for them to catch themselves. You bite at the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing outright when they fell on their faces. Dunkot’s expression cracked with a hint of smirk. Then, he hopped onto the stage with two other guards.
Dwainet was hauled up by Duknot’s strength alone and placed back onto his feet. A hardy glare was sent to the guard but it was simply brushed off. In unison, the chains crashed to the ground. The sound echoing throughout the room after everyone had gone quiet. You felt your heart stuttered at the fact the traitor had been freed.
At your sides stood your guards. At your front stood the first and last person who would fight until her dying breath for you. You were safe.
Now, on the platform, Dwainet stood tall and scanned the crowd before his sharp eyes landed on you. Yet, you acted no different. A neutral expression is all he was faced with. He could see you from over We’ar-ow’s shoulders. She corrected this by sidestepping and blocking his vision. All the attention on her now.
His companions climbed to their feet as well and rubbed at their sore risks. From the space, you couldn’t hear what their chittered to one another. The translator unable to pick up from that far.
This was it.
On We’ar-ow’s side, she unclipped her combi-stick and opened it up. With a mighty slam, a loud clang gathered everyone’s attention to her now.
“Thank you all for coming to this special occasion. A lot has occurred over these last few weeks. A lot of information circulating between everyone. I’ve come to quell this unrest once and for all. Dwainet will succumb to the crimes he’s completed,” We’ar-ow started off when she rallied the entire clan’s attention to her.
Her voice echoed throughout the expanded room. “From this moment on, he has been deemed as a bad blood. He’s attacked a defenseless, weaponless creature. My pet under my protection had been injured by him. A crime such like that has brought upon his fate as a bad blood.” You couldn’t help up internally flinching at the reminder. It still felt fresh after all this time. To have someone you once loved so much attempt to murder you.
Horrible laughter rung out from the platform. “Oh, monarch. You can’t even protect the worthless pet in your protection.” Dwainet scanned the surrounding area. “You are weak. You are fragile. I can’t wait to beat you into the bloody pulp since day one. The title as monarch will be mine and you will be dead,” Dwainet boomed and kept his gaze moving.
You could tell he was trying to rile the clan up. In the presence of their monarch, no one even said a sound. The tension and fear palpable in the air.
With her back to you, you could feel the smirk etching its way onto her face. She expanded her arms out at her sides. “No one agrees with you, Dwainet. They see the truth. I true with a mighty fist but I know how much strength to use. I know the limitations. I know what this clan needs.” You hoped that the truth. We’ar-ow was a once in a lifetime leader. One that is needed in every clan across the board. Dwainet, he was the opposite of what We’ar-ow stood for.
A snarl ripped through Dwainet throat, his claws flexing at his side. You smirked and sat up straighter in your throne. You were heavily proud of We’ar-ow.
“Now, are you going to keep bickering or are you going to face your fate? I’ve got plans after this,” We’ar-ow drawled and crossed her arms.
Dwainet glanced behind him where his helpers stood. One was clearly nervous at the upcoming battle. The other was attempting to hold it in. These were just newly bloods like Dwainet himself. They weren’t as skilled as We’ar-ow. What was Dwainet thinking?
His gaze returned to her. “You shouldn’t have. There is nothing for you after this except for meeting Cetanu,” he growled and stomped down a foot on the platform. You could feel the eyeroll coming from We’ar-ow without her even looking at you. One that Dwainet whole heartily deserved.
We’ar-ow glanced over her shoulder one last time before marching straight into battle. The muscles that lined her back rippled with each step. Where her heart resides was protected by her metal armor covered by a pelt she earned herself. Both on her chest and back.
You couldn’t help but peek at the two body guards standing at your sides. Xilomere held onto his Combistick, his gaze directly in front of him and scanned the area thoroughly. We’ar-ow’s sister brandished two dual swords while preforming the same action. Both were on high alert. You were grateful for them and their willingness to do this.
The comfort of We’ar-ow’s presences left you. It was your turn to hold down the fort and wait for her return. You gripped the arms of the throne, white knuckling it before glancing at the sister again.
A thought nagged at the back of your mind. You nervously flickered your gaze around before leaning towards her. “I’ve realized I never caught your name,” you whispered in the quiet space, mindful of how loud your voice could grow.
“T'ah'keiad,” she calmly states yet never looks down at you. That would compromise her job as a body guard. Your eyes widened at the interesting name, lips pressed together. “For your ooman mind to understand, you can call me Kei.” You were thankful she understood her name may be difficult at first to speak. Your head dipped in thanks.
Then, you returned to scene unfolding before your very eyes.
We’ar-ow simply stepped onto the platform and towered over the males that opposed her. “Duknot, relieve their weapons to them,” she rumbled but kept a keen eye on Dwainet. He was the only one she truly had to worry about. She knew his tactics and how sneak he really could be. The others, she may not know how they fight but they couldn’t be worse than Dwainet. He was a disdain on her clanship.
The skin of your bottom lip was worried away by dull teeth. You couldn’t help it. Not with her standing directly in front of Dwainet and allowing for them to have their weapons. They were already adorn in meek armor. Armor that is what many new bloods only have. They don’t have enough ‘street cred’ to get anything better from any of the merchants.
Not once did We’ar-ow turn her back to Dwainet or his two helpers. Instead, she backed up to the edge of the platform and waited.
Dunkot stood in the middle like a referee. Two of the guards produced said weapons and handed them over. They returned to the flat ground and stood off to the side. Dunkot stayed in the center.
“As requested by our Monarch We’ar-ow, this challenge will be a battle to the death. Whoever is last to stand will be proclaimed at the new monarch per our rules. May your hands be true!” His voice boomed out over the area. Roars echoed from the crowd afterwards, deafening. You clapped your hands over your ears to protect them from terrible sound. It barely saved your ear drums from exploding.
Then, he left the platform. A strange shimmer rolled down from the ceiling and surrounded the platform. It was a shield to protect the crowd. Smart.
Before you had a chance to contemplate all of this, a loud bell sounded. Instantly, you knew what that meant.
In your throne, you had a front row seat to watch the fight unfold your very worried eyes. Despite your brain desperately wanting for you turn away and cower like the prey everyone thought you as, you held unsteadily strong. You watched with baited breath when We’ar-ow lifted up a crossbow and shot off a bolt directly at Dwainet.
The young male is able to narrowly dodge the flying bolt by rolling to the side. But, his partners in crime aren’t as lucky. It strikes one directly in the shoulder and pushes him back against the invisible shield. He chokes on a grunt and grabs at the bolt. The wood was snapped off to leave just the head inside but the damage had been dealt.
Dwainet goes for offense. He’s swift to get into We’ar-ow’s personal space. Flurries of kicks and punches were all deflected in matter of seconds. His hits hard, mean, likely to leave a bruise later on.
One of the other Yautjas tries to attack from the back. We’ar-ow ducks a hit from Dwainet and sticks out a leg to trip the darker red Yautja behind her. They fumble then fall back.
Finally, the last Yautja, a lighter red comes in by launching himself into the air. He believed We’ar-ow was distracted. She grasped Dwainet’s throat then aimed her crossbow once more at the already injured male. A bolt flies. It strikes him square in the chest. He fumbles and smashes in the space in front of We’ar-ow. The pink Yautja slams Dwainet down and picks up a foot.
The light Yautja’s head is crushed below her heel like the insect he was. Green blood stains the ground and coats the shield. You gasped and overed your mouth.
A throwing knife sticks out of We’ar-ow’s side. She acts no different. Her hand squeezing the life out of Dwainet. More pierce her hide to the point she picked up Dwainet again and threw him into the red Yautja.
They collided harshly with each other before slamming into the shield and flopping to the ground a pile. We’ar-ow moves with purpose over to the two scrambling forms. The crossbow back on her hip. She swipes Dwainet off of the ground again by his throat and holds him up. Her foot presses into the vulnerable area of the downed Yautja. The rings protecting his skin barely able to hold against her weight.
Her only foot on the ground is swiped from underneath her. Dwainet is allowed to be let loose. She is able to roll onto her stomach as claws swiped for her torso. Your eyes widened at the sight of her blood staining the floor this time. You sat more forward in your chair and played with your hands.
Red gets on top of her and grabs harshly at her neatly braided tresses. He pulls. We’ar-ow yanks her head forward. You gasped. Loose dreads hang in his hands, bleeding at the roots. You knew that had to hurt a lot.
We’ar-ow rams her elbow into Red’s side and knocks the wind out of him. A foot flies towards her face. She narrowly dodges a bad blow and latches her fangs into flesh. Dwainet roars and yanks his ankle from her mouth. Blood dripping down from the new wound.
Rage is a wildfire in his eyes. You had to stop yourself from curling into yourself at the sight. He snatches an axe from his belt and swung high above his head. No! You covered your mouth with both of your hands, unable to do anything to stop it.
In a terrifying slowness, it came down. Here you were, stuck in your chair, with a shield blocking you from the love of your life. You were forced to watch as Dwainet brought down the axe.
Her name left you lips in a cry.
The sickening sound of the axe sinking in will forever haunt your mind. You flinched away from the sight and covered your ears, unable to watch the final blow.
Dwainet roars. Pained. Confusion flooded your system. You picked up your head and looked back at the platform. Red was off of her back. Both of the male had been lifted up by their necks, forced to claw at her hands. The axe was imbedded into the metal floor besides were We’ar-ow’s head once was.
The pink female shoved both of the males against the shield directly in front of you. Her eyes pinned to your shaking form. You uncurled from your cowering position and looked up at her through blurry eyes. The sight of her alive form had your body sagging. She was okay. She was alive.
We’ar-ow dropped red then swiftly kicked one of his knees. A sickening crack echoing over the roars and cheers of the riled up clan. He dropped down where she knocked him down onto his back. In a similar fashion, she stomped down on his head, caving in his face. He too was dead.
You didn’t even flinch this time. Your eyes watched every move.
In her hand, Dwainet struggled and wriggled like a worm. His claws dug into her arms, anything to grant him release. He couldn’t get out of Dwainet fatal hold.
His feet dangled above the platform. We’ar-ow was able to hold him up without the aid of both arms or the shield. She snatched both of his wrists though and leaned forward. Your head tilted, brows furrowing on why she was making herself vulnerable for attack. Her mandibles twitched with words that your translator couldn’t pick up. You couldn’t only imagine what she was promising.
Then, he went soaring through the air and smashed into the ground and rolled before coming to a stop. He groaned while on his back. We’ar-ow unsheathed a machete from her waist band and brandished. The sharpened edge glinted from the overhead lights.
At her approach, Dwainet scrambled to his feet a moment to late. We’ar-ow swung and struck his forearm, just below his elbow. The blade sliced clean through muscle and bone alike. The injured Yautja choked on a cry and stumbled back and clutched at his profusely bleeding arm. You jerked your head back, eyes expanded at the terrifying sight before you.
His amputated arm flopped to the floor in a bloody, neon green heap. This when it finally hit you that this is where Dwainet was going to die. This was truly happening. Dwainet was about to be murdered right in front of you by your… mate. You just stayed sat and watched everything.
A snarl ripped from Dwainet’s throat. He glared daggers at We’ar-ow with a passion of hatred. With his only hand reminding, he brandished at knife and raised it above his head. The blade came down. We’ar-ow meets the offending hand with her own weapon. The cut was clean through his wrist as well. Another cry croaked from his hoarse throat. He collapsed to his knees as blood spurted from his amputated hands.
He didn’t raise his head to look death in the eye. We’ar-ow used the tip of her machete to tip his head up. Something primal and deep rumbled from her chest. Dwainet’s entire body froze as if he saw Cetanu himself. She stepped behind his deer in headlights position and faced you.
Despite the distance, you met her gaze. The machete was clipped to her belt again. We’ar-ow grasped his tresses with one hand. The male grunts and folds his mandibles in tightly to his face. His expression neutral. He knew what was to come.
We’ar-ow’s muscles flexed. A sharp crack pierced through the air. Life still shone in Dwainet’s grey eyes. Then, a roar sounded from your mate. Flesh and muscles alike ripped in a grotesque sound. You had to stop yourself from throwing up your lunch, but neither could you look away.
Green, neon blood dripped down to pool on the platform. Cheers of triumph echoed throughout the modified stadium. You could feel the ground rumbling underneath you, but all was quiet. The dead eyes of your ex-mate staring directly into your soul. The finale had come to a close. We’ar-ow stands as the winner once and for all.
Sound floods back into your ears, deafening to the point they rung. The shimmer of the shield faded away and allowed We’ar-ow freedom. The pink Yautja was the only one to move. Her thick legs dropped down from the platform and marched straight towards you. As much as you wanted to leap out of your chair and ensnared her in a hug, the blood of her enemies painting her skin reframed you.
Her yellow eyes met yours for an infinity. One of her knees dropped to the floor causing a silence to steal the noise of everyone. All was quiet. You gasped, instantly knowing a monarch kneeling was trouble.
In her bloodied hands, she presented you the head of Dwainet. Your heart pounded in your ears.
Your name was boomed across the room. “Do you accept this trophy as a gift of courtship?” We’ar-ow asked and watched every little sign from your expressions. Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Gasps from the crowd could be heard. Chitters and clicks as the translator only focused on the Yautja in front of you.
She was asking for you to be her mate… in front of the clan. She was laying claim over you more than the mark etched into your skin.
A few seconds ticked by. You nodded rapidly and rushed forwards. The head was dodged. Your arms wrapped tightly around We’ar-ow’s neck in hold she wouldn’t dare try to get you off. The blood of four was rubbed into your skin, including the life essence dripping from her missing tresses. We’ar-ow was swift to return the gesture, understanding this meant ‘yes’ in human.
Bellows escaped from the crowd but it was a sound you could care less about. Today was the day that marked the new chapter in your life. A newfound freedom from the chains Dwainet had weighed down on you. You had power not even the highest Yautja aboard this ship besides the monarch has. From the bottom of the barrel to sitting on a throne, you’ve grown.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 17 | Part 18
Summary: With one week to prepare for the end, your emotions are in turmoil. Once in the safety of her quarters, you face off the Yautja and began to berate for this stupid idea.
Author Note: Guys I'm getting scared! There's only two official chapters left that are planned! The end is near.
Masterlist
Ao3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 17 | Part 18
One week.
Those words echoed loudly with each step back to the safety of We’ar-ow’s room. That’s all the time you are given to come to terms with the end of this. This being your little space you’ve carved out for yourself. After the heartbreaking moment all those months ago to lead you here to be with We’ar-ow of all beings, you were finally happy.
Besides the terror that froze your veins, a raging heat melted the ice away and got your blood pumping. How could you forget these are just beasts? Monsters? Hot tears threatened to fall. Yet, with the frames of other Yautjas meandering through the hallways, you fought them off. She did not care about your feelings nor your safety if she’s offering you up like that.
It was a harsh reality. A slap in the face. A remind you are just her pet, her property. Nothing more in the eyes of that monster. You regretted forgoing your plans of escape. Any chance to get off this ride that was only heartbreak and death for you.
Heat rolled off of We’ar-ow. Her arm brushing against yours with each sway despite you inching to the side each time. You didn’t want her touching you. Not after she offered you to the very beast what wants you dead. The very monster who once loved you.
His words repeated alongside what had transpired. After what the two of you’ve been through, that’s what he’s diminished you to? And the fact he wants kill you. Or when he threatened something worse than death. You shuttered at the thought. A cold sweat causing your spine to tense up. You wished over a year ago that you never accepted Dwainet hand.
Love made you blind.
A mistake you weren’t going to commit twice.
The steel door slid open to reveal the sanctuary of We’ar-ow’s room. A place you could show off your true emotions.
Once locked inside. You stopped a step into the room and let the tears falls. We’ar-ow made her way to her room when she paused mid-step. She quickly about turned on her heel and returned to you. A black stare had blanketed your features as you peered at nothing.
Reality was unforgiving. Why couldn’t you just say no? Why didn’t you just say no to him? None of this would be happening. You would be dead in a week. Now, you get to count the days until both you and We’ar-ow died to Dwainet. Your body probably thrown out into space like garbage because that’s all you were to them. A pet. Nothing worthy of dignity, like Dwainet said.
That caused the first sob to break the heavy silence. It shattered into pieces at your feet.
We’ar-ow knelt down and cupped your cheeks. The rough pads of her fingers wiped any tears away. The sharp tip of her claw dangerously close to your eyes, but the Yautja was careful. “Why do you cry, ooman? Are you having sympathy for that scum now?” she questioned over your sobs and growling out the last few words. “He’s not worthy of anything you give him. Not even your table scraps.”
Your shoulders jumped with each shuttering sob that wrecked your body. Her words flew over your head. The pink Yautja took a different approach and drew you into her warm form. Her strong arms kept you trapped to her, holding you close. One of her hands soothed up and down the length of your bath.
In your despair, you wrapped your arms tightly around her neck and sobbed there. It was We’ar-ow’s fault anyway to have you like this. To have you breaking down like this. After all this time of picking up the pieces to your broken heart without even knowing it, she was throwing them away. It hurt worse this time despite knowing you should’ve expected this.
This race is nothing but beasts.
“Do not shed tears for him. He does not deserve your sorrow,” she rumbled into the air and continuously petting up and down your back.
Anger flared back to life. You ripped yourself away from her in a fit of rage and glared daggers at the Yautja. One who could easily tear your spine out of you without breaking a sweat. The alien stared confused at you, mandibles slightly twitching.
“That’s not why I’m fucking crying!” you screamed and moved out of her reach. The wall growing close to your backside. “You’re the reason. You’re-you’re a bitch! I’m nothing more than a pawn to you in this game. A fucking pet.”
“And you’re handing over your life and me to him without much of a fight. Three verses one. Seriously?! Were you hit over the head as a child?” The words tumbled out of your mouth without a filter in place. You could care less. At least the death she’ll give you will be merciful compared to Dwainet’s ideas.
Yet, We’ar-ow just sat there on her knees and took every word without batting an eye. Your shoulders heaved with every breath, teeth clenched together. Hot, salty tears still staining your cheeks with each one falling.
“I was so damn stupid!” you scoffed and began to pace. Her bright eyes followed your every move. “So goddamn stupid thinking there was at least one being on this cursed ship that didn’t want me dead. Clearly, it’s not Dwainet. And clearly, it’s not you either. Offering my life like that to him.”
You stepped closer to her and poked her chest harshly. With We’ar-ow on her knees like this, she was at eye-level with you. “For one moment in my life, I thought someone could at least care I was alive. That’s the bare minimum. That’s all I wanted. But you… you are just like Dwainet. Same personality, different font.”
At this point, your voice has grown hoarse over all the yelling. All the yelling that should have you dead. Yet, the Yautja had stayed silent and allowed every word to strike her. Not that it did nothing to harm her. Her pet couldn’t harm her. Nothing but a pet to her and everyone’s eyes.
Oh, how much of a fool you were.
We’ar-ow slowly blinked. That just angered you all the more. So much, you wanted to throw something physical at her. Something that could just make her feel a sliver of pain she’s brought down upon you.
“Is that what you think? That I do not care even an ounce about your safety and feelings?” Her words are heavy in the air. A loaded question you were quick to answer with a yes. The pink Yautja hummed, hands slightly twitching and eyes glancing down.
“I have failed then.”
Everything stopped. Your hand fell away from her chest as you froze to the spot. Failed? Those words too were loaded. “What do you mean?” you spat out the words, harsher than you meant to be in the fragile moment.
Her bright orange gaze found yours. Pain. “For everything that has come to this moment, I have done for you. Because you are my ooman. I have laid my claim over you so no other can take you away. All the gifts I have provided; the fights I have issued and won; this last battle to put this finally into the ground, was all for you. Clearly, I have failed.”
You were left speechless, jaw dropping to the floor at your bare feet. This wasn’t anything you’d expected to happen today. Out of everything you believe would’ve happened, for her to admit that…
New tears pooled at your lash line.
“Then why are you practically throwing away your life to challenge Dwainet like that? Three verses one. That’s completely unfair to you. I don’t care your skill level is high or whatever. No Yautja can win a fight like that,” you argued and returned your heated glare on her, for a different type of anger this time. “You are going to get yourself killed and I’ll be Dwainet’s property this time.”
Your shoulders leveled on their own. “If you truly care about me, then you wouldn’t have done that.” She was just throwing her life away at this point and completely not caring what happened to you. Two verses one is doable, but she chose one she’ll lose. You would rather she strike you down right here, right now than be in the hands of Dwainet again.
The Yautja grumbled, mandibles snapping shut. She stood up, towering over your form. Instinctively, you stepped away from her. She ate up that space you willingly gave until your back hit the wall behind you. The beast had you cornered and at her mercy.
One of her hands gripped your chin and tilted your head up. Eye contact was forced upon you. “I did that because I care. I will destroy Dwainet. This act will broadcast to the entire ship you are not to be even looked at. They are not worthy to look upon your form. You are here to stay and I will make sure everyone knows this.”
“No one-“ her hand slid down to wrap securely around your neck “-will ever get in my way. Not when it’s something I desire.” Your heartbeat raced underneath her claws.
Was she not getting it?! She was too oblivious to see she’s doomed herself. You gritted your teeth and clenched your eyes shut, doing everything to stop sobbing. Her fingers squeezed for a moment. That was the last crack in the damn.
Your eyes snapped open, hand gripping her wrist and nails digging into hard flesh. “You don’t get it! You don’t fucking understand it! Don’t do this. Please. Don’t!” You tugged on her wrist but the attempt was futile. “I can’t lose you. Don’t you get it! I love you!”
All you could hear thundering was the wild beating of your heart. Something you knew she could not only hear herself but feel as well. Your chest heaved with every breath you took after words as you gazed up at the pink Yautja you’ve fallen for. An action you said yourself you would never do again. But, history has a funny way of repeating itself.
Hoarse sobs broke free from your dry throat. Your head smacked against the unforgiving wall behind you, eyes drifting shut. What had you done? Those… those words were never meant to make it to the air. They were never to be said. Here you go ruining everything all over again. You hoped for her to just end you right now. Put you out of your misery.
The hand around your throat tightened. “Open your eyes,” she ordered with a gruff voice. At first you refused until she growled. Through the blurriness of tears, you find her gaze burning into you. “What you say is the truth?” Oh god, she was going to make you admit it.
When you went to close your eyes again, she pressed firmly on the sides of your neck. Nowhere near enough to hurt. She looked at you, waiting for those three words fall from your apparently loose lips. “Don’t make me say it again. I’ve embarrassed myself enough already,” you croaked out and gave a pleading look at her.
Yet, the Yautja didn’t relent. You whined, eyes falling shut for only a moment. This time, you knew what words would have a bigger impact on her. Words you’ve learned. “I offer you my bare heart.”
Yautjas don’t use words like love as it’s not part of their culture or language. But to be unarmored and bare to someone is the highest trust you can offer to them. In short terms, it means you love them.
Emotions swirled in those piercing eyes of hers. Nothing concrete you could pick up on. Both of her hands reached down and grasped the back of your thighs. Easily, you were lifted off of the ground but kept trapped to the wall. Her heavy body forced your legs apart as she held you at eye level. “You do know the extent of your words, yes?”
The amount of times you’ve heard from Dwainet… You nodded your head. “I do. And I mean it. You’ve gotten me to love again.” Your poor throat aches from the amount of screaming you’ve accomplished today.
A purr erupted from her throat while she rubs her forehead against yours in a sweet nuzzle. “My ooman,” she mumbled, eyes drifting shut. You gulped down the lump that had been forming and breathed freely. “I will be victorious. All for you, little one.” Your heart swelled at the nickname. This feeling filling you again was long missed.
We’ar-ow pulled you from the wall and carried through her quarters. Her steps were long, fast. You locked your arms around her neck, unable to do the same with your legs to her torso. But her massive hands kept you suspended, pressed to her form. She wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.
The familiar bedroom filled your senses. We’ar-ow brought you onto the bed and sat down all the while still holding as close as possible to her. Her hands stayed where they were as the Yautja leaned back and brought you with her. You were glued to We’ar-ow, legs clenching at her sides to kept you there.
With her back to the mattress, you were laid upon her torso, unable to straddle her. Your knees unable to touch at her sides. When go to shift a little, her claws bite into your thighs, preventing you from escaping. As if you wanted to.
It didn’t take long to find the perfect spot to lay on top of her. Your head was tucked away into her neck. The long rubbery dreads pushed out of your way to lay claim in this sanctuary you’ll call home now.
In her arms, nothing can hurt you. Nothing will hurt you. Nothing will try to hurt you. Not in the face of the Monarch.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 17 | Part 18
Summary: Sometimes in life, you have to grab your problems by the balls and manhandle them. We'ar-ow challenges Dwainet to a battle to the death this time. Winner takes all. This changes everything. You beg for her to change her mind. You couldn't believe what she was saying!
Author Note: It's growing tense in here! Whatever shall happen? You have to pray to Paya for this to work out in your favor.
Masterlist
Ao3
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18
We’ar-ow holds you in her lap, face to face with the alien. Her towering size dwarfed yours. Both of your hands rest on her chest while you peered up at her. Fear and concern etched into your features.
The last week has been tense. You only learn there are more. More that think like Dwainet. Who want to take down We’ar-ow for good. Kill her. Get rid of their Monarch. Your… Those thoughts trailed off before they could finish. Your hands twitched, hesitant before following through their own mind. They cupped the bottom jaw of We’ar-ow.
Her mandibles twitched, scaring you off. But her hands instantly pressed them back to her skin. We’ar-ow leaned forward and bumped her forehead against yours. Then, her eyes drifted shut, holding you to her. Timidly, you followed her lead, eyes on the verge closing before flicking open. But We’ar-ow kept her gaze closed. You relaxed against her, muscles going lax in her lap.
One of her hands left yours and found its way wrapped around your throat. A long time ago, you would’ve fought and scream your terror. Now, you trusted her, you let her have her fun. Her long fingers encased the entirety of your throat, yet never going far enough to squeeze. Just a hold, to let you know it’s there. You kept your eyes closed the entire time.
“I have you,” she whispered softly into the tender air and rubbed her pressed forward more against yours. Your fingers tensed, nails nearly desperate to dig into her thick scales. Instead, you refrained from pushing any boundaries.
Your breath stuttered in your chest. You about twisted away from her, heart beginning to race for two different reasons. Fear is at the center of all your problems. It’s an all consuming terror that fills your very being. Your nails finally press into the softer flesh of her mandibles. The Yautja doesn’t act indifferently.
“I feel like this war is my fault,” you admit to the silence in the air, eyes refusing to open and face the day. Deep down, you knew your words would anger the giant who has shielded you from the cruelness that makes up her species. The reasoning isn’t clear to you though. Despite her claim over you, you still don’t know why she does all this. Getting rid of you would be the best option.
We’ar-ow stiffened under you, even her hand tightened; thumb and middle finger pressing firmly against the arteries on the sides of your neck. Your breath caught in your throat. The Yautja pulled her head away from yours and used her thumb to force your chin up. Yet, your eyes were still closed.
A growl vibrated across We’ar-ow’s pink skin. Her mandibles clack against one another. “You dare blame yourself for the mess that scum caused,” she seethed and tugged your forward into her space. The heat from her gaze strong. “Look at me, ooman.” When you refused to listen to her command, she tightened slightly. “Open your goddamn eyes.” The words weren’t loud but the order was laid upon you thickly.
Slowly, you peeled your eyes open and find her blazing gaze upon yours. Almost instantly, you would’ve closed them if she didn’t growl deeply in warning.
“You still don’t understand,” We’ar-ow stated rather than questioned. A true fact by her means. Your brows furrowed while you looked upon the Yautja. As your mouth dropped to speak, We’ar-ow used her thumb to pin your jaw shut. “No, you do not get to speak. You get to listen.”
Despite your mouth being forcefully shut, you made a weak confused noise and tried to jerk out of her hold. It was stupid to think you could escape from her hold at all.
“How many times must I state this: you are my ooman. I have laid my claim upon you. No other Yautja from any clan can refute this. I’d kill anyone who dare even try.” The only hand cupping the back of yours finally slipped away only to circle around the back of your waste. You huffed this time and glared at her, face scrunched up.
The hard, stoic façade crumbled away at your expression. She sighed and let her head rolled forward, almost bumping against yours. “Trust my words, little one. No one can take you away from me.” We’ar-ow picked up her head and let her hold on your throat fall away.
When the silence engulfed the two of you once more, your hands dropped from her jaw to your lap. Nervously, you picked at the sew line on your clothing. The memory not far in your mind at the reminder on how these clothes came to be. You should’ve realize back then a Yautja would not beat around the bush. Nakedness is part of their culture. There is nothing to hide or be ashamed of while bare.
Your head bowed on its own accord as thoughts ran wild. This isn’t the life you signed up for. The dangers that threatened you not only every day but every waking and sleeping moment were forever present. Dwainet was still alive with his following. Him and some others wanted overthrow We’ar-ow from her throne.
At this point, there was no turning, no running away from this life. You’ve been roped far too deep. There is no escape. We’ar-ow knew from the beginning. Any attempt would’ve been crushed and eliminated.
But, We’ar-ow’s not mad, not angry at your research, your want to escape. Instead, it seemed like she was impressed. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. As she’s made clear, you are hers.
Dwainet’s presence still lingers terrifyingly over your head. A nuance who won’t leave you alone. That’s all you’ve wanted from him: to be left alone. Why won’t he? He’s made it abundantly clear he does not want you. You were his toy that he grew bored with and discarded with little care. Now, you sit upon his Monarch’s lap, your own throne in a way.
A little thing such as yourself, with more power than any other Yautja on this ship besides We’ar-ow herself. Oh, how you’ve grown.
There was only one thing standing in your way of an enjoyable life. “How are you going to deal with Dwainet?” Dwainet. Dwainet, the only one who dared to step up to We’ar-ow and get into her way. The only one who somehow had the balls to think he could beat her. Who lost their pet to the one person who he can’t defeat alone. He’ll need an army to take down the beast that We’ar-ow is.
We’ar-ow leveled her gaze with yours. “The only way he’ll go down: a challenge.”
Your face flickered with confusion and concern. A challenge. What does she mean by that? “What do you mean you’re going to challenge him?” That doesn’t seem like it would do much to quell this. “Look where it got us in the first place. You bested him before and he still held his head high.” The male still thinks himself as great even after losing to We’ar-ow for sticking up against her.
The arm snared around your waist tugged you closer to her, pulling you flush to her torso. You gasped and placed your hands on her chest. The muscles may not be visible but they would be felt against your own stomach. “His head will be hung high, above our bed,” she promised with a snarl, arm tightening. “A reminder forever, no one comes between me and my ooman.”
She leaned in close, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Do you understand?” the pink Yautja whispered into your ear. You whimpered weakly, body tense and unsure the next course of action. She purposefully growled, holding her head in the same position as before. “Do you?”
You didn’t dare trust your voice carry what you needed answer with. Instead, you only nodded and gnawed on your bottom lip. There was a whole lot wrong with you. And that wasn’t even scratching the surface.
“Good.” She squeezed you against her one last time before sliding you off of her lap into a standing position. Even standing, you didn’t reach the top of her head. We’ar-ow stood to her full height, towering over your form. “Now, get dressed into clothing you deemed worthy for a meeting with an important figure.”
Well, that was ominous.
Curiosity killed the cat. You moved around her quarters, growing quite familiar with the space and the one who owns it. Her room itself was spacious as you grabbed the necessary clothes and slipped into them. They fit perfectly, not a single thing is wrong with them. Fuck you, Rauch but thank you for the perfect clothing. Prejudice ass.
Once finished, you stepped out from her room to find her waiting for you at the front door. Her eyes scanned from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You nearly felt subconscious until her gaze left. She motioned with the universal sign to follow her. You trotted across the expansive living space and joined at her side.
Before entering the hallway, We’ar-ow reached down and gently encased your hand with hers. You threaded your fingers through hers the best you could do. She gave a gentle squeeze before the two you began the trek to wherever she led you.
From the main level of the ship, you were taken to the deepest part of the ship. Far from the engines and cargo bay, was a dark corner of the ship that rarely had anyone. Besides the three four massive females who stood guard, adorned in armor meant for protection rather than looks. You glanced up at We’ar-ow for a fleeting moment in question, but she kept her gaze forward.
The guards side stepped their Monarch and allowed her entrance to this corner of the ship forgotten. The door slid open to reveal a room lined with glowing bars. Cells. This is a brig.
Your heart slammed into the dull metal floors, rolling around at your feet. Dwainet’s here. His followers are here. Instantly, your breath began to pick up, hand clutching tightly to We’ar-ow’s. Her’s being the rock to ground you. Why had she brought you here? The lump in your throat only grew as she had to tug you forward, to enter these grounds.
Immediately upon entering, those could peer through the bars of their new home, spotted your duo strutting down the hallway. Those who you didn’t think were apart of the revolution snarled and swiped through the bars.
One grew to close to you, nearly nicking you. When the Yautja attempted to retrieve its arm had said limb snatched then slammed onto the corner of wall. A deafening snap echoing into the air. The offending Yautja howled and scrambled away like a dog with its tail between its legs. We’ar-ow straightened her spine and began her march once more.
No one else dared to reach through the bars again.
When We’ar-ow came to a stop of pivoted on her heel, you felt the gaze of someone far too familiar. It took every ounce of will in your body to stop from shuttering. You drew a deep breath into your lungs, steeled your nerves, and faced danger with a level head.
Dwainet was a clear image of seething rage from the depths of hell. You knew if he could get his grubby hands on you, he would stop at nothing to tear you apart and make We’ar-ow watch the entire time.
Two forces who want you more than anything. Two forces who want you for different reasons.
Death. Life.
Grey eyes that could burn you to ground and leave on an scorch mark left. Eyes you once peered into for love wanted nothing more than you dead. The fear didn’t creep up your back. No, you let a boiling hatred for this Yautja, for this fucker who’s ruined your life, who disturbs your peace, rear its ugly head inside of you.
“Well, if it ain’t the ooman whipped Monarch and the soft meat coming to see me,” he drawled and rolled his head around and sat back, lax. As if he wasn’t about to meet his doom, where he’ll be challenged once and for all. Where he’ll be slaughter like he should’ve been all those months ago. Your mistake had come around to bite you in the butt but We’ar-ow is going to correct that. Then, this will all be over. Finally.
She looked down upon the tinier male with distain, as if she had stepped in dog poop. Yet, the flames of rage were evident in her bright eyes. “I challenge you, Dwainet Terorom, to a battle of death. Winner takes all,” she spoken evenly, unfazed by the male’s anger.
The male raised a brow then rolled his eyes. “’Winner takes all’? That’s all you have? What does this include? Cause if you are referring to your disgusting pet, I’ve had my fun running through it. The same hole gets old.”
Horror passed over your features, heat rushing to set your cheeks ablaze. His words hurt. They caused your heart to shatter all over again after you gathered the majority of the pieces again. You held back a pathetic whimper and turned your head, eyes closed. Your nose pressed to We’ar-ow’s forearm as you attempted to hold back tears.
Her hold tightened, squeezing your knuckles painfully together before releasing the near crushing hold. “My life and my title.”
Your eyes snapped wide. You ripped away from her to look up at the pink Yautja in shock. The trust in her abilities is high but to wager such a thing was… beyond anything you could ever think of. Life was one thing but her title as Monarch. Not in a million years could you ever see Dwainet be a leader of anything. She must believe it is a sure thing for her to win to allow that to be on the table.
An intrigued expression passed over his features. One of his upper mandibles quirking up. Dwainet leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he peered up at his Monarch. “Title, you say?” he purred in delight, eyes flickering over to you. The hatred overran any other emotion that swirled inside his grey eyes. “Monarch Dwainet. Ah, I already like the sound of that.”
One thing any youngsters do is count their eggs before they hatch.
“And you can bring two of any class to fight along your side. Of any skill level,” she added as well. Your jaw dropped. What?! That’s unfair! Why would she pit a three verses one against herself? That’s a death wish. Her hand squeezed yours, either to reassure you or silently telling you stop fretting. How could you though when she pulls this kind of trick?
A barked laugh left his throat. “You really want to watch me slaughter your pet before I take your title, don’t you? Or maybe, you want to die knowing, I might keep it, truly treat it like the pet it is. Something not even worthy of dignity.” Again, her grip tightened but for her this time. You couldn’t help the shuttered, afraid of what his words could mean for you.
There are worse things than death.
We’ar-ow squared her shoulders and looked down upon the scum in the cell before the two of you. “Do you accept?” Her voice stayed even, yet firm due to the quarrels fighting inside of her. Your nails began to bite into the back of her hand, holding on for dear life. Your life in the hands of her as you watched We’ar-ow nearly pass it back to Dwainet. The one who started it all.
Dwainet relaxed against the back wall again, leg slightly bouncing. “Hell yeah. I would be a fool to pass up a one-way ticket to becoming the Monarch,” he snorted. “I know exactly who I’ll recruit. Three verses one. You are a fool, Monarch.”
For the first time in months, you agreed with Dwainet. Whatever plan she had, she better share it with you.
“Does a week allow you enough time to prepare?” the pink Yautja asked him, mandibles slightly twitching. You were starting to freak out more internally. You didn’t dare look over at him, afraid of what his gaze may do to you. A week? A week before you could be handed back to Dwainet and forced to do his bidding.
He chuckled and rolled his head. “Plenty. Will that be enough for you to say goodbye to that pathetic toy you’ve claimed?” he taunted and scoffed in your direction. You couldn’t help the flinch and down casted gaze to the ground. You felt meek, weak in the eyes of him.
Where has all your confidence, your power gone now?
“My ooman will forever be at my side.” This was a statement, a fact that felt bound by blood. You are hers. The ten million times she’s stated that haven’t gone over your head.
She tugged you into her front, back to your thighs. One of her hands wrapped around your throat, the other still holding onto yours. At first, you tensed up, despising being put in front of Dwainet like this. “You lost this. You disowned this. You are dishonorable,” she said in a calm manner and ran her thumb along the side of your neck, feeling along your artery. One false move could have you bleeding out.
His grey eyes rolled in dismissal. “I could less about the soft meat.” A heavy insult in the eyes of Yautjas. “It was useless, barely good enough to warm a bed. But it could not reproduce. It has no use.”
With her hand around your neck, she kept you face forward, forcing you gaze upon Dwainet. Tears desperately crawled to the surface before you steeled them away at the last second and growled.
“I can’t wait to watch her rip you apart,” you snarled at him. Fresh, hot tears spilling down from hurt and anger this time. “It was I who had her spare you. I will not ask for that again. A mistake that’s about to be righted.” Your teeth were bared at him. The only free hand clenched into a fist, as if you could swing and hurt him in the slightest.
Behind you, We’ar-ow offered a short purr, still stroking over your artery. “A fiery spirt you have lost, Dwainet. This ooman will watch as this clan thrives.” Her hand slipped from yours and rested on your shoulder. You were effectively pinned to her, not that you would want to escape anyhow. “The empty sockets of your skull will only watch the happiness your ex-mate brings me.”
At first, you tensed up at the fact she used ‘ex-mate’ instead of pet. Your eyes flicked up to find her gazing down at you. You were fucked.
He scoffed and waved you off. “Whatever. You’re the one outnumbered, outmatched, and out skilled on your own accord. You’re going to go down worse than the last Monarch.”
“One week.” With that stated, We’ar-ow guided you to turn and began to march out. No one dared to even poke an inch through the bars of the cage to reach for you. A lesson for the troublesome group: don’t mess with the Monarch’s ooman.
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