Summary: When their shared human mate begins ovulating on Yautja Prime, the primal rut overtakes brothers K’vok and R’thak, driving them to hunt her down in the lush greenhouse garden and claim her together.
Paring: Yautja x Reader
word count: 9000+
warnings: NSFW, SMUT, fluff
A/N : Hello there! I wrote another one-shot to my Yautja x Yautja x human series called "Shared Prey" you can read the other one-shots to this series on my master list! Enjoy!
Masterlist
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The twin suns of Yautja Prime blazed high overhead, their combined light turning the sky into a molten sheet of gold and searing white. This was the heart of the clan’s private holdings—a sprawling estate carved into the foothills of the Obsidian Range, where ancient world-trees twisted upward like living fortresses and bioluminescent moss carpeted the ground in shifting patterns of teal and violet. The main dwelling rose from the rock itself, a fusion of natural stone and Yautja engineering: black obsidian walls veined with glowing conduits, wide archways that allowed jungle breezes to flow freely, and defensive spires topped with trophy skulls that gleamed in the relentless sunlight. Below the dwelling lay the gardens you had claimed as your own domain.
What began as a small patch of imported Earth vegetables had grown under your stubborn care into a thriving oasis. Terraced beds held tomatoes, peppers, and leafy greens that somehow survived the planet’s aggressive humidity and acidic soil thanks to the nutrient mesh K’vok had installed. Beyond them stretched the greenhouse—a vast, domed structure of reinforced transparent alloy and living wood, filled with alien orchids, medicinal vines, and the hybrid fruits R’thak had brought back from distant hunts. The air inside was thick, humid, perfumed with nectar and chlorophyll. Outside, in the open garden, the twin suns beat down without mercy, baking the stone paths and making the air shimmer. You had chosen to work here today, barefoot in nothing but a thin, sleeveless tunic, the fabric already damp with sweat and clinging to your curves.
You didn’t hear them approach at first. The jungle beyond the garden walls sang with the calls of drakes and the distant crash of waterfalls. But then the wind shifted, carrying a new scent—deep, masculine, spiced with the metallic edge of hunt-sweat and something far more primal. Your body reacted before your mind caught up: a sudden flush of heat between your thighs, nipples tightening against the thin fabric, a slick rush of arousal that made your knees weak. Ovulation. Your human cycle, so meticulously tracked by the brothers’ bio-scanners and their own heightened senses, had reached its fertile peak.
The heavy door to the garden groaned open before you could turn.
K’vok filled the entrance first, his massive frame blocking the light. His mandibles were already flared, the tusks curving from his jawbone glinting wet. His eyes, those hunter’s eyes, were fixed on you with an intensity that stripped the air from your lungs. Behind him, R’thak’s silhouette was just visible, his movements quicker, more agitated. The low, resonant growl that rolled from K’vok’s chest wasn’t a sound you heard; it was a vibration you felt in your marrow.
“Ooman.” His voice was a graveled command. “You smell… ripe.”
The word wasn’t gentle. It was possessive, hungry. R’thak stepped fully into view, his own mandibles twitching. His gaze was softer, but the fire in it was just as hot. “The scent is everywhere,” he murmured, his voice a younger, smoother version of his brother’s growl. “It’s making my blood sing.”
You didn’t speak. You just stood there, the damp soil of the planting bed under your bare feet, the thin gardening tunic clinging to your sweat-damp skin. You knew what this meant. You’d been theirs for over a year, shared between the brothers in a pact that was both brutal and tender. But this—your fertility calling to their biology—was a different protocol. It triggered their own version of heat, a driven, single-minded need to claim, to seed, to breed.
K’vok stalked forward, each step a deliberate press of his weight onto the stone path. He didn’t touch you first. He inhaled, leaning close, his broad chest nearly brushing yours. “Your cunt is screaming for us,” he stated, the vulgar human word rough in his alien mouth. “It’s dripping, ready. I can taste it on the air.”
R’thak moved to your side, his clawed hand—so large it could span your rib cage—coming up to cradle your jaw. His touch was a contrast; the sharp points of his claws were a warning of his strength, but the pressure was reverent. “Look at her, brother,” he said, his voice dropping to a purr. “She’s shaking. She wants it. She needs our cocks in her, filling her up.”
“She needs more than one,” K’vok corrected, his dominant tone leaving no room for debate. He finally touched you, his hands gripping your hips. The fabric of your tunic tore under his grasp with a sound like shredding paper. He didn’t strip you gently; he peeled the clothing from your body in two rough pulls, leaving you naked under the glow of the lamps and the blazing twin suns. Your skin, human and pale, looked almost fragile against the dark, corded muscle of his arms and the green, pebbled hide of his chest.
The cool air of the garden kissed your exposed flesh, but it was a fleeting sensation. Their eyes were on you, drinking in the sight. Your breasts, the soft curves they loved to bite and suck. And lower, the slit of your pussy already glistening with your own arousal, a slick testament to the hormonal storm inside you.
“Mine first,” K’vok declared, but it was an order for R’thak. “You watch. You learn. You get her ready for me.”
R’thak’s mandibles clicked in agreement, a sound of eager submission to his elder brother’s authority. He stepped back, his own hands going to the complex harness at his waist. With a series of clicks, the armor plating over his groin retracted. What emerged made your mouth dry.
His cock was fully erect, a thick, daunting pillar of alien flesh. It was a deep mauve color, textured with ridges that ran its length, and the head was a pronounced, bulbous crown. Veins pulsed under the surface, carrying blood that was hotter than yours. It curved slightly upward, and from the base, a heavier, knot-like swelling was already forming. Precum, a clear, viscous fluid, beaded at the tip.
K’vok hadn’t uncovered himself yet. He kept his armor on, his own enormous shaft still confined, but his hand was stroking the plating where it hid his cock, a slow, possessive rhythm. “Take her to the railing,” he instructed R’thak.
R’thak moved behind you. His hands were on you again, but now they were guiding, pushing you toward the low, stone balcony that edged the greenhouse, overlooking the misty jungle beyond. The stone was cool and rough against your front when he pressed you against it. Your breasts flattened against the edge, your nipples hardening from the contact and the sheer anticipation.
“Turn her,” K’vok said, still watching, still stroking himself through his armor.
R’thak obediently spun you around so your back was to the railing, your ass pressed against the stone lip. He positioned himself before you, his cock rising like a weapon between you. He leaned in, his mouth—a set of inner jaws behind the flared mandibles—opening to lick a stripe up your neck. His tongue was rough, like a cat’s, but warm. “You are so beautiful like this,” he whispered, the sweetness in his tone a stark contrast to the brutal size of his body. “All open for me. Your pretty human cunt is weeping for my fuck.”
He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. Your body was arching toward him, your hips tilting, an invitation written in your flesh. He gripped his cock at the base, the width of it making his own hand look small. He used the head to tap against your clit, once, twice, a teasing spark that made your legs buckle. Then he dragged the crown down, parting your slick folds with that immense tip.
The penetration wasn’t slow.
R’thak drove forward, a single, deep thrust that buried the first few inches of his ridged cock inside you. Your eyes flew wide. A sound ripped from your throat—not a scream, not a moan, but a raw, guttural expulsion of air as your body stretched to accommodate him. The feeling was immense, a burning fullness that stole your breath. He held there, his body trembling against yours, letting you feel every ridge, every pulse of his hot blood inside that monstrous shaft.
“Too deep?” he murmured, his voice strained with his own need.
You couldn’t form words. You shook your head, a frantic motion. It was perfect. It was agony and ecstasy fused into one sensation.
“Angle your hips, brother,” K’vok’s voice cut through the haze. He had stepped closer, his armor finally opening with a series of hydraulic sighs. His own cock sprang free, and it was even larger than R’thak’s. Thicker, with more pronounced ridges, and a knot that was already a significant bulge at the base. He wasn’t touching you yet. He was watching, one hand still stroking his own length, the other pointing at R’thak. “Lower. Thrust upward. You want to hit the soft pocket behind her human cervix. Make her scream.”
R’thak obeyed, adjusting his stance, dropping his hips slightly. When he pulled back, the drag of his ridges against your inner walls was an exquisite torture. Then he thrust again, following his brother’s instruction.
The new angle was devastating.
The crown of his cock punched into a deep, sensitive zone you’d never felt so acutely. A sharp, electrifying pleasure detonated in your core, radiating out to your fingertips. Your back arched violently off the stone, your head thrashing back. A proper scream tore from you this time, loud and ragged.
“There,” K’vok growled, satisfaction rolling through his tone. “Now fuck her. Hard. Don’t stop until her voice breaks.”
R’thak began to move.
His thrusts were not rhythmic at first; they were frantic, driven by the heat your scent had ignited in him. Each drive buried his cock deeper, the ridge just behind the crown scraping that perfect spot with every inward stroke. The wet, slapping sounds of his pelvis meeting your ass filled the garden, mixed with the choked, sobbing sounds of pleasure you were making. Your hands gripped the stone railing behind you, your fingers scraping for purchase.
K’vok watched, his hand moving faster on his own cock now. Precum slicked his fingers, dripping onto the stone floor. “Look at her take it,” he said, his voice a dark, instructional chant. “See how her cunt swallows you. See how her human flesh stretches for your Yautja seed. She is made for this. Made to be bred by us.”
R’thak’s pace became punishing, a steady, deep hammering that lifted your feet off the ground with each impact. Your pussy was aflame, a conduit of pleasure so intense it blurred your vision. The knot at the base of his cock began to swell further, a growing bulb that promised to lock him inside you.
“I’m close,” R’thak grunted, his sweet tone gone, replaced by a feral snarl. “Her cunt is milking me. I can feel it.”
“Don’t spill yet,” K’vok commanded. “Give her more strokes. Make her beg for it.”
R’thak complied, his thrusts gaining a final, brutal urgency. On the eighth stroke, your body convulsed. A climax, unexpected and violent, erupted from you. Your inner muscles clamped around his invading shaft, rippling in waves that squeezed his ridges. Your scream dissolved into a continuous, broken wail.
On the tenth stroke, R’thak roared.
He slammed home, his knot now a substantial, throbbing mass that pressed against your entrance. He held there, buried to the root, and then the flood began.
His cum wasn’t a human trickle. It was a hot, viscous gush, pumping into you in thick, pulsating jets. You felt each surge, a ballooning heat deep in your womb, filling the space his cock had carved. It was too much, an overflow that had your own juices mixing with his and leaking out around the stretch of his knot. He kept pumping, his body shuddering against yours, his claws digging into your hips not to hurt you, but to hold you steady as he emptied himself completely into your fertile body.
When he finally stilled, panting, his cock still lodged inside you by the knot, he leaned forward and bit your shoulder. Not a savage wound, but a claiming nip, his inner jaws gently closing on your flesh, leaving a mark that would bloom into a bruise. “My seed is in you,” he purred into your ear. “My strong seed.”
K’vok was there before R’thak could fully pull away.
His hands, bigger and more demanding, gripped your waist. “Now me,” he stated, the simple words heavy with intent. He waited until R’thak’s knot subsided enough for his brother to withdraw, a slow, wet extraction that made you gasp at the sudden emptiness. K’vok didn’t let you feel empty for long.
He lifted you.
His strength was terrifying, effortless. He hauled you off the ground, your legs dangling, and turned you in his arms so you faced R’thak. His cock, a truly monstrous instrument, was pressed against your ass, the ridge-crowned head nudging against your soaked, stretched entrance. R’thak, his own cock still dripping, moved behind you again, his shaft already re-hardening, slick with his own cum and yours.
“Both,” K’vok said, the word a guttural promise.
He positioned you, lowering your body onto his cock. He didn’t push you down; he let you sink onto him, the immense head parting your folds a second time. The stretch was different, more brutal. K’vok was thicker, and your pussy, already fucked full and loose by R’thak, had to open anew for his greater girth. The burn was exquisite, a white-hot ache of penetration that made your toes curl. He let you take him slowly, inch by devastating inch, until his pelvis met your ass, his entire length buried inside you.
Then R’thak pressed forward.
His cock, from behind, sought a different hole. His hands guided his shaft to your asshole, the tip already slick and probing. This penetration was slower, as commanded by some unspoken rule between them. R’thak’s sweetness returned in his touch, even as his intent was filthy. He used his fingers, his own cum as lubricant, to work the tight ring of muscle, stretching it, coaxing it open. When the crown of his cock began to sink into you, the sensation was a sharp, shocking fullness that complemented the deep stretch in your pussy.
K’vok held you immobile, a statue of flesh impaled on his cock, as R’thak worked himself inside your ass. Each incremental push from behind sent shocks through your body, the dual fullness becoming an overwhelming, mind-breaking pressure. You were a sheath for both of them, stretched beyond human limits, your body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
When R’thak was fully seated, his own knot beginning to swell against your back entrance, K’vok began to move.
He fucked you with a dominant, controlled power. His thrusts were deep pulls that lifted you entirely on his cock, then drove you back down, your body riding him while R’thak’s cock in your ass moved in counterpoint. The rhythm was a brutal, perfect synchronization. K’vok’s ridges scraped your front walls; R’thak’s ridges massaged your back channel. The friction was everywhere, inside and out, a concert of pleasure so intense you could only hang in their grasp, your mouth open in silent, shattered cries.
“Feel us,” K’vok growled into your neck, his bite following his brother’s example, a sharper claim on your other shoulder. “Feel your mates fucking you together. Our cocks in your holes. Our seed mixing in your womb.”
“You are so full,” R’thak moaned behind you, his voice strained with effort and pleasure. “So fucking full of us. Your body is taking everything we give.”
They increased their pace, a driving, pounding tempo that shook your skeleton. The stone garden around you blurred. The only realities were the two massive, hot cocks moving inside you, the claws pricking your skin, the growls and purrs vibrating against your back and chest. Your own climaxes became a rolling series of explosions, one triggering another, your muscles spasming around both invading shafts, milking them, urging them deeper.
The knots swelled in tandem.
K’vok’s knot, a massive, unforgiving bulb, began to catch at your entrance, stretching your pussy lips wider with each outward stroke until, on a final, deep thrust, it popped inside, locking him in you. The sensation was a sudden, complete anchor, a seal that held him rooted to your core.
R’thak, following his brother’s lead, pushed his own swollen knot past the resistance of your asshole with a slow, persistent pressure. It slipped inside, a tight, burning expansion that locked him just as firmly.
They were both knotted inside you at the same time.
Movement stopped. They were locked, their cocks bound in your body by the engorged, pulsing bases. They held there, still buried to the root, their bodies pressed against you from front and back. You were pinned between them, a human sandwich filled with Yautja flesh.
Then the final flooding began.
K’vok’s orgasm was a torrent. His cum pumped into your pussy in hot, relentless waves, a flood that felt like it would never end. It filled the space his knot occupied, then overflowed, heating your womb, a liquid claim that marked you internally.
R’thak’s release joined it, a secondary cascade filling your ass, the hot fluid a searing intrusion that completed the total saturation. You felt both streams, distinct and overwhelming, as your body was flooded from two directions.
They purred then, a harmonic, rumbling sound from both their chests that vibrated through your own body. Their bites on your shoulders, left and right, held steady, a perfect, brotherly sync of claiming. You were theirs. Marked outside, filled inside.
The world narrowed to the heat, the fullness, the low, satisfied growls against your skin, and the dripping, overflowing evidence of their breeding pooling between your thighs.
As the twin suns began their slow descent toward the horizon, painting the garden in streaks of molten gold and deep crimson, the brothers remained locked inside you, their knots pulsing with the last aftershocks of release. Your body sagged between them, boneless and utterly claimed, every breath a soft whimper of overwhelmed pleasure. K’vok’s massive hand splayed possessively over the slight curve of your belly, pressing gently as if he could already sense the new life taking root from this rut. “It will take,” he rumbled, voice thick with satisfaction. “Our bloodline grows stronger with every cycle. You will carry our future, little mate.”
R’thak nuzzled the unmarked side of your neck, his tongue lapping lazily at the sweat on your skin. “And we will guard it,” he added, softer but no less fierce. “No hunt will take us far until a pup is born and blooded. You have tamed two hunters, ooman. Feel proud.”
You managed a breathless laugh, voice hoarse from screaming. “Proud… and very, very full.”
K’vok’s mandibles clicked in what passed for a chuckle, the vibration traveling through his chest into yours. “Good. Stay full of us.” Slowly, carefully, their knots began to subside. When they finally eased free, a thick flood of mingled seed spilled down your thighs onto the warm stone, marking the garden path as thoroughly as any trophy. They lowered you gently to the soft moss between the vegetable beds, cradling you between their powerful bodies like the most sacred prize in the galaxy.
The three of you lay tangled together as the twin suns dipped lower, the greenhouse orchids glowing brighter in the fading light. In the distance, jungle creatures stirred with the approach of night, but here, in this stolen moment of peace, the only sounds were the low, contented purrs of your mates and the steady beat of three hearts—human and Yautja—beating in perfect, unbreakable rhythm. The rut had passed, but the bond it forged would endure for generations, a living testament to the day two fierce hunters found their perfect, fertile mate beneath the blazing twin suns of Yautja Prime.
My friends I introduce you the final scenes of our favorite supreme conqueror! Can my New Year’s resolution be that I wish to marry him and smooch him a lot?
Oh right. It all started with a certain Hylian princess and an ordinary boy who found the magic sword. Both fighting to protect what they cherished against a formidable opponent
And ever since then, their adventures continued and have yet to end...
When will the story end?
The sky burned with the color of blood
Wind screamed past shattered islands of stone as the Demon Dragon twisted through the heavens, enormous and furious, scales blackened with ruin
It roared in anger, trying to get the chosen hero off his back. And in the hero's hands, held the magic sword which glowed in a silent power
The sword pierced the secret stone and the hero fled with his dragon transformed companion, knowing that the calamity is done
or so he thought?
"I will not be defeated by a mere mortal...!" He weakly muttered under his breath, using the last bit of his remaining strength to use the secret stone for the very last time
The secret stone weakly glinted, its appearance dim and wrecked as it pushed the small amount of magic it had left, fulfilling the last wishes of the fallen king
"In this timeline..." He breathed out, eyelids falling close and his vision blurred "...I will be the victor that ends all light and drown everything in eternal darkness"
Even in his dying breath, he refused to fall. Determined to remain standing, to remain unmoving like a rock deeply buried on the ground
Maybe it was out of pity that the secret stone granted his wish. But pity for the Demon King? Who would've thought that he was given a second chance?
⌛︎
"I need the money, Y/N! Why can't you help your brother out?"
His voice ringed in my ears. How many times had he asked me for money? This was the third time this week, my salary can hardly keep up
"I've helped you for the third time this week, along with the past week, and the other few months before this" I huffed out and I stumbled back when he pushed me
"Don't act so ungrateful! I took care of you when our parents fell in debt" He gripped the collar of my shirt and shook me
"I could've left you in an alleyway but I didn't, is this how you repay me!?"
I frowned and clawed his wrists, trying to pry him away from me "Fine, fine! I'll give you the money you need..."
Despite my strengths to remain strong, my voice wavered due to fear. Not the kind of fear in concern of a family member, fear that he'll hurt me since he's involved in illegal substances
I hastily fished for my wallet in my pocket, I guess I'll just give him a few bucks or so. But I didn't expect him to snatch it away from me "hey, wait!"
"You told me you're barely hanging on but you have more than 5 grand!" I tried to get my wallet back but he pushed me off, I hated the fact that he was stronger than me
"Please, You don't understand!" I yelled, watching in defeat as he took all of my money for his
"Give that back! That's for grandma!" If I don't pay the hospital's monthly down payment then they'll refuse medication for her
I tried to reclaim it back but he grabbed my wrist and roughly shoved it to the wall beside us, I yelled out in pain when my wrist gathered the impact
"That old hag? she can't even remember you" he scoffed then pulled out a pocket knife, the material glinting in the light
My stomach plunged. Cold prickled down my spine, and suddenly every breath felt too shallow. I stared at the blade, unable to look away, while my legs threatened to fold beneath me
I was completely paralyzed
"Forget her. Lie to me again about having no money then I'll start selling you" he threatened before pulling away, hurriedly going out of my apartment then I sank down to the floor
I stared at the door long after he left, my wrist throbbing where he grabbed me. I took a deep breath and ran my trembling hand against my hair, trying to calm myself down
I can't ask any of my friends for more money, they're getting sick of me due to it. Taking out a loan isn't ideal here either
Pressure started to form in my eyes but I blinked the tears away, crying won't solve anything and I need to figure something out
Come on, Y/N. You can do this, just like you always do
I took a few more minutes trying to calm my nerves down before I slowly stood up. Perhaps I could ask my boss for an early pay for this month
Whatever's legally available where I can earn money then I'll do it. Even if I should sacrifice more of my nights, it'll be worth it once grandma get's out of the hospital
Suddenly, my phone started ringing and I walked to pick it up from the kitchen counter. The caller ID was one of the nurses from the hospital
They would only call if there's something that happened. The room started to shrink as I answered the phone, hoping that nothing bad happened "Hello? Is there anything wrong?"
"Good evening Miss Y/N, Can you please come to the hospital? She's... She's not doing well"
My breath was stolen from my lungs and I felt like I was drowning "I-I'll be there!"
I quickly grabbed my coat and my keys, not forgetting to lock my apartment behind me before I took off. I grabbed the nearest taxi I could find and hopped in, hoping that traffic won't be too heavy for the night
I could hardly relax in my seat, my leg bouncing up and down as I counted the minutes before I could arrive at the hospital
What happened? She was doing so well, the nurses even told me that she would get discharged after a few more months
I hope it wasn't anything serious, I don't want her to be suffering anymore
I paid the driver once we arrived and I didn't hesitate to take off running, I passed by some of the surprised nurses but I paid them no heed
The moment I arrived in grandma's room, everything felt so heavy. She looked so pale and weak compared to yesterday
"Ah, Miss Y/N" The doctor in charge of her spoke and I closed the door behind me, approaching grandma and now having a clear look at her weakened state
"Please tell me that she's going to be alright" My voice broke at the last word, trying to keep it together but I can't when I'm this close to losing her
"Her vitals suddenly dropped just a few hours ago, we managed to get it to stabilize but her body weakened" He took a step back, allowing me to further approach her bed side
"I'm so sorry, Miss Y/N. Due to her severe weight loss and her bedridden state, chemo can only prolong her suffering instead of having her survive it"
His words broke me. I knew she was old and her weakened body doesn't have enough strength left to fight cancer but hearing it didn't make the pain less painful
"I'll leave you with her. Please spend as much time you need" I slowly nodded and he left, closing the door behind him so we could have some privacy
I sat next to her bed, looking utterly defeated as I stared into her closed eyes. I reached out and gently stroked her hair with care "Grandma... Call me selfish but I can't lose you"
My shoulders shook and now I didn't held back as tears fell down my cheeks "You're the only family I have left. My brother is a goner, mom and dad doesn't even visit anymore"
I choked on my tears and held her frail hand in mine "I'll be all alone without you..."
I hung my head low. I can't stand the fact that she won't be staying longer. She was so healthy just yesterday morning when I visited. What could've happened?
To what ever god is out there, curse you
Why must you take the only person that grounds me in this hellhole, Is surviving not an enough punishment for me?
"Y/-....Y/N" my head snapped up at the sound of her voice and I sniffled, trying to wipe away the tears as I scooted closer
"Yes? I'm here. I'm always here" I gently squeezed her hand to reassure her that I was present, always just beside her, especially since this was the first time she said my name after a months of trying
"Y/N..." her gaze softened and I only felt more pressure seep into my eyes, pushing out more of my tears
"Granny... Yes, it's me. Y/N, your Y/N" My vision blurry due to my tears and I probably look like a mess due to all my crying
"Something... Something bad" She coughed out and I leaned closer to hear her better "My dear... The calamity... It's near"
I furrowed my brows in confusion and I wiped my tears away with my sleeves "W-what? Granny, what are you talking about?"
"Zel...da" she wheezed
Zelda? Does she mean that old story that she used to say to me when I was little? The legend of Zelda and its never ending adventures, never ending reincarnations, and never ending battles
"Granny, please" I pleaded "Not now, don't waste your breath on a fairytale"
she gently shook her head "Y/N... Stop him"
Stop him? Stop who? before I could ask, one of the nurses knocked on our door and peeked inside
"Miss Y/N. Sorry, but visiting hours are over, please say your good byes" I nodded at her words then I kissed the top of my grandma's head. I didn't want to go yet but I have to
"Please just rest, ok?" I forced out a smile and she weakly squeezed my hand, passing me an item in my palm
"Stop him... Stop... Ganondorf"
⌛︎
The cool night air freely breezed through, softly flowing against my hair and hitting my skin. Thankfully, I grabbed my coat before I left my apartment. I want to walk around before going home just yet
The news of grandma's weakened state only made things hard, especially since the doctor said that chemo would only make her suffer. I don't know what to do
Letting go of grandma won't be easy for me but continuing to hold on... Should I really make the rational decision and let her finally be at peace?
She's lived so long and I feel so selfish for holding on to her, but what am I to do when she's the only family I have left?
I took a deep breath and stopped walking, finding myself in a bus stop to shield me away from the rain. I shivered, my coat suddenly isn't too warm anymore and I hugged myself to keep me warm
Going back home, somewhere lonely, somewhere quiet. I should grateful for it since I'll be able to catch up some rest after today
But every time I go back, the apartment feels less like home and more like a place waiting to lose her
The silence doesn’t comfort me anymore. It just reminds me that there may come a day I open that door and no one will call my name
And I'm not ready for that kind of quiet. I'm not ready for any of it
Her voice, her laughter, her asking if I’d eaten. All of this will leave me too and I hate how real that future is becoming
Am I really destined to be alone after all?
it wasn't long before the bus arrived, the doors automatically opening and I hopped in, there wasn't much people on the bus around this time so it was just me and a few random girls on the very back seat
I won't count the guy rising from his seat since he's about to get off but he accidentally bumped into me, making the charm that grandma gave me fall off my coat pocket
"Shit, sorry. Are you ok?" he asked with concern and picked up the glowing charm on the bus floor
"Yeah, thanks" I gave him a polite smile when he returned my charm, now holding onto it with care
I sighed once I settled onto my seat and the bus started moving. City lights going past us in a sight of mixed and blurred neon colors, the rain dripping down the window steadily
My gaze flickered down to the charm in my hands, my brows furrowing in confusion as I stared at the glowing tear shaped object
What was this and why did my grandma have it?
I bought the item closer to my face and inspected the intricate symbols etched onto it. It kinda looked like a stone instead of a plastic mold
Weird. How does a stone glow from the inside out? Not to mention the amount of details on the carving looked far too complicated for it to be made from a child
Whatever it is, something compelled me to keep it close. She gave it to me after all, I have to keep it safe no matter how useless it looks. It'll be the only memory I have left of her once she leaves
The bus slowed and stopped at the next bus station, this was my stop
I got up and paid for my ride, now walking further into the streets until I reached my apartment building
The familiar warm glow of the lights welcomed me in as I entered, going up the stairs as usual until I reached my floor
I halted in my steps when I heard fighting over the next room. Didn't that belong to that teacher? I thought she lived alone?
My unease grew when I heard glass breaking. Nope, absolutely not. I'm already going through so much, now is not the time to play hero
Whatever is happening in there, keep it to yourselves. It may be mean but I'm so drained, I'll check up on her tomorrow to see if she's ok
I ignored the continued muffled argues next door and fished for my keys in my pocket... I frowned when I patted and patted but nothing can be felt
My stomach churned and I panicked. I swear I had my keys with me, I remembered putting it on my pocket, nestles beside that weird stone that grandma gave me
Fuck me, Don't tell me that I didn't notice my keys falling off along with the stone??
Ugh, what am I going to do now?
I just want to rest and get a full night's sleep but the universe hates me at some point and decided to schedule another disaster into my day
I pressed my forehead against the wooden door, softly hitting myself over and over and mentally cursing myself for my own carelessness
I glanced back to the room beside mine and the shouting only got worse. Perhaps if I could help my dear neighbor then she'll take pity on me and take me in for the night
I only need to charge my phone then I'll call a locksmith, I'll be minding my own business after that
I straightened up and headed over to her front door, hesitantly rising my hand, pausing for a moment longer before giving in and gave the door a few knocks
"Hello? Everything fine?" I muttered but the door didn't open, the arguing only got louder. I sighed and knocked more insistently
"Hello?? It's the middle of the damn night, stop arguing!" my irritation flared but then the door swung open, I stumbled back and hit myself against the railings
"What the-?" I winced in pain and held my arm, a man coming out shouting and his face as red as a strawberry
"What? Are you sleeping with this bitch too!?" He yelled and grabbed my arm, pulling me in and violently shook me
"Stop!" I tried to push him away but his grip was firm
"No! Leave her alone! I'm not sleeping with anyone, you're drunk and paranoid!!" She yelled and tried to pry me away from him, tears falling into her eyes as she sobbed
"Lying whore!!" He snarled and pushed me to her, both of us now stumbled back into the room and falling onto the floor in a tangle of limbs
"Damn it, I'm just her neighbor!" I propped myself up in my arms but all my anger left me when I saw him pick up an empty bottle that was rolling on the floor
His eyes drowning in anger as he glared at the both of us "Harold, stop!!" she tried to stop him, trying to defend me but he pushed her away
"You're sleeping with my damn wife, aren't you!?" He slammed the bottle against the door, glass shattering and spilling everywhere "if she isn't then she wouldn't protect you!"
This man was fucking crazy!!
I tried to stand up, scooting away even. But my limbs betrayed me, the burdens of the day weighted down on my shoulders and my fatigue left me exhausted, what more can I do with added fear?
The broken glass bottle glinted into the dim light, the sharp edges staring into me with deadly precision as I broke out in a cold sweat
Move...
Move!
"I'll kill you!!"
A sharp, brutal force drove into my stomach. For a second I didn’t understand what had happened, it felt more like pressure than pain at first. Like being punched hard enough to steal all the air from my lungs
I looked down. The jagged bottle was buried in me and my breath caught in a soundless gasp
No...
No, no no, please-!
Heat spread beneath my ribs. Then agony came all at once, blinding and vicious, ripping a cry from my throat
He yanked back and something wet spilled down my abdomen.
Blood
My blood
"Harold, what did you do!?" She cried out, her knees gave in and she sank to the floor crying, her hands trembling with fear as she watched her husband stab someone with the jagged neck of a broken bottle
his eyes widening, as if suddenly realizing his actions as he sobered up "I-... I didn't.."
My hands clumsy and trembling as they flew to the wound, trying to hold something inside that should never have been opened
His wife was sobbing, he was shouting, but their voices sounded far away now
All I could hear was my own ragged breathing and the realization that I have been stabbed...
I whined when I shifted, pain shooting across my body as tears fell from my eyes. Damn it, how many times have I cried today?
My vision blurred and my eyelid suddenly felt heavy, far too heavy for someone who had just been stabbed
I choked on my own sobs and something bright caught my eyes. The panicked shouting, the desperate calls for help, all of it washing away as i focused my gaze on the brightly glowing stone on the floor
It must've fell off when I stumbled down...
My hands trembled as I slowly reached to grab it, the desperate urge to keep it safe in my arms driving away any pain that I felt
"Please..." My voice waved and I blinked away my tears, my hand clasping around the stone as I held it close to my chest
I closed my eyes, feeling instant relief now that it's in my arms. I don't know why but it gave me a feeling that grounded me
Maybe because it carried a piece of grandma. Either way, it kept me calm despite me slowly losing my consciousness...
I'm dying. I really am, aren't I?
My thoughts drifted to grandma, laying there on the hospital bed all alone and weak. I want to stay with her, to go with her in the afterlife
"Stop him, Y/N"
My grandma's voice echoed in my ears and I couldn't stop the memory that resurfaced. Why must my very last memory of you telling the villain of that stupid fairy tale?
I loved it when I was a child, but growing up just made me tire of it. There was no ending, everything was repeating due to the curse
Will the princess and the chosen hero finally live their life at peace or will they continue their never ending reincarnation?
I really want to know
Tell me grandma, why do you want me to stop the villain when the protagonists can't even stop him and his curse?
It was a laughable matter. I'm just me, an ordinary 26 year old woman that is barely hanging on to her life and unfortunately got stabbed by her neighbor's husband
How can I stop a master swordsman who will soon become the demon king when I'm dying by a mere shattered bottle?
But either way, I'll play along for now
Don't worry grandma, I'll be a kid once more and go on another adventure with you in the vast lands of Hyrule and act hero, defeating the great king of evil for you
That's what you wanted, isn't it? You want me to stop him and I will
I'll defeat him for you, grandma. I promise you that
The stone in my hands hummed and glowed even brighter than before but I could hardly care
because right now, I'm on an adventure with my grandma and I'll let it last as long as I can
I'm not the hopeless woman who gets pushed around by her brother, I'm not the woman who is struggling to get end's meet, and I'm certainly not the woman who'll die a virgin
Summary: In a hidden den nestled within an untamed alien jungle, you and your best friend Lira await the return of your Yautja mates from a hunt, only for their early arrival to unleash a storm of frustration that turns into raw, dominant release.
Paring: Yautja x Reader x Yautja x Female
word count: 8000+
warnings: NSFW, SMUT , fluff, Polyamorous relationship, Made of Yautja Names, Probably some spelling mistakes
A/N : Hello Friends! This is a request from an Anonymous ask, The ask was " Hi!, I loved the Mates of Kesh'ta, could you continue with the two hunters returning from a hunt and then the both of them dominate Lira and then the reader? 🥹🙏🔥(Get spicy)" This is a fic that follows the same four characters, you can read more fics with them over on my Masterlist, the series name is called "Nest of Four" I hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
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The den was carved deep into the side of a mist-shrouded mountain on a world far from Earth, a sanctuary of rough-hewn stone walls draped in thick furs and woven tapestries harvested from the jungle's deadliest predators. Bioluminescent vines threaded through cracks in the ceiling, casting a soft, ethereal blue glow that mingled with the crackling warmth of the central hearth fire. The air always carried the scent of smoked herbs, alien musk, and the faint metallic tang of old blood from successful kills. This was home now—yours, Lira's, and that of your towering Yautja mates, Kael and Varek.
You stretched lazily on the wide, fur-covered couch near the hearth, your bare legs draped across Lira's lap. The morning had started with heated, breathless sex between the two of you—tounge's dancing, your clits rubbing together, and your screams filled the den. Now, hours later, the day had been filled with chores: sharpening blades, tending the smokehouse where strips of jungle meat cured, mending armor straps, and gathering glowing moss for the den's lights. Exhaustion felt good, a satisfied ache in your muscles.
Lira's fingers traced slow, idle circles along your calf, her other hand holding a battered datapad loaded with old Earth novels she'd scavenged from a crashed supply ship years ago. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder, and she wore nothing but one of Varek's oversized tunics, the hem riding high on her thighs. You mirrored her state of undress, clad in a soft wrap that barely covered your curves, the firelight dancing across your skin.
"They should be back in a day or two," Lira murmured, her voice soft and content as she turned a page. "Kael always gets that look when the hunt runs long—like he can't wait to pin you down again."
You smiled, tilting your head back against the cushions. "Varek too. I can already picture it—the way he purrs when he sees you."
Her hand slid higher up your leg, a teasing squeeze that sent a warm spark through you. The two of you had grown impossibly close in this shared life, best friends turned lovers under the watchful eyes of your mates. The intimacy was easy, comforting. You shifted closer, letting her fingers explore the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as the fire popped and crackled.
Then the heavy outer door of the den hissed open—earlier than expected.
You both turned your heads toward the sound, hearts quickening. Lira sat up a little straighter. "They're back early," she said, a note of excitement in her voice.
You didn't answer. Something felt off. The familiar heavy footsteps were there, but the energy rolling down the corridor was sharp, frustrated, like a storm about to break.
The door to the living chamber slid open with a low grind. Kael filled the frame, all eight feet of corded muscle and mottled green-black hide still streaked with gore that wasn't his. His broad shoulders brushed the top of the doorway, mandibles twitching once in a sharp click of irritation. Without a word, he strode past you both toward the side cleansing unit, his massive frame radiating tension. Varek followed close behind, his slightly narrower but no less imposing build coiled like a spring. His tusks were flared, amber eyes burning. He didn't glance at Lira. His gaze locked onto you instead—your mate's mate in this complex web, but the hunger and anger there made your pulse spike.
"The hunt went bad," you murmured to Lira, voice low enough that only she could hear.
Kael disappeared into the washroom. You heard the rush of water as he began scrubbing the blood from his clawed hands, the sound harsh against the quiet den. Lira slid off the couch and crossed to Varek, her smaller body pressing against him without hesitation. His long arms outstretched, wrapping around her in a crushing embrace. A deep, rumbling purr vibrated from his chest as he buried his mandibles against her hair, inhaling her scent.
"Missed you, my fierce one," Lira whispered, her hands stroking the ridges along his back. Varek's purr deepened, his massive hand cradling the back of her head.
You swung your legs off the couch and stood, eyes fixed on the washroom entrance. When Kael emerged, water still dripping from his cleaned hide, he moved straight for you. You reached out, and he pulled you into his enormous chest with surprising gentleness at first. The heat of him enveloped you—solid muscle, the faint remnants of jungle humidity, and that potent Yautja musk that always made your knees weak.
"I missed you, my mate," you breathed, pressing your face against the hard planes of his torso. "I missed you too. Are you hurt?"
"No," he rumbled, voice like gravel dragged over stone. His four mandibles flexed, and up close the sour frustration poured off him in waves—sweat, alien musk, and the sharper chemical bite of failure. His amber-ringed pupils tracked down your body slowly, possessively, as if deciding which part of you to devour first.
"Lost the quarry," Kael said flatly, his grip on your waist tightening. "The jungle swallowed it. Three days tracking through the thorn-vines and acid mists, and nothing. A worthy beast, but it turned the tables at the last moment. Slipped into a ravine we could not follow without risking the entire hunt."
Varek growled from across the room, still holding Lira but his eyes flicking toward you and Kael. "Empty-handed. Like cubs. This does not happen."
Lira tried to soothe him, her hands roaming over his armored chest. "You're home now. Safe. Let us take care of you both."
You nodded, reaching up to trace the scarred ridges on Kael's jaw. "I'm sorry. All that work... you both deserve better after pushing so hard." Your fingers pressed into the dense muscle of his shoulder, offering comfort through touch. "Come sit by the fire. I'll get food—fresh meat from the stores, or that fermented drink you like."
But the Yautja were too wound up. This failure was rare; in all your years bonded, it had only happened once before, a brutal storm that had cost them a trophy and left them raging for days. Kael's mandibles clicked rapidly, his body vibrating with unreleased energy. Varek's temper lashed once, knocking a low table aside.
"Food will not sate this," Kael snarled softly, his massive hand sliding down to grip your ass possessively. "The bloodlust still burns."
Lira glanced at you, reading the shift in the air. She pressed closer to Varek, murmuring soft words, but his response was a low growl as he lifted her easily against him.
You knew what they needed. What they wanted. And what was about to happen.
The transition was swift, dominant energy crackling like lightning. Kael grabbed you by the waist, hoisting you off your feet as if you weighed nothing. At the same time, Varek seized Lira, his claws shredding the hem of her tunic. They pulled you both toward the large, thick fur-covered floor in front of the hearth, the firelight painting their massive bodies in flickering gold and shadow.
The Yautja stripped their remaining armor with aggressive efficiency—plates and straps clattering to the stone floor. Their bodies were colossal, dwarfing the two human women completely. Kael's chest was a wall of rippling muscle, his mottled hide scarred from countless battles, shoulders broad enough to block out the world. Varek was leaner but no less terrifying, every inch corded power. Their cocks were already hard, jutting proudly from between powerful thighs—thick, ridged monstrosities of alien flesh. Each was easily as long as your forearm, veined with pulsing ridges that spiraled along the shaft, the large, flared heads glistening with slick precum. Textured nodules and subtle barbs promised both pleasure and the stretch that always left you gasping, their alien shapes designed to claim and ruin.
You and Lira were laid down side by side on the furs, the heat of the fire warming your skin as the males loomed over you. Kael claimed your mouth first in a bruising kiss, his mandibles framing your face while his long, rough tongue invaded, tasting every inch. Varek did the same with Lira, his growls muffled against her lips.
"We need you," Kael rasped between kisses, pulling back just enough for his hot breath to fan across your face. "Need this release. The hunt stole our kill—now we take what is ours."
Varek echoed him, one hand pinning Lira's wrists above her head. "So soft. So warm. You will take our anger, little mates."
You pulled back slightly from Kael's devouring mouth, lips swollen, eyes locked on his. "Take what you want, my mate. I'm yours. Use me."
He growled, deep and primal, the sound vibrating through your bones. His mouth crashed back to yours, tongue plunging down your throat in a filthy, claiming kiss that made you choke and moan. His massive hands groped your body hard—claws raking down your sides, leaving red scratches that stung deliciously. He licked along your neck, then nipped sharply, drawing a thin line of blood. The metallic taste seemed to drive him wild; he lapped it up with a hungry rumble.
"So pretty for me," Kael praised, voice rough as he shoved your wrap aside, exposing your breasts and dripping cunt. "Such tiny holes on this pathetic little human. Do you want me to fuck them? Stretch them wide and take my anger out on you? Use you until you break and beg?"
Varek was just as vicious with Lira beside you. "Look at her—wet already. Eager little slut for Yautja cock even when we're furious. Spread your legs, Lira. Show me that sloppy cunt."
Lira whimpered, obeying, her thighs parting wide. You did the same, heart pounding as Kael's amber eyes devoured the sight of your glistening pussy.
"There she is," Kael snarled, one thick finger—clawed and huge—tracing your folds before plunging inside without warning. "So ready. So wet and eager for her mate's rage."
The fucking started hard and immediate. Kael gripped your hips with bruising force, claws digging into your flesh as he lined up his monstrous cock and slammed in deep. The stretch was brutal, exquisite—every ridge and texture dragging against your walls, forcing you open wider than should have been possible. You cried out, back arching, the burn blending with overwhelming pleasure as he bottomed out, his heavy balls slapping against you.
Beside you, Varek drove into Lira with equal ferocity, her moans mixing with yours in the firelit den. The Yautja were in complete control, massive bodies pinning the smaller humans down, hips snapping with punishing power. Kael's hand wrapped around your throat—not choking, but holding you in place as he rutted into you like a beast unleashed.
"Take it," he growled, mandibles flaring. "Take every inch of this cock. Your tiny human body was made for this—for us to ruin when the hunt fails."
You gasped, nails scraping uselessly at his chest, the size difference making you feel utterly claimed. His ridges dragged along your g-spot with every thrust, the flared head battering deep inside. Sweat and your combined slick coated your thighs. Lira's hand found yours, fingers intertwining as you both endured—and reveled in—the dominant onslaught.
Kael's massive cock slammed into you with relentless force, each powerful thrust stretching your tight walls to their limit. The ridged texture dragged perfectly along every sensitive spot inside you, the large flared head battering deep against your cervix. You moaned loudly, the sound raw and unrestrained, your smaller body jolted with every impact. "Fuck—Kael, yes!" The size difference was intoxicating; his eight-foot frame dwarfed you completely, his clawed hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks as he fucked you like a beast unleashed from the failed hunt.
Beside you on the furs, Varek had Lira in a similar mating press, her legs pushed back toward her shoulders as he drove into her with savage snaps of his hips. Her moans mixed with yours in a filthy symphony. "So good—oh gods, Varek, you're so deep!" she cried out, her hands clutching at his broad shoulders.
"Feel that, little human?" Kael growled above you, his mandibles clicking with pleasure. His amber eyes burned down at you. "This tiny cunt swallowing every inch of my cock. So tight, so wet for your mate even when I'm furious. Pathetic little thing—made to take Yautja dick."
Varek laughed darkly, pounding Lira harder. "Hear that squelching? Your sloppy pussy is dripping everywhere, Lira. Good girl. Take it all. Milk my anger out."
The pleasure built fast and overwhelming. Your body trembled, walls clenching around Kael's thick, textured shaft as he hit that perfect spot over and over. Lira's cries grew higher, her back arching. You came first with a shattering moan, pussy gushing around Kael as waves of ecstasy crashed through you. He roared, slamming deep and flooding you with thick, hot ropes of cum—endless pulses that overflowed immediately, so much that it squirted out around his cock with every thrust.
Lira followed seconds later, screaming Varek's name as she clenched and spasmed. Varek snarled and emptied himself inside her, his massive load bulging her lower belly slightly before leaking out in creamy rivulets.
Kael pulled out with a wet pop, and a torrent of his cum gushed from your stretched pussy onto the furs below. He moved to the edge of the nearby couch, spreading his powerful legs wide. His cock, still rock hard and glistening with your combined juices, bobbed heavily. "On your knees, my mate. Clean me."
You obeyed instantly, crawling between his thighs. Cum continued to leak from your pussy, dripping onto the stone floor in lewd strings. Kael grabbed your head with one massive hand, forcing you down. "Lick it all off. Taste how well you took me."
Your tongue darted out, lapping at the base of his thick shaft, savoring the salty mix of his cum and your own creamy essence. You sucked the head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the flared tip, then bobbed deeper, jerking the ridged length with both hands. The taste was filthy, intoxicating. "Mmmph—good girl," Kael praised, his mandibles twitching. "This is what you're good for. My little cock whore. Look at you, leaking my seed while you worship my cock."
Behind you, Varek had Lira on all fours, fucking her roughly from behind. His hips slapped loudly against her ass, claws digging into her waist. "Take it, you eager slut. Still angry from that hunt—using this tight hole to vent it all." His dirty talk was relentless as he railed her, her moans muffled against the furs.
Lira gasped between thrusts. "Yes—harder, Varek!"
Kael glanced over. "Varek, look how well she takes cock down her throat. Such a greedy human."
Varek grinned, still pounding Lira. "Lira, why don’t you be a good girl and eat Kael’s cum out of Y/N’s pussy?"
Lira moaned in agreement, her voice breathy. "Yes... I want to."
She scooted closer on her back while Varek pulled out for a moment. You lifted one leg, pausing your sucking for a moment as Lira positioned herself beneath you. Her head slid under your dripping cunt, knees on either side of her face as you remained between Kael's legs. You were effectively sitting on her face now, still servicing Kael's massive cock.
Lira looked up at you, sweating and flushed, her eyes dark with lust. "Hi, pretty girl," she murmured, kissing your inner thighs tenderly before squeezing your ass cheeks. Kael's thick cum was already leaking onto her face in warm drips. She dove in with a hungry moan, her tongue plunging deep into your cum-filled pussy, lapping and sucking greedily at the messy creampie.
You cried out around Kael's cock, the dual sensation overwhelming. Going back to sucking him harder, you jerked the ridged shaft while Lira ate you out sloppily—her tongue swirling, lips sucking your clit, swallowing Kael's load mixed with your juices.
Varek kept fucking Lira through it all, his thrusts making her moan into your pussy. The wet sounds were obscene: squelching, slurping, skin slapping.
Kael's grip tightened in your hair. "Fuck—swallow it all." He came hard down your throat, thick spurts filling your mouth until you gulped desperately, some leaking from the corners of your lips. At the same time, you came again on Lira's tongue, grinding down on her face as she eagerly drank everything. Lira shattered moments later on Varek's cock, her screams vibrating against your sensitive flesh. Varek roared and pumped her full of another massive load.
Panting, spent but far from done, you all shifted onto the main furs together in a tangle of limbs. Lira was laid on her back, naked and glistening with sweat and cum. Varek knelt between her spread thighs, hovering over her as he slapped his heavy, cum-slick cock hard against her leaking pussy. "Look at this messy cunt," he degraded her, voice thick with lingering anger from the hunt. "Still dripping my seed like a used breeding toy. That failed hunt left me raging—now this sloppy hole is going to take every bit of it."
Lira whimpered, arching up. "Please, Varek... use me."
Kael positioned you on all fours right beside them, his huge body kneeling behind you. His clawed fingers teased your swollen pussy and tight asshole from behind, pushing thick globs of his earlier cum back into your holes. Some he smeared and pressed into your ass, making you moan loudly at the filthy intrusion. "Such a good little mate. Feel that? My cum belongs in both your tiny holes. You're going to take everything we give you tonight."
"More," you begged, pushing back against his fingers. "Fuck me, Kael. I need it."
Varek picked Lira up effortlessly and flipped her onto all fours, positioning her face-to-face with you. The two of you stared into each other's eyes, flushed and desperate. This was where it turned truly intense and animalistic.
The Yautja fucked like they hunted—primal, relentless, using your bodies to vent every ounce of frustration from the empty-handed return. Kael mounted you from behind, slamming his massive cock back into your pussy with a deep, pounding thrust that made your belly bulge slightly from the sheer size. The stretch burned so good, every ridge dragging inside you. Varek did the same to Lira, his hips snapping forward in brutal rhythm, her smaller frame jolting as his cock disappeared inside her, creating that visible bulge with every deep drive.
Sloppy, wet sounds filled the den: loud squelching from their pistoning cocks, juices dripping onto the furs, skin slapping skin. They pulled your hair, yanking your heads back to expose your necks while gripping hips hard enough to bruise. Kael's claws dug into your ass, spreading you wider as he railed you. Varek slapped Lira's ass repeatedly, the sharp smacks echoing.
While buried balls-deep in your respective mates, the males encouraged—forced—the nasty girl-on-girl action. "Kiss her," Kael growled, yanking your head toward Lira. "Let me see your tongues, you filthy humans."
Varek echoed, pounding Lira deeper. "Tongue kiss like the desperate sluts you are. Show us."
You and Lira met in a sloppy, erotic kiss—tongues sliding wetly, sucking on each other, moaning into one another's mouths as the Yautja continued their primal fucking. The kiss was messy, saliva dripping, full of shared pleasure and submission. Kael and Varek praised you both through it.
"Good girls," Kael rumbled, his thrusts never slowing, belly bulge prominent with each plunge. "Taking our cocks so well while you kiss like that. Pathetic little humans—perfect for breeding and venting our rage."
Varek laughed darkly, slapping Lira's ass again. "Look at them—tongues out, drooling for us. This is how we celebrate even a failed hunt."
Kael remained buried to the hilt inside you on all fours, his massive ridged cock stretching your pussy with every deep, hunting thrust. The slight bulge in your lower belly was visible with each plunge, a lewd testament to his size. "Such perfect mates," he growled, voice thick with praise as his claws gripped your hips. "So fucking tight and warm for your angry predators. Even after all this, this little cunt still squeezes me like it was made for me."
You moaned loudly, pushing back against him desperately. "Yes—harder, Kael! Use me! I love how rough you are!" The roughness sent sparks of ecstasy through every nerve. Beside you, Varek had flipped Lira onto her back again, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded her with relentless power. Her breasts bounced with each impact, and she cried out in bliss. "Fuck—Varek, don't stop! I need it deeper!"
They switched positions fluidly across multiple rounds. Kael pulled you up into a full nelson, your back against his broad chest, legs spread wide as he bounced you on his cock like a toy. The new angle hit impossibly deep, forcing orgasm after orgasm from you. "Dumb little human slut," he degraded hotly, mandibles clicking near your ear, "leaking all over the floor like an animal in heat. You exist to drain our balls when we fail a hunt."
They rotated again: you on your back with Kael in missionary, his weight pressing you deliciously into the furs while he kissed you deeply with his inner mouth. Lira was lifted onto Varek's lap, riding him reverse cowgirl so you could watch her pussy stretch obscenely around his textured shaft. The sounds were filthy—wet squelching, cum farting out with each thrust, skin slapping, desperate moans filling the den.
Through it all, the Yautja stayed in control but caring. Kael would slow his brutal pace to nuzzle your neck. "Still with me, little one? Tell me if it's too much." Varek did the same, stroking Lira's back mid-thrust. "My fierce mate—do you need a breath?" You and Lira always urged them on, loving every second.
Eventually, the intense climax of the night began to fade. The thrusts grew slower, deeper, more savoring than punishing. Kael and Varek pulled out gently at last, their massive cocks softening but still impressive, cum still leaking in heavy drops from your well-used holes and Lira's. You and Lira lay panting, bodies marked with bruises, scratches, and drying seed, but utterly satisfied.
The boys gathered everyone onto the thickest pile of furs directly in front of the hearth. They arranged a big, protective pile of limbs: you and Lira sandwiched warmly between the two massive Yautja bodies. Kael pulled you against his chest, one huge arm around you, while Varek spooned Lira from behind, his tail curling possessively around her leg. The heat from their bodies and the fire created a perfect cocoon against the jungle chill seeping through the stone.
All four of you lay naked, exhausted but content, the firelight playing over sweat-slick skin and cum-streaked forms.
"We were rough," Kael murmured after a long silence, his rough tongue gently licking a streak of cum from your shoulder in tender grooming strokes. His mandibles carefully combed through your hair, untangling it with surprising delicacy. One big hand massaged a sore spot on your hip with slow, soothing circles. "The hunt clouded our minds. The failure... it stirred the blood too hot."
Varek nodded, his own tongue lapping gently at Lira's neck and breasts, cleaning her with affectionate care while his hands wiped away the sticky messes between her thighs. "Forgive us, little ones. We needed you so badly. You took everything we gave."
You tilted your head up to kiss the edge of Kael's mandible. "There's nothing to forgive. We loved it. You can use us whenever you please if you're angry or frustrated from a hunt. We're yours—always."
Lira smiled sleepily, pressing back into Varek. "Exactly. It felt so good. We're a little sore, but in the best way. Happy. Satisfied. We know you'd never truly harm us."
Kael's amber eyes softened, the fierce predator replaced by a deeply loving mate. "You are our hearts. Our treasures. We would die before truly harming you. These bonds... they run deeper than any hunt, any trophy."
Varek purred deeply, nuzzling Lira's hair. "Our perfect humans. Strong enough to stand with Yautja. We love you both more than the blood of a thousand kills."
The grooming continued tenderly—rough tongues cleaning every inch of skin, big hands massaging tired muscles, gentle clicks and purrs filling the space. You and Lira reassured them with soft words and touches, tracing scars on their hides, kissing their claws.
Eventually, words faded into warm, affectionate cuddling. Limbs entangled, breaths syncing, the four of you drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep in front of the dying fire—safe, loved, and utterly bonded in the heart of the untamed world.
Raja has found out that Vic is a boneless but grabby octopus in her sleep. He can't move his head because she's definitely got hold of at least some of his predlocks and probably won't let go until she wakes.
He also doesn't understand how she can put up with what he suspects is a retrofitted storageroom with a bunk that can only just fit her 6ft frame.
Raja is 8ft.
He has already hit his head 7 times.
(Not set on earth- rather the place they both met where she's part of the ambassadorial team who are in placement.)
Summary: After a brutal off-world hunt, the victorious Yautja brothers K’vok and R’thak return to their docked starship on Yautja Prime, still armored and buzzing with kill-adrenaline, and immediately claim their shared human mate in the cargo hold.
Paring: Yautja x Yautja x Reader
word count: 9000+
warnings: NSFW, SMUT, fluff
A/N : Hello There! This is a follow up to a oneshot I wrote called "Blood Moon Claiming" you can read it on my Masterlist. I hope you enjoy!
Masterlist
. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.
The twin suns of Yautja Prime hung low on the horizon, painting the jagged spires of the clan docking spire in molten orange and deep crimson. This was no backwater jungle outpost like the world-tree den on Yautja Prime where you had first been claimed beneath the Blood Moon. Here, on the ancestral homeworld, the Yautja Empire pulsed with raw power. Massive orbital rings encircled the planet, ferrying hunting parties and captured prey between the humid equatorial jungles, the lava-veined deserts, and the towering clan citadels carved from black obsidian and reinforced xenomorph chitin. The air outside the ship was thick with the scent of scorched metal, blooming night-vines that only opened after dusk, and the distant roar of training arenas where youngbloods proved their worth against captured beasts.
Your mates’ ship—the Kainde Amde, a sleek, predatory vessel shaped like a elongated talon—had just completed its automated descent. The hull still ticked with heat from atmospheric entry, scarred from plasma fire and the claws of whatever nightmare they had hunted this time. You had been waiting in the shared den deep within the vessel, a space they had modified just for you: soft human-grade furs layered over Yautja thermal mats, filtered air scented with Earth-like flora to keep your fragile lungs happy, and a small viewport that looked out over the glowing spires. But the moment the docking clamps groaned into place and the ramp began to lower, instinct took over. You rose, heart hammering, and stepped out into the corridor to greet them.
You didn’t even reach the airlock.
The heavy metallic groan of the docking clamps echoed through the ship’s hull, a sound you’d learned meant one thing: they were home. The vibration under your feet hadn’t even settled before the inner airlock door hissed open. Two massive, armored forms filled the corridor, the scent of ozone, alien earth, and something coppery—blood—washing over you in a hot wave.
You didn’t get a word out.
K’vok’s hand, still encased in the cool, segmented plating of his gauntlet, closed around your upper arm. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was absolute, a force of nature that simply removed you from where you stood. R’thak was right behind him, a low, clicking chuckle rumbling in his chest as he pressed a broad palm to the small of your back, steering you forward. Their armor was scarred, smeared with dark, drying fluid that wasn’t theirs. The energy of them was a live wire, a predatory hum that made the air itself feel charged.
“The hunt was successful,” K’vok growled, his voice a gravelly vibration that traveled up your arm. “But the true prize is here.”
You were marched, half-carried, into the main cargo hold. The cavernous space was shadowy, lit by the faint amber glow of standby panels. Storage crates were strapped to the walls—some still sealed with fresh trophies, others containing weapons that hummed with residual power. The ramp door sealed with a final, deafening thunk, plunging you into a sudden, intimate silence broken only by the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the two hunters and the low thrum of the ship’s life-support systems.
R’thak moved first. He spun you, your back meeting the solid, unyielding edge of a reinforced plas-steel crate. “Missed you, little ooman,” he purred, the playfulness in his tone edged with a razor-sharp hunger. His mandibles flared, revealing the sharp points of his inner teeth. Before you could answer, K’vok was there, his larger body caging you in from the front. He took both your wrists in one of his huge hands, pinning them above your head against the cold crate. The action arched your back, pushing your chest out.
“Watch,” K’vok commanded, his glowing yellow eyes locked on yours. “Watch what your mating does to us.”
They didn’t bother with full disassembly. With efficient, practiced moves, they released the tactical plating covering their groins. The heavy armor segments fell away with dull clatters on the deck, ignored. What was revealed stole the air from your lungs.
Their cocks, fully erect and freed from confinement, were monstrous. Thick, veined, and the color of bruised twilight, a deep gray-purple. The distinctive, fleshy ridges that ringed each shaft were pronounced, each one a prominent bump that you knew would drag exquisitely against inner walls. They were already dripping clear, viscous pre-cum, the musky, spicy scent of it cutting through the hunt-smell. K’vok’s was a fraction thicker, the head a broad, blunt crown. R’thak’s, while slightly longer, had a more defined taper. Both were impossibly, intimidatingly huge, a testament to their species’ brutal physiology.
R’thak’s hands, now bare of gauntlets, found your hips. His claws were carefully sheathed as he yanked your lower garments down in one rough pull, the fabric tearing at the seams. The cool air of the hold kissed your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from the two aliens. He turned you with ease, bending you forward over the crate’s flat surface. Your cheek pressed against the cold metal, your ass lifted and presented.
“So pretty,” R’thak murmured, a single claw-tipped finger tracing the length of your spine down to the cleft of your ass. He spread you open with both hands, his thumbs pressing your cheeks apart. “All soft and open for us. Knew you’d be wet. Knew you’d be thinking of your mates while we were away.”
You were. Drenched, in fact. Your cunt throbbed, clenching around nothing, aching to be filled. The vulgarity of the position, the sheer exposure, sent a jolt of pure heat through your veins.
K’vok leaned over you, his armored chest pressing against your back. He kept your wrists pinned with one hand, the other coming down to fist in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp. He forced your head to turn, your eyes meeting his fierce, luminous gaze again. “You will speak,” he ordered, his voice a low thunder. “You will tell your mate what you are.”
R’thak didn’t wait. With a wet, slick sound, you felt the broad, ridged head of his cock press against your entrance. He rubbed it through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing the sensitive nub of your clit with the underside of his crown. The sensation was electric, a rough, perfect friction.
“Fuck,” you whimpered.
“Yes,” R’thak agreed, and he pushed.
The stretch was immediate, breathtaking. He was so fucking big. The first thick ridge popped past your entrance, and your body yielded, burning and stretching to accommodate him. He didn’t stop, didn’t go slow. He was a hunter riding an adrenaline high, and he sheathed himself inside you in one long, relentless drive until his hips met your ass. A deep, guttural sound of pleasure tore from his throat. You were stuffed, impossibly full, the ridges along his shaft creating a series of delicious, dragging pressures with every minor shift.
“Tell him,” K’vok growled into your ear, his mandibles brushing your temple. “Tell your brother what you are.”
“I’m… I’m yours,” you panted, the words forced out as R’thak began to move.
And oh, how he moved. He fucked you with hard, fast strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The pace was punishing, exhilarating. Each thrust jolted you forward against the crate, your tits rubbing against the cold metal. The sound of skin slapping against skin, wet and lewd, filled the hold, mingling with R’thak’s hungry grunts and your own sharp cries. Every ridge on his cock raked over that sweet, deep spot inside you, building a coil of pressure so intense it bordered on pain.
“Mine,” R’thak grunted, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “But not just mine. Ours. Say it.”
K’vok’s hand tightened in your hair. “Say it.”
“Yours!” you cried out, the pleasure tearing the confession from you. “I’m yours! Both of you! Fuck!”
R’thak’s rhythm became erratic, his thrusts deeper, more frantic. You could feel the base of his cock swell, a subtle thickening that promised more. “Gonna fill you up, little mate. Gonna pump this cunt so full of my seed.”
His climax hit him like a quake. He drove in one last, brutal time, hilted himself, and roared. You felt it, the hot, violent pulse deep inside you. It wasn’t a trickle; it was a flood. Thick, hot ropes of his cum shot into your depths, coating your walls, spilling out around the tight seal of his cock. The sheer volume of it, the scalding heat, triggered your own orgasm. It ripped through you, a silent scream contorting your face as your cunt clamped down rhythmically around his still-spurting length, milking him for every drop.
He stayed buried for a long moment, panting, his body shuddering against yours. Then, with a wet, sucking sound, he pulled out. A gush of his cum followed, dripping down your thighs, a lewd testament to what he’d done.
You were barely coherent, sagging against the crate. But K’vok wasn’t done. He released your hair and your wrists, only to hook his arms under your shoulders and haul you upright, your back against his still-armored chest. You were a mess—sweaty, trembling, filled with one brother’s cum.
R’thak, grinning widely, his cock still glistening with your mixed fluids, came around to face you. He leaned in, his tongue—long, pointed, and rough like a cat’s—lapping a broad stripe up your neck to your jaw. “Tastes like us,” he murmured, pleased.
“Now,” K’vok said, his voice vibrating through his chest plate and into your spine. His hands slid down your front, one cupping a breast, his thumb roughly circling your nipple. The other hand slid lower, through the mess on your stomach, down to your swollen, used cunt. He pushed two thick fingers inside you, alongside his brother’s cooling seed, and curled them. You jerked, oversensitive and raw. “Now you take your other mate. You show him how much you missed him.”
He walked you backward, until your legs hit a different, lower crate. He sat on the edge, pulling you down to straddle his lap. His own massive cock stood straight up, a daunting pillar between you. The ridges on his seemed even more pronounced, the head weeping a steady stream of pre-cum.
“Look at it,” he ordered, tilting your chin down. “Look at what you do to me. My little ooman. My perfect, soft trophy.” He guided you, his hands on your hips. “Take me. Take all of me. Show me you can.”
You lowered yourself, the broad head of his cock pressing against your stretched, slick entrance. You were already so full of R’thak’s cum, it felt impossible. You sank down slowly, a low, continuous moan escaping you as you were forced open again, wider this time. K’vok was thicker at the base, and the stretch was a burning, exquisite agony. His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of sensation.
R’thak knelt beside the crate, watching avidly. He leaned in, his mouth finding one of your nipples. He sucked it hard, his rough tongue flicking over the peak, his sharp teeth grazing the sensitive flesh with dangerous precision. The dual sensation—the slow, filling penetration and the sharp pleasure-pain on your breast—made you dizzy.
When you were fully seated, K’vok’s cock buried to the hilt inside you, you both stilled. You were impaled, speared, utterly claimed. You could feel every ridge, every pulse of his alien blood within his shaft. He was so deep it felt like he was in your throat.
“Good,” he rumbled, his hands settling on your ass, kneading the flesh. “Now, fuck me. Work for your mate’s cum.”
You began to move, lifting yourself up until just the head remained inside, then sinking back down. It was a slow, arduous rhythm, the weight and girth of him making every rise a struggle, every fall a surrender. Your muscles burned. R’thak’s cum was pushed out around K’vok’s cock, creating a filthy, slick mess that coated his lower abdomen and your thighs.
R’thak’s mouth moved to your other breast, giving it the same torturous attention. Then his hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding the swollen nub of your clit, already sensitive from your first orgasm. He rubbed tight, fast circles, his touch insistent.
“That’s it,” K’vok grunted, his own hips beginning to meet your downward strokes with sharp upward thrusts. “Use that cunt. Milk your mate’s cock. You want it? You want this thick Yautja seed pumping into this greedy human hole?”
“Yes!” you sobbed, the coil winding tight again, impossibly fast. The overstimulation was too much—the rough fucking, the biting kisses on your breasts, the expert fingers on your clit. “K’vok, please, I want it, I want your cum, fuck, please!”
“Tell me why,” he demanded, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, his grip on your ass bruising.
“Because I’m yours!” you screamed, the words tearing from a place of pure, desperate need. “Because this cunt belongs to you and R’thak! It’s yours to fuck, yours to fill! Please!”
Your second orgasm detonated. It was a white-hot explosion that shattered your thoughts, your vision going spotty. Your cunt convulsed violently around K’vok’s invading length, a series of tight, fluttering clenches. That was all it took for him.
With a roar that echoed off the cargo hold walls, K’vok slammed you down onto him and held you there. His cock swelled, the ridges becoming even more prominent, locking him inside you as he came. His release was even hotter, even more voluminous than his brother’s. It felt like he was pumping liquid fire into your very core, jet after jet of his thick cum flooding you, mixing with R’thak’s until you were certain you’d overflow. The heat of it was immense, a branding from the inside out. He kept pulsing, his body rigid, his mandibles clamped tight to your shoulder in a possessive bite that walked the line between pleasure and pain.
When the last shudder left him, the hold was silent save for the ragged sound of three beings breathing. You were limp in his arms, a boneless weight, utterly stuffed and claimed. K’vok’s cock, still semi-hard and locked inside you by his species’ after-climax swelling, kept his seed trapped within you.
R’thak nuzzled against your side, licking a stripe over the marks his brother’s teeth had left on your shoulder. “So good for us,” he purred. “Our perfect little prize.”
K’vok finally spoke, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. He shifted you slightly, his hand coming to rest on your lower belly, pressing down where you were bloated with them. “It takes here,” he stated, as if commenting on the weather. “This hunt, our seed will take root. You will grow our young.”
The statement hung in the air, a new and profound claim.
For a long moment none of you moved. The cargo hold felt smaller now, the air thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, sex, and the metallic tang of the ship. Your body trembled with aftershocks, every breath pressing your swollen belly against K’vok’s armored chest. R’thak’s amber eyes glowed with something softer than hunger—pride, perhaps, or the fierce protectiveness that had grown between the three of you since that first Blood Moon rite.
K’vok’s mandibles clicked gently against your shoulder as he released the bite, his tongue lapping once at the shallow marks in a soothing gesture rare for the elder brother. “You have taken us well, little mate,” he rumbled. “Stronger than any ooman we have known. The clan will see the swell of our young and know the triad is blessed.”
R’thak’s hand joined his brother’s on your belly, claws retracted, palm warm and gentle. “We will hunt closer to home now,” he promised, voice lighter but no less sincere. “No more long voyages until a pup is born and blooded. You will teach it softness, and we will teach it the way of the hunt. A perfect balance.”
You managed a shaky laugh, voice hoarse from screaming. “You two… are going to be impossible fathers.”
K’vok’s chest vibrated with a rare, deep chuckle. He finally began to soften inside you, the locking swell easing, but he kept you seated on his lap, cradling you between their bodies like the most precious trophy in the galaxy.
Outside the sealed ramp, the twin suns of Yautja Prime dipped below the horizon, and the first stars of the hunting grounds winked into view. Inside the Kainde Amde, the three of you remained tangled together—human mate and two victorious hunters—bound by blood, seed, and an unbreakable claim. The next hunt would wait. For now, there was only this: the quiet after the storm, the promise of new life, and the fierce, eternal love of the brothers who had chosen you above all other prizes in the universe.
The cargo hold lights dimmed to standby amber as the ship’s systems cycled down, but the heat between your bodies never cooled. Under the ancient codes of Yautja Prime, the triad was sealed once more—not just in pleasure, but in legacy. And somewhere deep in your core, where their combined essence still burned, something new and powerful stirred, ready to carry the blood of hunters into the next generation.
Summary: You are cherished yet captive sex slave of a Yautja king, you surrender to his every whim, your body his to claim and ravish whenever he desires.
Paring: Yautja x Reader
word count: 8000+
warnings: NSFW, Smut, Sex Slave, Made up Yautja names
A/N : Hello! I wrote a part three to this series! I have so many ideas for more parts to this series so keep an eye out for them in the coming months!
Masterlist
. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.
You awaken slowly, your eyelids heavy as if weighed down by invisible chains. The soft glow of bioluminescent fungi embedded in the stone walls of the royal chamber filters through the haze of sleep, casting an ethereal light across the vast room. It's late morning— the twin suns rise in a staggered rhythm, painting the skies in hues of crimson and gold. You've been sleeping later and later these days, your body demanding more rest than usual. Fatigue clings to you like a second skin, a constant companion that saps your energy even after a full night's slumber. And the hunger—oh, the hunger has been insatiable, striking at odd hours, urging you to devour the rich, gamey meats and exotic fruits that your master provides without question.
You sit up in the massive bed, the furs sliding off your naked form like silk. The air is warm, scented with the faint musk of incense burned in ornate braziers shaped like snarling predator skulls.
K’thar, your master—the mighty King of Clan Varak—is absent this morning. He mentioned it last night, his deep, rumbling voice vibrating through your body as he held you close after claiming you. "I depart at dawn for a scouting trip, little one," he had growled, his mandibles brushing your ear. "A quick survey of the border territories. Remain in our chambers. The palace holds dangers for one as fragile as you." You had nodded obediently, your body still humming from his touch, and drifted off in his arms. Now, the bed feels emptier without his massive frame beside you, his heat a constant presence that wards off the chill seeping from the walls.
You stretch languidly, your muscles protesting with a dull ache. Rising from the bed, you pad barefoot across the warm flagstones, heated by geothermal vents beneath the palace. The bathing chamber adjoins the bedroom, separated by heavy doors of carved bone that slide open with a whisper at your touch.
The bathing chamber is a marvel of Yautja engineering, a cavernous space dominated by a massive pool built directly into the ground. Steam rises in thick curls from the water, fed by natural hot springs that bubble up from the planet's volcanic core. The pool is enormous, easily large enough for several Yautja warriors, its edges lined with smooth obsidian tiles that gleam like black mirrors. Bioluminescent vines climb the walls, their soft blue glow illuminating shelves stocked with oils, soaps, and scented essences harvested from the world's exotic flora. You select a vial of amber liquid, infused with the nectar of firebloom flowers, and pour it into the water. The aroma blooms instantly—sweet and spicy, like cinnamon laced with honey—mingling with the mineral tang of the springs.
Sinking into the hot water is pure bliss. It envelops you like a lover's embrace, just the right temperature to soothe your weary body. You submerge up to your neck, letting the steam cloud your vision, and begin to wash yourself methodically. Your hands glide over your skin, lathering with a creamy soap derived from the sap of glowtrees. The fatigue seems to melt away in the heat, though a nagging hunger stirs in your belly again. You've been eating more lately—devouring platters of roasted xenobeast haunch and sweet pulp fruits that K’thar brings personally, his eyes gleaming with approval as you consume them. And your breasts... they've been tender, sensitive to even the lightest touch. You dismiss it as the aftermath of his rough affections, though a whisper of something more tugs at your mind.
You rest there for what feels like an eternity, your head lolling back against the pool's edge, eyes closed as the water laps gently against you. The palace hums faintly in the distance—distant roars of warriors training in the courtyards, the clang of forges crafting new weapons. This world is harsh, unforgiving; the Yautja are apex predators, their society built on honor, hunts, and conquest. As a human, you were once terrified. But time has woven a complex tapestry of emotions: fear, submission, and an undeniable bond to your captor-king. He cherishes you in his way, his possession fierce and absolute.
Meanwhile, in the echoing hallways of the palace, King K’thar strides with purpose. His scouting trip was brief—a routine patrol of the clan's borders, ensuring no rival tribes encroach on their territory. The air in the corridors is thick with the scents of oiled leather, fresh blood from the morning hunts, and the smoke of ritual fires. Warriors bow their heads as he passes, their dreadlocked manes swaying, mandibles clicking in respect. K’thar is a towering figure, over eight feet of corded muscle clad in ornate armor forged from the alloys of fallen stars. His skin is a mottled green-gray, scarred from countless battles, and his eyes—piercing orbs—scan everything with predatory sharpness.
He reaches the heavy doors to his private quarters, adorned with the bleached skulls of his greatest kills. But as he pushes them open, he freezes mid-stride. His mandibles flare wide, tasting the air with a deep inhale. Something is different. Your scent—always intoxicating, a blend of human sweetness and the musk of his claim—has shifted. It's richer, deeper, laced with a fertile undertone that sends a primal thrill through his veins. His hearts pound faster, instincts roaring to life. Quickly, he rushes into the room, the doors slamming shut behind him.
The bedroom is as he left it: the bed rumpled from your sleep, the hearth crackling with a low fire that casts dancing shadows. But you're not in the nest where he left you in the early hours, slipping away while you slumbered peacefully. The scent hits him harder now, enveloping him like a drug. Sweeter, more potent—it screams of change, of life taking root. He hears the faint splash of water from the bathing chamber, and his mandibles twitch in anticipation.
The doors to the bathing chamber slide open, and there you are: submerged in the steaming pool, your naked form glistening under the bioluminescent light. Water clings to your skin like jewels, your hair slicked back, eyes widening in surprise at his early return.
"Master," you greet him softly, a smile tugging at your lips despite the fatigue.
He doesn't respond. His eyes lock onto you, devouring the sight. With deliberate movements, he begins to strip off his armor—unclasping the shoulder guards, shedding the chest plate etched with royal insignia, letting the loincloth fall away. His body is a masterpiece of lethal grace: broad shoulders, ridged abdomen, powerful thighs. He steps toward the bath, the steam parting around him like a veil.
"Master, what is it?" you ask, a note of worry creeping into your voice. He seems... intense, even for him.
He descends into the hot water, the pool rippling around his massive frame. Steam rises in thick clouds, obscuring the edges of the chamber. He wades toward you purposefully, his eyes never leaving yours. Instinctively, you reach out, your arms wrapping around his waist as he nears. His skin is warm, textured like fine leather under your fingers.
He cradles your face in his large, clawed hands, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Little one… you carry my seed.” His voice is a low growl, laced with pure satisfaction that vibrates through you.
You look up at him in shock, your heart skipping a beat. "What? How... how do you know?"
"I smelled it the moment I walked into our quarters," he rumbles, his mandibles brushing your cheek. "Your scent—it's different now. Richer, sweeter, intoxicating. My seed has taken root within you. I didn't notice it this morning because I am around you constantly, immersed in your essence. But now, after leaving and returning, it's unmistakable. I can smell the exact moment your body changed, the hormones shifting to nurture life. Finally, you carry my pup inside of you."
It all clicks into place—the puzzle pieces of your recent changes snapping together. The overwhelming tiredness that drags you back to sleep, the constant hunger that has you eating portions fit for a warrior, even the tenderness in your breasts that aches at the slightest brush. "It makes sense now," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of awe and joy. "The fatigue, the appetite... my breasts have been so sensitive... I'm proud, Master. Proud to carry your pup—my king's pup. It's an honor."
His tongue—long, dexterous, and textured—meets yours in a passionate dance. It's not a human kiss; it's deeper, more invasive, his mandibles carefully parted to allow intimacy without harm. You melt into it, your tongues twining as heat builds between you. His hands trace up and down your arms, feeling the subtle warmth in your skin, a fertile undertone that ignites every predator instinct in him. You are his, marked not just by the collar, but now by the life growing within.
He backs you up against the end of the bathing pool, the water sloshing around you. He gentle sits you on the edge, your legs dangling in the steaming depths. He looms over you, his eyes roaming your body with reverence. His large hand cups one of your breasts, feeling the slight swell—they're heavier now, nipples darker and more sensitive. He loves them, treats them like sacred trophies. With a gentle tug—hard enough to elicit a gasp—he coaxes tiny clear drops from the tip, a precursor to milk. He leans down, his tongue lapping them clean, purring, "These will soon feed my sons, little one. Perfect, fertile."
His hand drifts lower, resting possessively on your still-flat belly. "This will swell soon. You carry my pup inside of you."
Your hand covers his, pressing it closer. "It's all yours, Master. Your pup, your body—everything I belong to you."
"Master," you murmur, reaching out to him again, your eyes pleading.
He scoops you up effortlessly, holding you in his arms. Your arms wrap around his thick neck, fingers tangling in his dreadlocks. His tongue finds yours once more, the kiss deepening as he carries you back to the bedroom. The hearth crackles warmly, flames dancing in the large stone fireplace carved like a gaping maw. He sets you down gently on the fresh furs of the round bed, the softness cradling your body.
He kneels with you, his massive hands holding your face. “My little slave is pregnant…” His voice is a whisper of awe. You lean into his hand, nuzzling the rough palm.
He worships your body then, his touches reverent. Laying you down on your back gently, he parts your legs with his large hands, exposing you to him. Dipping his head, he inhales deeply at your core—the sweeter musk of your pussy, flooded with hormones that make your slick thicker, more addictive. The faint hint of milk precursors lingers in the air. “Your cunt smells like my heir now… every Yautja in the palace will scent it on you.”
The first touch of his tongue was a flat, broad stroke from your perineum all the way up to your clit. It wasn’t human. It was longer, thicker, more muscular, and textured in a way that made your vision blur. It was like being licked by warm, wet velvet-covered sandpaper, and the sensation was so intense, so utterly foreign and perfect, that you screamed. Your hands flew to the furs, gripping them until your knuckles turned white.
He didn’t stop. He lapped at you, slow and thorough, mapping every fold, every hidden crevice with that incredible tongue. He circled your entrance, teasing the ring of muscle before flicking brutally fast over your swollen clit. You thrashed, your back arching, incoherent pleas falling from your lips.
“The scent,” he growled against your flesh, his hot breath making you shiver. “It has changed. Richer. Sweeter. It is the scent of my seed taking root. It is the scent of your cunt becoming a royal womb.”
He pressed the broad tip of his tongue against your opening and pushed. It slid in easily, your body welcoming the invasion, but he didn’t stop. He pushed deeper, the length of his tongue delving into your cunt, stretching you, filling you in a way no human tongue ever could. It curled inside you, rubbing against your inner walls, seeking out every sensitive spot. You could feel the strange, wonderful texture of it rasping against your G-spot, and you came apart with a shattered cry, your cunt convulsing around the thick intrusion. Your orgasm was a white-hot wire of pleasure, sharpened by the new sensitivity, making you convulse against his face.
He drank your release, a deep, satisfied rumble shaking his chest. He pulled his tongue out slowly, dragging it through your soaked folds, collecting every drop. He lifted his head, his mandibles and chin glistening with your juices. His dark eyes held yours.
“You taste of victory,” he said, his voice thick. “You taste of the future.”
Before you could even come down from the peak, his hand replaced his mouth. Two thick fingers, slick from your own arousal, pressed against your entrance. “I must open you for your king,” he murmured, pushing them inside you in one smooth, claiming stroke. You were so wet, so pliant from your climax, that they slid in to the knuckles without resistance. He crooked them, finding that spongy spot inside you, and began a slow, relentless rhythm. In and out. Curling and pressing. Stretching you.
His other hand tore at the simple loincloth covering his hips. The leather ties gave way with a sharp snap. His cock sprang free, and you whimpered at the sight of it. It was thick, ridged, and a deep, flushed grey, the head already leaking a bead of translucent pre-cum. It was a weapon, a trophy, a promise of devastating pleasure.
He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with a loud, obscene sound. “You taste so good,” he praised.
He moved over you, bracing himself on his arms, his massive frame caging you in. The heat radiating from him was immense. He took his cock in one hand, aligning the broad, blunt head with your dripping cunt. But he didn’t push in. Not yet.
He rubbed the head through your slick folds, coating his length in your juices. He slid it up and down your slit, the hard, hot ridges dragging against your clit with every pass. The friction was maddening. You were so empty, so hungry for him to fill you.
“Master,” you begged, the word a broken sob. “Please.”
He stilled, his cockhead resting heavily against your opening. “What do you want, my pet?” His voice was a low, teasing growl. “Use your words. Tell your king what your pregnant cunt needs.”
You met his gaze, your desire stripping away any shred of hesitation. “I want my master’s cock in my pregnant cunt. I need it. Please, fuck me with it. Fill me up.”
A shudder went through him. The sight of you, begging so prettily, the knowledge of his child growing inside you—it undid him. His control, always so iron-clad, visibly frayed.
He pushed forward.
The stretch was immense, breathtaking. He was so big, and the ridges along his shaft created a delicious, torturous friction as he sank deeper, deeper, until his hips met yours and he was fully sheathed inside you. You felt impossibly full, stretched to your limit around him, your inner walls fluttering in a frantic, welcoming rhythm.
“Fuck,” you breathed out, your head falling back against the furs.
He didn’t move immediately. He stayed buried to the hilt, letting you adjust, letting himself feel the incredible, wet heat of your cunt wrapped around him. One of his large hands slid from your hip to your belly, splaying possessively over the slight swell.
“Here,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe and lust. “I can feel myself here. My cock is in your cunt, and my pup is in your womb. You are full of me.”
Then he began to move.
He was slower than usual, each withdrawal agonizingly deliberate, each thrust forward a deep, claiming possession. There was no frantic pounding, no race to the end. This was worship. This was a celebration. Every time he slid home, his pelvic bone ground against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your already oversensitive body.
“Your cunt,” he grunted, his pace steady and deep, “smells like heaven now. It smells like life. Like my life, growing inside you.” He lowered his head, his mandibles brushing your cheek. “You were made for this. To take my cock. To carry my young. Your perfect, tight little cunt is my temple now.”
His words, filthy and reverent all at once, coiled the tension in your belly tighter and tighter. You could feel another orgasm building, different from the first—deeper, more rolling, centered in the place where his cock stretched you and his hand covered his child.
“I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you choked out, your nails digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders.
“Cum,” he ordered, his thrusts gaining just a fraction more force. “Cum on your king’s cock. Soak me. Let me feel your cunt milk me while my pup listens.”
That was all it took. The orgasm crashed over you, a wave of pure, mindless pleasure that clenched your entire body. Your cunt spasmed around his invading length, gripping and releasing him in rhythmic pulses. You cried out, a sound of pure ecstasy, as the pleasure radiated out from your core, making your toes curl and your vision go white at the edges.
Feeling you convulse around him tore a ragged roar from K’Thar’s chest. His rhythm faltered, then became harder, deeper, more urgent. A few more powerful, grinding thrusts and he buried himself as deep as he could go, his body going rigid above you. You felt the hot, sudden rush of his release flooding your depths, jet after jet of his cum painting your insides. He groaned, a long, satisfied sound, as he emptied himself into you, his cock pulsing within your clenching cunt.
He stayed inside you, both of you breathing heavily, connected in the most intimate way possible. Slowly, gently, he pulled out. You whimpered at the loss, at the feeling of his cum already beginning to seep out of your well-used cunt.
He didn’t let you dwell on the emptiness. With surprising tenderness, his large hands turned you onto your stomach. He arranged the furs, placing a soft pillow beneath your hips to lift your ass, presenting yourself to him all over again. You felt exposed, wanton, your ass in the air, your spent cunt on display.
You felt the broad head of his cock nudge against your entrance. He was still hard, still ready. The sensitivity was almost too much, but the need was greater.
He pushed in again, this angle allowing him to go even deeper. He set a steady, rocking pace, one hand on your hip, the other splayed over the small of your back. The slap of his flesh against yours, the wet, filthy sounds of your joined bodies, filled the chamber. This was less about worship and more about pure, unadulterated fucking. He took you, claimed you from behind, and you loved it. You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, and another, quicker orgasm ripped through you, making you clench around him so hard he groaned. He followed soon after, spilling another hot load inside you, filling you until you felt impossibly full.
Again, he was gentle as he turned you onto your back. He settled between your thighs, his weight mostly on his arms, and guided himself back into your slick, welcoming heat. He hovered above you so he could see your face.
This time was different. Sweeter. Softer. His thrusts were long and languid, a slow, deep dance. He lowered his head, his mandibles carefully retracted, and his tongue—that incredible, wicked tongue—found yours. You kissed him, a messy, open-mouthed tangle as he moved inside you. It was shockingly intimate, a connection that went beyond the physical joining of your bodies.
“Look at me,” he rumbled against your lips.
You opened your eyes, meeting his dark orbs. You saw possession there, yes, but also a fierce, terrifying pride. A reverence.
“My beautiful girl,” he whispered, his thrusts never ceasing their slow, deep rhythm. “My perfect, breeding cunt. You have given me everything.”
His words, the look in his eyes, the feel of him moving inside you where his child grew—it all coalesced into a final, overwhelming peak. You came silently this time, your body bowing against his, a flood of warmth and pleasure washing through every vein. He kissed you through it, swallowing your cries.
Feeling you tighten around him for the third time pushed him over the edge. He drove in one last, deep time, hilting himself, and you felt the hot rush of his release once more, mixing with the previous loads inside you. He shuddered through his orgasm, a low, continuous growl vibrating from his chest into yours.
He didn’t pull out. He stayed buried, softening inside you, as both of you floated down from the heights. After a long moment, he finally withdrew. A gush of his cum followed, leaking out of your well-fucked cunt onto the dark furs.
He reached down between your legs, his fingers sliding through the messy proof of your joining. He gathered a thick, white strand of it on two fingers and brought it to your lips.
“Taste,” he commanded, his voice rough with spent passion. “Taste what we made. This cum filled the cunt that holds my pup.”
You opened your mouth, your tongue licking his fingers clean. The taste was musky, salty, uniquely his. He then brought his fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean with you, sharing the taste.
“Our pup,” he corrected himself, his voice softening. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. “Mine. And yours.”
As the fire dies down to embers, casting the room in a softer, reddish glow, he finally shifts. The twin suns must be dipping toward the horizon outside, though the chamber's thick walls muffle any external light. With a reluctant growl, he pulls out of you slowly, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips at the emptiness. A trickle of his cum follows, warm and sticky on your inner thighs. But he doesn't leave you wanting for long. Lowering his head, he laps at your pussy with gentle, thorough strokes of his tongue—cleaning you meticulously, savoring the combined flavors. The texture that once drove you to madness now soothes, a warm caress that eases any lingering sensitivity.
Occasionally, he rises to share the taste, his tongue delving into your mouth to let you sample yourself mingled with him. "Taste yourself, little one?" he asks, his voice husky with affection. "You taste so good—like victory, like life. Sweeter now, with our pup's essence woven in." You nod, licking eagerly, the intimacy of the act deepening your connection. It's raw, vulnerable, a shared ritual that binds you further.
Once satisfied that you're clean, he settles beside you on the warm furs. You lie on your back, the soft pelts cradling your body like a cloud. K’thar curls his massive form around yours protectively, his bulk a living shield against any imagined threat. You hold onto him, your smaller hands tracing patterns on his skin—rubbing small circles over the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the steady thrum of his dual hearts beneath. His one huge hand rests protectively over your still-flat stomach, fingers splayed wide as if to encompass the miracle within.
The afterglow envelops you like the warm furs beneath your body, a cocoon of satisfaction and intimacy that stretches on endlessly. K’thar's massive form remains entwined with yours, his cock still nestled inside you, twitching occasionally as if reluctant to fully retreat from the haven it has claimed. Hours seem to pass in this blissful haze—time loses meaning in the royal chambers, where the outside world fades to irrelevance. The hearth's fire crackles softly, casting flickering golden light across your sweat-slicked skin and his scarred hide. The air is thick with the mingled scents of your joining: his musky essence, your sweeter arousal, and the underlying fertile note that marks the new life within you.
His fingers brush your face affectionately, tracing the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, with a gentleness that belies his warrior's strength. He adores you, his little human slave—still collared, the gold band a cool contrast to your heated skin; still his breeding slave, bound to surrender to his every whim. But now, every touch is reverent, possessive in a way that speaks of deep-rooted pride rather than mere ownership. "You did so well, little one," he murmurs, his voice a soothing rumble that vibrates through his chest into yours. "Carrying my seed, enduring my claim... you are perfection."
He holds you there, his arms encircling you like living steel, purring deeply against your neck. The sound is primal, a Yautja expression of contentment and protection, resonating in your bones. It's a sound you've come to crave, a reassurance in this alien world where you are both treasure and captive. You nuzzle into him, your lips brushing the rough texture of his skin, inhaling his scent—earthy, like storm-tossed forests mixed with the metallic tang of his armor, now discarded in a heap nearby.
The two of you lay there for what feels like an eternity, making out lazily. His tongue explores your mouth with unhurried passion, coiling around yours, tasting every sigh and moan. It's not the frantic hunger of before; this is tender, exploratory, a reaffirmation of the bond forged in ecstasy. His hands roam your body not to arouse, but to soothe—stroking your arms, your back, your thighs with feather-light touches that send pleasant shivers through you. "My cherished one," he whispers between kisses, his mandibles carefully nipping at your lower lip without breaking skin. "You have given me an heir. No greater gift exists."
"I cannot wait to see you swell," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Your belly growing round with my pup, a testament to our union. You will be radiant, little one—more beautiful than any star in the void." His words are laced with wonder, a rare vulnerability from the king who rules with iron claws. "And you will never want for anything again. Food, comfort, protection—it is all yours. The finest healers in the clan will attend you, ensuring our pup thrives. You are the vessel of my legacy, and I will guard you with my life."
You snuggle closer, your head pillowed on his chest, listening to the rhythmic purr that lulls you toward sleep. The fatigue returns, but now it's a contented weariness, wrapped in his embrace. "Thank you, Master," you murmur, your voice soft. "For everything."
He tightens his hold, a final kiss pressed to your forehead. "Rest now, my pet. Tomorrow, the clan will know of our triumph."
As sleep claims you, the world fades to the gentle crackle of the fire and the steady beat of his hearts. This is your life—cherished, captive, and now, eternally bound by the pup growing within.
Summary: Under the crimson Blood Moon on the savage hunting world of Y’kath Prime, the human trophy-mate is forever bound as the shared prize of two dominant Yautja brothers—K’vok the elder and R’thak the younger—through an ancient rite of triple claiming that seals their bodies, honor, and souls after the brothers’ triumphant return from the Great Hunt.
Paring: Yautja x Yautja x Reader
word count: 9000+
warnings: NFSW, SMUT, fluff
A/N : Hello Friends! I have been thinking about writing a story like this for a while, I wanted to write a story in which the reader is a shared mate between two Yautja males. I have written poly relationships before like my Bucky x Steve x Reader series (you can read those on my Masterlist) But I wanted to write one with Yautja, so I hope you enjoy! I will be writing more one-shots with these characters so keep an eye out for them in the future!
Masterlist
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The dual moons burned crimson above the jungle canopy of Yautja Prime when your mates returned from the Great Hunt.
This was no ordinary world. Yautja Prime was the ancestral cradle of the Yautja clans, a planet of endless equatorial jungle where the trees rose like living cathedrals hundreds of meters tall, their trunks armored in iridescent bark that drank the rain and glowed faintly at night. Bioluminescent vines draped the canopy in veils of violet and acid green, while the undergrowth teemed with creatures engineered by nature and the Yautja themselves over millennia—serpentine drakes with venom that could melt bone, pack-hunting felids the size of shuttles, and the occasional feral xenomorph drone that had escaped an old hunt and gone native. The air itself was thick, humid, alive with the metallic tang of ozone from constant lightning storms and the sweet-rot scent of fallen prey. Two moons ruled the sky: the smaller Silver Claw, a cold blade of reflected starlight, and the vast Blood Moon, whose crimson face only fully ignited during the rare alignment known as the Claiming Cycle. When the Blood Moon burned at its zenith, the jungle itself seemed to hold its breath; ancient rites long whispered in the blood-oaths of the clans were performed without question. Honor demanded it. Desire demanded it more.
You had learned all of this the hard way. Three Earth years ago—though time blurred here under alien stars—you had been part of a colonial survey team on a backwater moon when a Yautja hunting party descended. What began as terror ended in survival. K’vok, the massive elder brother whose shoulders could block out a sun, had spared you after you drove a scavenged plasma cutter into the eye of a charging drake that had already killed two of your companions. R’thak, younger, faster, with a mind as sharp as his wrist-blades, had laughed—a rattling, approving sound—and declared you “worthy prey that fights back.” Instead of a skull on their trophy wall, you became their living trophy, their shared ooman mate. At first it was captivity. Then it became training. Then it became need. You learned their guttural language. You learned to move silently through the undergrowth, to skin a kill with their curved daggers, to wait naked on the furs exactly as ordered. And you learned pleasure—raw, overwhelming, alien pleasure that no human man could ever match.
The shared den was carved high in the fork of a world-tree whose roots plunged into a glowing river valley. Inside, the space was vast yet intimate: woven mats of dried razor-grass covered the floor, piled with layered hides from every hunt the brothers had ever won. Trophies lined the curved walls—polished xenomorph skulls, the elongated cranium of a rival clan leader K’vok had bested in single combat, and a single human skull from a coward who had begged for mercy. Weapons hung in neat racks: the combi-stick, the plasma caster, the twin sets of wrist-blades etched with clan runes. Vents in the living wood allowed moonlight and jungle air to flow through, while hidden thermal netting kept the interior warm enough for your softer skin. The scent of the nest was constant—dried grasses, your own warm skin, and the deep, masculine musk of your mates that never quite left the furs no matter how many times you aired them. Tonight the air felt heavier, charged, as if the Blood Moon itself pressed down through the vents and painted every surface in strips of cold silver and hot, demanding red.
You had obeyed their final order before they left for the Great Hunt. Naked. Aching. Waiting. You lay stretched across the central mound of hides, back arched, thighs already parted, skin glistening from the sacred oil they had left you—a thick, spiced balm that sank into your pores and made every nerve sing. Hours had passed. Your nipples were tight, aching peaks. Your cunt throbbed with empty need, slick coating your inner thighs. You had not allowed yourself release; they had forbidden it. “The moon will watch you burn for us,” K’vok had rumbled, mandibles flaring as he traced one claw down your sternum. R’thak had smiled with that sweeter, sharper edge and added, “And when we return drenched in the blood of worthy prey, we will quench that fire together under the rite.” So you waited, pulse hammering, body a live wire of anticipation.
The jungle outside fell silent in stages—the night calls of drakes quieting, the wind itself seeming to still—as heavy footfalls approached the den’s wide, arched entrance. Not the silent stalk of hunters on the prowl, but the deliberate, victorious stride of conquerors coming home. Your breath caught. The dual moons framed the opening perfectly, their intersecting light turning the threshold into a gateway of blood and silver.
K’vok entered first. He was a mountain of muscle and scarred green hide, broader than any human you had ever seen, his armored shoulders filling the entire doorway. Fresh alien rain and darker streaks of prey blood glistened across his chest and arms; the deep gashes from the hunt were already sealing, thanks to the regenerative mesh beneath his skin. His dreadlocked tendrils, heavy with bone beads and trophy rings, swayed as he moved. Golden eyes—cool, commanding—locked onto you instantly. Behind him came R’thak, leaner but no less deadly, his frame a swift echo of his brother’s. Amber eyes glowed warmer, almost playful, yet the blood painting his mandibles and chest spoke of the same savage success. Both still wore their partial armor, but their postures were loose now, satisfied, predatory.
They found you waiting on the furs exactly as they ordered—naked, and aching.
The heavy air of the nest, thick with the scent of dried grasses, your own warm skin, and the lingering musk of your mates, seemed to pulse around you. You were naked, stretched across the woven mats, your back arched against a mound of soft hides, your entire body a map of aching need. The two moons outside—the smaller silver crescent and the vast, crimson Blood Moon—cast intersecting bands of pale and lurid light through the open vents, painting your flesh in alternating strips of cold clarity and hot, demanding shadow.
They shed their gear without words, the clatter of weapons and trophies set aside a ritual you’ve witnessed many times. But tonight, under the Blood Moon, the ritual felt different. It felt final. It felt like a claiming.
K’vok approached, the heat of his body radiating towards you as he knelt on the mats. His large, clawed hand—the one that can crush bone—came to your cheek, the touch surprisingly gentle, the rough pads tracing the line of your jaw. “Our little prize,” his voice was a graveled rumble, translated through the device on his wrist. “Aching for us. The moon watches. It demands the rite.”
R’thak crouched at your other side, his hand sliding down your belly, his fingers splaying over your skin. “We have missed this warmth,” he said, his tone softer, sweeter, but the intent behind it was just as fierce. “We have missed this softness between our hands.”
You couldn’t speak. You simply nodded, your head tilting back, offering your throat. It was an instinctual gesture, one they taught you. K’vok’s mandibles flared, then closed, the hard, chitinous edges clicking softly against the skin just above your collarbone, a promise of pressure, of possession. He didn’t bite, not yet. He merely tasted the pulse there with that strange, alien mouth.
Meanwhile, R’thak’s journey continued. His hand slid lower, parting your thighs which you’d already spread wide in anticipation. His fingers, so much longer and thicker than any human’s, found the slick heat between your legs. You gasped as two of those fingers glided through your folds, gathering your wetness. “So ready,” R’thak murmured, his head dipping down. “So open for us.”
He didn’t just push in. He investigated. His face, with its complex mandibles and tusks, lowered between your thighs. You felt the cool, smooth exterior of his brow against your inner knee, then the surprising, velvet-soft interior of his mouth as it opened. His tongue was not a human tongue. It was longer, thicker at the base, tapering to a more pointed tip, and it was hot. It slid out, and the first contact with your cunt was a slow, deliberate sweep from the very bottom of your slit up to the top, parting your lips, exposing your clit to the humid air of the nest.
The sensation was shocking, overwhelming. It wasn’t a human lick; it was a coating. His tongue laid a thick, wet stripe of sensation over your entire exposed vulva. You cried out, a short, sharp sound, and your hips jerked upwards.
K’vok watched this, his golden eyes fixed on his brother’s work. Then his own head lowered. His mouth, larger, more dominant, found yours. He didn’t kiss like a human. His mandibles framed your face, the tusks brushing your cheeks, and then his own tongue—even thicker, hotter than R’thak’s—pushed past your lips. It filled your mouth, stretching your jaw, a heavy, invading presence that tasted of something foreign, mineral, and deeply masculine. It explored the roof of your mouth, the underside of your tongue, and you sucked on it instinctively, your own tongue trying to wrestle with the impossible mass of it.
You were split between them. R’thak’s tongue at your cunt became more focused. He found your clit and circled it, not with delicate flicks, but with broad, grinding passes of that muscular, alien organ. It was like being rubbed with a hot, wet stone. The pressure was immense, direct, and it sent violent shocks up through your belly. He then pushed deeper, the tip of his tongue probing into your entrance, not penetrating yet, but fucking you with just that tip, in and out, a shallow, maddening rhythm.
In your mouth, K’vok’s tongue retreated slightly, then pushed back in, fucking your mouth in a slow, mimicking sync with his brother’s actions below. You were being tongue-fucked in two places at once. Your hands flew out, one tangling in the dreadlocked cords hanging from K’vok’s head, the other gripping the smoother crest of R’thak’s skull as he worked between your legs. Your moans were swallowed by K’vok’s mouth, becoming guttural, choked sounds.
R’thak’s rhythm changed. He withdrew his tongue from your cunt, and you felt the loss, a cold emptiness. But then you felt his fingers again. Two of them, slick with your juices and his saliva, pressed against your entrance. They didn’t ask. They simply pushed. The stretch was immediate, glorious. His fingers were so thick, so long, they filled you in a way no human man could. He worked them in, deep, to the knuckle, and then began to move them, scissoring them, stretching your inner walls apart. “Look at this,” he growled, his voice vibrating against your thigh. “Look at how this soft human cunt opens for my hand. It is beautiful.”
K’vok released your mouth, his mandibles clicking near your ear. “She is ready,” he stated, his hand moving to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh, his thumb rubbing over your nipple until it pebbled into a hard, aching point. “The moon is high. We begin.”
R’thak withdrew his fingers, and you felt a gush of your own release follow them. You were already so close. But they weren’t letting you finish yet. This was just the preparation.
K’vok moved with a decisive power. He gripped your hips, his hands spanning almost your entire waist, and turned you. He laid you back flat on the furs, then climbed over you, his weight settling between your thighs. His own cock, which you’d only glimpsed before in moments of urgency, was now fully presented to you.
It was monstrous. A thick, dark green shaft, patterned with subtle ridges, emerged from a slit in his lower abdomen. The head was a pronounced, bulbous crown, wider than the shaft itself, and from its tip, a clear, viscous fluid already beaded. The sheer size of it—you knew it was longer than your forearm, thicker than your wrist—made your cunt clench in a mixture of fear and desperate want.
“You will take me first,” K’vok said, not a question, a decree. He positioned himself, the broad crown of his cock nudging against your soaked, stretched opening. “You will feel this fucking, and you will know who your primary mate is.”
He didn’t thrust. He pressed. The head began to enter you, and the stretch was beyond anything you’d ever known. It was a burning, glorious fullness that made you cry out, your back bowing off the mats. Your inner walls, already sensitized by R’thak’s fingers, struggled to accommodate the invasion. They spasmed, they clung, and then they relented, accepting the impossible diameter. K’vok growled, a sound of deep satisfaction, as he pushed forward, sinking inch by inexorable inch into your cunt.
You were being split open by him. Your vision swam. You could feel every ridge on his cock scraping along your sensitive inner flesh, a textured, dragging sensation that sent sparks through your nerves. He bottomed out, his huge pelvis meeting yours, and you felt the entirety of him inside you, a solid, heated column claiming your deepest space.
Behind you, R’thak moved. You felt his hands on your shoulders, turning you slightly, guiding you onto your side. Then his body slotted against your back, his own heat enveloping you. His cock, similar to his brother’s but slightly less thick, though no less long, pressed against the cleft of your ass. You felt his fingers, slick with something—his saliva, your juices—probing your other entrance.
“This one is for me,” R’thak whispered into your ear, his voice a hot, sweet contrast to K’vok’s dominating growl. “My brother fills your cunt. I will fill this tight, perfect human ass.” His finger circled your anus, then pushed just inside. The intrusion was sharp, shocking, but the stretch was different. It was tighter, more resistive. He worked his finger in, gently, as K’vok began to move within your cunt.
K’vok’s first withdrawal was a slow, dragging pull, his cock seeming to suction against your walls. Then his thrust back in was faster, harder, a punch of fullness that made you scream. Your body was pinned between their two masses, a sandwich of alien heat and power. R’thak, behind you, added his own finger, then two, stretching your ass slowly, meticulously, while his brother fucking your cunt set a brutal, driving rhythm.
“You feel him,” R’thak murmured, his mouth near your ear. “You feel K’vok fucking your cunt so deep. Now feel me opening this other hole. You are ours. Every part of you.”
The dual sensations threatened to unravel you. K’vok’s cock in your cunt was a relentless, pistoning force, each thrust jolting your entire body. The head of his cock ground against your deepest spot with every inward drive, a pressure that bordered on pain but was drowned in pleasure. R’thak’s fingers in your ass were a counterpoint, a slow, deep burn of stretching that made you feel impossibly full, impossibly claimed.
Then R’thak’s fingers withdrew. You felt the cooler air on your stretched ring, and then the hot, blunt pressure of his cock’s crown replacing them. “Now,” he said, and his tone was no longer just sweet. It was hungry. “Now I take this.”
He pushed. The entrance to your ass was tighter, more resistant than your cunt. The initial penetration was a sharp, stinging blaze of sensation that made you gasp, your body stiffening. K’vok, feeling your reaction, pinned you more firmly, his hands on your hips holding you immobile as his younger brother worked himself into you. R’thak went slowly, with a patience that was almost cruel. You felt every incremental inch of his cock entering your ass, the stretch a searing, full ache that built and built. You were panting, your cries becoming a continuous, broken stream of sound.
He finally sank fully in, his pelvis meeting the backs of your thighs, and you were filled. Completely. K’vok’s cock was buried in your cunt, R’thak’s cock was buried in your ass. You were a conduit between them, stuffed beyond belief, held between their two bodies. The feeling was overwhelming, a pressure so immense it felt like your very skeleton might bend. But within that pressure was a pleasure so profound it whited out your thoughts.
They didn’t move immediately. They held there, both buried deep, their low growls harmonizing around you, vibrating through your flesh. K’vok’s mandibles clicked against the side of your head. “Bound,” he said. “Under the moon. You are ours.”
Then, in a unity that spoke of a lifetime of sync, they began to move.
It was not a chaotic, individual rhythm. It was a perfect, coordinated fuck. K’vok pulled back from your cunt, and as he did, R’thak pushed forward into your ass. Then K’vok thrust back into your cunt, and R’thak withdrew from your ass. They were moving in opposite directions, a seesaw of immense penetration that rocked your entire body between them. Each withdrawal from one hole was countered by a filling of the other. You were never empty. You were always full, just the source of the fullness shifting from front to back with every rocking motion of their powerful bodies.
The sensation was indescribable. It was a constant, rolling wave of being stretched, filled, and frictioned. K’vok’s cock in your cunt dragged against your sensitized walls with a rough, glorious texture. R’thak’s cock in your ass moved with a smoother, deeper slide, the tightness of the channel making every motion a bright, sharp pleasure-pain. Their bodies slammed against yours, the impact a physical drumbeat to the fucking. Their growls, their clicking mandibles, the wet, slapping sounds of their unions with your body, filled the nest.
K’vok’s hand moved to your breast again, squeezing roughly, his thumb rubbing your nipple in time with his thrusts. “This cunt is mine,” he grunted, each word punctuated by a deep drive into you. “I fucking claim it. I fucking own it.”
R’thak’s mouth was at your ear, his tongue sometimes licking the shell, his words a fevered contrast. “And this perfect ass is mine,” he whispered, then groaned as he pushed deep. “I love how tight it is around my cock. I love fucking it while my brother fucks your cunt.”
You were lost in it. Your own cries had become a continuous, wordless keen. Your hands scrambled against them, gripping whatever part of them you could—K’vok’s corded arm, R’thak’s lean thigh. Your hips tried to move, to match their rhythm, but you were utterly pinned, a vessel for their shared use. The pleasure built in a terrifying crescendo. It wasn’t a single point of focus; it was a whole-body eruption brewing from both holes, from the crushing pressure of their bodies, from the filthy, possessive words they growled into your skin.
You felt your climax approaching, a tidal wave that had no single source but came from everywhere. Your cunt spasmed violently around K’vok’s cock, your inner muscles fluttering in a frantic attempt to milk him. Your ass clenched around R’thak’s shaft, the tight ring gripping him. You shook between them, your toes curling, your back arching as much as their hold allowed.
“She is breaking,” K’vok rumbled, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more punishing.
“Let her break,” R’thak answered, his own rhythm increasing to match. “Let her scream for us.”
The wave crashed. It wasn’t a release; it was a demolition. Your body convulsed, a violent, uncontrollable shaking that started deep in your belly and radiated out to your fingertips. A scream tore from your throat, raw and shattered, echoing in the nest. You didn’t just cum; you exploded. Sensation flooded every nerve, a white-hot ecstasy that had no end, only a sustained, brutal peak. You felt your cunt gushing around K’vok’s cock, a flood of your own release. You felt your ass pulsing around R’thak’s, a rhythmic clamping that he groaned into.
They didn’t stop. They fucked you through your climax, their movements becoming even more relentless, driving you up into a second, even sharper peak before the first had even faded. You were sobbing now, tears mixing with the sweat on your face, your body completely surrendered, completely used.
K’vok’s growls became ragged, his thrusts losing their perfect rhythm for a final, frantic pounding. “Mine!” he roared, and you felt his cock swell even thicker inside your cunt, the ridges becoming more pronounced. Then, a hot, sudden gush deep inside you. His cum was not like human semen. It was hotter, thicker, a viscous flood that filled your cunt in a series of powerful, pulsating jets. You felt it, a scalding liquid expansion that pushed against your already overfilled walls. He pumped it into you, his body shuddering against yours, his mandibles locked wide in a silent roar of release.
The sensation of being filled with his cum, while still being fucked in your ass by R’thak, pushed you into a third, bewildering climax. Your vision blurred, your hearing dimmed.
R’thak, spurred by his brother’s completion, drove into your ass with a final, deep series of thrusts. “Take mine too,” he gasped, his sweet voice now cracked with need. “Take my fucking cum in this ass.”
You felt his own release, another flood of that hot, thick alien fluid, this time filling your ass. It was a stretching, burning, claiming sensation that mixed with the overwhelming fullness in your cunt. You were being filled in both holes, stuffed with their cum, a final, liquid claim under the Blood Moon.
They both remained buried in you, their bodies slumped against yours, their heavy breaths hot on your skin. Their cum continued to seep, a hot, internal leak that you felt pooling deep within you. The two moons watched, their light now bathing the three of you—a tangled, exhausted, claimed heap of flesh.
As the Blood Moon slowly began its descent and the first hints of silver dawn crept through the vents, K’vok and R’thak did not pull away. Instead they rolled you gently between them, still joined, their massive arms caging you in a living fortress of heat and muscle. K’vok pressed his forehead to yours, mandibles clicking softly in the ancient gesture of eternal bond. “The rite is sealed,” he rumbled, voice low and reverent. “Blood and seed and moon. You are no longer trophy. You are triad-mate. Ours until the stars burn cold.” R’thak nuzzled the curve of your neck, his tongue tracing the rapid flutter of your pulse. “And we are yours,” he whispered, sweeter, yet no less fierce. “We love our sweet little ooman.”
They stayed locked inside you as the jungle woke, their cocks softening but still plugging their claim, letting their combined release stay deep where it belonged. Outside, the Blood Moon faded to a ember glow, but inside the den the fire between the three of you only burned brighter—eternal, possessive, and forever. The Great Hunt would come again, but now you would stand at their sides, marked, mated, and unbreakable under any sky.
Bowser taking a stroll on his private beach with his lil queen, Princess Peach. Never got to post this here for Blacktober but here's my second piece of them.
Summary: A weary researcher on a remote alien world, trapped in an abusive relationship and a dismissive crew, finds her isolated field mission shattered by the sudden, terrifying presence of an otherworldly hunter.
Paring: Yautja x Reader
word count: 8000+
warnings: NSFW, SMUT, Violence, Mentions of injury, Mentions of past abuse, Made of Yautja Names, Probably some spelling mistakes
A/N : Hello there! This fic was a request from an Anonymous ask, The ask was "I really liked the Predators Claim fic! Do you think you could make one similar to it but instead of just the abusive Boyfriend you could add that the abusive boy cheated on the female with a coworker and the Yaujta still takes the female and kills the man but lets the Ap(affair partner) go to tell the crew what happen?" This fic has the same plot of the fic I write called "Predators Claim" but I changed s few things to fit the request prompt. This fic ended up a bit longer that I expected so sorry about that, I sometimes get carried away writing the plot and smut, anyway, I hope you enjoy!!
Masterlist
. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.
The Aether was never meant to feel like a prison. When you first signed the contract for the year-long Xenobiological Survey Mission to Kepler-186f’s third moon—designated Elysara by the United Terran Exploration Initiative—you had imagined adventure, discovery, and a chance to rebuild your relationship with Marcus. The posting was exclusive: only twenty carefully selected crew members, a sleek orbital-to-surface research vessel, state-of-the-art sampling drones, and habitats designed to withstand the moon’s volatile climate. Lightyears from Earth, the isolation was sold as a feature. “A chance to truly focus,” the recruiters had said with polished smiles.
You had believed them. You had believed him.
Marcus had been charming back on Earth—attentive, ambitious, the kind of man who made grand promises about building a future together among the stars. “We’ll explore alien worlds side by side,” he’d whispered, kissing your knuckles. So you left your family, your friends, your budding career in botanical xenobiology, and followed him into the void.
Reality had curdled almost immediately after departure.
The verbal barbs started small. A muttered “You’re slowing us down” during equipment checks. A public eye-roll when you asked a question in the daily briefings. By month three, the crew had grown accustomed to his casual cruelty, treating it like background noise. “That’s just Marcus,” they’d say with awkward shrugs. “He’s under a lot of pressure as lead field biologist.” No one wanted to rock the boat on a mission this far from home.
By month six, the pressure had turned physical.
A shove here. A bruising grip on your arm there. Last month he had backhanded you hard enough to split your lip when you dared suggest he was spending too much time alone with Dr. Lena Voss, the team’s molecular ecologist. You had gone to Captain Reyes immediately after, voice shaking, bruises blooming under your uniform sleeve. The captain had listened with a tired expression, then sighed.
“Relationships are complicated out here, Specialist. We’re months from any relief vessel. Work it out privately. We can’t afford to lose manpower over domestic squabbles.”
Domestic squabbles. As if your broken ribs and fractured trust were mere inconvenience.
Three weeks ago you had walked into the auxiliary lab and found Marcus and Lena tangled together on a workbench, her legs wrapped around his waist, his lab coat discarded on the floor. The sounds they made still haunted your nightmares. You hadn’t screamed. You hadn’t cried in front of them. You simply turned and left, the image burned into your retinas like an afterimage from a plasma torch.
Since then, you had spoken to neither of them. You existed in silence, performing your duties with mechanical precision, avoiding eye contact, volunteering for every solo shift available. But today there was no escape.
The surface mission briefing had been clinical. Three teams to collect flora, fauna, and soil samples from the dense equatorial jungles. You, Marcus, and Lena had been assigned together. Of course you had.
“Try not to embarrass me out there,” Marcus had hissed as you boarded the drop shuttle, loud enough for the others to hear. A few crew members chuckled nervously. Lena smirked behind her hand.
Now the three of you trudged through the alien undergrowth, the humid air thick with the scent of bioluminescent moss and something metallic, like ozone after rain. Towering trees with iridescent bark stretched hundreds of meters into a violet-tinged sky. Vines thicker than your arm pulsed faintly with inner light. Strange, six-legged creatures skittered through the canopy, their calls a haunting mix of bird song and insect drone. Elysara was beautiful in the way only dangerous places could be—alive, watchful, unforgiving.
You walked in front, scanner in one gloved hand, sample kit slung across your back. The weight grounded you. Focus on the work. Catalog the Helixferns. Measure soil acidity. Ignore the laughter trailing behind you.
“Remember that time in the mess hall when she spilled nutrient broth all over her notes?” Lena’s voice carried easily through the still air. “Clumsy as ever.”
Marcus’s low chuckle followed. “Yeah, well, some people just aren’t cut out for field work. Or relationships. Right, babe?”
The mocking nickname stung worse than any slap. You kept your eyes on the scanner, jaw clenched so tight your teeth ached.
Hours passed. The jungle grew denser, the ship’s landing site now kilometers behind. Your comms crackled occasionally with status reports from other teams, but reception was patchy this deep in the canopy. The air felt heavier, charged somehow. You paused, tilting your head. A faint clicking sound—almost like chitinous mandibles or distant knuckles cracking—echoed from the trees above. You scanned the branches slowly, heart picking up speed.
“Nothing there,” Marcus called, voice dripping disdain. “You hearing ghosts now? Or just trying to waste more time?”
Lena laughed, bright and cruel.
You ignored them, crouching beside a cluster of glowing fungi to collect a core sample. The scanner beeped softly as it analyzed composition. Fascinating. High silicate content, possible symbiotic relationship with local arthropods—
A boot connected with the side of your sampling rig, sending it tumbling into the moss. The delicate instruments inside clattered.
“Oops,” Marcus said flatly. “My bad.”
Lena’s laughter rang out again, sharp and delighted.
You stared at the overturned device for a long second, then reached for it without a word. Before your fingers could close around the handle, Marcus’s boot came down hard on the back of your hand. Pain exploded up your arm—crushing, grinding pressure against bone.
You bit back a cry, but a strangled gasp escaped anyway.
“Still ignoring me?” Marcus growled, leaning his weight. “After everything I’ve done for you? Dragging your dead weight out here, covering for your mistakes in reports—”
“Marcus, stop—” you hissed, voice tight with pain. You tried to pull your hand free, but he twisted his heel.
Lena stepped closer, arms crossed, watching with open amusement. “She’s always been dramatic. Remember when she cried to the captain? Pathetic.”
The rage you had bottled for weeks surged upward like magma. You wrenched your hand free with a burst of adrenaline, cradling it against your chest as you scrambled to your knees. The scanner lay forgotten.
“You cheated on me!” The words tore out raw and furious. “In front of—with her—and now you’re kicking me while I’m working? What the hell is wrong with you? I asked for help. I begged them to send me home. And every single one of them ignored it!”
Marcus’s face twisted with anger. “You think you’re better than us? You’re nothing without me. Just a whiny little—”
He backhanded you across the face.
The impact snapped your head sideways. You tasted blood, felt the familiar bloom of pain along your cheekbone. The world tilted as you fell onto your side in the damp moss, ears ringing.
A deafening, guttural scream tore through the jungle—inhuman, primal, vibrating with raw fury. The canopy above shook violently.
Marcus and Lena whipped around. You pushed yourself up on one elbow, dazed, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth.
Something massive dropped from the trees with a thunderous thud that vibrated through the ground. Eight feet of corded muscle and armored plating straightened slowly, deliberately. Dreadlock-like appendages swayed from its head, draped over broad shoulders. A polished, biomechanical mask gleamed where a face should be, etched with alien symbols that pulsed faintly with inner light. Plasma casters and strange blades adorned its wrists and back. The creature’s breathing was a low, rhythmic hiss through the mask as it rose to its full, imposing height.
The jungle itself seemed to hold its breath.
Marcus stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror. “What the— what the fuck is that?!”
Lena’s face drained of color. She grabbed Marcus’s arm, frozen in place.
You stared up at the being, heart hammering against your ribs. Pain, fear, and a strange, inexplicable sense of recognition warred inside you. This was no native Elysaran creature. This was something ancient. Something that hunted.
The Yautja tilted its head slightly, mandibles clicking beneath the mask as it regarded the three humans. Its gaze—unseen but unmistakably focused—lingered longest on you, still on the ground with a bleeding lip and trembling hands.
Marcus scrambled backward, his face a mask of raw terror. His hand fumbled at the utility belt of his field uniform, fingers closing around the compact plasma sidearm issued to all surface teams for “hostile wildlife encounters.” The weapon was sleek, Terran-engineered, capable of punching through armored hides with focused energy bursts. He yanked it free, hands shaking as he pointed it squarely at the eight-foot giant.
“Stay back!” Marcus screamed, voice cracking. “I’ll blow your fucking head off!”
Lena shrieked behind him, pressing herself against his back, her fingers clawing into his shoulders. “Marcus, what is that thing?! Oh God, shoot it! Shoot it now!”
You remained on the ground, propped on one elbow, blood still trickling from your split lip where Marcus had backhanded you. Your heart hammered against your ribs like a caged animal desperate to escape. The pain in your bruised cheek and crushed hand throbbed in time with your pulse, but it was nothing compared to the sheer overwhelming presence before you.
The Yautja stood motionless for a heartbeat, then took a slow, deliberate step forward. Its head tilted slightly to one side, the dreadlock-like appendages swaying with the motion. Beneath the intricate biomechanical mask, a low clicking sound emerged—almost like amused chittering. The alien’s shoulders shifted, broad and powerful beneath layered armor plates etched with trophies and symbols from hunts long past. To this young hunter, barely blooded by the standards of his kind, these soft-skinned humans were curious prey. Fragile. Loud. And one of them was daring to threaten him with a toy.
Marcus’s finger tightened on the trigger. “I said stay back, you freak!”
The plasma pistol whined as it charged. A bright blue bolt lanced out with a sharp crack.
The Yautja moved faster than anything that large had any right to. One massive hand snapped up, catching the energy bolt on a bracer that flared with shimmering energy. The shot dissipated harmlessly into sparks. In the same fluid motion, the hunter closed the distance in two bounding strides. Marcus barely had time to scream again before the Yautja’s clawed hand closed around the wrist holding the weapon.
A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing as bones shattered. The pistol clattered to the mossy ground. Marcus howled in agony, but the beating had only begun.
The Yautja’s other fist drove into Marcus’s midsection with brutal precision. Air exploded from his lungs in a wet gasp. Another blow to the ribs—cracking sounds followed. The alien moved with the efficiency of a born hunter, each strike calculated to inflict maximum pain without immediate death. Marcus crumpled, but the Yautja hauled him up by the front of his torn uniform, slamming him against the trunk of a massive iridescent tree.
“You dare raise a weapon?” The Yautja’s voice was a deep, guttural growl layered with clicks and rumbling tones.
Lena had detached herself and was frantically digging through her pack. “Marcus! Fight it!”
The Yautja’s arm whipped around in a vicious arc, smashing into Marcus’s right arm with terrifying force. The bone didn’t just break—it exploded through the skin in a spray of blood and jagged white shards. Marcus’s scream was inhuman, high-pitched and endless, as he collapsed to his knees, clutching the ruined limb.
The Yautja tilted its head again and let out a sound that could only be described as laughter—a harsh, rattling chortle that vibrated through the jungle floor. It found the human’s suffering genuinely amusing.
Your breath caught. Part of you was horrified. Another part—the part that had endured months of degradation, bruises hidden under uniforms, and a crew that looked the other way—felt a dark, shameful flicker of satisfaction.
Lena finally pulled a small stun pistol from her pack, hands trembling so badly she nearly dropped it. “Get away from him!” she shrieked, firing wildly. The stun bolt grazed the Yautja’s shoulder armor, sparking harmlessly.
The alien backhanded her almost casually. The impact sent Lena flying several meters through the air. She crashed into a thicket of glowing ferns, blood streaming from her broken nose, gasping and sobbing.
The Yautja turned its attention fully to you.
It approached slowly, each footfall sending vibrations through the ground. You stared up at the towering figure, terror icing your veins. This was it. The end. After everything—after the mission, the betrayal, the isolation—you were going to die at the hands of some alien monster on a nameless moon. You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the killing blow.
Instead, a large, clawed hand descended with shocking gentleness. The pads of its fingers, warm and textured like living leather, brushed across your injured cheek. The touch was feather-light, careful not to aggravate the swelling. You flinched at first, then held still, eyes fluttering open in disbelief.
A voice rumbled from the mask, modulated yet unmistakably concerned. The words rumbled clearly through the mask. “Are you okay, little human?”
Your eyes widened. The creature that had just dismantled your abusers like insects was asking after your well-being? The absurdity of it nearly made you laugh—or cry. You managed a shaky nod.
The Yautja did not seem satisfied. It straightened to its full height, turning its masked gaze toward Marcus, who was writhing on the ground, still cradling his mangled arm and staring in wide-eyed horror.
“He hurt you,” the Yautja stated, the words carrying the weight of judgment. It stepped toward Marcus, who tried to crawl away, leaving a trail of blood on the moss.
“No! Please—stay away!” Marcus begged, voice hoarse from screaming. “We didn’t do anything! She’s lying—she’s always lying!”
The Yautja loomed over him. “You should never harm a female,” it growled, the clicking undertones sharp with disapproval. “Females are life-bringers. The heart of the clan. The ultimate prize in any hunt. To strike one who is smaller, weaker, and under your protection is without honor. You are h’kesh—prey without worth.”
Marcus’s pleas grew frantic. “I’m sorry! I’ll never touch her again! Take Lena—take whatever you want! Just don’t kill me! Please, God, don’t—”
For a fleeting moment, as you watched from the ground, a twisted sense of contentment washed over you. After all the times he had made you feel small, worthless, after the cheating and the gaslighting and the crew’s indifference—this alien, this monster, was seeing him for what he truly was. You didn’t stop it. You couldn’t.
The Yautja moved with ritualistic precision. One clawed hand pinned Marcus down. The other extended wrist blades with a metallic shing. The kill was swift but brutal, in the traditional Yautja fashion. A deep thrust, a twist, and then the spine was torn free in a fountain of gore. Marcus’s final scream cut off abruptly. The Yautja held the bloody trophy aloft for a moment, a low victorious growl rumbling from its chest, before discarding the corpse with disdain. It landed in a heap near a cluster of pulsing fungi, eyes staring sightlessly at the canopy.
Lena, who had pushed herself up on her elbows, witnessed the entire thing. Her scream was guttural, filled with pure animal terror. Blood poured down her face as she scrambled back.
The Yautja approached her slowly. She cowered, covering her head.
“I do not kill females,” the hunter declared, voice steady and authoritative. “You will live. Return to your ship. Tell the other humans what happened here. Tell them this one is mine now.” It gestured toward you with a clawed hand. “Interfere, and the next hunt will claim all of you.”
Lena didn’t need to be told twice. Sobbing and stumbling, she climbed to her feet and bolted into the dense jungle undergrowth, crashing through vines and ferns until her panicked sounds faded into the distance. The bioluminescent flora continued to glow indifferently, as if the violence had never occurred.
Silence fell once more, broken only by the distant calls of Elysaran wildlife slowly resuming. The Yautja turned back to you.
You were still on the ground, trembling, mind reeling from the whirlwind of violence and the impossible gentleness that followed. The hunter knelt slowly, careful not to startle you further. Its massive frame cast a long shadow, but the posture was no longer threatening. One large hand reached out, cupping your face with the same careful reverence as before. The warmth of its palm seeped into your skin, grounding you.
“Be calm, little human,” it rumbled softly. The clicking undertones softened, almost soothing. “You are safe now. No one will harm you again. You are mine.”
The declaration sent a shiver down your spine—not entirely from fear. In the depths of your exhaustion, betrayal, and relief, something stirred. This alien had seen your suffering and acted where your own people had not. It had protected you in the only way it knew how: through blood and honor.
The jungle around you seemed to breathe again. Towering trees swayed gently in the breeze, their iridescent bark shimmering. Strange flowers unfurled nearby, releasing spores that danced in the filtered light. Far above, the Yautja’s cloaking device hummed faintly as it partially reactivated, shimmering the edges of its form. This world was ancient, dangerous, and now it held a new guardian for you.
You didn’t pull away from the touch. For the first time in months, the crushing weight of isolation lifted, replaced by the terrifying, exhilarating unknown of belonging to a predator.
The Yautja’s masked face tilted closer, studying you with unseen eyes. “My name is K’arnath,” it offered, as if sensing your need for something solid to hold onto. “Young Blood of the Yautja. I came for a hunt… but found something far more worthy.”
Its thumb brushed lightly over your uninjured cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. The gesture was clumsy in its gentleness, like a warrior unused to tenderness but determined to learn.
Hours seemed to pass in that clearing, though it was likely only minutes. K’arnath remained kneeling, a silent sentinel, as you processed the carnage around you. Marcus’s body lay cooling, a stark reminder of the hunter’s code. The air smelled of blood and crushed vegetation. Your hand throbbed, your face ached, but the pain felt distant now, overshadowed by the presence of the being who had claimed you.
Eventually, K’arnath rose, scooping you up into its powerful arms as if you weighed nothing. “We go,” it said simply. “My ship is hidden nearby. Your people will come searching soon. I will keep you safe.”
You didn’t protest. Part of you wondered if this was shock, or madness, or some fever dream brought on by Elysara’s alien atmosphere. But as the Yautja carried you deeper into the jungle, leaping effortlessly onto low branches and activating its cloaking to blend with the environment, you felt something you hadn’t in a long time: protected.
The research mission, the crew of twenty, the year-long contract—all of it felt like a distant nightmare now. The real world was here, in the arms of an eight-foot alien hunter who viewed you as precious.
K’arnath’s voice rumbled against your side as it navigated the canopy. “Rest, little one. The hunt continues… but you are no longer prey.”
You closed your eyes, leaning into the armored chest despite yourself. The clicking sounds it made were almost like a lullaby now—strange, alien, but strangely comforting.
Far behind you, Lena’s distant screams and frantic running would eventually reach the landing site. She would tell the others of the monster in the jungle. Of Marcus’s brutal end. And of the human woman claimed by the predator.
The Yautja’s cloaked ship was a marvel of alien engineering, hidden beneath a dense canopy of Elysara’s iridescent trees. What appeared to the naked eye as nothing more than a rocky outcrop or shadowed thicket revealed itself as K’arnath approached. A low hum filled the air, and a section of the “rock” shimmered, dissolving into a ramp that extended silently. The hunter carried you effortlessly in his powerful arms, your body nestled against the cool plates of his armor. The jungle sounds faded behind you as the ship sealed itself, cloaking once more and lifting off with barely a vibration.
Inside, the vessel was dimly lit by glowing crimson and emerald runes etched into the walls. The air smelled of ozone, polished metal, and something earthy—like smoked herbs and distant rain. Advanced holographic displays flickered with data from the planet below: atmospheric readings, thermal scans of the research landing site, and alerts for approaching human shuttles. K’arnath moved through the corridors with predatory grace, his heavy footfalls echoing softly on the grated floors. He had claimed you, and now he was taking you to safety among the stars.
Hours passed in a blur. The ship broke orbit smoothly, the violet skies of Elysara giving way to the endless black of space dotted with unfamiliar constellations. Artificial gravity kept you stable as K’arnath brought you deeper into the vessel, past weapon racks holding plasma casters and trophy mounts displaying bones and skulls from previous hunts—some recognizably alien, others more exotic. The sleeping chamber was surprisingly spacious for a hunter’s craft: a large, recessed nest dominated the center, piled high with soft furs from various worlds, thermal blankets woven from adaptive fibers, and what looked like cured hides that shimmered with faint bioluminescence. It was warm, secure, and smelled faintly of him—musky, metallic, alive.
He set you down gently in the nest, as if handling fragile glass. “Rest here, little human,” he rumbled, the translated words vibrating through the chamber via his mask’s systems. From a nearby compartment he retrieved a medical kit unlike anything from the Aether. Glowing salves and regenerative sprays were applied to your bruised cheek, split lip, and crushed hand. The pain eased almost immediately, swelling reducing as the tech worked its magic. He brought water in a sleek metallic container and nutrient-dense food—strips of dried meat from unknown prey and dense, sweet fruit analogs that tasted like berries and honey. He fed you small portions by hand, patient and watchful, treating you with the careful reverence one might show a prized but delicate pet.
You sat there in the nest, wrapped in one of the furs, mind reeling. This can’t be real. Lightyears from the research crew, aboard an alien ship in deep space, cared for by a being who had just torn your abuser apart. Fear still lingered in your chest, cold and sharp, but logic tempered it. If K’arnath wanted you dead, you would have joined Marcus on the jungle floor. Instead, he had been nothing but gentle since the claim. Exhausted, you eventually drifted into a deep, dreamless nap.
When you stirred, the chamber lights had dimmed to a soft glow. K’arnath entered quietly, his massive frame filling the doorway. He had begun removing his armor. Piece by piece, the layered plates and mesh were set aside on a rack: shoulder guards etched with kill tallies, bracers humming with energy, the chest plate revealing corded, mottled skin beneath—tough, patterned like ancient camouflage, scarred from past battles. Finally, he reached for the mask.
Your breath caught as it came off.
His face was unmistakably Yautja: mandibles framing a powerful jaw, tusks protruding, skin a deep, mottled green-gold with darker striations. Four mandibles clicked softly, expressive and alien. Bright, predatory eyes—yellow with slit pupils—locked onto yours with intelligence and something softer. Dreadlock-like appendages hung around his head, some adorned with small metal clasps. He was terrifyingly beautiful in his otherness, a living embodiment of the hunt.
He approached slowly and lowered himself into the nest beside you, the furs dipping under his weight. The nest felt even larger with him in it, yet intimate. “You slept long,” he observed, voice deeper without the mask’s modulation—guttural clicks interwoven with translated speech. “How are your wounds?”
You nodded, still staring. “They… they feel much better. Thank you.” Your voice was hoarse but steady. “For everything. I don’t even know where to start.”
K’arnath tilted his head, mandibles flexing. “I am K’arnath, Young Blood of Clan K’rith. What is your name, little one?”
“Y/N,” you replied softly.
He repeated your name with a clicking rumble, tasting it. “You are welcome, Y/N. I did not wish to see a female harmed. In Yautja culture, females are sacred. They bring life—the greatest hunt of all. To strike one so is without honor. That male was h’kesh. Worthless prey. I could not stand idle.”
You swallowed, emotions swirling. “Why help me, though? I’m just a human. Weak. Nothing like your kind.”
His large hand rested near your leg, claws retracted. “All females deserve protection. You were in pain. I saw it in your eyes, in how they treated you. I offer you choice now. I will take you anywhere. Back to your Earth, if that is your wish. Or any world you desire. My ship is swift.”
Tears pricked your eyes. You shook your head. “I have no one on Earth anymore. When I signed up for the expedition, they put us in hypersleep for the journey. By the time I woke up out here, years had passed back home. My family… they’d be gone. Friends moved on. Marcus was the only reason I came. And he…”
K’arnath’s mandibles clicked in what seemed like sympathy. A low, regretful rumble escaped him. “This pains me to hear. No mate should harm his female. You are strong to have endured, little Y/N.” He shifted closer, the heat of his body radiating. “Perhaps… you need not be alone. I have never taken a mate. Not even among my own kind. Hunts consumed me. But seeing you… claiming you… something stirs. You could be mine. I would protect you. Cherish you. Teach you the ways of the hunt if you wish. Or simply keep you safe among the stars.”
The confession hung heavy. You hesitated, heart pounding. This was insane—an alien who had slaughtered your abuser now offering himself. But the gentleness in his eyes, the safety he represented after months of hell… it called to the lonely, broken part of you. “I… I don’t know if I can be what you want. But I feel safe with you. More than I have in a long time.”
The air thickened with tension. K’arnath cupped your face in one massive hand, claws carefully sheathed. He leaned in, his long, textured tongue extending to lick slowly along your cheek, then your jaw, tasting the salt of dried tears and the faint tang of healing salve. “I am sorry that male hurt you,” he growled softly between licks. “I will make the pain go away. You are safe now. Mine to protect. Mine to please.”
You trembled but reached up, holding onto his thick wrist, grounding yourself in his solidity. His tongue was warm, slightly rough, sending shivers across your skin. “Open your mouth for me,” he commanded gently.
You obeyed, parting your lips. K’arnath’s mandibles framed your face delicately as he pressed forward. The kiss was unlike anything human—his tongue invaded with confident hunger, exploring, tasting, while his mandibles clicked and caressed your cheeks. It was passionate, overwhelming, alien. You kissed him back, hands sliding up his scarred chest, unable to believe you were making out with the predator who had saved your life, aboard a ship hurtling through space.
He pulled back after long minutes, eyes glowing with desire. His hands—large, powerful—tugged at the edges of your torn field uniform, silently asking. You helped him, shrugging out of the fabric until you were bare before him, skin flushed under his intense gaze.
“You are pretty,” he murmured, voice thick. “Soft. Strong in spirit.” He began licking your body everywhere—collarbone, breasts, stomach—slow, reverent strokes. “You taste good, my female.”
He laid you down fully in the furs, positioning himself above you. Embarrassment heated your cheeks, but his words soothed it. “Do not hide. You are beautiful to me.” With surprising care, he spread your legs, lowering his head. He inhaled deeply at your pussy, mandibles flaring. Then his tongue dipped in, long and thick, stretching you as it explored. The sensation was intense—rough texture dragging against sensitive walls, curling and thrusting. You cried out, hands fisting in the furs as pleasure built rapidly. He devoured you eagerly, tasting every inch until you shattered, cumming hard on his face with a broken moan.
K’arnath rose, his massive cock freed—huge, ridged, alien in shape, already slick. “I am going to enter you now. Do you want this?”
“Yes,” you gasped, still trembling.
“I will be big. I go slow.” He warned again, “Do you want it?”
“Yes, K’arnath. Please.”
He positioned himself, pressing the broad head against your entrance. The stretch was immense—painful at first, burning as he sank in inch by inch with agonizing patience. You moaned loudly, nails digging into his arms. When he bottomed out, fully sheathed, he leaned over you, forehead nearly touching yours, mandibles brushing your skin. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, breathing through it. “Yes… just… big. Give me a moment.”
He stayed buried deep, licking your neck and breasts soothingly while your body adjusted. After several minutes, he noticed the thin trail of blood when he pulled back slightly. “You bleed.”
“It’s been a long time,” you whispered. “And you’re so big. It’ll be okay. The pain is fading.”
“The pain will go away,” he promised, voice husky. “I will make you feel good.”
He began thrusting—slow at first, then building. His hands gripped your waist, claws pricking lightly but never breaking skin. The sex was rough yet passionate: deep, powerful strokes that hit every sensitive spot, his size making you feel impossibly full. You ground against him, meeting his thrusts, moaning without shame. He could crush you easily, yet he was attentive—watching your face, adjusting pace when you gasped. All the months of hurt melted into waves of pleasure.
Hours blurred. He took you in multiple positions—on your back with legs over his shoulders, then from behind as you knelt in the furs, his chest against your back, one hand rubbing your clit. He was relentless but caring, growling praises in clicks and translated words. You came multiple times, each more intense. When he finally climaxed, it was with a roar, flooding you with hot, thick cum.
Not done, he pulled out and dove between your legs again, his tongue lapping up the mix of your juices and his seed from your pussy. The overstimulation sent you over the edge once more, cumming with a scream as he cleaned you thoroughly.
Exhausted and sated, you collapsed into the nest together. K’arnath pulled you against his chest, one arm draped protectively over you. The ship hummed softly around you, stars streaking past distant viewports. In his arms, lightyears from betrayal and pain, you felt truly claimed—and strangely, truly free.
The frenzy of passion gradually ebbed, leaving only the soft, rhythmic sounds of breathing and the low, constant hum of the ship’s life-support systems. In the spacious sleeping chamber aboard K’arnath’s hunter vessel, the nest of furs and adaptive thermal blankets was a tangled testament to hours of intense connection. The air recyclers whispered gently through hidden vents, a steady, soothing white noise that filled the space like a lullaby from the void itself. Distant stars streaked past the massive reinforced viewport that dominated one curved wall—a panoramic window engineered from transparent alloys stronger than any human material, offering an unobstructed view of the cosmos. The ship drifted now in the quiet expanse between systems, far from Elysara’s violet jungles and the frantic searches of the Aether crew.
You lay nestled against K’arnath’s broad, scarred chest, your body spent and glowing with aftershocks of pleasure. His massive arm encircled you possessively, claws retracted fully so the textured pads of his fingers rested warmly against your bare skin. He refused to let you move even an inch, a low, rumbling purr vibrating from deep within his thorax—a sound you had never heard from him before, rich and contented, like a great feline satisfied after a successful hunt. The vibration traveled through your body, soothing every overworked muscle and nerve.
His other hand moved with deliberate tenderness, tracing the fading bruises along your ribs and the nearly healed mark on your cheek where Marcus had struck you. Occasionally, he dipped his head, his long, rough-textured tongue extending to lick slowly over the spots—warm saliva carrying natural regenerative properties that Yautja physiology used for self-healing and, now, for caring for his mate. The sensation was intimate, slightly ticklish, and profoundly caring.
“You are healing well, my Y/N,” he murmured, the translated words intertwined with soft clicks and guttural tones. His mandibles brushed lightly against your hair as he spoke. “These marks will fade completely soon. I will ensure no scar remains to remind you of unworthy prey.”
You sighed contentedly, pressing closer into his heat. The chamber smelled of him—of musk, faint ozone from the ship’s systems, and the mingled evidence of your union. The furs beneath you were soft yet resilient, some sourced from distant hunting worlds where bioluminescent creatures left faint, glowing traces that pulsed in time with the ship’s ambient lighting. Dim emerald runes along the walls provided just enough illumination to highlight the trophies mounted discreetly in alcoves: polished skulls of worthy adversaries, etched weapons from past victories, and holographic etchings depicting Yautja clan symbols. This was no cold warship; it was K’arnath’s personal sanctuary, a mobile den for a young hunter exploring the galaxy.
K’arnath’s purr deepened, and he tightened his hold fractionally—not enough to restrict, but enough to affirm his claim. He would not allow you to rise, content to keep you draped across him like the most precious trophy. His yellow eyes, slit-pupiled and glowing softly in the low light, shifted toward the viewport. “Look, little one. The universe unfolds for us.”
Together, you gazed out at the endless tapestry of stars. Nebulae swirled in distant hues of sapphire and crimson, clusters of ancient suns burned steadily, and the occasional streak of cosmic dust glittered like fireflies. The ship’s artificial gravity kept everything stable, but the view conveyed the vastness of space—the same void that had once felt isolating during your long hypersleep journey to Elysara. Now, it felt liberating. Infinite possibilities stretched before you, unburdened by human bureaucracy or cruel relationships.
His hand continued its ministrations, rubbing slow circles over your lower back where lingering aches from the rough passion remained. Another lick followed on a faint bruise on your thigh, his tongue warm and attentive. “Does this pain you still?” he asked, voice a gentle rumble.
“A little,” you admitted honestly. “But it’s good pain. The kind that reminds me I’m alive. That I’m… wanted.”
He clicked approvingly, mandibles flexing. “You are more than wanted. You are claimed. Treasured. In my culture, a mate is the ultimate honor. Stronger than any skull on my wall. I have hunted alone for many cycles, young in the eyes of my clan elders. But finding you on that world… it changed the hunt forever.”
Silence stretched comfortably for a time, broken only by the vents’ whisper and his steady purring. You traced one of the smaller scars near his shoulder, imagining the battles it represented. The ship’s systems hummed faintly in the background—environmental controls maintaining perfect temperature, holographic interfaces dormant unless summoned, weapon arrays secured in adjacent bays. K’arnath’s vessel was a masterpiece of Yautja ingenuity: cloaking fields that could fool advanced sensors, faster-than-light drives powered by captured stellar energies, and self-repairing hulls that drew from ambient cosmic radiation. It was a home built for solitude and survival, now shared.
After a while, K’arnath shifted slightly, turning you in his arms so you faced him fully. His massive frame loomed protectively, yet his touch remained feather-light as he cupped your chin. “I offered before, and I offer again with clear mind. I can take you anywhere, my female. Back toward your Earth’s systems, though many cycles have passed. Or to neutral outposts where humans trade with other species. Even a quiet world where we could build a den away from all clans and crews. Tell me your desire, and it shall be so. But know this—I do not make this offer lightly. Once you choose to stay, my claim is eternal.”
You met his intense gaze, heart swelling with a certainty you hadn’t felt in years. The months of abuse, the betrayal on Elysara, the indifferent crew of twenty who had dismissed your pleas—all of it felt like echoes from another life. Here, in this nest, under the watch of alien stars, you were seen. Protected. Desired for who you were, not what you could provide.
“I want to stay with you, K’arnath,” you said softly but firmly, reaching up to touch the side of his mandibled face. “I’m sure. There’s nothing for me back there. No family waiting, no home that feels like mine anymore. You… you saw me when no one else did. You protected me when my own kind wouldn’t. I want this. Exploring the stars together, learning your ways, being your mate. I choose you.”
His eyes searched yours for any flicker of doubt. The purring intensified, vibrating through both your bodies like a warm engine of contentment. “You are certain? This life is not soft. Hunts call me. Dangers lurk in every shadow of the galaxy. My clan may one day seek me for rites and trials. You would leave behind all familiarity.”
“I’m certain,” you repeated, smiling up at him. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tough skin near his jaw.
K’arnath let out a deep, satisfied chuff, his mandibles clicking in a pattern that conveyed joy. He rolled you gently beneath him once more, careful not to crush you, and licked a lingering path along your collarbone and up to your cheek. “Then it is decided. You are mine, and I am yours. No more pain from unworthy hands. Only the stars, the hunt, and our den among them.”
He settled back, pulling you atop his chest so you could both resume watching the viewport. The stars continued their eternal dance, galaxies wheeling in slow majesty. His large hands roamed soothingly over your back and sides, rubbing away any final tension while his tongue occasionally darted out to tend a spot. The purr never ceased, a constant reassurance.
Time lost meaning in the chamber. Hours might have passed as you talked—sharing fragments of your life on Earth, the lonely years of study, the betrayal that led you to this moment. K’arnath recounted his own youth: first hunts under clan elders, the strict code of honor that forbade harming females, the thrill of solo expeditions that had led him to Elysara purely by chance. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by gentle touches and his unwavering hold.
Eventually, exhaustion crept in again. K’arnath adjusted the thermal blankets around you both, cocooning you in warmth. “Sleep now,” he urged, nuzzling the top of your head with his dreadlock appendages. “I will watch over you. Tomorrow, we set course for the nearest neutral beacon. From there… the galaxy awaits.”
You nestled deeper into his embrace, ear pressed to his chest where the purr resonated strongest. The only sounds remained the vents’ gentle airflow and the occasional soft click of his mandibles as he drifted toward rest. Outside, the stars shone on—a vast, indifferent universe that had somehow delivered you into the arms of a protector who saw your worth.
In that moment, wrapped in fur, muscle, and alien affection, you felt whole. No longer the ignored researcher or the abused partner, but a chosen mate sailing the stars with a Yautja who purred for you alone.
K’arnath’s final words before sleep claimed you both were a tender promise: “Rest easy, my Y/N. You are home.”
And as the ship glided silently onward, the two of you entwined beneath the eternal stars, the future stretched bright and boundless—wholesome, passionate, and undeniably yours.
Summary: A weary scientist on a remote jungle planet endures escalating abuse from her boyfriend during a field expedition, until a mysterious predator intervenes in a shocking and irreversible way.
Paring: Yautja x Reader
word count: 8000+
warnings: NSFW, SMUT, Violence, Mentions of injury, Mentions of past abuse
A/N : Hello there! This fic was a request from @blue2jay . I loved this idea so much and I had so much fun writing it! I got a bit carried away thought and this ended up being wayyyy longer than I had originally planned, I thought about splitting it up into chapters but I just decided to keep it as a very long oneshot! Enjoy!!
Masterlist
. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁.
The humid air of Epsilon-9 clung to everything like a second skin. The planet was a lush, unforgiving wilderness designated for xenobiological research by the United Terran Exploratory Division. Towering trees with bioluminescent veins snaked through the canopy, their leaves broad enough to shelter entire teams from the frequent downpours. Vines thick as arms twisted around ancient trunks, and the underbrush hid creatures that chirped, screeched, and sometimes screamed in ways that made even seasoned researchers check their plasma rifles twice. The air smelled of wet earth, exotic flowers, and something faintly metallic—perhaps the trace minerals in the soil that made this world so rich in undiscovered flora and fauna.
You had been here for seven months. What started as the opportunity of a lifetime—lead botanist on a small but well-funded team—had become a nightmare. The base was a prefab cluster of reinforced domes and labs on the edge of a massive river system. At first, the work was exhilarating: cataloging new plant species with potential medicinal properties, mapping symbiotic relationships between megafauna and the jungle ecosystem, and sending glowing reports back to Earth. But isolation, pressure, and the endless humidity had worn everyone down. Especially Mark.
Mark had been your boyfriend for two years before the mission. Charismatic back on Earth, a skilled field technician with a charming smile. Here, the mask slipped. The verbal jabs started three months in—little comments about your “sloppy” data logs or how you “slowed everyone down.” Then came the shoves, the bruises hidden under long sleeves. Now it was worse. Much worse. The last beating had left you with a split lip and cracked ribs that still ached when you breathed too deeply. You’d tried telling the others—Dr. Lena Voss, the entomologist; Raj Patel, the geologist; and the rest of the eight-person team. They brushed it off. “He’s under a lot of stress,” Lena had said with an awkward pat on your shoulder. “We all are. Don’t exaggerate.” Raj had just looked away. No one wanted to rock the boat on a remote posting where rescue was months away.
You kept your head down, did your work, and counted the days until extraction.
Today was another routine sampling expedition. The team split into pairs and trios to cover more ground in Sector 7, a dense stretch of jungle rumored to hold a new genus of nitrogen-fixing orchids. You were paired with Mark and two others who had never taken your concerns seriously: Lena and a quiet tech named Connor. The four of you moved along a game trail, boots sinking into the mud, insect repellent and sweat mixing on your skin. Your scanner hummed softly as you logged samples, keeping your voice professional and detached.
Mark walked too close, his breath hot on your neck. “You’re doing it wrong again,” he muttered, loud enough for the others to hear. “That reading’s off by at least two percent. Typical.”
You didn’t look at him. “The calibration is within acceptable margins. Focus on your own quadrant, Mark.”
Lena glanced back but said nothing, pretending fascination with a cluster of iridescent beetles. Connor kept his eyes on the trail. The dismissal stung worse than the words themselves. Mark’s jaw clenched, but he fell silent for a few minutes.
The group eventually split further to maximize coverage. Lena and Connor veered toward a rocky outcrop, leaving you alone with Mark. The jungle seemed to press in closer, the sounds of distant animal calls echoing strangely. You walked ahead, scanner raised, noting the way certain vines pulsed faintly with internal light. Mark’s footsteps were heavy behind you.
“You think ignoring me makes you smart?” he said, voice low and venomous. “You’re nothing without me out here. Just a scared little girl playing scientist.”
You kept your tone even, eyes on a promising flower cluster. “We need samples from the upper canopy strata. The data packet said—”
“Shut up about the fucking data!” He grabbed a low branch and snapped it. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
You didn’t. Your heart hammered, but you maintained the professional facade that always seemed to enrage him more. Another sound reached your ears—something like a low, metallic click from the trees above, followed by rustling that didn’t match the wind. You paused, scanning the canopy. Nothing visible. Probably just local wildlife.
Unknown to you, a hunter watched.
A Yautja had come to this world seeking worthy prey. His kind called themselves hunters of legend, traveling the stars in cloaked ships to test their mettle against the galaxy’s most dangerous species. This planet’s megafauna had provided sport at first—massive reptilian beasts with armored hides and venomous spines. But humans… humans offered a different thrill. Cunning, tool-using, occasionally brave. He had already culled the rest of your team one by one in the last hour, moving like a ghost through the undergrowth. Their blood now streaked his broad, muscled chest beneath the cloaking field. The hunt had been good. Their screams had echoed satisfyingly.
Now only two remained. He perched high in the interlocking branches, invisible, plasma caster armed but lowered. His mandibles clicked softly beneath his biomask as he observed.
The female—small by Yautja standards but clearly resilient—moved with purpose despite the fear radiating from her posture. Shoulders tense, steps careful. The male was larger, but weak. His voice dripped with contempt, his body language aggressive. The Yautja’s thermal vision picked up the heat signatures of old bruises on the female’s arms and torso. Fresh fear-sweat on her skin.
How strange these ooman are, he thought in the guttural clicks and growls of his native tongue. Among his people, females were the pinnacle. Stronger, fiercer, the life-givers and often the deadliest hunters. Males protected and proved themselves worthy; no honorable Yautja would ever raise a claw to a female in anger. To harm one who carried potential for the next generation was an abomination. This male’s behavior disgusted him. It stirred something primal—an urge to intervene that went beyond the simple thrill of the hunt.
He continued to stalk them silently, leaping from branch to branch with effortless grace, his dreadlock-like appendages swaying. The male’s taunts grew uglier.
“You’re worthless,” Mark snarled, closing the distance. “I should have left you back at base. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to deal with your constant bitching.”
You kept walking, jaw tight. “The orchid density here is higher than projected. We should mark this spot for follow-up.”
That was the breaking point. Mark lunged forward and grabbed your shoulder, yanking you around violently. Your scanner clattered to the ground. “Stop fucking ignoring me!”
You tried to de-escalate, hands up. “Mark, please. Stop! The team—”
“The team doesn’t give a shit!” He shoved you hard. You stumbled back against a tree trunk, bark scraping your back. His fist connected with your stomach, driving the air from your lungs. Pain exploded. You doubled over, gasping. Another blow landed across your face, splitting your lip again. Blood filled your mouth. You cried out, sliding down the trunk as he loomed over you, fists clenched, face twisted with rage.
“Pathetic,” he spat. “Cry all you want. No one’s coming.”
You curled instinctively, arms over your head, tears mixing with blood. A scream tore from your throat as his boot connected with your side.
High above, the Yautja’s mandibles flared wide. Enough.
With a decisive click, he deactivated his cloaking device. The air shimmered, and a massive figure materialized on a thick branch before dropping silently to the jungle floor a few meters away. The impact was heavy but controlled—seven and a half feet of corded muscle, armored plating, and technology far beyond human understanding. His biomask gleamed dully in the filtered light, mandibles partially visible beneath it. Dried human blood streaked his body, and trophies from previous kills dangled from his belt and shoulders. He carried himself with the absolute confidence of an apex predator.
Both you and Mark froze.
Mark’s face went pale. “What the fu—”
The Yautja reached to his belt with deliberate slowness and withdrew a small cylindrical device. He hurled it in a smooth arc. It landed between you and Mark and hissed open, releasing a cloud of fast-acting sedative gas. The world tilted almost instantly. Your vision blurred, limbs growing heavy. Mark collapsed first, hitting the ground with a thud. You fought it, eyes wide as the colossal alien strode toward you, each step shaking the earth slightly.
The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the Yautja’s masked face looming close, his clawed hand reaching down.
The world returned in fragments—first the throbbing ache in your ribs, then the damp, sweet scent of crushed flowers filling your nose. Your eyelids felt heavy, glued shut by exhaustion and whatever sedative had knocked you out. Groggy, you tried to piece together the chaos. The jungle expedition. Mark’s escalating rage. The blows. Your screams. And then… the monster. A towering silhouette of muscle and armor dropping from the trees, the hiss of gas, and those clawed hands reaching for you.
Your eyes snapped open. You bolted upright with a sharp gasp, heart slamming against your bruised ribs. Pain flared, but it was muted—bandaged. You looked down at yourself. Your torn field shirt had been partially stripped away, the fabric cut neatly at the shoulders and midriff to expose injuries. Clean white bandages—clearly not from your team’s standard medkit—wrapped your torso, your left arm, and a gash on your forehead. The blood that had coated your face and neck was gone, your skin wiped clean. Someone had tended to you with surprising care.
The bed beneath you wasn’t a bed at all. A thick layer of broad, soft petals and fragrant moss had been arranged on the jungle floor like a makeshift nest, forming a shallow depression perfectly contoured to your body. Bioluminescent veins in the surrounding flowers pulsed softly in the fading light. The sun had dipped lower, painting the canopy in deep golds and oranges. Dusk was only a couple of hours away; long shadows stretched between the massive trees, and the jungle’s nocturnal chorus was already beginning to stir—distant hoots, rustling leaves, and the low buzz of insects preparing for night.
You scanned your surroundings. This wasn’t the base. Not even close to the sampling sector. Dense undergrowth formed natural walls around a small clearing, vines draping like curtains. Ancient trees with trunks wider than vehicles towered overhead, their roots twisting into natural benches and alcoves. A small stream trickled nearby, its water crystal clear over smooth stones. The air felt heavier here, charged with an alien presence.
A painful moan cut through the silence.
You whipped your head toward the sound. There, strung up between two sturdy trees about ten meters away, was Mark. His arms were stretched wide and bound high with thick, fibrous vines that dug cruelly into his wrists, drawing thin lines of blood. His legs were similarly secured at the ankles. He looked wrecked—face swollen almost beyond recognition, one eye blackened shut, lips split, fresh cuts across his cheeks and torso. His clothes hung in tatters, stained with blood and dirt. He was just beginning to stir, head lolling as consciousness returned.
Terror rooted you in place. You stared, frozen, as Mark’s good eye fluttered open. He blinked, then registered his situation. Panic hit him like a wave.
“What the—? Fuck! Where the hell am I?!” His voice cracked, hoarse and raw. He thrashed against the vines, which only tightened. “Help! Someone— Y/N! Get over here!” His gaze locked on you, wild with fear and fury. “Get me down from this shit! Make yourself useful for once and cut these fucking vines! Move, damn it!”
You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your body refused, caught between years of conditioned response and the fresh horror of everything that had happened. You simply stared at him, silent.
Mark’s face twisted. “Are you deaf? Y/N! I said help me, you stupid bitch! This is your fault somehow, isn’t it? Always causing problems—”
A deep, raspy voice echoed from the shadows, cutting him off like a blade.
“Finally. You are both now awake.”
The voice was guttural, layered with clicks and a vibrating rumble that didn’t belong to any human throat. It resonated through the clearing, ancient and predatory. You and Mark both jerked your heads toward the source.
He sat on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing, partially obscured by dappled sunlight and hanging vines until that moment. The Yautja was enormous—well over seven feet tall even seated, legs spread wide in a dominant, relaxed posture. Broad shoulders armored in segmented plates, muscular arms resting on his knees. One clawed hand casually held a wicked, curved blade that gleamed with a faint iridescent edge. His biomask reflected the dying light, mandibles shifting subtly beneath it. Dried blood—human blood—still streaked parts of his body, and trophies (bones, skulls, and metallic trinkets) hung from his belt and pauldrons.
He rose slowly, unfolding to his full, imposing height. The ground seemed to tremble faintly under his weight as he stepped forward, blade still in hand.
Mark started screaming. “What the fuck is that thing?! Stay back! Don’t come near us!”
You remained frozen, breath shallow, eyes wide with terror. Your mind raced—this is real, this is happening—but your limbs wouldn’t obey.
The Yautja stopped a few paces from Mark, head tilting as he studied the bound man with clinical disdain. Then his masked gaze shifted to you, lingering. When he spoke again, the words were halting but intelligible, filtered through some translation tech or sheer linguistic capability honed across hunts.
“I watched you. Both of you. Prey in my jungle. The others fell easily—weak, noisy. But you two… I followed. Listened.” His mandibles clicked. “This male struck you. Beat you like worthless meat. I saw the old marks on your skin. The way you flinched. The fear in your scent.”
Mark’s face paled further, but anger flared. “Shut up, you freak! She’s mine! This has nothing to do with you!”
The Yautja ignored him, focusing on you. “Among my people, females are sacred. Strong. They hunt. They lead. They give life. No male raises a hand to a female in anger. It is shame. Dishonor. This… ooman does not deserve breath.”
Realization crashed over you. This creature had slaughtered the rest of the team. He had beaten Mark savagely, dragged you both here, tended your wounds with unexpected gentleness while leaving your abuser broken and displayed. A confusing swirl of gratitude and bone-deep fear twisted in your chest. He had treated you better in hours than Mark had in months.
Mark, despite his terror, snarled back. “You don’t know shit about us! She’s my girlfriend. She needs discipline. You alien piece of—”
In a blur too fast to track, the Yautja crossed the distance and backhanded Mark across the face. The impact echoed wetly. Blood sprayed from Mark’s mouth as his head snapped sideways. He groaned, spitting teeth.
The Yautja turned fully toward you now, stepping closer. His massive frame cast a long shadow. Slowly, almost reverently, he reached out. You flinched at first, but his touch was shockingly gentle. Clawed fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. He traced the line of your jaw with the back of a knuckle, then rested a warm, calloused palm lightly on your bandaged shoulder. The contrast was dizzying: this predator, covered in the evidence of violence, handling you like fragile glass.
“Are you… alright, female?” The raspy voice softened. “Pain? Speak.”
You managed a shaky nod, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I think so. Who… who are you?”
He rumbled, a sound almost like approval. “I am a Yautja. A Hunter. I smelled him on you. Is this male your mate?”
Mark answered before you could, voice slurred and furious. “Yes! She’s mine. Mine! Now, Back off!”
The Yautja’s mandibles flared wide in clear irritation. He crossed back to Mark in one stride and delivered another punishing blow to the gut. Mark doubled as much as the vines allowed, coughing violently.
“Do not speak for her,” the Yautja growled. He returned to you, closer this time. With deliberate care, he reached up and unsealed his biomask. There was a soft hiss of releasing pressure. He lifted it away, revealing his true face for the first time.
It was undeniably alien—broad, mandibled jaws lined with sharp teeth, deep-set amber eyes that glowed with intelligence and intensity, mottled reptilian skin textured like ancient leather, dreadlock-like appendages draped over his shoulders. Scars crisscrossed his features, badges of countless hunts. Yet there was a strange, primal beauty to it. Majestic. Terrifying. Captivating.
He crouched slightly to be closer to your level, still towering. “I can treat you better than this weakling ever could. I will show him. Teach him what it means to honor a female. You are strong, little ooman. Resilient. Worthy of more than bruises and fear.”
His clawed hand returned to your hair, stroking slowly, then trailed down to cup your cheek. The touch sent conflicting shivers through you—fear, confusion, and something warmer you didn’t want to name. Mark watched, bound and helpless, fury and terror warring on his battered face.
The Yautja’s mandibles clicked softly, almost a purr. “Watch closely, male. This is how a true hunter claims what he protects.”
He leaned in closer to you, his massive frame filling your vision, the heat of his body cutting through the cooling jungle air. His free hand moved to your waist, gentle but possessive, drawing you slightly toward him as the last rays of sunlight faded and true dusk began to settle over the clearing.
The Yautja’s massive hand cupped your cheek, his amber eyes burning with possessive hunger. Mark hung between the two trees, vines digging into his bloodied wrists, his swollen face twisted in impotent fury as he prepared to shout again.
Before the human could utter another word, the Yautja moved with predatory speed. He snatched a thick, fibrous vine from a nearby cluster, twisting it into a makeshift gag. In one fluid motion, he crossed to Mark and forced the material between his teeth, tying it brutally tight behind his head. Mark’s eyes bulged in panic as the gag muffled his curses into incoherent, angry moans. He thrashed wildly, but the vines held firm. Only garbled, frustrated sounds escaped him now—no more words, no more protests. Just helpless, muffled moans.
“Better,” the Yautja rumbled, mandibles clicking in satisfaction. “Watch silently, weakling. This is how a true hunter claims and honors a female.”
You stood trembling, naked after he had gently but efficiently ripped away the last of your clothes. The cool night breeze caressed your skin, raising goosebumps over your bandaged bruises. The Yautja returned to you, towering and powerful. His clawed hands—retracting the sharp tips for your safety—began to explore with deliberate hunger. He groped your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your nipples between thick fingers until they pebbled. His palms slid down your waist, over your hips, and cupped your ass, kneading possessively. One hand ventured between your thighs, stroking your folds.
“Please…” you whispered, voice shaking with fear and unwanted heat. “Stop… this isn’t right.”
He ignored the plea but remained gentle in his dominance. Dropping to one knee, he dragged his long, warm, rough-textured tongue over every inch of you. He licked up your thighs, tasting the salt of your skin, then across your stomach and over the bandages with surprising care. His tongue circled your breasts, lapping at your nipples until they ached. You gasped, arousal building despite yourself as his hands continued groping—spreading your ass cheeks, squeezing your hips, teasing your entrance.
“Open your mouth, little ooman,” he commanded, voice raspy and deep.
You hesitated, but his glowing eyes held yours. You parted your lips. His thick tongue slid inside, filling your mouth in a deep, dominating kiss. It explored every corner while one massive hand rubbed your pussy. Thick fingers parted your slick folds, stroking your clit in slow, firm circles before dipping inside. You moaned into his mouth, hips twitching as wetness coated his digits.
He pulled back with a wet click, mandibles flaring. Turning toward the gagged Mark, he growled, “Look. See how her body welcomes me. This is how you treat a female.”
Mark could only moan angrily through the vine gag, eyes wide with horror and humiliation as he watched helplessly.
The Yautja lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back to his broad, armored chest. He spread your legs wide over his thighs, facing Mark directly. “Watch closely, male. See what you failed to do.”
His alien cock emerged—enormous, ridged with textured plates, veined, and throbbing. The tapered head was already slick with precum. He rubbed it against your dripping pussy, coating himself in your arousal. “You are small. I will stretch you properly first.”
Two thick fingers pushed into your cunt, scissoring and curling, stretching your walls with patient skill. You whimpered, “Please… stop… I can’t take it…” But your hips rolled against his hand, betraying your growing need. The knowledge that Mark was forced to witness every moment—gagged and silent except for those broken moans—ignited a dark, exhibitionist thrill deep inside you.
He added a third finger, pumping steadily while groping your breasts and pinching your nipples. “You beg to stop, yet your cunt drips for my cock. Feel how ready you are, my strong female.”
After several long, torturous minutes of fingering, he withdrew and aligned his massive girth. The head pressed against your entrance and slowly pushed in, stretching your pussy lips obscenely around his thickness. You cried out at the intense burn and fullness, but he held you securely, easing inch after heavy inch inside until he was buried to the hilt. The bulge in your lower belly was unmistakable.
“See that?” he taunted Mark, pressing a hand over the visible outline. “My cock reshapes her. She belongs to me now.”
He began fucking you standing up, powerful thrusts lifting your body with each stroke. Your breasts bounced heavily, the glowing jungle light playing across your sweat-slicked skin. Each ridge dragged deliciously against your inner walls, hitting every sensitive spot. “Who do you belong to?” he growled hotly against your ear, mandibles brushing your neck.
“Stop… please…” you moaned, even as your pussy clenched greedily around his huge alien cock. Your secret pleasure in being taken so thoroughly in front of your abuser only heightened everything.
The Yautja chuckled, a deep vibrating rumble. He shifted you to the petal-strewn ground, placing you on all fours—ass up, face down—directly in Mark’s line of sight. The soft flowers and moss cushioned your knees as he mounted you from behind. Gripping your hips, he slammed in deep, the wet sounds of your stretched pussy echoing through the clearing. He fucked you harder, balls slapping your clit, one hand reaching around to rub it furiously while Mark moaned helplessly through his gag.
“Such a perfect, tight cunt. Made for Yautja cock. You take me so well, resilient little mate.”
Next, he lifted you and pressed your back against a massive tree trunk. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he drove upward into you with raw power. Bark lightly scraped your shoulders, but his strong arms shielded and supported you. Each thrust was deep and claiming. “Such a strong female. Wasted on that weakling. Feel how I fill you completely.”
You sobbed in overwhelming pleasure, whispering broken pleas of “stop” that only made him thrust harder. Your walls fluttered and clenched, another orgasm building rapidly. The exhibitionism burned through you—Mark’s gagged, defeated moans only fueled the fire.
Finally, the Yautja moved into a full nelson position. Standing tall, he hooked his massive arms under your knees, folding you nearly in half and exposing everything. Your body was completely on display, pussy stretched obscenely wide around his pistoning cock, the thick bulge in your belly rising and falling visibly with every brutal thrust. He bounced you on his length mere feet from Mark, ensuring the human had an unobstructed view of how deeply he claimed you.
“Look, male,” the Yautja snarled. “See how my cock stretches her. This is proper treatment. Honor. Strength. This is how a female should be fucked.”
The position left you utterly helpless, taking every inch of his massive alien cock. It battered your cervix, ridges milking your g-spot mercilessly. You came hard, screaming in ecstasy as your pussy squirted around him, juices dripping down his thighs and onto the glowing flowers. Still, you gasped out “stop… please stop…” even as your body milked him desperately, lost in the raw pleasure.
His pace grew savage. “You are mine. Say it.”
“I’m… I'm yours…” you cried, voice breaking with another climax.
With a primal roar that shook the canopy, he buried himself to the hilt. Torrents of hot, thick alien cum flooded your pussy in powerful jets—so much that it overflowed instantly, gushing out around his cock and splattering your thighs, mound, and the jungle floor. He kept thrusting through his orgasm, pumping every drop deep inside you, marking you thoroughly. The excess painted your belly and dripped in heavy strands.
He held you suspended in full nelson for long moments afterward, cock still twitching inside your overflowing cunt, as the bioluminescent jungle pulsed around you. Your naked, trembling body remained impaled and claimed, cum leaking steadily. Mark could only moan brokenly through his gag, eyes glazed with defeat.
The Yautja nuzzled your neck affectionately, mandibles gentle against your skin. “Good female. Do you see how he watches? This is how a true hunter claims what he protects.”
His massive arms held you securely against his broad chest, his ridged alien cock still buried deep inside your stretched pussy. He had been gentle even in his strength—claws carefully sheathed, movements controlled so as not to bruise your already healing body. You were exhausted, overwhelmed, but something had shifted. The constant rough pleasure, the way every ridge dragged perfectly against your inner walls, the sheer dominance mixed with surprising care… it broke through your resistance.
You moaned softly, hips rolling back against him. “Don’t… stop,” you whispered, voice hoarse. The words surprised even you. The exhibitionist thrill of Mark’s gagged, helpless moans had ignited something deep and dark within you, and now you craved more.
The Yautja rumbled in approval, mandibles brushing your neck tenderly. “Good female. Let me give you everything.”
He fucked you for what felt like hours. Strong but gentle, he moved you through position after position with effortless power. On your back on the petal nest, legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust deep and slow, grinding the bulge in your belly with each stroke. Then bent over a thick root, ass up as he pounded into you from behind, one hand rubbing your clit until you screamed in release. He lifted you against the tree again, your smaller body pinned between bark and unyielding muscle, cock spearing upward while his tongue invaded your mouth.
You let him do whatever he wanted. When he wanted your mouth, you opened eagerly, taking as much of his thick length as you could. When he flipped you into full nelson once more, displaying your cum-stuffed pussy to the gagged Mark, you came harder than ever, squirting around the massive intrusion. Your pleas of “stop” had long since melted into desperate moans of “more… please… harder.”
He praised you constantly in his raspy, clicking voice. “Such a perfect mate. So tight. So strong. Taking my cock like you were born for it.” His hands groped and caressed—never harming, always worshiping—squeezing your breasts, stroking your hair, holding your hips with reverent strength.
By the time he finally reached his second climax of the night, flooding your womb with another massive load of hot alien cum, you were limp and blissed out in his arms. He held you close, still buried inside you, as your pussy continued to flutter around him.
“You have pleased me greatly,” he murmured, nuzzling the top of your head. His voice dropped lower. “Now, watch. I want you to see what I do for you.”
He gently pulled out, a gush of cum spilling down your legs as he set you carefully on the soft moss bed. Naked and towering, his muscled body glistening with sweat and your combined fluids, he turned toward the bound Mark.
Mark’s eyes widened in pure terror. Muffled, frantic moans escaped around the vine gag as he thrashed uselessly against the vines.
The Yautja approached slowly, deliberately. In traditional Yautja fashion, he activated a wrist gauntlet, extending a pair of gleaming ceremonial blades. He spoke in a low, ritualistic growl—words you didn’t understand but which carried the weight of ancient hunting rites. With brutal efficiency and primal strength, he began the kill.
He slashed the vines holding Mark’s legs first, letting the man collapse partially. Then, gripping Mark’s head with one massive hand, he drove the blades into his back with precise, practiced movements. Mark’s muffled screams intensified as the Yautja carved upward along the spine in a horrific but ritualistic motion. Blood sprayed across the glowing flowers. With a final, powerful yank, the Yautja ripped the entire spine and skull free in one clean, gruesome trophy pull—vertebrae gleaming wetly in the bioluminescent light.
The Yautja threw his head back and screamed—a deafening, victorious roar that shook the trees and silenced the jungle chorus for miles around. He held the bloody spine high, turning to face you, amber eyes seeking approval. Steam rose from the trophy in the cool night air.
You watched from the moss bed, naked and exhausted, cum still leaking from your well-fucked pussy. You felt no horror, no guilt—only a distant numbness and strange sense of justice. This predator had protected you in ways no human ever had. He had tended your wounds, given you pleasure, and now removed the source of your pain forever. You met his gaze and gave a small, weary nod.
The Yautja’s mandibles clicked in satisfaction. He discarded the trophy to the side for later collection and returned to you, scooping your small, naked body into his powerful arms as if you weighed nothing.
The transition from the jungle planet happened in a haze. The Yautja’s cloaked ship had been hidden nearby. He carried you aboard, cleaned you gently in a strange, steaming chamber, then piloted you far from Epsilon-9. His secret home was a hidden asteroid outpost deep in uncharted space—a cavernous nest carved into metallic rock and reinforced with Yautja technology. Bioluminescent plants from countless worlds grew along the walls, mimicking the jungle’s glow. Trophies from legendary hunts lined alcoves, while a massive central nest of furs, soft alien fabrics, and heated stones dominated the sleeping chamber. The air was warm, dry, and filled with his musky scent.
There, in his domain, he claimed you again for hours.
He laid you down in the nest and worshipped your body with strong but infinitely gentle hands and tongue. You rode him, impaled on his massive ridged cock as he guided your hips. He took you from behind while you gripped the furs, then face-to-face so he could watch every expression of pleasure cross your features. Multiple orgasms blurred together until you were sobbing with overstimulation and bliss, letting him do anything—everything—he desired. He filled you repeatedly, huge loads of cum overflowing each time.
Finally, spent and sated, he pulled you into his arms, spooning your much smaller naked body against his massive frame. His cock, still impressive even softened, rested hot and slick against your lower back, nestled between your ass cheeks. Thick cum continued to leak slowly from your thoroughly used pussy, coating your thighs and the nest beneath you.
He began to purr—a deep, vibrating rumble that resonated through his chest and into your back. The sound was soothing, primal, content.
“You are mine now,” he declared, voice raspy and warm against your ear. One clawed hand stroked your hair, the other resting possessively over your cum-filled belly. “No male—human or otherwise—will ever hurt you again. I will hunt for you. Protect you. Pleasure you. You are my mate.”
You reached back tentatively, fingers tracing the textured, scarred skin of his arm and shoulder. It was surprisingly warm, leathery yet flexible, pulsing with life. You felt the ridges of old battle wounds, the power coiled beneath. More cum trickled out of you as you shifted, a constant reminder of his claim.
The Yautja purred louder, the vibrations intensifying as he snuggled closer, curling his larger body protectively around yours. His mandibles brushed gently against your neck in an almost-kiss.
You didn’t know what the future held. Would you stay here forever? Would he take you on hunts? Introduce you to his kind? The uncertainty lingered, but for now, in the safety of his nest, wrapped in his strength and gentle possession, you felt something you hadn’t in years—peace.
Exhaustion finally claimed you. Your eyes drifted shut as his purring deepened into a steady, rhythmic lullaby. The Yautja held you tighter, his own breathing slowing as sleep took him too.
