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pyode-luar-ke · 2 years

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carnation | part iii | poly!yautja x reader

A/N: here it is: the prodigal Birth Scene. turn back now if you’re uncomfy w the themes and topics at hand, and please please please mind the content warnings!

this chapter is actually the shortest bc it was actually combined with part ii at first, but i split them due to the aforementioned warning. part iv will be out eventually, i don’t have much of it outlined, so i’m still deciding what to do with it.

summary: the big day.

word count: 3,206

content: 18+, fem!afab!reader, polyamorous relationship (F/M/M/M/M/M), reverse harem, pregnant!reader, pregnancy, labor, graphic birth descriptions, delivery, breastfeeding, newborn yautja pup!!

← part ii part iv (finale) →

—

You reach 12 months. It’s exhausting, but it’s finally happened. An entire year of pregnancy. It’s surreal.

It feels like your body has reached its limit. Your belly is crowded, full and taut, a large dome of pup and flesh that hangs low. It forces you to hunch slightly, and when you stand or walk you have to support the stretchmark-laden underside with your hand. It often astounds you at how heavy the girth of your middle is, how you feel your pup shift and press against your hands when you rub it.

The same can be said of your breasts. They hadn’t grown too much in the remaining month or so, but they certainly got heavier. Even the “milking sessions” (God, the term makes you feel like a cow) every other day, it did nothing to relieve the ache in your shoulders and back your drooping tits caused.

You promised yourself that once you give birth to this pup, you’re treating yourself and laying on your stomach. It’s been too long, and your back has earned the reward.

Overall, you feel so big and heavy and full that you’re tired all the time and sleep constantly, but in sharp contrast you’ve begun to go through huge nesting stretches. Instinct screams at you to prep for the upcoming arrival, and you get so restless that you’re equal parts exhausted and energetic.

Sometimes, you’re so antsy and fidgety that you arrange then rearrange your pups nest over and over again. Like your mates’ beds, the “crib” is really just a dip in the ground padded by furs and downy feathers. Although the one for your pup is much smaller, only able to hold the newborn that’ll sleep there, curled up. Pups, almost like kittens, will squeeze themselves in tiny spaces for the first year or so until they inevitably co-sleep with their bearer, much like humans do.

It’s hard to get sleep on the days when nesting becomes your main priority— because you just have to make your pup’s space perfect— that your mates have to bribe you to their beds. Usually it involves some level of seduction and a promise of sex (of course, very careful sex by now), but sometimes they’re able to guide you away, forcing you to succumb to your sleepiness.

—

“Come now, little mate.” Th’chi purrs, grabbing you by your forearms. You sigh, forcing yourself to drop the furs in your hands. He’d been trying to pry you away from your pup’s nest for hours now, beckoning you to go to sleep. The luar-ke had risen from the horizon, glowing proudly at the peak of the sky.

“I know, I just...” You try to argue, weakly gesturing at the unfinished, disheveled mess that you’re attempting to make into a nest, “It needs to be perfect, Th’chi.”

You know deep down that you’re being fairly illogical, the nesting drive is hyperbolizing the state of the tiny bed of furs, but it’s hard to remind yourself of that. Your pup needs a nest, it isn’t finished, and you’re becoming upset. Th’chi scents your rising distress and whickers.

“The furs are some of the finest, I should know because I took their beast’s th’syra.” He states, nuzzling your cheek with his mandibles. You make a whining groan in your throat, gesturing at the nest again. Before you can protest with the same excuse he and all your other mates have heard near daily now, Th’chi swoops you up into his arms.

“Th’chi! You bastard! Put me down!” You shout, smacking him on his brawny chest and shoulders as he transports you bridal style to his yurt. He only clicks in amusement, playfully snapping at your hands with his mandibles if they get too close. It has you gasping and laughing, pinching his tresses in retaliation.

He growls when you do, narrowing his bright yellow eyes at you as his pupils eclipse them. You smirk knowingly in his arms, gliding a gentle hand up and down his chest. His quad-heartbeat thrums beneath your palm. You wink. His grip on you tightens possessively.

When Th’chi finally sets you down in his bed, he’s already begun emitting his dia-shui, to which you gladly accept his advances.

It’s a long night.

—

A week later, it wakes you up.

Your abdomen tenses, a tightness that pulls the breath from your lungs and has your eyes snapping open. Any remnant of sleep vanishes from you in an instant. The tight feeling intensifies, turning painful, and you can’t prevent the soft Oh! from escaping you.

Laying beside you, Bhu’kei wakes to your startled gasp. Immediately, his eyes dart to you, how you’ve sat up in bed, how you grip your belly. He can see your abdominal muscles work, your womb distorted as it flexes to expel the pup inside it. The wide-eyed, pained look on your face tells him everything else. Sweat perspires at your brow, already your body is anticipating what’s to come.

“Mate.” Bhu’kei states firm, pulling your attention from the white hot pain to him. You whimper, panting, turning your attention to him. The contraction ceases, receding like the tide. It leaves you tingling and throbbing. You swallow.

“I think it’s time.” You whisper a hoarse reply, and like clockwork or coincidental magic, wetness gushes from your core, soaking your thighs and blanket in warm, semi-clear liquid. Then another contraction thunders through your hips and you yelp.

Bhu’kei roars to alert the others.

—

You shriek into Ap-tui’s chest, sweat rolling down your temples, dripping at your chin. Your wet eyebrows cinch tight together, tears form at the corners of your squeezed-shut eyes. Another brutal, merciless contraction squeezes at your abdomen, your uterus forcing the mass of your pup down— down against your taut cervix.

At the brief interlude of the contraction waning, you manage to gulp in air before another seizes you— Stronger, longer than the last. You wail in crescendo, your lower core ignited; Stabbing flames. You push.

Your cunt bulges, vulva swollen and burning, the crown of your newborn beginning to emerge from your slit. You can feel the squirming mass of your pup slip down. It’s excruciating. His head threatens at the cradle of your sex.

A scream tears at your overexerted throat, tears rolling down your hot face. Bawling, you press your cheek as flush as possible to Ap-tui’s abdomen, like being close to him will give him the strength he possesses. Strength you need, strength that is so so hard to upkeep, and you exhaust yourself, pushing subsiding.

You’d been deadlocked in active labor for six hours now. Contractions had started three before that. It’s become more and more difficult since.

“Keep going.” Faintly, you hear Bhu’kei encourage, and it manages to jumpstart you into the next contraction. Groaning loudly, you heave and push with all your might, the burning of your sex a motivator to get. This. Pup. Out.

Your hands grip Ap-tui’s biceps like there’s no tomorrow, so tight you’re sure you must be splitting his mahogany hide with your nails. If you are, he pays it no heed, only purring and occasionally clicking out a reassurance. He holds you in position— a low squat optimal for delivery, bearing most of your weight for you— and his steady presence is necessary.

A large paw comes to rest on the low of your trembling back, and you recognize it to be Ta’kaa’s. The weight of his heavy palm is centering. You cling to his warmth.

It’s hardly enough to dispel any of the pain, but he’s so important to you. They all are.

All around you— screaming and squatting on a pile of old furs strewn about the floor, pushing out a bowling ball from your womb— your mates stand in support, chittering and rumbling amongst themselves. Sometimes Van’chaa will pace or Bhu’kei will run a scan or Th’chi will offer you words of encouragement. They are all hyperaware, antsy and restless on their feet. Ap-tui is the only one completely still, he is your rock.

But they’re all there. That in itself is transcendent.

Yautja males do not linger during the gestation of their pups. Yautja males do not stick around for the births of their pups. Females do not allow them to. They evolve to mate, then move on. Yet here are your mates, aiding you with delivery, having waited the whole time.

They wait and watch their oomani-di win her Chiva.

The pup has dropped lower, his head a firm and foreign object breaching the opening of your core. He’s so large, and it feels like birthing him is splitting you in two. You push with the unforgiving contraction, attempting to make allies with it, and screaming into Ap-tui’s belly. The pup shifts, and its the strangest sensation of your vagina being stretched to the limit and the pup exiting your womb.

“Little sain’ja.”

One of your mates purrs, you’re too focused on the feeling of the head passing your labia to make out who.

“Strong little mate.”

Another one of your Yautja says, and still you’re unable to name who it was because now the pup becomes snagged on it’s shoulders. You freely start bawling harder, shaking. He’s stuck. You can’t push him out. He’s just too big. You’re too weak.

“Go, mate! Push!”

“I— ugnh— I c-can’t— Oohhh.” You whimper, and you’re so overwhelmed and delirious with pain that you start to wish your mother was here. She’d be able to help you and relieve your pain. She’d know what to do and say with her nimble hands and comforting voice.

A small part of you even wishes Ni’ja were here too. She’d knock some sense into you.

“It hurts.” You choke, and the paw on your back presses down, firm. You focus on it. Ap-tui’s skin is hot and he rumbles with purrs. They’re calming.

“You have passed the head. Only a few more pushes for the body.” It’s Bhu’kei that speaks, you’re lucid enough now to recognize his timbre, and you shake your head. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t...

Another contraction. This time slow and long and rolling through your lower half as steady as a wildfire. With the pain, you push until your thighs quiver— all that you can do. You push until your knuckles go white against Ap-tui’s scales, until you feel the distinct burn of the pup’s shoulders exiting your labia. The white-hot pain has you screaming, choking.

Another push, and you pass the shoulders. Another, the body.

And suddenly— so suddenly— it’s over.

You look down. Your vision is blurry and your head throbs.

Between your knees, upon the furs Bhu’kei and Th-chi had laid out for your childbed, lies a tiny Yautja.

—

It’s as if time has simply stopped. All you can focus on is the tiny Yautja you’d birthed.

The robust, masculine cheers of the Yautja males go entirely unheard by you. With heaving breaths and tremendous effort, you let go of Ap-tui and shakily sit back on your bottom. Your core burns, but the squirming pup between your legs, still connected to you by the umbilical cord, causes you to forget the pain completely.

You reach for your pup. You recognize he is male. His skin is hot to the touch and soft. Covered in amniotic fluid and blood, it’s hard to tell but you’re able to see he has the same coloring as his sire: Mahogany. When you lift him, he is heavy and healthy. All you can see, hear, and feel is the wailing newborn pup you’d brought into the world.

His piercing wails sound almost bird-like, like a metallic-esque twang that warbles in his tiny throat and gummy jaws. Nubs of tuskless mandibles sporadically open and close around his tiny pink mouth. A small tongue sits inside. His eyes are squeezed shut, not to open for at least another few days. Tiny paws search the air, desperate and needing.

He needs you. He wants you. Your pup squirms in your arms, and he is yours.

It’s like you can’t breathe. The love and adoration you feel suffocates you.

“Hi.” You blubber, your voice choked in your throat. Your pup wails and warbles, his tiny body presses against the soft flesh of your bare chest. His face turns towards your breast, and immediately his tiny mouth begins to make sucking noises. Tears roll profusely down your face. He knows you’re his mother, and he wishes to nurse.

“Let me help you.” Ap-tui stabilizes you into a more comfortable seated position, while Bhu’kei delicately moves you so that he’s able to reach your pup. You nearly protest and pull your pup back flush against your chest, but Ta’kaa rubs his paw in circles on your spine.

“I need to cut the umbilical cord.” Bhu’kei says, and you’re starting to come back to your senses and nod. You meet his eyes and smile, offering Bhu’kei the pup. He takes him in his hands as if you’ve bestowed him something holy, and while the pup wails in distress at being parted from your breast, he doesn’t panic. The cord is cut, and your pup returns swiftly to your arms.

“He wishes to suckle. He searches for your teat.” Van’chaa rumbles beside you, having crouched down to be closer. He purrs in content and stares at the pup in amazement. Ta’kaa is at his side, one hand still rubbing your back, and looking much the same.

In the cacophony of birthing and celebration, your racing thoughts about how exactly you’d breastfeed your pup comes to mind. As you guide his searching, tiny pink mouth to one of your nipples, you adjust to lift your breast.

Before he had been born, you worried over how you’d be able to feed him with his mandibles in the way, but it seems all those concerns were all for naught. Your pup's jowls spread wide, then press flat against the skin of your breast. His mouth is immensely hot, almost furnace-like. And then, he latches, and your entire world changes.

Your suckling starts feverishly at your left breast, not necessarily tugging at your nipple, but definitely working it. It is the strangest feeling ever. He makes little content noises that sound incredibly human, and it takes everything in you to not burst into tears again, lest you disrupt your nursing pup.

You opt to kiss the sloped crown of his head, and he grunts. You kiss his working jaws, and he grunts once more, a tiny paw pressing against your chin. You kiss him again, and he purrs.

“Look at him.” You murmur, your soft voice almost overshadowed by the loud purring of all your mates. Ap-tui and Bhu’kei begin to clean your body with wet rags, wiping away blood, sweat, tears. They are especially careful of your throbbing sex. The pain is nowhere near as great as it had been during birth, but you can tell you’re going to be feeling it for a while.

You just hope you didn’t tear.

“He’s perfect. He’s perfect.” You recite like a mantra, kissing your pup worshipfully over and over again. In front of you, Ap-tui clicks with pride. He had done well. His seed both worked and the pup meets your satisfaction. There is no possibility of abandonment.

“What should we name him?” You ask, marveling at how much the pup consumes despite just being born. Ni’ja hadn’t been lying when she said that he’d be nursing from the very beginning.

“That is your decision.” Van’chaa rumbles, clicking to Bhu’kei when he notices you grimace in pain. Nursing your son had been distracting you fully from the smaller, lingering contractions that signaled your placenta passing. It hurt like reopening a scab, sharp and brief. With some more reassurances, you barely have to push for the afterbirth to leave you.

—

The pup nurses for another hour before finally drinking his fill and falling asleep at your breast. It takes a few tries to detach his suction from your nipple, but when you finally do, Ap-tui takes the pup in his hands so you can dress yourself. You’d been naked for the entirety of labor and delivery, nearly ten hours, and as much as you adore your net body suit, you seek out your flowy cotton dress.

The feeling of fabric is comforting and reminds you of home, of Earth. The melancholy you feel for your planet doesn’t strike that often, but having just given birth to your Yautja son on an alien planet... Your mind is a bit frazzled.

And so the dress helps. Sleep probably will too.

You take the pup back from Ap-tui— who’d been crouched and watching like a hawk the little thing sleep, as if he’d suddenly wake and bolt— and place him in his crib of furs and downy feathers. Even though you’re exhausted and only want to pass out (on your stomach), it’s surprisingly hard to place him down and to... leave him.

Ta’kaa has to remind you that your bed is only feet away. The pup sleeps soundly, and five Yautja hunters will protect you both. You hesitantly agree.

Now, in your bed, your mates fighting for space around you, you sigh into the furs beneath you. Your body throbs, not too badly thanks to the medicine Bhu’kei gave you, and the inkiness of sleep creeps at your vision. You lazily look to your pup, who’s only an arm length away from you.

He sleeps curled up into a tight ball, tiny mandible nubs closed and his eyes shut tight (as they will be). His chest rises with soft breaths, and if you really focus you’re able to hear tiny purrs come from him.

“Well,” You pause to yawn, “I want to give him a Yautja name. Something strong.”

Your mates whicker in happiness. Admittedly, they had been bracing for you to give the pup some weird, too ooman name. Thankfully, you seem to share their fondness of good, normal Yautja names. Which isn’t to say that they think your name is weird or abnormal— Yours is special to them, of course.

They take turns nuzzling you and caressing you with their paws, each one murmuring their thanks. The yurt is alight in soft whickering and purrs.

“Khu’eon.” Ap-tui offers the name when it pops to existence in his mind, dipping his head in reverence to you. Males never get to name the pups they sire, so he knows he’s walking on unknown ground. If he were to encroach so brazenly on a Yautja female’s right, Ap-tui would be slaughtered.

But you are not a Yautja female. You are an oomani-di and his lifemate. He is your male as much as you are his female. He and his brothers and cousins are your equals. When you smile over at him— your eyes exhausted and your face still hot and wet with tears— he knows that you’ve approved this choice as well.

“Khu-eon it is.”

The males erupt into another round of victorious roars and slamming the fists to their chests. A new hunter has been brought into the world, named, and will be trained to be an apex warrior like his sires.

Khu-eon startles awake and begins to wail.

—

yautja translations

Chiva → the trial of which a Youngblood Yautja is Blooded should they succeed in killing a kiande amedha (Xenomorph) dia-shui → musk, specifically that of a male luar-ke → moon ooman / oomani-di → human / human female sain’ja → warrior th’syra → skull/s

—

taglist

@coffee-love-alltheabove, @floralfi, @yautja-mistress, @that-teen2003, @boogeysmoth, @soryuwifeyxx

(if you want to join the taglist for this series, just leave a comment or dm me, and i’ll add you to the list. hope you all enjoyed it!)

#the predator #predator #aliens vs predator #avp #yautja #yautja fanfic #predator x reader #predator x you #predator x human #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja x human #yautja oc #predator oc

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6lostgirl6 · 1 year

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Promiscuous E.T.

Pairing: Male!Yautja x G/n!Reader

Summary: Since you both were completely different species, you wanted to show your yautja boyfriend one of Earth's finest creations. Just Dance.

TW: cute moments, yautja rage quit, hint of sex towards the end.

Based on this post!!

"Come on," you muttered, fiddling with your old Wii console that was once sitting in your closet collecting dust. Now, it was getting set up to your living room television. "Stupid thing."

For a while, since the beginning of your relationship with your alien lover, you have tasked yourself with showing him things from your world. It started off with the basics, including food, fashion trends, music, and much more. Now, you wanted to show him a small piece of your childhood.

Your yautja watched silently as you fiddled with the old Wii station. He didn't understand your urge to show him these strange things from your planet. However, he thought you were very cute when your Ooman eyes would light up and your smile would brighten when you showed him things. Therefore, he indulged your little antics.

"And what is this contraption, little blade?" He asked in his language with various clicks, which made you pause.

The crackle of the translator embedded under the skin behind your ear took a second to translate, his clicks turning into words in a mere second.

You smiled and turned towards him, "I wanted to show you a game that's very popular on my planet!" You continued to fiddle with it for a few more seconds before the screen finally lit up. "Sweet!"

Before he could continue asking more questions, you quickly headed towards him, holding something similar to a remote in your hand.

"This is a Wii remote," you handed the pink device into his awaiting claws, his hand practically dwarfing the remote as he stared down at it. "You use it so the console can monitor your movements!"

He let out a few curious clicks as he played with the remote in his hand, similarly how you would wield a knife which almost made you giggle. The device was shaped like a thick stick that was decorated pink. He also noticed that it was covered in some rubber sheath with a dangling string.

"How do I wield this?" He asked, patiently allowing you a moment for the translator to help you understand. He stared down at you, silently admiring how small you were compared to him, especially in the nest.

Oblivious, you started explaining the device. "Okay, well, you'll hold this and follow the movements on the screen, basically copy them. The remote will monitor and track on how well you're doing!" You took the remote and pulled out the string as he listened.

"This goes around your wrist and can be adjusted! This makes sure you don't accidentally throw it or drop it." You finished, carefully strapping the fabric around his wrist.

As you were doing that, your yautja continued to admire you. Using his other hand, he played with your hair, careful not to accidentally hurt you with his claws. He loved how smart you were, teaching him something new practically every day. He let out some affectionate purrs the more he thought about it.

He was proud to have such a worthy mate.

Your cheeks flushed a little, smiling up at him which he returned in his own way. His upper mandibles moving to resemble something similar to a smile. "All done, big boy." You teased, pulling away to grab your own remote.

Going through the menu, you selected the game that you inserted a bit ago. After a few more clicks, the song list appeared and you were already searching through some of the songs available.

"Anything that you wanna try?" You asked, looking up at him.

Your yautja shuffled through the songs before one captured his attention. Surprisingly, the beat was very catchy and the characters on the screen was interesting.

"Let's do this one." He said, returning your gaze for your approval.

"Okay! I'm excited for this one, so I'm glad you picked it!" You exclaimed, clicking on the song and getting into position. After a second, you had to pull miserably on your yautja to do the same.

Curse him for being so big, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Halfway through the song, you noticed that your yautja was getting a little frustrated. For the past few minutes, he's been getting a low score.

And your yautja is very competitive.

"Pauk!" He cursed, continuing to get 'ok' on his score and he was starting to get more frustrated.

"You're going great!" You tried encouraging, allowing yourself to get a few low scores purposely without him seeing. "I'm getting a few low scores too!"

However, he didn't hear you, continuing to get more frustrated and moving his arms rougher.

After a moment, something snapped and he swung his arm. In that second, he forgot how powerful he was and his superior strength. The remote flew from his hand, the wrist strap snapping as the device slammed into the screen of the television.

Leaving a large crack.

"Cjit..." He muttered, staring at the television with wide eyes and mandibles spread.

You stood there, facial expression matching his own, your own remote still in your own grasp.

"Pauk, I'm so sorry, little blade." He said, turning towards you with guilt for ruining something that could have been very expensive.

However, you could only laugh as you hunched over, hands on your knees which surprised your mate.

"I-I'm not mad, my love." You reassured, wiping a lonely tear from your face as you straightened yourself. "It was honestly funny."

"But, I broke your television, I shouldn't have lost control like that." He revoked, standing there with his arms crossed and head bowed.

You simply smiled, standing on your toes and patting his head, which made him look towards you.

"I could care less about it. I care more about you and your enjoyment." You stated, leaning in and kissing his lower mandible. He sighed and returned the affection, allowing a few of his mandibles to tickle your cheeks.

"What would I do without you, little mate?" He purred, looking down at you in adoration. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Cease to exist." You teased, biting your lip. You smirked and slowly brushed your fingers through his dreadlocks, tugging on a few. You were rewarded with a low growl.

"Why don't we do something else to let off some steam?"

Spam Liking = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed

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solitaryearthperson · 1 year

Text

Etov (Last part to Need A Hero)

Summary: Kronu and (Y/N) make a life on Etov.

(The reader is 18+ and uses she/her pronouns. The ethnicity/race is any.)

Kronu is the name of the yautja.

Italics is their thoughts.

Translations : pyodi sain’ja - soft warrior

By the time the agents had kicked down her door and stormed inside, guns raised readily, (Y/N) and Kronu had already left the property and were on their way to his ship.

As the agents walked through the house, they flipped and kicked over anything they could, hoping to find some clue to Kronu's existence and any clue as to where they were. The only thing they found that confirmed his existence was the large xenomorph skull sitting in the corner of her living room. After confiscating it, they searched harder through her home, trying to find anything else, but were disappointed. By the time they had left with the skull, Kronu's ship was already high in the sky, it's invisibility already turned on, leaving Earth's atmosphere.

*3 months later*

As (Y/N) made her way through the market, heavy bags of fruit hanging in her hands, the sounds of quiet chirps made her turn her head to see that an Etovian alien was calling her over to his tent. There was a sign hanging on the top of it, but she was still struggling to read the Etovian language.

He’ll be worried if I’m gone too long, she thought, not sure if she should give in to her curiosity to see the vendor’s items. He doesn’t want me out past dark.

Living on this planet was such a strange thing for (Y/N), but she absolutely loved it. She especially loved being with Kronu. When they first got there, they both were nervous about living there and the beings that possibly lived there, Kronu, moreso than her, but he knew how to hide it better than her. Etov was a jungle planet that his kind had heard of, but rarely ever ventured to it, seeing as it didn’t have any game that they considered to be worthy as a trophy. He didn’t know anything about the native people there and whether or not they were a threat to him and his ooman. It was the fifth day that they were there that they met an Etovian and soon they were introduced to the people and their culture. While they were extremely courteous and curious about (Y/N), they made sure to keep their respective distance from Kronu. His great size, and growls made them as uneasy and nervous as him. Soon (Y/N) was almost fully immersed into the culture, still struggling to understand some of their language and their writing. Unlike the yautja’s language that was filled with growls and clicks, the Etovian’s language consisted of mainly chirps that almost reminded her of the sounds of bird’s. (Y/N) and Kronu had both agreed that if they go anywhere away from the ship, they should be back before it’s dark. Despite how polite the Etovians were, he still didn’t fully trust them yet.

Looking up to the pink sky, she could see that their sun was shining brightly. I’ll be quick, she thought, walking over to the tent, still carrying her bags.

As she walked up to the tent, she saw that the vendor was selling different items from other planets. Looking over a table, she could see that there were a few items that looked to be from Earth or at least similar to Earth things and they were all piled on the table. Not seeing anything that interested her, she was about to turn and leave, when she noticed something in the corner of her eye. Dropping the bags, she began moving some of the items out of the way and picked it up, letting out a gasp.

“How much,” she asked him.

She’ll be fine, Kronu told himself, continuing to skin his kill. They are of no danger to her. After she had left to go forage for fruit, he decided that he was going to go out and hunt for some food. While the creatures were not trophy worthy, they were good as food, and he noticed that unlike the females of his kind, (Y/N) didn’t care about any trophies. He noticed very quickly how different she was from female yautjas and at first was slightly nervous about it, but after a while, had grown to love that about her.

Finishing his skinning, he gathered the carcass of the animal and was about to prepare it to cook, when he heard the soft footsteps of his ooman. In the months being there, he had to teach himself different ways to cook her food, forgetting that her smaller, more sensitive, human body can only consume meat when it’s cooked.

Pressing a button close to him, he opened the ship door for her and went back to the meat.

“Kronu,” she greeted him, a bright, happy smile upon her face. “I found lots of fruit for us,” she told him, lifting the bags, proudly.

The bright smile on her face brought one to his as well, or at least the yautja-equivalent of a bright smile.

Dropping them on the floor, she opened one of the bags and pulled out her purchase from the vendor and held it out to him, her smile even brighter. “I also bought this.”

Tilting his head, he looked down at the object in her hands. “ ‘ook,” he tried to say ‘book.’

“Mm-hm,” she nodded, excitedly, opening the book, quickly flipping through the pages. “It’s a story book. I used to love these when I was little. They have lots of different stories in it, some of them have lessons, too.”

He didn’t understand her excitement about the object, but didn’t say anything, always happy to see his ooman, happy and smiling over something.

“Want some help?”

Nodding his head, he took a few steps to the side to let her begin helping prepare the food. By now, he’s figured out enough on how to cook the meat properly for her and didn’t really need any help, but he was still quite shy to admit how much he loved her presence. Even though, she wasn’t gone that long, he still found himself, worrying and missing her.

Turning a page in the book, she ran her eyes over the words on the page and the accompanying art, her mind filling with memories of her childhood, where her and her mother would read story books together before bed. The thought of her old life back on Earth almost made a tear come to her eye, but she quickly blinked it away, and continued reading.

The sound of soft footsteps entering the large room made her look up from the book to see her large, predator lover taking off his armor and dropping it on the floor by the door. For the past hour, he was in one of the rooms on the ship, practicing his fighting techniques, and she could tell by how loud he was breathing that it was an intense session.

“You okay,” she asked, noticing the way he moved his arm, as if it was sore.

He nodded his head, silently and walked over to the bed, plumping his heavy body down onto the bed, next to her. His body landing on the bed made (Y/N) slightly bounce and she held onto the sides of the book, before looking back down to the pages. She was about to continue reading, when she felt his large hand gently placed itself on her back. Before she could ask what he was doing, he suddenly pulled her body closer to his, making her fall over and land on her side, still holding the book.

“Kronu,” she giggled, placing her head on his chest, and looking up at him. She could see that his face held a look of amusement. “What are you doing,” she asked.

“ ‘ead it,” he told her.

“I was reading it, till you pulled me. Why’d you pull me?”

“I ‘ant you close to ‘e, pyodi sain’ja,” he said, placing his hand on her head.

She was getting better at learning his language, but she definitely knew what those words meant and she felt her cheeks grow warm at them. Most humans might not be able to see on his face, but she could recognize the warmth and love in his eyes as he looked at her.

“Okay,” she said, turning back to her book, enjoying the warmth his body brought her and began reading again.

While she did miss some of her life back on Earth, she also didn’t want to go back. She loved being on a new planet, with an alien who first came to her as her hero and soon became her lover.

Here, on Etov, (Y/N) and Kronu would create a wonderful life together.

#predator #yautja #prey #alien vs. predator #predator imagine #yautja imagine #predator x reader #yautja x reader #yautja x black!reader #yautja x woc!reader #yautja fanfiction #yautja fanfic

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daughterofbearsandrivers · 2 months

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Horror | 1.0 `yautja`

(<<) (>>)

Vague imagery of honey dipped college memories suddenly tainted with screaming and the indescribable sensation of hearing literal bodies being torn into pieces. The cracking of ribs so each bone snapped from the sheer pressure, flesh squished together as blood vessels burst and spewed out geysers of blood mixed in with their bodily fluids. The stomach lining, organs, soft fleshy innards not covered by bone was consumed like hard liquor on Saturday club night.

Being hit by a car or shanked for belongings in parking lot would've been considered a calculated mercy or bittersweet memory compared to the last moments of the town's population in the past forty-eight hours.

The faint scent of gasoline tingled her nostrils, sending a very faint high to her brain like the chemicals in the pools does. Resisting the urge to cough to flex the muscles of her body in the cramped space of the trunk, the female waited several moments in silence for the slightest shifting of movement or prowling seekers looking to harvest on the strength inept species. Feeling around for the latch on the backseat, bright midday sun poured in through the opening, she inched it forward as she paused every second or so.

'Goddamn it's bright.'

She noticed the torn edges of her emerald painted nails once she fully leaned the seat forward, stringy grime matted locks absorbed the rising heat in the car. Glints of other vehicles windshields momentarily made blackish spots float in her vision, she opened a water bottle once she slid herself out of the car's trunk. The milk spoiled, eggs overheated and bread crusty.

'Good morning America, today's going to be sunny clear skies, maybe chance of rain showers, highs in the whatever seventies and lows- oh shitzerdoodle.'

Leaning on her side to stay within the cover of the car's seat position, she peeked around the edges of the leathery seat, seeing a black mass creep by the front of the vehicle. Ducking down though avoiding on moving her weight around too much, the female stayed in that awkwardly tense angle until she heard it bash through a boutique's doorway a street down.

Sorting through the groceries, she salvaged whatever wasn't affected by the mid summer day heat. Collecting granola bars, a flashlight, screwdriver and some bullets, she found scattered underneath the driver's seat, into a fanny pack. Pressing the button for the window, it slowly slid down. Immediately the intense heatwaves of summer hit her skin, soaking into her body as her clothes suddenly felt too thick to wear at the moment once she eased herself out. 'In this heat I bet ice cream and water would boil. Why couldn't it be a hazy day of clouds.'

Crouching down a little she steered clear from fragmented and little clusters of splintered glass, her footsteps being silent as she could manage. Keeping herself fully aware to pause every few minutes to take a thorough survey of the area, ensuing she didn't have any creatures tailing secretly. Her eyes and top of her head peeking just over the edges of windows, hoods and tailgates of vehicles left stationary in the main street. The crevices of her body's figure little by little condensed with sweat.

Padding herself down a little, she silently lamented as she felt the grains of sand, smears of oil further clogged her pores. All that hard work going down the drain the longer she stayed in the heat and in these ripped and frayed clothes. Without notice her heartbeat sped up, an automatic nearly cemented reaction to the soft skittering of talons, menacing hisses and breathy snarls passing through frosted razor sharp teeth. She crouched down, doing a quick three sixty view of side to side, top to bottom. Seeing all the possibilities where her position made her vulnerable and potential to life ending choices. The vehicles were spaced enough for running and could be jumped across by anything. Though not many of the vehicles had high suspensions to crawl under. And several of the vehicles blocked her in, preventing her from crawling over the hoods from how big or sloped the hood is. Calculating the estimated seconds it would take to jump up, crawl onto the vehicle, run then do the same thing. Another raspy hiss, like sizzling acid in a softer tone. She flinched, her body contracting to still every nerve then slowly releasing to edge forward in a slight crouch.

They were moving by her, a mere vehicle apart.

A few feet away from her fate of being harvested and once again encapsuled in goop to be the fertilizer of an alien colony. She thickly swallowed, forcing back images depicting her chest being tore open from the inside, the sickening sensation of crunched bones. One step, the next and then her body responded in kind. Her fingers kept thumbed over the smooth fabric of her fanny pack, a small assurance against an illusion of control.

'My nails are so damaged and cracked. I should take them off.... though those charms are pretty.'

Her hands turned a bit red from touching hot asphalt. The shattering of a window made her heart burst into a flurry of emotion though she made herself keep stationary. Slowing peeking back over a window, she noticed they had rummaged through a van. More glass sprinkled to the ground. A bony black mass that showed every ridge of it's unnatural existence skittered then body slammed into a vehicle as they fought over scraps of a child.

'Damnit, that's so disgusting- don't, don't think about it. Keep moving.'

Hurrying in the most silent way possible, she crawled underneath a truck and stayed there for a moment to reassess the situation. Her heartbeat had calmed to a considerable pace without her having to manually breath slower. What she didn't calculate is the sudden crashing sound on the truck's roof, making it cave in as the vehicle itself sunk down a little from the weight. Seeing it's shadow on the asphalt, she realized it's the other creature.

He's crouched, his head swiveling around for a quick moment as it let out a roar. A shinking noise of a blade. Those spindly creatures screeched and lunged for him or a very few ran away.

Curled up beneath the vehicle, she felt it's weight shift and sway as the muscular thing fought. A couple vehicles exploded. Heat razed the ground, acidic blood dripped and splattered onto metal and paved rock. Melting it cleanly beyond repair.

'I can't stay here.'

The truck's undercarriage smacked against her head only solidified that thought. She let out a yelp then instantly felt her heart speed up, the accompanying blush and her mind working nanoseconds ahead. She turned her head and saw one of the black creatures hissing loudly at her while the two species created carnage just on her other side. It tried to reach it's talons inside, she fumbled for her screwdriver in the fanny pack.

Yanking it out, she hit the asphalt several times but got her few strikes in against the black alien, making it rethink it's strategy. Knowing it'll likely try to crawl in, she kept wildly swinging her screwdriver around while she felt around in the fanny pack for the few bullets.

The humanoid creature in weird armor slammed a black alien into a car.

She flinched as more acidic blood dripped down from it's broken skeleton. Finally pulling out a handful of bullets, she tossed the shells across the street and right by the burning vehicles destroyed by a plasma cannon blasts.

A roar and an answering screech, more limbs being cut and slashed into individual pieces.

Letting out a sharp exhale, she swung and frantically swiped at the black creature now joined by two more. One of their talons cut into her lower calf, nearly dragging her out before the tossed bullets ignited. They went off and ricocheted, startling the black creatures a few feet and making the beige colored creature snap it's attention to find the source.

Without hesitation she made a break for it, keeping ducked down as she rolled out on the other side of the truck, scrambling to her feet and sprinting hard. She vaulted, slid over the hoods of vehicles to the other side of the street. Noticing some other black creatures crash out of boutiques and whatever woodwork they came from, chased after her.

She wasn't from here though she did know which streets and areas had been the tourist hotspots. Bigger buildings, more hiding spots. Running barefoot on the hot streets of the town, she didn't look back and she didn't stop or veer off to hide. Pumping herself faster than ever, the female saw the distant shining chain link fence of the fair grounds. Darting to her right, she went down a sandy hill of pointed stones, passing by a few tall cactus before coming right up to the fence.

Jumping it, she crawled up and felt the links snag on her jeans to sharply pinprick her skin. Throwing herself over it to land in a puff of dust, she heard them crash into the fence and scramble up it as she continued to run.

She passed through the carnival, her feet sinking a little into the fine sand and feeling the gravel drag on the soles of her heel. Her sights settled on a merry go round, heading over to the controls, she bashed her hands against everything until the ride turned on and the music blasted out of the speakers. Every noise being amplified in her mind.

Their screeches raked her eardrums and made her body turn cold despite the very dry summer heat.

Running in the opposite direction, she went into a house of mirrors. Her figure reflected on the narrow figure warping surfaces. Taking a breath of air, she slowed her footsteps and moved deeper into the entertainment house. Her cheeks red and bright from exertion and anxiety, her heart thundering in her ribcage, she closely listened for any sounds of the black creatures as her breathing seemed to drown out everything else, even her thoughts.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧┍━☽【❖】☾━┑✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚

A shift of movement as the female rubbed her upper arms, one of her hands keeping a hold on the flashlight she had. She stared at her reflections, the afterthought of an idling mind being how she needed a shower and change of clothes. As she still kept finding small pieces of that secreted goop on her person she'd been cocooned in only hours ago.

Rubbing away the crusted blood on her wrist, the female let out a silent sigh. Slowing getting up, she paused every few moments with her head slightly tilted and her body making minimal movement to determine whether or not she's safe to breathe.

Measuring her footsteps she walked to the exit that's aesthetically covered by a curtain, listening for another moment she heard nothing. Though her heart pounded a bit harder. Holding onto her flashlight, she noticed no sun shined at the bottom of the curtains or made the fabric seem thinner from it's light.

It must've been hours but at this point, hiding and waiting out for hours seemed to become her only source of exercise and constant state of what her life has come to. Peeking out, she drew the curtain to the side with the end of her flashlight's handle. The orange bulbed lights of the solar controlled lights were on, the sky completely black and the desert terrain standing still just like her.

As if the world now knew the events of what happened in the last five days changed the course of mankind's present and future forever.

The female gently tested her weight on the wooden steps before descending down the short staircase. On a last second thought, she took the curtains with her. Wrapping it around her figure like a jacket and dress, she quietly walked through the fair grounds.

Popcorn bags, cotton candy cones and some push toys laid on the dirt. Some lights of rides flickered like a dying candle running on the last threads of it's wick. Her flashlight in one hand and currently unlit, she went to a small gift shop. There was no phone or landline and no internet for the working iPhone she found dropped on the floor. Picking out a shirt one size smaller than normal, couple water bottles and some paper towels despite no one being around, she still went behind the cashier counter to change.

Uncapping the lids of the water bottles, she dunked the paper towels in the water, wiping it over her skin as she took most of the dirt off. Scrubbing and washing away the grime, blood, sweat and essentially the memories that came with the reason there's blood in the first place.

Sliding on the new shirt, hoodie, wrapping the curtains around her shoulders like a strap for future purposes. She found a water basin for apple bobbing, she dunked and shook her hair free what she could. A relief of one problem being dealt with settled her thoughts. Still no shoes to wear.

That night she opened one granola bar for dinner and slept in the cubbyhole of where they kept the extra plushies and boxes of other prizes.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧┍━☽【❖】☾━┑✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧*ੈ✩‧₊˚

There was no hurry to leave or go anywhere though one designation remained present in her mind the next day when she woke in the afternoon. Her family- well her grandparents had a place up in Alaska. If her memory served her right, which both fortunately and unfortunately did, there'd be enough canned food and natural resources for her to survive there without any worry. They hadn't sold the property but kept it as the ideal family vacation house in the winter.

With that her mind she gathered up four water bottles, dozens of granola bars, candy and some pop tarts from the fair grounds remaining food supply. Finding another flashlight, some batteries and a phone charger in the abandoned vehicles nearby. Apparently no one had kept extra shoes in their once day to day work life. Sliding on her backpack and keeping her fanny pack, she walked the cactus and brush ridden terrain.

SIDENOTE | reblog, comments and lmk if you wanted to be tagged for the next part.

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yautjalover · 3 months

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Are you craving a yautja x yautja story? Well, I've got one just for you! I deleted the original to rewrite it and so far I have the first chapter up! It's going to get really good, so make sure to bookmark and hang around for updates!

Features:

Strangers to Enemies to Lovers

Yautja Female x Male Yautja

Glacial Slow Burn

Eventual Romance & Smut

Graphic Violence

Cultural Differences

A Yautja Female discovering herself and her people

A stoic, quiet, no games male lead

Stubborn male lead

Wrongly Perceived Unrequited Attraction

If all of these interest you, then this is the fic for you! It's up on Ao3 and WattPad. :)

Read it here: CLICK ME for AO3 | CLICK ME for WattPad

#yautja #yautjalover #predator #avp #alien vs predator #predator franchise #female yautja #yautja x yautja #yautja fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #my fanfic

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jjafterdark · 7 hours

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It lives, it breathes, it hops through trees.

(In other words, chapter four of my yautja fic is up).

Should she? Let the Predator play with her this way? If sex is what it’s after, Gemma might just survive this encounter. Or, she might survive regardless, or die regardless. Gemma knows nothing about this alien except for the name that someone else gave it. Who knows what it really wants?

Here, have a link to AO3! Happy Monday!

#monster fucker #monster romance #yautja #yautja x human #yautja fanfic #my fics

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thesmutalorian · 2 months

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here to say please read my yautja fic and cheer me on w comments while I struggle through writing the current behemoth of a chapter that I’ve no one to blame for but myself 🤭🤡 3k and counting

#close quarters #yautja #ao3 #fanfic #predator #yautja fanfic #monster fanfic #monster

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eruden-writes · 2 years

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The Unexpected Human Problem - Part 16 (Yautja x Human)

CHAPTER CW: Awkward tension. Discussion of forced surgery.

Tag list: @ajarofpickledtears, @boogeysmoth

If you like what I create, please consider my patreon or my ko-fi!

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too!

---

The remainder of the cycle was the absolute worst. Tai'dqei busied himself with maintenance. Mostly he sought out the old safety belt buckles he had stored somewhere in the larger cargo hold, then he replaced his pilot belt with the old one. That gave Rayelle a spot, equipped with the newer safer belt, not in his lap if they encountered enemies again.

Rayelle faintly wondered when yautja slept, how long they slept, as she listened to his footfalls around the ship. That thought brought other considerations to her mind, considering she now knew his bedroom layout. She shook those thoughts away, returning to her book or watching a vid on her arm gauntlet. Staying to her room seemed the kindest course of action.

The two tried to forget the other existed in their small space of the universe. For hours.

Without incident, they arrived at TAC S7B. The S7B, Rayelle learned, meant Sector 7 of the universe. What that meant, she wasn't exactly sure. The B was also a mystery.

TAC S7B was a manufactured planet, teal green in color with silvery wisps of clouds when viewed from space. After consultation at the main office - which was at the uppermost pole of the planet - Tai'dqei had to ferry Rayelle to another part of the planet.

For Rayelle's own understanding, she thought of the world in the same terms of continents, countries, and cities. Each continent had a headquarters that specialized in a particular planet, which was further segmented by eras - centuries, for humans - via massive countries, which were then further divided into city-like areas. For Earth, the cities themselves were parsed into decades.

It wasn't just paperwork or files. It was everything. The layouts, the food, clothes, stylistically. Rayelle assumed, being the authority on time, this meant some of the employees of TAC actually traveled to their assigned periods. Whether to suss out crimes or, as the alien at the HQ explained, to examine the weight her own missing case had on the world.

Essentially, understanding how the day-to-day worked for the ancient Earth time of 2022 made sense. Even if a bitter voice in Rayelle's head kept wondering why they couldn't just send her back. She still couldn't imagine her case having any bearing on anything or anyone. Well, other than her kids.

A dual sense of comfort and wariness etched into Rayelle's very bones as she walked through 2022 Earth City. As accurate as the city was to her own time, it also felt like a farce. A movie set that, while it certainly had working restaurants and clothing stores and who-knew-what-else, had none of the feel of the 2020s.

"Are you doing alright?" Tai'dqei's sudden question drew Rayelle from her thoughts and observations of the city.

The two of them were sitting on a bench inside the city's "town hall." Basically an area where detectives and staff worked to deal with 2022 problems. Their bench sat outside the office of Detective Gorgiel, with enough space between them for another person.

At least, according to what her earworm had translated, it was Detective Gorgiel. She wasn't sure if aliens used a term like 'detective' and she aggravatingly couldn't read the odd alien text on the walls and doors. However, as par for the course of replicas, they did have signs that rotated out different Earth languages on a screen.

"I'm fine," Rayelle answered, without looking up at the yautja. Today, he'd chosen to actually wear his mask and heavier armor. It was useless for her to suss out his feelings through visual cues, though. After the scene she caused at the mall, and the following pursuit through space, she presumed he was just being prepared for anything by wearing it.

Which was true. He considered the possibilities of Zav, or any other contender vying to possess Ryalle, attacking once they got to TAC S7B. Landing on one's destination tended to bring guards down. He didn't know what TAC security measures were like, like if they could be overwhelmed with a contingent of attackers.

He doubted it, but it paid to be careful.

As much as Tai'dqei had been operating on auto-pilot since landing, simply going through the motions while speaking with TAC officers, a part of his faculties kept an eye on Rayelle. Ever since they had agreed to keep their distance, things had been tense. Understandably.

Or maybe that was simply his interpretation. There was always an itch to touch her at his skin. At random, thoughts of their moment in the cockpit would skitter across his thoughts. Actively fighting against his wayward body and mind made him less than enjoyable company. Still, he wanted to make sure Rayelle was doing okay, so he pressed further, "Are you certain?"

"Yes." She inclined her head to him, exasperation evident in her voice. Part of her wished he hadn't worn the mask today. Though she struggled with his facial tells and tics, she found herself wanting to see his face.

That thought made her stomach lurch and she looked away from Tai'dqei, hurriedly. Her eyes returned to the far wall, staring at the bulletin board on the other side. She wondered if it was simply a prop. Something to add to the immersion of this whole place. It was hard to imagine any actual important information still being in a hard format. It had been the same in her time, as well.

Tai'dqei fell silent for a moment, his mandibles writhing under his mask. His leg began to joggle, considering what he should do or say. When he stumbled on something, the question blurted out of him, "Is the city at all like your time?"

This time, Rayelle inhaled deeply at his question, her eyes closing. She had actually been avoiding that thought. When her eyes split open again, her head turning toward Tai'dqei, an angry and brittle smile curved at her lips. "On the surface, yes. Deeper down, it's missing the constant dread of pandemics and mass shootings and government corruption and police brutality that kind of coated my time."

Silently, Tai'dqei stared at her face, feeling he had again made a mistake. He didn't know what to say to anything she had said. In theory, he knew it was all terrible. But he hadn't experienced any of it himself, so what could he say?

"It's fine. It doesn't matter now." The angry tension in Rayelle's shoulders eased with defeat. She sighed, her eyes tilting away from him again. "It's all in the past."

Another quiet fell between them. Tai'dqei felt as if the divide between them had grown even further. Far off, in other offices, he could hear others talking. His mask picked up several heat sources elsewhere in the building. But, all that ambient sound didn't seem to puncture the bubble around himself and Rayelle.

"Maybe we should get some food after this," he heard himself say, needing something to fill the silence. Though added distractedly, "If they don't assign you to a handler."

Rayelle grunted an empty acknowledgement. A handler. She hadn't even thought she'd be trading in one alien for another. The thought just enhanced her desire to see Tai'dqei's face again, just in case they were separated indefinitely soon.

"I don't want someone new," Rayelle was on the verge of saying, before she stopped herself. She and Tai'dqei had been avoiding each other up until this point. Though she told herself it wasn't true, part of her felt certain this whole ordeal was becoming too much for him. He should be able to wash his hands of her, without guilt. It wasn't like he signed up for assisting a lost-in-space-and-time human nor all of her baggage, anyway.

Instead, Rayelle gave a one-shouldered shrug to Tai'dqei's suggestion. "Yeah, maybe we can."

Luckily, it was at that moment that the door to Detective Gorgiel's office fell open. Both Rayelle and Tai'dqei sat straighter on the bench, eyes turned expectantly to the doorway.

"Rayelle Carter?" The non-human that turned to them was bone-white, with blue etchings on their skin. Their eyes - three of them, Rayelle noted - were the color of crystal and their mouth appeared like a jagged crevice in their face. Faintly, she wondered if the rock-like appearance was an evolutionary mimic or if this alien - presumably Detective Gorgiel - was genuinely made of rock. Their button-up shirt and slacks looked so out of place on their body.

"Yes," she responded, getting to her feet.

"I am Detective Gorgiel. Come this way," the rock alien said with a nod, standing to the side and motioning toward their office door. Rayelle was over the threshold when she heard the detective add to Tai'dqei, "You may come, as well. Any information will help."

"Of course," Tai'dqei grunted, getting to his feet and following at a safe distance behind Rayelle.

Inside, it looked like any other office Rayelle could recall being in. Two plush chairs sat across a desk from a single, larger, plusher chair. Papers riddled the desk, along with a familiar-looking computer. Rayelle assumed it was actually far higher tech than what she realized, though.

Delicately, she settled into one of the chairs. Tai'dqei dropped into the other. He crossed his arms, sitting ramrod straight. As Detective Gorgiel rounded the office to take his seat, Rayelle edged her own chair closer to the desk. She idly reached out to fiddle with a pen and, after that, a business card from a holder.

The interview took far longer than Rayelle anticipated. Detective Gorgiel squeezed every last drop of information from her. What year, exactly, did she come from? Who was president? What was her full address? Her full name? Her full maiden name? Children's names, her ex's full name, her parents, any pets she had, any possessions in her name, her friends, her kids' friends, her friends' kids, her hometown, and so on.

Though, the worst was once again going over the events of The Night. When she was kidnapped, then abducted. A blunt pain edged through her retelling and brought on a sudden wave of exhaustion. She actually resorted to pulling out the fidget cube she had brought with her, expelling her nervous energy as she retold her story.

Tai'dqei noticed her distress and stepped in at one point, citing the alien races involved - which he had dispatched - and forwarding Rayelle's medical records to the detective. The diversion gave her a little breather. He also explained to Gorgiel how the Straux earworm was his own doing, so they could communicate. Though, Rayelle noticed he didn't discuss other things that were his doing. Just scant facts of finding her, who was with her, and the records.

She supposed their personal interactions didn't have any bearing on her situation. His mistakes, her mistakes. It was like they existed in their own pocket of reality, totally separate from what was currently happening. Which was another wobbly thought that made her head swim.

"Well, Miss Brooks - you prefer Brooks, correct?" Detective Gorgiel surprised Rayelle with their intuitive assessment. Maybe even compassionate.

She nodded, still feeling a little woozy. "Yes, Brooks is my preferred surname."

"Miss Brooks, I know this wasn't easy for you. Even in less harrowing circumstances, the trauma of time travel and space travel, for those unready, is difficult." Detective Gorgiel reached across their desk, gently patting her hand. She knew it was supposed to be comforting, but the minute way Tai'dqei tensed in his chair was honestly more gratifying. "That said, it will regrettably take some time for us to investigate your case."

Rayelle blinked at that, her eyebrows furrowing. "Can't you just take all the time you need and then come back to this exact moment with the findings?"

A fleeting smile curled at Gorgiel's hard lips as they pulled their hand away. "This planet was specifically designed to halt temporal anomalies. Which means duplicates of ourselves, which would happen if a future me arrived here now, are not allowed."

"What about forwarding the information to someone else and have them do it?" She knew she was pressing a topic she had little knowledge of. It just didn't make sense to her, though. If the Time Authority Council could travel through time, they could pop in and out whenever they wanted to. If staggered correctly, she thought it could be instantaneous.

"Rest assured, there will be many of us working on your case. But it will take time." To his credit, Detective Gorgiel didn't balk at her insistence.

She supposed he had been asked these things many times over. Still, Rayelle couldn't keep the disappointment from her tone as she gave a skeptical, "Hm."

Now, Detective Gorgiel heaved a sigh, their shoulders rising and falling with the breath. "We will need time to investigate and untangle the web of contacts through the years. Direct, secondary, tertiary, and so on. Sometimes, we discover avenues we hadn't thought of before."

A part of Rayelle knew that. She could mentally imagine her connection to her kids, to Evan, to her family, to what few friends she had. But there'd be police officers and detectives and true crime bloggers. Her friend's families and their friends. People who stumbled on her case, completely detached from anything associated to her. Unraveling that web couldn't be easy and it couldn't be quick.

As if further sense was needed, the detective added, as gently as they could, "Please remember, you're not our only case, Miss Brooks."

"Right, right. Sorry." Rayelle hung her head, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Asking for more than they could give wasn't going to get her home any sooner. Ironically, if she just waited, she might get home sooner.

"It's perfectly fine. You're in a complicated situation and I'm sure you're looking forward to going home," "If that is possible."

Rayelle gave a weak nod and a hum of acknowledgement, but couldn't bring herself to say anything nor look up at the detective. If that is possible. Those words clanged around her head, making her stomach cramp unhappily.

"While you wait for our assessment, there is a resort we have set up on Rerli 3." Thankfully, Detective Gorgiel turned their gaze from her and, she assumed, addressed Tai'dqei. "I can provide coordinates, if you could take her. We will provide compensation, of course."

"I can do that," Tai'dqei answered, meeting the detective's gaze. From the corner of his eye, he kept an eye on Rayelle. She slumped in her chair, hands drawn into her lap. A part of him was shamefully happy her hands weren't in reaching distance of the detective any longer. Another part of him worried she was mentally withdrawing. "What's this resort like?"

At Tai'dqei's question, Rayelle peeked up again. First, to the yautja who'd asked a question she really should have; then to Detective Gorgiel.

"It's relatively new, with a handful of humans there already. All from around Miss Brooks's time period." Whether the detective thought it was strange Tai'dqei asked the question, they made no indication. Instead, they pulled a pamphlet out from their desk, sliding it across to Rayelle. "Entertainment, such as books and movies and art supplies, are provided. Cooking implements from the time period and kitchens. A pool, a gym, a spa. Anything and everything to keep a human busy."

Rayelle hummed an acknowledgement once more as she tentatively grabbed the pamphlet. She didn't want to say she had no clue what was typical for a resort, having never been to one herself. But the front page looked vaguely like what she expected. A large white building with bright adornments in a rainbow of colors, big windows, an abundance of flora - similar to Earth - and a blue ocean.

Once again, Tai'dqei watched Rayelle. He couldn't tell if she was excited for the resort or not. She just heavily scrutinized the front, but leafed no further into the pamphlet. Maybe she was saving it for later, considering how tired she looked.

"But first, the medical side of things." Detective Gorgiel pulled up the files Tai'dqei had sent them. There was a long moment of them eyeballing the alien words, nodding quietly to themself, until they looked up at Rayelle and Tai'dqei. "We see these particular alterations a lot. Our clinic can reverse them, if desired. Miss Brooks can discuss more with one of our physicians."

That made Rayelle's eyebrows shoot up. They'd reverse the changes if she desired. Were there humans that wanted to keep the changes? Things that had been done against their will? She supposed there had to be. Vaguely, she started to wonder if there was more done to her than becoming a 'revitalized' baby machine. As she considered the possibilities, and decided to discuss it more with the physicians, Detective Gorgiel and Tai'dqei hashed out the rest of the details. Coordinates and funding was exchanged. A few side questions answered.

Finally, Detective Gorgiel stood from their desk, skirting around to be on the same side as Tai'dqei and Rayelle.

"Well, if you have any questions, I've also sent my contact information to your gauntlets." As if on cue, Rayelle and Tai'dqei's gauntlets chimed with an incoming message. Not to be distracted themself, Detective Gorgiel opened the door, letting it swing open. They stood beside it, obviously expecting the two to leave. "Until we find out more, take care."

And like that, Tai'dqei and Rayelle found themselves hurried from the office. The walk through the halls was quiet as she mentally gnawed on the new information given to her, the pamphlet to the resort clutched in hand.

Once they breached the threshold, out into the air of TAC S7B, and wandered down the sidewalk a bit, Tai'dqei broke the silence, "So, do you want to get something to eat? Or go to the clinic?"

At his question, Rayelle paused on the walkway. Her gaze flickered around their surroundings. There was an eerie sense of division to it all. The clothes, the vehicles, the signage. It was all familiar. But there were non-humans milling about, with familiar styles of dress tailored to their size or extra limbs.

It was also a lot cleaner and quieter, she realized. There was no litter blowing about the streets and, though dressed like gas guzzling cars, the vehicles didn't make any sound. No far-off trains or the sounds of planes, though spaceships whizzing through the air gave a slight hum all the same. No sirens of police cars or ambulances. No construction.

It was a facsimile of her time. A farce. Much like other things around her. Her eyes returned to Tai'dqei, her lips pressed tight together in thought. His emotionless masked face stared back at her, patiently waiting for her decision. A nauseous feeling swam through her stomach, wondering where Tai'dqei truly fell on the gradient of genuine to false.

"The clinic," Rayelle finally said, heading to the garage where he had landed his ship. She straightened her spine and set her shoulders, the resort pamphlet crinkling in her fisted hand. "I want to get this over with already."

---

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#exophilia #exo writing #yautja #the predator #yautja fanfiction #yautja fanfic #yautja x human #monster lover #monster fucker #alien lover #alien fucker #the unexpected human problem #tuhp #uhp #the unexpected human problem part 16 #tuhp part 16 #tai'dqei #rayelle #(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ World Building ✧･ﾟ:*

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avenshaven · 1 year

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yautja x (afab)reader

advertising my fic cause srthdtyjdtyij

#*runs away*#bro idk whatnim doing #yautja #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja fanfic #predator x human #alien vs predator

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aescela · 1 year

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Chapters: 11/11 Fandom: Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Alien vs Predator (2004), The Predator (2018), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Yautja (Predator)/Original Female Character(s), Yautja/Human Characters: Yautja (Predator), Original Yautja Character, Original Female Character Additional Tags: Yautja/human - Freeform, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, sad boy/angry girl, Slow Burn, and by slow i mean the speed of a glacier, it's worth the wait I swear, buckle up folks you're in for a rough ride, Fluff, NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, come for the porn stay for the feels, this isn't just a cheap hookup they are genuinely good for each other, Teratophilia, Monster Boyfriend, monsterfuckers, ocs that don't suck, comfort read, Humor, Lore friendly, Canon Typical Violence, Slice of Life, Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Taxidermy, Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Explicit Consent, Mutual Pining, Smut, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Night at the museum - Predator edition Summary:

A Predator with a difficult mission and a frustrated taxidermy apprentice meet and get along better than expected. A bittersweet, slow burn romance with a good helping of fluff, a touch of drama, Predator-typical hunting badassery, some dark humor and very explicit Yautja-on-human lovemaking. Enjoy.

#can we make it to 1000 kudos this year?#yautja #predator #yautja/human #yautja fanfic

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pyode-luar-ke · 2 years

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carnation | part i | poly!yautja x reader

A/N: this is sooooo self-indulgent, i almost didn’t post lol. but it turned out really good, and i’m proud of it so fuck it, y’know? also, i take sooooo many creative liberties with yautja lore and canon, so if anything like... doesn’t make sense, lmk and i’ll try to clarify LOL 💀

i have part 2 outlined, and it’s probs not gonna be as long as this one, so it should be out soonish. 💕

summary: you have a baby with your mates.

word count: 7,005

content: 18+, smut, fem!afab!reader, polyamorous relationship (F/M/M/M/M/M) (good lord lmao), reverse harem, pregnancy, mention of abortion, lactation, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, body image issues, a whole lotta love, public sex, voyeurism

part ii → (out now!!)

—

No one really anticipated you getting pregnant. Not really.

Sure, it was a possibility, but an incredibly improbable one. Human and Yautja DNA held some fundamental differences, in spite of being surprisingly similar in some regards. Thus, if the laws of biology and physiology were to be true, it dictated that procreation was exceedingly rare, if not entirely impossible to achieve.

Yet, here you were, against the odds, a testament to the universe’s principle of: If there is a will, there is a way.

—

Bhu’kei goes completely silent, not even a stray whicker or growl escapes him. He’s deathly still too, his only movement coming from his clawed fingertips as he taps at his gauntlet, again. This is enough to notify you without words that he’s rerunning the pregnancy test, confirmed when a green light scans over your midsection.

A part of you wants to stop him, to sit up and place a palm on his black-scaled arm, to say “It’s true, Bhu’kei, and it’s okay!”— but you don’t. There’s a small part of you that still reels from disbelief, that wants to recoil in shock and gasp, “It’s not possible!”

A small beep echoes in the dead quiet yurt, and Bhu’kei is still silent. And then he meets your gaze, the expression in his eyes paradoxically unreadable and completely decipherable. He looks apologetic, almost— like he’s waiting for the gravity of the situation to dawn on you, for you to realize just how rare and dangerous and life-threatening this is for you.

Yautja females are larger than their male counterparts; taller, more muscled, and sometimes even stronger. They are built to withstand the 12-month gestation of a Yautja pup, and the entirety of labor and delivery, with ease— an evolutionary gift bestowed upon them due to the fact that most approach childbirth completely alone.

Your disbelief morphs into raw terror— How the Hell do you expect your body to survive this?— and as quickly as that occurs, the raw terror morphs into absolute elation— Well, damn it, you’ll sure try. A smile so big and bright— one you didn’t even know you were capable of doing— splits across your face before you can stop it.

“I’m pregnant!”

—

Announcing your pregnancy to the rest of the camp was initially met with some pushback. Ap-tui, for one, argued that an oomani-di carrying a Yautja pup would be detrimental at best and fatal at worst. True to his blunt nature, he encouraged you to terminate the pregnancy, which probably should have upset you more than it did, but you saw his point.

You had considered abortion, but the thought was fleeting. Despite the potential (and possibly fatal) consequences of carrying a Yautja pup, you rationalized that due to the little to no information on interspecies breeding between humans and Yautja, that your pregnancy was somewhat of a miracle of nature.

Yautja document their history, they transcribe what they learn and all their knowledge about other planets and species and races into databases accessible to all. They have been hunting humans (a morbid thought to you, but one you’ve learned to reconcile with) for hundreds of years, ever since Earth made a blip on their radars.

There is nothing on interspecies breeding. It simply hasn’t happened yet.

That thought partly fueled your decision to keep the baby. More so, however, you wanted the pup— Children were always a desire of yours, and with the development of gaining a handful of Yautja males as your significant others, you had thought the dream had turned to complete fantasy.

Not anymore, you finally got your wish, and you wanted to see it play out, to be the first. Not so much in a selfish, glorifying way— But to stick the finger to the universe and say “Look what love can do.”

Your decision may have also been influenced by your very human strain of curiosity— Something that Van’chaa once told you Yautja lacked in spades.

So, with your mind dead-set on growing that fetus inside you, you shook your head and said, “No, I’m keeping it. It’s my pup.”

Ap-tui was not pleased with your response. Nor was Van’chaa and Th’chi. However, they did not try to press you further. Bhu’kei had already told them that while yes, it was dangerous; It was clearly a risk you were willing to take. And it was not a decision any of them could make for you.

Ultimately, their begrudging support was because you were still female. The Yautja males could do nothing but yield to your wishes. You may be of a different and much less capable species, but honorable and respected Yautja males obeyed their females. So, they would pay that same regard to you.

Thankfully, Ta’kaa’s propensity to celebrate the good in situations garnered a positive reaction that distracted you from the overall dour moods of his hunting brothers.

—

You break your glare with Ap-tui when you hear Ta’kaa whicker in excitement. He meets your gaze, molten eyes cheery and bright, and all the negative emotions leak out of you in an instant. The moss green Yautja scoops you up in his arms, all the while clicking happy noises from his mandibles. You can’t understand a word Ta’kaa says, so far gone in his elation the full Yautja tongue took hold.

Your arms wrapped loose around his neck, tears prick hot at your eyeballs as you watch Ta’kaa growl and clack and nuzzle his mandibles against the soft of your cheek. His body is like fire, and his touch is so tender, so you lean into his affections, smiling.

If there was one Yautja you could rely on for some positivity, it was Ta’kaa.

He is the youngest of the hunting party, and it shows. Ta’kaa acts far more on emotional impulse than the rest, but sometimes it makes him feel a little more human, so you don’t complain. Sometimes though, you have to remind yourself that Ta’kaa passed his Chiva and was Blooded decades before you were born. That often makes you remember that he is a Yautja, born and raised to be a hunter.

But you take his enthusiastic clicking and nuzzling with open arms, offering him kisses to his fluttering mandibles in return.

His elder brothers and cousins click and grumble amongst themselves, allowing their frustrations to air before they silence their grievances for good. Yautja are blunt and direct, so they know to speak out once and then never again. Issues of a more diplomatic blend tend to resolve quickly in Yautja circles.

Off on the sidelines, Ap-tui smothers his concerns deep inside his chest. He opts for watching you joyfully play with his younger brother, absorbing the way your strange, beautiful ooman face contorts with emotion. It took him a while to recognize that when you bare your teeth it means that you are happy, not attempting to threaten.

You are happy now, happy because you carry a pup in your womb, happy because Ap-tui remembers nights when he’s mated you, after which you’ve shed wetness from your eyes because all you’ve ever wanted was children. Another strange ability that oomans have: Crying.

He sees you’re crying now, but he knows it’s not from sadness.

A fairly important question arises in Ap-tui’s mind.

“Who is the sire?” He asks Bhu’kei, who pulls one of his daggers from its hilt at his shin. Bhu’kei doesn’t regard the hunt leader for a moment, instead opting to flip the blade in his hand, looking for impurities. When he finishes, the ink black Yautja glances out the corner of his eye at his cousin.

“You are.” Bhu’kei replies simply.

Ap-tui freezes.

—

“Bhu’kei told me that you’re the sire.” You murmur, coming behind your mate and placing your chin on his shoulder. His inky, blood red tresses tickle your cheek and neck, smooth and warm against your skin. He grunts in response, not moving from his stiff meditation pose.

Ap-tui had distanced himself from the group not long ago, escaping to his private yurt out of the corners of your peripheral. You had asked Bhu’kei what happened, as he was the last to speak to him, and the Yautja had told you then that the hunt leader was the biological father to your unborn pup.

Apparently, it was a semi big deal, as Ap-tui is the Firstborn of his bearer’s bloodline. Bhu’kei explained that, essentially, Firstborns split from their bearer’s clan when they bear or sire a pup of their own. This results in the Firstborn creating their own clan, one adjacent to their bearer’s, and in Yautja culture the position holds some weight.

It also surprised you to learn that, up until now, Ap-tui had not sired a single pup. Strange, considering he’s an elder Blooded warrior, not quite as old or experienced to be considered an Elder, but certainly no Youngblood. He should have already had many sucklings since accomplishing his Chiva, and learning that he didn’t— and that yours would be the first— filled you with a sense of pride.

Your baby with him would begin his clan with strength and status. Arrangements would need to be made, certain rites and bureaucratic agreements, but those could be saved for the future. You would give him his clan.

For now, you simply wrap your arms around Ap-tui’s torso, his corded muscles hot and strong under your arms. You kiss his shoulder.

“He also told me that’s very important.” You continue, and you kiss his reptilian-like mahogany hide again. This time, Ap-tui turns his head to look back at you, mandibles relaxed but set. His eyes look troubled.

“I am… conflicted.” He admits, and it must take all his strength to swallow his Yautja pride, if only for that little confession. You hum, and take a couple steps around him to settle yourself on his lap. Your hands rub at his broad pectoral muscles, fingers purposely catching on the twine-like string of his netted outfit.

Ap-tui looks away, jaws flaring and pulling tight rhythmically. You stare at his face, then at the scar he has that runs jagged across the crown of his head— One he received on a hunt when searching for a gift for you. The kiande amedha th’syra sits on the trophy wall in your quarters back on the hunting party’s ship, as do other gifts from the others.

“Mm. I could tell.” You reply, placing one of your hands on the side of his face. Gingerly, you turn his head so that he faces you directly, thumb rubbing lazy circles on the bone of his eye socket. A slow smile pulls the corners of your mouth up, and Ap-tui watches with hawk-like precision as your cute pink tongue wets your bottom lip.

He meets your gaze, your ooman eyes half-lidded and hungry.

“What troubles you?” You murmur, leaning in and kissing the scales above where his quad-rhythm heartbeat resides. He can tell you are trying to seduce him to wheedle out his deepest concerns. Ap-tui shivers a growl, heat settling in his bones, and he has to resist the urge to flood the yurt with his dia-shui.

“I do not want to risk you.” He confesses, running a gentle claw down the side of your face, admiring your soft, plump flesh. Ooman faces have always been captivating to him: The way you wear your emotions— blatant and raw and unforgiving.

“You’re not.” You kiss his palm as it comes to cup your cheek, and smile, “None of you are.”

Ap-tui is still hesitant and stubborn.

“Gestation may leech you.”

“Maybe— Who knows?”

His large paws trap your waist, claws brushing your skin, causing goosebumps to pepper your flesh.

“Birth will be disastrous. Perhaps fatal.”

“Isn’t it always?”

You cling to Ap-tui like he’s your lifeline. His dia-shui permeates the air, honeying it. The glaze of your arousal drives him wild. His pupils dilate to eclipse his fiery irises. He cannot help himself when he asks,

“Would you do it again? Bear our pups like a lou-dte kale?”

“Yes.”

You did not leave Ap-tui’s yurt for nearly two days.

—

The beginning months of pregnancy really only made your body fatigued and your mind sluggish. You found yourself sleeping far more often, usually clocking out well before the sun set past the horizon. This was usually in tandem to sleeping in until Ta’kaa or Th’chi awoke you to either let you know your mates would be going on a kv’var, or to just get you out from your bed of furs.

The latter usually resulted in them receiving the brunt of your sour mood and cold shoulder— A feat genuinely impressive, considering the lengths you’d go to shirk them.

Until, of course, you came to them in near tears, apologizing profusely and requiring many assurances. They would purr for you until all the wetness from your eyes dried. Th’chi especially did not like seeing you cry.

It was another can of worms pregnancy hormones opened: Mood swings.

—

You’re sure that this may be the angriest you’ve ever been.

The day could not be going worse: Th’chi wakes you at the asscrack of dawn, he doesn’t even bother helping you fix a fire for your breakfast, and then teases you to no end like he usually does, but this time he’s crossed the line.

Fury— molten hot and rising— boils under your skin. Such an intense anger you have to clench your hands into fists. You’re shaking.

“What. Did. You. Say. To. Me?” You growl through grit teeth, each word holding a venom that Th’chi is surprised you have within you, but he pays it no mind. It’ll take more than an angry oomani-di to threaten him. So, he only chortles, lilting his head. His eyes are mirthful, and you want to bash his face in.

“I said: You are rounding out impressively considering it’s only your forth month of gestation.” Th’chi says simply, poking the swell of your belly. Truly, despite only being four months along, you easily look as though you may be six. A side effect of carrying a fetus that’s almost too big for your womb.

That doesn’t dispel the fact that Th’chi is standing before you, a shit-eating look in his eye, and telling you that he thinks you’re fat. You already have been struggling with your changing body and self image. Th’chi only confirms your fears.

“I must also say, your thighs are fattening nicely as well.”

Th’chi must know he’s digging his own grave. He’s not this stupid. Or maybe he is. You’re starting to not care either way.

Bhu’kei has enough sense to stay put on the opposite side of camp.

Ta’kaa, Ap-tui, and Van’chaa have made themselves scarce. Faintly, you recall Van’chaa muttering something about an impromptu kv’var and cursing his younger brother’s name.

This is Th’chi’s mess.

You take a deep breath.

And then Hell breaks loose.

—

By the time you’ve finished your rant, you’re panting, hot in the face, and immediately regretting every word that came out of your mouth. Th’chi looks shocked, his shoulders set, and your heart breaks further when his eyes go stony and hard. He growls lightly, then pivots on his heel and stalks off, clearly upset.

Bhu’kei is looking at you, incredulous, but he only snorts and shakes his head. A pang of regret makes your heart clench behind your ribs. Oh God.

Salvaging whatever remaining anger you have, you turn on your heel and wander off to Ap-tui’s yurt that is halfway across camp. You don’t look back.

The second the yurt door closes, the heat of your anger completely dissipates and leaves you cold with shame and regret. Embarrassment, almost as liquid hot as the wrath before, comes crashing down on you. Immediately, you want to run back out and jump into Th’chi’s arms and tell him over and over how much you love him.

“Oh my God.” Your head falls into your palms, hot tears finally breaking through and wetting your lashes and hands. You said some absolutely heinous things to your mate, words that you made sure would sting. Sniffling wetly, you lower yourself on the edge of Ap-tui’s nest, wringing your fingers in the fibers of the fur beneath you.

Part of you wonders if you should just stay here until the situation blows over. Another, louder part of you screams to tell you to suck it up and go apologize. A few minutes pass as you let yourself cry some more and ponder. The louder part wins: Shame is a powerful beast.

You rise (an action becoming harder and harder with your swelling middle) and make your way out Ap-tui’s yurt.

—

Hesitant steps take you to Th’chi’s personal yurt that sits adjacent to Bhu’kei’s. Said Yautja is where you last saw him, his midnight hide blending him into the dark metal of his yurt. He dips his head when he sees you and whickers in support when you stall in front of Th’chi’s door. His golden eyes are soft when he says, “Go to him. He needs only your presence.”

You smile sadly and nod, placing one hand atop the door’s biometric scanner and the other on your belly. The door opens and you step inside the yurt. His space smells like home.

When you spot Th’chi lounging on his bed, tears bubble up and spill over again, and he only clicks and opens his arms to you. You bound over as fast as you can, practically tossing yourself into his arms. He’s warm, and his chest begins to rumble with purrs— Calming, like the way that Yautja males do for distressed females.

“‘M sorry.” You mumble against Th’chi’s chest, “I dunno what came over me.”

He chitters, smoothing a palm down your hair like he’s petting you. His hand cradles the back of your skull and holds you close. Th’chi has dealt with the wrath of Yautja both in combat and in mating— Your spat was nothing short of amusing to him. Sure, your words had been hurtful in the moment, but he knew that none of them reflected your true intentions.

“Such fire, little mate.” He teases, tusks tickling your tear-stricken cheeks, “Our little sain’ja.”

Thankfully, his disregard for your outburst and comforting words lends to your tears to stop so profusely flowing. One of his rough thumbs smooths across the arch of cheek and wipes away the tears. Th’chi has never understood why and how oomans leak from their eyes (seems incredibly inconvenient) but he hates when you do.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it.” You can’t help but say again, kissing his sternum. Th’chi only purrs louder, the velvety rumble beckoning your now exhausted self to sleep. You press closer to him, shifting in his lap as he grabs a fur to toss around your shoulders.

“I forgive you. Words spoken in the heat of anger often lack substance.” He replies, mandibles quivering when you place kisses to his chin. Th’chi will never admit it out loud, but he loves and desires your kisses like no other. He especially loves when your weird fleshy lips press against his face.

“I said such terrible things, Th’chi. I don’t know if I can forgive myself.” You murmur between soft pecks you leave on his slate blue skin, around the quills that grow from his collarbones. The hand he has on the back of your skull trembles almost imperceptibly before moving to grip your chin. Th’chi holds you as if you are glass.

“A Yautja female would never even entertain the thought of apologizing to a male. Even if she’s wronged him. Little mate,” Th’chi guides your eyes to look up at him, “You are more precious to me than the kv’var. You show yin’tekai in being here, with me, sharing my yurt and bearing my kin.”

Th’chi’s canary yellow eyes bore into yours. They look like twin suns.

“I love you, you big dope, y’know that?” You blubber after a stretch of silence, tears falling down your cheeks again, and this time Th’chi understands this wetness to mean you are happy.

He still doesn’t like it, so he purrs even louder to calm you down. You fall asleep only minutes later.

—

The mood swings began to taper around the time other parts of your body began to really feel the pregnancy. It was difficult to be distracted with your haywire emotions when your back started to hurt at all times, you were thirsty and hungry at all times, you peed a lot, and your ankles and hips were sore (and not the pleasant sore from having sex with one or more of your Yautja).

Not to mention the bowling ball that sat in your belly. The pup was big, heavy, and it was active. Your organs started to feel like punching bags. Especially your bladder, which is what your pup seemed to favor jabbing a foot into. It also liked squirming around when you slept, so the lack of sleep was fun.

And then there was the debacle with your breasts. It seemed that your human pregnancy hormones went into hyperdrive to compensate for the Yautja pup growing in your womb. The pup would need thrice the amount of milk as a human child once it was born, and the moment you entered your approximate second trimester, your already tender breasts ballooned to sizes you thought unimaginable.

At first, it was difficult to reconcile your new, curvaceous bosom— Often you found yourself weeping at the sight of your engorged chest. Your swollen, flush tits hung nearly to your waist on either side of your round belly, nipples darkened and pointed straight to the floor. You missed your old breasts, and mourned the fact that they’d never be the same again.

Not to mention that they were awfully heavy, like two pendulous dumbbells that pulled at your upper back muscles. It was enough that your ankles, hips, and lower back ached, but your breasts added your shoulders to the list too.

—

“I can’t look at myself!” You sob into Van’chaa’s netted chest like a baby, blubbering about how much you hate your new figure, and that it makes you feel and look ugly. Van’chaa doesn’t say anything, only patting your head with a gentle paw as you weep against him.

He is desperately confused— Yautja do not suffer the same body issues as oomans do, and he thinks that the near-obsessive paranoia that you display about losing “your figure” is ridiculous. Of course, he would never tell you that directly, especially in the... tender mindset you’re currently in.

You are pregnant, carrying a Yautja pup— a future hunter to an apex predator race. Not to mention a Firstborn of a strong clan. That should bring you honor and respect. It should not bring you despair.

“Little mate,” He decides to coo, nuzzling your hair with his tusks, “No tears. Pregnancy is honorable, and it gives you status. You are like Paya.”

You sniffle, listening to his words and recognizing that Paya is the Yautja deity, and that any form of comparison is a big deal, but your self-image has still been utterly shattered. Confidence that you once had in your body has fallen to the wayside. You tell this to Van’chaa, and he chuffs, then stands up. He looks expectantly down at you, offering his hand, which you take to stand with still a lot of effort.

“Come.” He replies simply, and he starts walking off in the direction of the common yurt, the biggest one in the center of camp where your hunters store miscellaneous goods or shared objects. You walk after him, slowly and with a hand planted on your aching back, ignoring (for now) the hungry look Ta’kaa gives you from across the clearing.

Van’chaa stops at the yurt’s door, opening it and gesturing for you to step in first. You do, keeping your wary gaze on your mate as he strides to the opposite side of the hut, pulling from a wall compartment a sleek black box. Van’chaa strides just as confidently back to you, placing the box in front of you. He opens its top with a click of its latches, like a chest.

The direction of the box prevents you from seeing what Van’chaa is digging for, and you’re about to walk over and see for yourself when the midnight blue Yautja reveals four silver items in his paws. They look like mini gauntlets, obviously made for your human body, but they don’t seem to have any weapons or fancy technology attached.

“Remove your coverings.” Van’chaa rumbles, and the request has you recoiling. The simple white cotton dress you’re wearing really has no special connection to you, but it was one of the few articles of clothing you had. Plus, it was flowy and loose enough for your seemingly ever-growing body and covered up your Problem Areas quite effectively.

“Why?” You ask, shuffling on your feet and Van’chaa can smell your apprehension. He clicks and tilts his head to the side, his long, rubbery black tresses falling past his shoulder.

“Do you trust me, little mate?” He asks, his low, gravelly voice is tender, like the way it gets when he reminisces to you about his bearer on nights when you’re both tipsy on c’ntlip. It’s the same voice he uses when he confesses his love for you under the blanket secrecy of midnight. Van’chaa reaches and cups your cheek in his palm, marveling at how his hand dwarfs you, purring.

“Yes.” You whisper, smiling softly and turning to kiss the palm of his hand. Van’chaa trills in delight, and withdraws his hand to pick up one of the metal cuff-like objects. He holds it out towards you, clicking.

“Then remove your coverings.” He says simple, and with a long, somewhat shaky sigh, you undo the tie at the front of your dress and bare yourself in one swoop. Van’chaa sees the apprehension and disgust towards your own body flash on your face, and once again he is so confused as to why you think so poorly of your own flesh.

He can’t help but marvel— Ooman physiology has always intrigued him, though he’d never admit it out loud. There’s something about the way your oomani-di body is so close to a Yautja female, similar in its curves and decidedly female traits.

And your specific ooman-ness draws him in further. Van’chaa always secretly admired your even, smooth skin, the softness of your plush flesh, your legs and thighs… Admittedly, it had taken him some time to get used to your strange, and by Yautja standards, ugly face, but now he looks forward to it each morning he wakes. He cannot imagine life without you.

Pregnancy does nothing to change his mind on this. If anything, watching your belly swell with pup and your breasts become milk-laden has been… titillating. It arouses some deep intimate, primal fire in his core— One that drives him to the edge (and sometimes over) of desire and back.

Van’chaa wants to lick the taut dome of your belly. He wants to feel you squirm and pant below him, wants to watch those bloated tits of yours bounce in time with his thrusts. One day, he wants to mate you until his seed takes hold. Then he will watch you swell again with his pup. The thought has him relaxing his mandibles.

“Van’chaa?” Your quiet pry pulls him from his reverie and makes him realize that he’d been flooding the air with his dia-shui. You’ve taken notice, as you’ve come to recognize the earthy musk, and your eyelids are now drooped halfway, lustful.

“Wrists. Ankles.” Van’chaa growls, ignoring (for now) the heady scent of your arousal that permeates the air around you. If he glances down, he’ll surely see the slick ambrosia dripping from your cunt. Van’chaa decides today is an exercise in self control. He all but tosses the cuffs to you.

—

The strange cuffs lock around your wrists and ankles firmly, yet gently. When you test one by flexing your arm, the metal seems to have some uncharacteristic give. It feels breathable and acts more like leather than steel. You go to ask Van’chaa why exactly you’re wearing them, when he presses a button on one of the cuffs.

You yelp as netting flows from all four cuffs, racing over your body like water on rocks. It’s very similar to what the Yautja wear beneath their armor, the same black thread-like material. But you can tell it’s stronger, more durable, and somehow it even provides you with some warmth. It must be temperature regulated in some way.

In addition, the net outfit must work in a way that provides support, as the usual pull on your back from your breasts and heavy belly is noticeably lessened. For that, you are eternally grateful.

... However, the net bodysuit— like your mates— acts more like a birthday suit than much else and does very little in the way of modesty. It practically leaves you half naked, though the netting over your crotch does seem to be a bit denser. The same can not be said for your breasts— the netting on your bloated tits and puffy nipples is exceptionally light in comparison.

“Van’chaa, what is this?” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and internally wincing at how much squishy yield your rack gives. He only chitters, those deep-set blue eyes of his shining in what you can only describe as mischief. You watch as his paws disappear back inside of the box, reappearing with a tiny, bird-like skull in hand.

You don’t recognize what animal it may be from— Earthen or otherwise— but you watch with bated breath as Van’chaa, in a way that can only be described as sacred, attaches the skull to the netting at the center of your chest. It sits atop the shelf of your cleavage, a centerpiece for what’s to come.

Van’chaa continues to decorate you, lining bones of all sorts on your hips in alternating patterns, always using sterling white ones. Before he pulls away from you, he adorns your neck with a bone necklace, clicking softly as he does. It’s like he’s whispering prayer, like the necklace of ivory and claws is as if you’re being bestowed a crown.

“Van’chaa...” You breathe, still taken aback at how tenderly and religiously your mate dressed you in items that his people would wear. He secures a leather-like cloth around your hips that ties below the bones on either side. The fabric covers your crotch and backside, giving you at least some modem of modesty. It’s not much, but at least you feel less nude.

Van’chaa pulls away from you, trilling. He’s elated, eyes bright and proud of his handiwork. Then, he visits the box again and this time pulls out a larger, thin item. He sets it in front of you, the glint of its surface catching the light— and your reflection.

It’s a mirror. A long, full body mirror that captures you in all your fat, pregnant glory.

Body covered in fishnet netting, adorned with bones, dressed in leather; You honestly believe this is the most beautiful you’ve felt in a while. Your new body is complimented and spotlighted in this outfit, belly and breasts and all. The slopes and curves of your figure are hugged in a way that doesn’t make you want to look away.

You also notice, for the first time, how beautifully glossy your hair’s become. And the healthy glow on the apples of your cheeks. You look at the strange, bird-like skull on your sternum.

You look like a Yautja.

Van’chaa chuffs beside you, and you break your gaze from your reflection to see him offering you a pair of tiny sandals. The soles look to be made of thick leather, but the ties seem to be a softer material. When you take them from him, it all clicks in your mind.

“Van’chaa... did you make this all for me?” You ask softly, staring at the shoes in your hands before glancing back up at your mate. Van’chaa dips his head once in response, his electric blue eyes alight like lightning. His dia-shui is unavoidable and unignorable.

“Thank you.” You breathe, sighing in content when Van’chaa sweeps you up into his arms and deposits you onto his bed. The plush furs are soft and support you well. Your core is so hot at this point you nearly whimper. The air is glazed and thick and it’s like breathing in honey. Van’chaa situates himself above you, his tresses fall on either side of your head and he leans in close.

“Would you like me to show my thanks?” You coo, kissing the pink flesh of his flared mandibles, meeting his eyes when you lick up one of his tusks. Van’chaa growls in warning. He sees your coy play and calls you on it. One of his paws grips your thighs and spreads you for him. The leather flap is easily moved out of the way and it’s then you notice there’s an opening in the netting at the base of your core.

Easy access, you suppose, and all other thought escapes you when your mate snarls and presses the tent under his loincloth to your aching pussy. His other hand slides up your belly, then cups one of your breasts. Van’chaa squeezes, and you moan.

“Please fuck me.” You gasp, gripping his bicep when his claws toy with your nipple. The bones you wear click together like wind chimes. You say again, desperate and horny and feeling beautiful:

“Please.”

Van’chaa happily obliges.

—

Another milestone you pass during the duration of your pregnancy also has to do with your breasts. Seemingly, they just don’t let you catch a break. Aside from being heavy and bouncy and literally swaying while you walk (despite your new clothes), they’ve also begun to leak.

You lactate for the first time in front of Bhu’kei, right as he’s about to perform the routine health screen on you. Just as the light flickers over your belly (where the pup had been doing flips as of late) you feel... wet. A dampness made itself very known on your chest, then spread.

“Oh my God!” Bhu’kei’s attention snaps back to you at your incredulous remark, and he is met with the sight of you pinching your nipples between your fingers. Thick droplets of milk still leak past and he notices the trails on your belly. Your face has gone ashen and hot at the same time. Bhu’kei recognizes this as mortification.

“You have started your lactation. This is good.” Bhu’kei states with a swift nod of his head and turns back to your scan. Speaking of good, all of your vitals are also stellar. The pup is stable as well. Bhu’kei is content at this knowledge.

“I’m fucking leaking!” Your voice raises an octave and Bhu’kei watches as you scramble to find a cloth to press to your bosom. When your fingers leave your nipples, a white spray occurs that has you yelping and pinching them again, Bhu’kei clicks in amusement, but you shoot him a withering glare.

“Not. Funny. I can’t go around dripping milk everywhere.” You frown, skin feeling moist and sticky from your milk that’s left trails on your belly. You want to wipe it up, but your fingers can’t leave your nipples. Though... the longer you’re pinching to stop the flow, the more your breasts begin to feel... tight.

More so than usual. Like the pressure’s building. Experimentally, you release one of your sensitive nipples and the torrent of milk is powerful enough to spurt from you like a faucet. Your jaw drops.

Bhu’kei whickers, impressed.

The pressure cedes, and when pinch them again, it begins to grow.

It seems your stuck between a rock and a hard place.

You look to Bhu’kei, and your eyes are pleading. You pout, “What do I do now?”

—

The solution Bhu’kei ultimately recommended was unorthodox.

Usually, pumping milk would’ve been an affair saved for after the pup was born, but you started lactating and profusely leaking so early on that it needed to be done. Plus, you and Bhu’kei did not want you to risk developing mastitis, which would be just the cherry-on-top to your pregnancy.

The issue was, the Yautja didn’t have any suitable equipment to perform the duty of pumping, so it had to be done manually. At first, you were able to squeeze your breasts rhythmically, draining milk into large glass vials that would be frozen and stored for later, but your hands soon tired.

So, with the help of your mates, you pumped milk.

—

“Bhu’kei! Bhu’kei! Bhu’kei!”

The only word your mouth seems to know is his name. Your pussy throbs with need, clit aching for contact. Bhu’kei is planted firmly behind you, but he won’t concede and fill your dripping core with his cock. Instead, he rests the hot rod between your ass cheeks, teasing you by thrusting lazily.

It’s all so much. You can hardly breathe. His dia-shui is suffocating in the best way possible. Bhu’kei’s hands are working magic on you.

Large paws alternate the respective tit they squeeze, drawing long streams of milk from your chest. He tweaks and pinches the stiff peaks of your nipples like he’s toying with them. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced— Strange, yet natural, yet absolutely dirty.

You hazy mind and glossy eyes focus enough to process that the glass vial is nearly halfway full. The session is far from over. You don’t want it to end.

It’s almost humiliating. You’re being milked like a fucking cow. But you have Bhu’kei, nearly rabid with horniness, all-too-enthusiastically rutting wildly between your thighs as if he’s experiencing his rut. Hell, maybe he is. You might just be tempting enough to speed up the waiting time.

It became apparent very quickly that lactation did not sway any of the hunting brothers from gladly warming your bed. They fought over who got to help you pump, and the winner, often bloody and bruised, would be bolstered enough to claim you in the middle of camp.

You whine and moan, and Bhu’kei finally relents and on the next thrust the tip of his cock catches on your weeping slit then sinks home. You wail with pleasure, eyes rolling back as Bhu’kei stretches you in one fell swoop. You grip his wrists, feeling the tendons beneath your hands work. Milk is drawn from you. Your face is flush with heat, your hair sticks to the nape of your neck and temples, sweat gathers beneath your belly and the junctions where you are propped on a pile of furs.

“Bhu’kei!~” You bay his name like a wounded dog, high pitched and airy, and he starts to thrust with fervor. He snarls and growls, gripping your tits firm, but remembering to perform the job. Bhu’kei won’t admit, but it’s becoming harder and harder to focus on aiding you with pumping when your tight, hot cunt is stretched around his shaft.

Mating you is always like this: Soft, raw, and wet like the humid jungle around you. Bhu’kei doesn’t even consider taking you to his yurt like he did earlier, the low growling and pointed glares of his hunting brothers around him is far too satisfying.

He catches the stare of Ap-tui and purposely gives you a sharp thrust that has you gasping just to spite him. His cousin flares his mandibles, his own dia-shui flooding around him. The same can be said of the others as well, all the Yautja males bristle and pace like ravenous wolves wanting a bite of the ripe flesh before them.

Bhu’kei understands fully. You are beneath him like prey, spread out and whining and quivering... How could anyone not find you tempting?

“Her cunt is sweet. Tight and soft and wet. My cock is blessed.” Bhu’kei teases the hunting party and a chorus of roars and growls lifts the air. You’re too far gone to comprehend it. Bhu’kei slides the blunt of tusks down the side of your cheek, trapping you beneath him. His cock works in tandem with his hands.

“Come for me.” He urges you, whickering into your ear. Tears of pleasure roll down your cheeks. It’s all so much. Bhu’kei draws back, then thrusts and hits the special, spongy part inside your cunt.

You orgasm so hard you pass out.

The pumping session had to come to an end.

—

In general, your pregnancy had relatively few hiccups along the way. Most of the time you and your mates spent preparing for the upcoming birth, stocking enough food to last so that none of them had to leave your side until well after you’d given birth. It was something you wanted, just time with them and your new pup for a little while.

Thus, the days were often long and unexciting. You and your mates either fucked or slept or ate. They would take turns leaving for a couple days to replenish more food. The Yautja would sometimes fight one another for entertainment, and to keep their abilities sharp.

In the waning months of pregnancy, however, something eventful did occur.

You were nearly nine and a half months along when your party received a visitor. A Yautja ship appeared out of the blue, snapping your mates into action. They suited up in full armor, on edge.

Apparently, it’s bad form to intrude on occupied hunting territories without an invitation (which your party never gave) or asking first (which they never did). So when the ship landed, your already peeved Yautja were downright hostile towards whoever was bold enough to invade their space.

Ap-tui was particularly pissed, being the hunt leader and all. You had never seen him that bristly before.

But then the most curious turn of events happened.

The ship's docking bay opened to reveal a very tall, very tough looking, very female Yautja.

—

yautja translations

Chiva → the trial of which a Youngblood Yautja is Blooded should they succeed in killing a kiande amedha (Xenomorph) c’ntlip → a Yautja alcoholic beverage dia-shui → musk, specifically that of a male lou-dte kale → child maker (derogatory) ooman / oomani-di → human / human female Paya → Yautja creation goddess sain’ja → warrior yin’tekai → honor

#the predator #predator #aliens vs predator #avp #yautja #predator x you #yautja fanfic #yautja x reader #yautja x you #predator x reader #yautja x human #yautja oc #predator oc #predator x human

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6lostgirl6 · 1 year

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Thanks to encouragement from my bestie @prettywhenibleed I am gonna start off my yautja writing career by writing your yautja boyfriend playing just dance.

You think he wouldn’t pull it off??

#yautja #yautja boyfriend #yautja mate #predator 1987 #predator series #alien vs predator #yautja x human #yautja fanfic #crackfic #is it a crack fic?#Idk

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ateliersss · 4 months

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He Shan‘t Lose

Pairing: Yautja x F!Reader Summary: Mere two months ago, you returned home after the incident on Earth. Now you were back, ready to indulge yourself and go on the weekly "date night" with your mate. If only your unborn pup had better timing… Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 6,716 Part 1: here Part 2: here

⇨ Oh, I missed my Mi‘ytiar.

⇨ I can't believe I finally got this done and I'm able to present this to you. Also, my birthday, guys! God, I'm 20 and I already feel old. Please spoil me with comments, re-blogs and likes.

“Toyou, go! Go! Good boy.” You laughed as you watched your four-legged companion chase after the trail he had scented.

Hell Hounds, they were called, and probably the closest thing to a pet you could get on Yautja Prime. You learned quickly, after your first encounter with them, that they were similar to the hounds on Earth, and like hounds on Earth, they had one purpose — hunting prey.

Unlike a curious Beagle, a devoted Pointer or a stubborn Basset Hound, Hell Hounds were more similar to Yautjas than dogs, both in looks and characteristics. But you still could recognize some traits that reminded you of your childhood dog.

You didn’t hunt with Hell Hounds often — it was more special and intimate when it was just you and Mi‘ytiar — but your mate had insisted that at least one of them should accompany you. As experience showed, the two of you had to split up at times; sometimes he also kept in the shadows, high on top of a tree, to watch you hunt on your own. It was simply a safety measure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t handle the prey on your own. The creatures you hunted were either as small as a cat or as big as a horse. They were insignificant opponents, laughable for a Yautja and not nearly on their hunting standard, but Mi‘ytiar felt different. He didn‘t care how tiny or weak the prey was compared to him.

It wasn't about him, after all.

Those hunts were solely for you, so you could be a part of his culture without him having to worry about endangering your life.

He had been ecstatic when you voiced your wish years ago for him to teach you how to hunt, how to track and kill as it was custom on his home planet. And even now, after you had exceeded his expectations, he still was immensely proud of you every time you succeeded.

No, Toyou wasn’t only there for tracking or for flushing out his targets, but also for guarding. You were in the final stages of your pregnancy, and your strength, your speed and your stamina had decreased, leaving you more vulnerable should prey ambush you.

Speaking of Toyou, he had been gone for quite some time.

“Toyou?” You called, whistled, and waited for a moment for him to return to you.

When you neither could hear him bark or see him running towards you, you tried calling him again, “Toyou?”

And again.

“To–”

The other half of his name turned into a strained whimper as a stabbing pain pierced through your body, coming from your stomach. You stifled a scream, but when something wet suddenly ran down your legs, a shaky breath escaped your lips.

You knew what this meant.

Your water just broke.

“Oh no. Not now, my sweetling.”

Clutching your stomach, breathing in and out, you slowly approached a tree and practically slumped against it. One of your hands gripped the meaty texture of the tree trunk for support, the other snaked down and between your thighs. When you pulled your hand back, it was coated with the clear substance of the amniotic fluid.

And blood. There was also blood on your fingers, but it was nothing too alarming. When you had been pregnant with Akail, there had been blood too, but it was still an unsettling sight to you.

“Ahhh!” You cried out as another wave of agonizing pain washed through you, your head thrown back.

As much as you had enjoyed the mostly perfect pregnancy, you had completely forgotten about birthing the pup at the end. Maybe you had just pushed the whole thing aside, since the mere memory of Akail‘s birth was still able to install that deep-rooted dread within your body.

You went into labor when both moons were at their zenith.

Mi’ytiar, who had slept peacefully next to you, was hovering over you the second you tried to wake him up.

It took one panicked look from you and he knew what was going on.

He got up from his lying position on your nest and knelt beside you.

You had already pushed the furs you used as a blanket to the side and he saw your legs shining with moisture in the moonlight.

“My water broke.” You faintly answered his silent question. “Our little one is coming.”

Mi’ytiar was on high alert as he knew what that meant.

He tried to lift you into his arms, his mind fully set on bringing you to Cahrein, the healer, but unfortunately a contraction hit you right at that moment. The pain plus the one you felt as Mi’ytiar lifted you up ripped a heart-wrenching scream from your throat.

It hurt so very much that you punched him out of instinct, an instinct telling you to do anything to stop the pain, hitting him right in the face.

You looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh God, Mi‘ytiar. I’m so sorry.”

His heart clenched at that.

You shouldn’t apologize. He’d barely felt the impact anyways, your human strength too weak to actually hurt him, but he didn’t deserve to not feel anything.

He should have felt pain, should have been knocked from his feet.

He had hurt you, had caused you more pain than you were already feeling.

You noticed the guilty expression on your mate’s face and grabbed his hand. “It’s okay, tahní. It‘s o–”

You cut yourself off as you pressed your lips together while another contraction hit you.

“–kay. It’s okay.” You panted, “Just get Cahrein.”

Mi’ytiar shook his head determinedly as he placed his free hand on yours, which clasped his other hand in a death grip.

“Cannot leave you.” He growled.

Another contraction made you cry out, “Mi’ytiar, please!”

It took a lot of persuasion for him to finally leave your side to get the healer.

You understood that he didn‘t want to leave you on your own, out of fear something bad would happen to you if he let you out of his sight only for a second, but you needed Cahrein to deliver your son safely.

The healer had gotten to work as soon as his eyes met your tiny, withering body. Putting aside the various instruments he had taken with him — you recognized them from one of your visits where he had shown you which ones he used for births — he helped you to remove the panties that you wore with the little piece of clothing you called nightie, which you had already pulled up, over your bulging stomach, and out of the way.

Usually, you and your mate slept naked with nothing shielding you from each other’s skin, but since you got closer and closer to due-day you wanted to be prepared. You wanted to keep at least a little of your dignity, not wanting to lie completely bare in front of Cahrein.

Even though you knew he wouldn‘t care, taking his job far too seriously for that, your body in all its naked glory was meant for Mi’ytiar‘s eyes and Mi’ytiar‘s eyes only.

With your mate on one side and the healer on the other, you spent hours in indescribable agony.

Mentally, you were so far gone, blacking out for a second here and there. You barely caught how Mi’ytiar was insistently talking to you, or how Cahrein alternately injected you with a transparent and a bright green fluid.

It felt like a miracle when the unbearable pain decreased bit by bit, but not fully disappeared. Your fuzzy mind and your blurry view started to clear.

With the pain now more bearable, you could finally focus on the natural instinct that told you to push.

What you didn’t know was that the following screams and cries woke up the clan in alarm, gathering almost everyone in front of your home, eagerly awaiting the new addition.

This occasion was special, after all. Their fierce and mighty leader was expecting his first pup, something no one had expected to happen. Ever.

The tense uncertainty inside and outside of your home dissipated as soon as the whiny squeals of your newborn pup finally filled the air.

“Such a bad timing, my sweetling.” You mewled.

Tears were gathering in your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. You didn’t know if it was because of the pain of the contractions, which were now four minutes apart, or out of fear of being all alone in a hostile environment.

With your tongue between your teeth, you waited until the pain subsided, fully intending to call for your mate, but when you did, his name only escaped your lips in a short-winded whisper.

It was like you couldn’t breathe.

Biting back a sob, you formed your hand into a fist and hit your chest repeatedly, trying to get yourself to breathe regularly again. And when you thought you had enough air in your lungs, you bellowed, “Mi’ytiar!”

Your breath hitched and tears finally streamed down your cheeks. You bend your upper body forward and towards the tree, and pressed the palms of your hands against the tree trunk. With your head facing the ground, tears left your eyes, rolled down the bridge of your nose before dripping down the tip to the forest floor.

You were crying and panting, your body clenching every time another contraction hit you.

“Mi’ytiar, please, please… I need you… please, please.” You begged, your voice barely audible.

Contentment.

That’s all you could feel as you adjusted your lying position on the soft fur and the woolen and cotton fabrics of your nest. It was living up to its name as it reminded you of an actual nest, a bird’s nest; just as round but with more comfortable materials. Mi’ytiar had been very picky, something that amused you to no end.

That and the fireplace embedded into the floor, enclosing the round platform the nest was on, kept you warm and cozy.

You and the pup that was sleeping on your chest.

Little Akail let out little purrs while he enjoyed the warmth of his mother’s body that kept him tranquil and happy.

Only ten hours old and he already had such a significant place in this clan and his parent’s hearts.

You hummed quietly to your pup, only looking up from the endearing sight when Mi’ytiar entered your home and came to a halt in front of your nest, taking in the very welcome view of his (tantalizing naked) mate and his newborn son.

“Don’t get any ideas.” You warned him playfully when you noticed his heated gaze racking over your body.

“Back on Earth, some parents hold their babies like this. The skin and warmth forges a strong bond between them and the baby can get used to its parents’ touch.” You explained, your fingers slowly caressing Akail‘s back.

Mi’ytiar only clicked his mandibles in acknowledgment before he started to take off his armor and his traditional clothing as clan leader.

You had to bite your lower lip, reminding yourself of your own scolding words only seconds ago, but you simply couldn’t help yourself. Your mate was a fine specimen, a strong and gorgeous Yautja. You were one hell of a lucky woman.

You watched him get on the nest, now only dressed in his loin cloth, and he moved on his knees towards you.

You wrapped an arm around Akail — still curled up into a ball with his head tucked under your chin and his feet resting on your belly — and got up into a sitting position.

Mi’ytiar grabbed you by your thigh and hip, lifted you up and pulled you to him so you were sitting on his thighs while your legs were wrapped around the width of his hips.

He lopped his arms around you, drawing you into an embrace, so little Akail was now nestled between both of his parents’ warm bodies.

The smile that had grown on your lips since the moment Mi’ytiar had entered your home was now so bright and wide your cheeks started to hurt.

But you didn’t really care. You couldn‘t hide the sheer happiness you were feeling right now at this moment.

You felt movement against your throat and above the valley of your breasts, and when you looked down as best as you could manage, you saw Akail nuzzle his face into your skin while his tiny hand was now lying on your chest where your heart was beating.

You wanted to cry happy tears.

You had never expected to become a mother, never planned on it, never even remotely wanted it if you were being honest, but having your baby now in your arms made every antipathy disappear.

You placed a soft kiss on Akail‘s head, using as little pressure as possible so he wouldn’t wake up.

“He’s perfect.” You whispered and looked up at Mi’ytiar who was already watching you intently. “Are you happy?”

He cocked his head to the side, his chest vibrating when he confirmed, “Happy.”

He felt Akail‘s small body against his own, felt his tiny body press against his every time he was breathing.

Breathing.

A beating heart.

Alive.

He loosened the embrace of one of his arms around your body to reach between the two of you and for his son, his fingers tracing from Akail‘s forehead to the back of his head — there, he had the same scale pattern as his father, only with reversed colors — and from his temple over the hints of dreads on each side of his little head with his thumb.

Akail was indeed perfect, just like his mother, and he loved him with all his heart already, but the price he almost had to pay for having him here…

“I thought I would lose you today.” He admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

You lifted your head from where it had been resting on his chest to look up at him with a small smile.

“For a second, I thought I would never see you again. I thought I would never meet our son." You nodded, thinking about the sharp pain and the feeling of life leaving your body as your pup fought his way out of you. “But Cahrein had prepared me as well as he was able to. He helped me through it. Who knows, hadn’t he injected me with your blood…”

You trailed off when Akail began to stir. You quickly started to rock him up and down, luring him back to sleep.

“He’s a very gifted male. I’ve trusted him with my life since the first time we visited him together after my arrival here so many moons ago.”

You adjusted your arm and its hold on Akail, the other reached up and cupped Mi’ytiar’s cheek. You let your fingertips glide over the scaly texture of his skin and dragged them over his jaw to his chin, down his throat to the middle of his chest.

“He also told me that I would be able to give you another pup in a foreseeable future…”

Mi’ytiar frowned, asking skeptically, “After what you gone through today?”

You shrugged and leaned your head forward, your cheek pressed against his pec. “I’m not talking about now or tomorrow, my love, but someday. In a few years, maybe.”

Mi’ytiar bristled, a loud rumble shaking his torso. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He shook his head, a very human gesture in your eyes. “You almost died.”

You smiled into his skin. Protective through and through, even when it came to his own offspring.

You were incredibly lucky to be chosen by a Yautja like him.

It was rare for them to be interested in a human. It was rarer for them to treat that human like an equal instead of a slave or one of many lovers. It was the rarest for a human to be injected with Yautja blood to largely adapt to their DNA and enable life on their planet.

And Mi’ytiar told you himself — you were the only human ever being Life-Mated to a Yautja who carried his offspring and had a similar leading role as him as the mate of a leader; all in one.

You were the rarest of the rarest, a uniqueness, something completely new.

But humans had birthed Yautja-Human-hybrids long before you, most of them more than one or two.

“The next time will be different, Mi’ytiar. My body will be stronger and mentally I will be more prepared.” You told him and peppered his chest with feather-light kisses before you looked up at him again, a loving smile on your lips. “You shan’t lose me.”

You whimpered in relief when you finally heard the familiar growling bark of a Hell Hound.

“Toyou!” You called, “I’m… here!”

You felt something move under you and fill the free space between your bend-over position against the tree. You opened your eyes, which you had closed to calm yourself and your breath, and looked down to see the Hound’s face already fixed on yours.

“N‘yaka-de. Get him.” You panted and watched as Toyou turned around to run.

When he suddenly stopped to walk hesitantly back to you, not liking the fact he was about to leave you behind who was obviously in distress, you stomped with your foot and yelled, “Toyou, fucking now!”

He darted off and you felt a tinge of guilt for lashing out. After all, he was loyal and a surprisingly good cuddle partner.

“Argh!” You cried out when another stabbing sensation almost made your legs give out.

Once again it felt like you were being torn apart, but at least you didn‘t feel like you were closer to death than life like at Akail‘s birth over 30 years ago. You were kind of proud of yourself, actually, considering you were still able to stand.

Yeah, standing against a tree for support instead of lying in your warm and soft nest where you had actually planned to deliver your second pup. You didn‘t want to give birth in an unsafe environment, with no Mi’ytiar and no Cahrein.

But who would have expected that your pup was ready to be welcomed into the world on a hunt?

You did.

You had felt premature labor pains for two days now, but you hadn’t paid them any mind as Akail was born only six days after those pains had started.

But even those pains had felt different in those two days, so why hadn‘t you just listened to your body when it undoubtedly told you “No!” while you answered Mi’ytiar‘s question “Hunt?” with an enthusiastic “Yes!” ?

You knew the answer to that, too.

While women on Earth had to stop certain activities at one point in their pregnancy and were limited in their doings, Yautja females could still follow their everyday lives throughout their whole pregnancy. Meaning, they could still jump from one obstacle to another, chase their prey and kill it.

Thinking that you were able to do that too had been utterly stupid and arrogant, but you just didn’t want to seem weak. Yes, the clan had accepted you and saw you as one of them, as the mate of their leader, but you couldn’t stop the suffocating need to prove yourself again and again.

It was unnecessary. Mi’ytiar had told you that, Cahrein had told you that, the Females you liked to spend your time with and considered friends told you that and, hell, even a few Males that were close to your mate told you that.

But here you were, crying and groaning, when another contraction cursed through your body. You regretted leaving your cozy home, regretted not being pampered by your loving mate in your nest, and regretted leaving your son behind, who had been by your side all the time, hovered over you in case he had to step in should you need anything in your state, followed you around like a lost puppy if you weren’t napping in your nest.

It reminded you of the time when he had been much younger and much smaller. He had been practically attached to your hip and everywhere you went, he was there. He had been such an adorable and shy little boy. Who were you kidding? He still was, but you missed those times anyway. He had grown up too fast.

You were nervous.

With your arms wrapped tightly around your body, you watched the hustle and bustle in the distance. They were preparing for the departure of the five Young Bloods who would soon leave for a faraway world to hunt and complete their initiation into Adulthood.

Among them was your son, your Akail, who would leave you for who knows how long to presumably search for the largest and most dangerous beast and kill it to prove himself.

Just like his father, you thought.

In the first year of your relationship, Mi'ytiar had told you everything imaginable about himself, and one evening about his own initiation ritual. He had told you how reckless and sure of himself he had been as a Young Blood, how he threw himself into danger to impress his clan.

Although that had secured his position as leader, he’d summoned his son the day before to admonish him to proceed with caution, to be logical and strategic, and to not let arrogance control him.

Lost in worried thoughts, you didn't notice as Mi'ytiar approached you, dropped to one knee and pulled you to his torso with his strong arms. He nuzzled his face into your hair, his mandibles running through it.

He loved your hair. It was just as soft as the rest of you.

“What on your mind, yawne?” He asked.

“I’m scared.” You breathed.

“On your home planet, oomans worry too when child leaves?”

You put your hand on one of his arms that was wrapped around you. “They do, but not like this. On Earth, human children leave the safety of their homes every day to go to school, to learn, and then they will return. In a few hours Akail will leave the safety of his home to finish school, so to say, but will he return?” You told him absentmindedly, your attention still fixed on the ship. “Human parents don't have to fear that particular day when their children go on a journey to possibly get killed just because of a custom.”

You felt his arms tighten around you. “Do not be scared.” He said.

“I can’t help it. I’m his mother.”

Mi'ytiar let out a chuckle that sounded more like a growl than an actual laugh.

“And I his father.” He said and turned you around, not loosening the close embrace. “I trained him well. Made him strong and made him smart. Doubting my skills, yawne?”

Although he had already lowered himself, reducing his height to be closer to you, you still had to raise your head to look at him.

God, you loved his eyes. Even though there were rare variations at times among their kind — sometimes a lighter shade, sometimes a darker shade, sometimes more orange than yellow — the eyes of all Yautja had the same color.

But to you, Mi'ytiar’s eyes were different, even though one couldn’t possibly spot a difference when he was standing next to other Yautja. To you, they were brighter, more intense, more expressive. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at you, with so much gentle affection and love you wouldn't credit a beast of his stature with.

“Of course I’m not. I could never.”

You suddenly could feel large arms engulfing your body from behind, pulling you into an upright-standing position, and you just let yourself instinctively fall into their embrace.

You knew those limbs, knew their warmth and their strength.

“Mi’ytiar, the pup… the pup is coming.” You panted and dug your fingernails into his forearm.

You felt him move behind you. He lifted you up, his arms supporting your back and the back of your knees as he held you to his torso. He briefly registered how you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck before he took off.

He ran like he never did. At the same time, he was careful not to let your body jolt around too much as he jumped over fallen tree trunks and climbed rocks to reach the Scout Ship while you clung to him.

Every time a contraction hit, he could feel your body tense in his arms and your mouth press against his chest as you muffled another scream.

Oh, how he wished he could take away the pain, but at least it wasn’t as horrible as it was at Akail’s birth.

Mi’ytiar remembered your glistening tears and your little withering body, how you had squeezed his hand so hard that even he had felt pain and how you had begged both him and Cahrein to stop it. Especially the fear of death in your eyes haunted him to this day.

He had almost lost you — you, his precious human — all those years ago and it had been his entire fault.

The possibility of becoming a father had been zero, non-existent, and at one point in his life, he had accepted the fact that he may be not meant to be a father. He stopped caring and someday just forgot about it entirely. The wish to continue his line like any proud leader faded away and instead he settled for the idea of passing on his knowledge and experiences to the pups and Younglings of his people.

Then he met you, this petite beautiful thing, when he was lounging on a building near an alley. He heard you before he saw you, heard you and them.

They were calling you strange names and were whistling after you before they decided to follow you down the street. Trying to escape them, you took a left turn and quickened your strides as you crossed the alley.

Mi’ytiar, who was attracted by the noises, slid down the rooftop and soundlessly landed on the metal balcony of one of the apartments. Even from the third floor, he had a perfect view of what was happening down in the alley as the men grabbed you, pushed and pulled on you, and he felt mildly impressed when you started fighting back; kicking, scratching and screaming.

The men’s playful, taunting behavior quickly turned fatal when one of them, fed up with your attempts to flee, slapped you so hard across the face that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and fell backwards to the ground.

Your screams quickly turned desperate when one of them pushed up your skirt and tore on your panties, mumbling something about teaching you a lesson, while his companions held you down.

At this point, Mi’ytiar knew something had been wrong. Mating between a Yautja male and female consisted of fighting each other, too, but not like this; not with more than one male and not with the female resisting long after the male fought the female into submission.

Your behavior told him everything he needed to know — you weren’t even close to being interested in mating with those males — and before things could get any worse, he jumped down and killed those who forced themselves on you.

By the time four bodies in various morbid states of dismemberment were littering the alley, your whole body was trembling as you stayed on the ground, cowering.

He had crouched down to your level and one of his bloodied claws reached out to touch your face, your horror-widened eyes watching him with caution.

To him you were what a kitten was to a human. You were so small, he noted, so small and soft and pink. He also thought you were beautiful, contrastive to what Yautja usually thought about your kind. He took you with him that night and the rest was history.

Even though you weren’t a suitable mate, his clan begrudgingly accepted the idea of a human being with their leader. He couldn’t have pups anyway, so why not just let him indulge himself and let him seek happiness and pleasure in other things?

And then, one day, you told him about your wish to carry his pup. He had been excited, absolutely ecstatic, but not about the image of your rounding belly with his offspring — he knew he was unable to have one — and rather about the fact that you were willing to mate with him in a way that could lead to a child. The fact you loved him and trusted him enough was all he cared about.

As much as he loved his son, he should have done something the second both of you learned that you were pregnant. He had been so overjoyed his human mate was extraordinarily able to have his pup that he never thought about possible consequences.

Anyone would have had serious doubts and would have objected because there was no way a human would survive that, but Mi’ytiar didn’t, too blown away by the prospect of becoming a father.

That changed as the day of the pup being due crept closer and closer, and slowly worry and fear set in.

And to make one thing clear: if you hadn’t been injected with Yautja blood from the beginning — first daily, then weekly, then monthly, until it stopped years ago — you wouldn’t have made it and Akail would have torn you apart from the inside out.

He was glad that Cahrein had kept a cool head and realized that his blood would help you when all other means had failed.

It was like history was repeating itself as he tried to focus on the task at hand — getting you to the ship — and not let the fluid running down his arms and body distract him. He wished he hadn’t dared to look down, to look down and see the blood you were losing, coming from a source that was his fault.

Why did he let you convince him to have a second pup? Why did the mere thought of getting you pregnant again make him so ignorant of your near-death experience? Why did he listen to Cahrein when he told the both of you that another pup was possible? Why did he forget that you weren’t like his kind?

His heavy, thumping footsteps suddenly sounded different, and when you pulled your face away from his chest to look around, you noticed the soft earth of the forest had been replaced by the cold metal of the ship.

As careful and gentle as he could in his rattled state, he put you down on the closest surface he could find — the table used for planning, briefing and orientation with several holo-maps — and slammed his fist down on the surface. He growled and hissed a few words you couldn’t understand. Your translating earpieces were perfectly fine, but your brain was only picking up the pain shooting through your body instead of noticing any stimuli from your surroundings.

You were so out of it, the tears blurring your view, that you missed the conversation between Mi’ytiar and the holographic image of Cahrein.

“Mi’ytiar.” Cahrein greeted his leader in the customary way of placing his left fist on the right side of his chest while slightly bowing down his head.

“The pup is coming.” Mi’ytiar said without hesitation, straight to the point.

Cahrein rounded the table to stand next to him and he leaned over you to get a better look at you. He reached out to grab your calves to open your legs, but his hands went right through you.

“Pauk. I can’t help her like this. You have to bring her here.”

“No.” You cried out, answering before Mi’ytiar could even open his mouth. “The pup is coming now.”

Cahrein looked conflicted, contemplating about what to do next as he was restricted in his actions. He could already tell that this was going to be hard.

“Mi’ytiar, I packed a Medicomp for emergencies when you said you two would go hunt. Get it.”

You let out a whine when your mate disappeared from your side, which was quickly occupied by the healer who noticed your distress. “Calm, (Y/N), calm.”

“It hurts so much.” You cried out.

“I know.” He retorted and eyed the red fluid running down your thighs to your calves, dripping down your toes. “You need to take off your clothes.”

With trembling hands, you started to open the pants-like cloth that hugged your legs like a second skin and circled them from your ankles up to your hips. You struggled with the complicated lacing and cursed as you began to rip on them out of frustration.

Bigger hands replaced yours and when you looked up, you saw that Mi’ytiar had returned and stood between your legs. He used his sharp claws to cut the cords open and he pulled the rest of the garment down. He was more considerate with the bloodied panties underneath and tried not to rip them, although you believed that they were irreversibly ruined.

The first and last time he had torn your panties to shreds, you had scolded him for it after he was done fucking you from behind like a dog in his rut. You didn’t have much of your human clothes left — most of it had been replaced by self-made clothes of local fabrics inspired by their style anyway — but what you definitely wanted to keep was your underwear. So when Mi’ytiar returned to you one day from a spontaneous trip to Earth with a dozen new undies, you had been more than thankful.

Mi’ytiar grabbed your ankles, placed both of your feet flat on the table and spread your thighs apart, stepping aside for Cahrein to finally take a look at you.

The healer’s holo-image got down on his knees and peered between what was happening between your legs.

You wanted to hide and press them back together, but you knew that it wasn’t much of help and just let him do his thing. Instead, you let your head loll to the side and looked at your mate.

Mi’ytiar had his hands in fists, keeping them tightly pressed to his sides, and he watched Cahrein with concern and something else in his eyes. You knew he was worried about you. He tried to hide it, tried putting his true feelings behind the mask of a collected and strong leader and warrior like he always did in dicey situations, but you could see right through it.

“And?” He urged Cahrein to finally give him an answer.

“She is ready. She has to push.”

“What about the blood?”

“Incidental. She has to push.”

So that’s what you did.

Taking a deep breath and gripping the edge of the table for the support, you strained every muscle in your body. The resulting, blood-curdling scream even got the two Yautja to flinch and Mi’ytiar lunged forward. He pried your fingers away from the table where you had been holding on for dear life, and intertwined them with his. You instantly squeezed them and Mi’ytiar let out a surprised hiss.

After a moment, your tense body slumped down. It simply gave up after not being able to endure the pain any longer.

“You need to keep going.”

“I can’t.” You hiccuped, choking on your tears as you shook your head vehemently.

“You can. You did this 30 years ago. It was impressive. I never expected such a tiny creature to survive, but you did. You will again.” Cahrein turned to Mi’ytiar and pointed to the Medicomp. “Take the syringe, take your blood and inject it.”

Rather reluctantly, he loosened the hold you had on him and opened the Medicomp. He rummaged through it, found the syringe, and jabbed it into the flesh of his arm, uncaring of the following pain. You were far more important than anything else right now.

While he filled the syringe with his fluorescent-green blood, Cahrein was talking to you and encouraged you to keep going. He tried to distract you and keep your mind from drifting off to a place of no return.

“Something is wrong.” He murmured after a while.

He had watched Mi’ytiar inject you with three doses of his blood already, but you still were in agonizing pain. You even had lost consciousness twice, something that hadn’t even happened when you birthed your first pup.

You squeezed your eyes shut and only opened them again when the pain subsided a bit. “W-What?”

“You should have started crowning already, but you don’t.”

“Why?” You asked in a long-drawn cry.

Cahrein, for the first time in over thirty years, looked baffled and completely clueless. He couldn’t explain it as he had no idea himself. There had never been complications when the females of his clan gave birth. You were the only exception.

“What are typical problems that arise for oomans during childbirth?” He asked, not knowing what else he could do.

It took a moment until you became aware that you had been asked a question.

“Am-Amniotic fluid e-enters the bloodstream… the u-uterus tears… the ba-baby is in an abnormal p-position… it’s s-stuck…” You offered between pained huffs, trying to come up with as many options as you could think of. “In most emergencies, w-when a natural birth isn’t possible, they d-do a c-section… they cut into t-the woman’s belly a-and get the baby out... and then…”

Mi’ytiar wanted you to stop talking. He wanted you to stop putting images of your cut-open body in front of him. He wanted you to stop making him think of your lifeless form after the pup was pulled out of it.

“You have to incise into her abdomen. I will instruct you.” Cahrein finally said.

Mi’ytiar immediately straightened his back and let out a roar. “No!”

“If you do it, either the pup and (Y/N) survive, or just the pup... but if you do nothing, then they will both die.” Cahrein pressed and eyed you for a second.

You were running out of time.

“I… I can’t.”

He sounded defeated. You had never ever expected to see him like this — so vulnerable, so hopeless, so broken. He was the definition of strength, of courage, of accountability, of resilience, and now only a hollow shadow of the man he was was standing in front of you, thinking about the chance of losing his entire world.

He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t.

How could it be possible for him to live, breathe, without you?

He had a taste of a life he never wanted to leave, a life he wasn’t able to quit, a life only something as extraordinary as you could give him. Not because you were human, although that was probably one of the aspects, but because you were you.

He loved you.

You had taught him that love was the most valuable thing to a person. Love was worth more than anything else in life. It was such a strong, overwhelming feeling no one could put exactly into words until one actually felt it.

And he loved you.

“No, Mi’ytiar… you have to, you have to.” You urged him between panting breaths. “Save our… our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please.”

Mi’ytiar looked down at you as you begged him to do something he wasn’t willing to do in a million years. Cahrein would have hesitated in his stead, but he wasn’t your mate and would have cut into you. Mi’ytiar, on the other hand, could never do something that would harm you.

But he already did, though. He had doomed you the second his seed took.

“Mi’ytiar!” Cahrein barked and pulled the male out of his thoughts.

His body was on autopilot when his hand reached for a scalpel-like tool from the Medicomp.

“Thank you, thank you!” You cried out.

The only thing you felt was relief as your body slowly went numb, tears clouding your view. Everything around you became blurry and Mi'ytiar started to disappear. The world around you grew darker and darker as he set the sharp blade onto your skin and slowly applied pressure, cutting into you until blood flowed onto the table, down to the floor of the ship, creating a red puddle.

You never even registered the feeling of him cutting you open.

Your body shut down before you could.

#predator #predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x reader #yautja x you #fanfic

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gxbbyhoneybadger · 1 year

Note

Can you please do a part two of mission .???!!!

Oh my! Well, of course anonymous user. Never though there'd be a sequel but oh well! Part 2 is right here now!

Mission XXXIV-XXXV

Part 2

Pairing: !Yautja!Scar x !F!Shy!Reader

Summary: Y/n wakes up in a different place, her home no longer anywhere and instead placed within a strange cell with different Warriors watching her. Soon she's delivered to kneel in front of an Elder—next thing she knew, she was mated with Scar. Becoming first Yautja mated couple ever in their history, but for Y/n to permanently be respected as one of them, she must first become a Warrior.

Warnings: Adult language, threats, assault, scarification, death, arguments, anxiety, fluff, teasing, sexual tension, eventual smut, gentle to rough smut, clawing, biting, comfort.

A/n: The Roman numerals in the title translate to 34-35. So it means Mission 34-35 . . . Or Mission-69 heheh. I also did some studying on their language, (keyword: some.)

Fun Fact (Maybe): I saw a comic page and read that the Yautja can "speak" through their own sign language: Hand-signal of the Hunt. Or Silent Hand.

Part 1

Minors DNI 🔞 18 below the cut.

~Y/n pov~

Was my bed always this cold? I fell asleep in his arms, and I finally woke up alone in a dark place. I gasped as I backed up and hit my head on the cold wall, I shivered as I tried to figure out my surroundings. I was naked, the only thing I had was my old blanket, I hugged it as I stood up on my feet.

My thighs ached from—I shuddered remembering that I lost my virginity to whatever creature he was. I walked to the cell bars and tried to see if there was anyone here, "H-Hello?" I said, "Hello! I-Is anyone there! Can you please tell me where I am!?"

I could hear muffled beeping noises from down the halls, everything was unusual and unfamiliar for me. "Please! Anyone-! Gah!" I yelped—two large beasts walked in front of me. I stepped back and watched them, they wore similar masks with different designs. Around seven feet tall, both musclar beasts.

". . . W-Where am I?" I whispered, they clicked and growled lowly to each other. I could hear some soft of soft engine humming around us, where was I? "Please! Tell me where I am!" I begged.

They both looked to the left as another creature like them clicked out and order or some sort of command, one of them unlocked the cell before the second walked in towards me. "W-Who are you-? Hey! Let me go!" I yelped—he pulled me out by my arm and pushed me to walk forwards. I'd instantly get killed if I tried to fight any of them, I just obeyed and went along with their orders.

~3rd pov~

The Yautjas led Y/n deeper into their ship when it just landed on their planet, Yautja Prime, she was given a collar and had her wrists chained before she was brought out. She was so lost in the new world, being pulled along like a dog and shown off as an accessory to the other fellow Yautjas who lived there. Each one stared at her with confusion and judgement, thinking of her as a weak opponent to kill.

The two dragged her to a large empire, the large stairs led into a hall which opened up into a room where a Clan Leader sat. He had multiple spikes and grown dreadlocks that almost touched his thighs, his claws tapping on his throne chair as Y/n was forced to her knees in front of him.

She was terrified and lost, she held onto her blanket as she watched Scar, wearing his silver mask, approach the Elder. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded close to a argument, or Scar trying to convince the Elder to allow something. Y/n glanced behind her and saw the other Yautjas, all glancing at the Elder and Scar before down at her.

She was shaking like a leaf while she knelt there defenseless, Scar stepped aside as the Elder snarled while standing up. He raised his left hand and signaled one of the Yautjas to bring him an item; she jumped when she heard the familiar screeching of a Xenomorph before one of them killed it. The seven foot creature handed the Elder a severed finger of the Xenomorph and approached Y/n—he removed her chains as his eyes examined her frail form.

She gasped when his rough hand held her shoulder, her eyes found Scar's as the Elder clenched her shoulder for her attention. "W-What are you doing?" She asked him. "You are Blooded." The Elder said to her, his tone deeper than Scar's was. She let her eyes close when he brought the acidic finger to her cheek, scarring her skin permanently with a symbol of her Xenomorph kill.

Scar was informing the Elder of her kill, and how she managed to use one of their weapons against their enemy species, how she proved to be an ally and a warrior. She clenched her jaw in pain from the burning feeling, he then stepped back and looked at the Warriors. Y/n gulped as she reached up to feel the permanent mark on her cheek before everyone roared in unison—she covered her ears again. After they were done the Elder Yautja approached Scar and held his shoulder, clicking and snarling as they communicated in their language.

Scar growled but the Elder snarled back, before looking at her. "W-Why am I here? What's going to happen to me!" She whimpered out with fear rattling her nerves. A Yautja approached the Elder, his dreadlocks were short and he looked slightly smaller than Scar did—in his hands he carried some sort of pelt from one of the creatures that probably lived on this planet with them, something was packaged within it.

The Elder Yautja pointed at her and the Yautja walked to her before dropping it at her knees, "W-What is this?" She asked, she heard the muffled snarling and clicks coming from the other Yautjas behind her. Her hands trembled as she reached for the package, untying the skin like thread and unfolding it.

Seeing a few pieces of rather revealing clothing, if you can even call it clothing. "I-I don't think this is appropriate-?", "Dress yourself." The Elder growled out to her. She lifted the strange light green colored top that would just barely even cover her breasts. Her sides would be bare and the bottom would reveal her legs, she sighed from the outfit choice but stood up with the pieces before glancing at Scar. "Do I. . . dress up here?"

The Elder looked away and communicated with Scar instead, Y/n with no other choice, started to slip on and try the outfit, of course still having the blanket over herself. The bottom was similar to a thong beneath the hanging pieces of cloth attached to it, she pulled it up and let the cloth hang—covering just her front and rear, reaching to her knees while her thighs and waist were exposed. She grabbed the top next, seeing that it'll only cover her breasts and nothing else, she'll be showing sideboob, but hopefully the front will be hidden.

She tied a knot with the strings behind her neck and let it remain covering her chest just barely. She rechecked to see if she was fully covered before looking at Scar and the Elder who were now looking at her—she sighed and dropped the blanket. Showing her new two-piece outfit that she'll most likely have to keep on for however long she's kept here. She hugged her arms when the Elder signaled for them to leave, Scar walked to her and escorted her out of the temple.

"Why am I here? What is this place?" She questioned Scar, now covering her stomach as she passed dozens of more Yautjas. Everyone of them were males, adults or in their teen years. Some wore armor, while some didn't. The weather was warm and sunny, it didn't feel cold at all. "Where are you taking me?"

Scar led her to a further place away from the others, approaching a medium sized hut. Skulls and bones remained hanging around it, his trophies of past hunts. He led her inside left her there. "Well, this is great. I get fucked by some sort of alien, fall asleep and wake up to a knockoff Pandora planet like I'm in some sort of Avatar movie, and now I'm wearing this slutty outfit like I'm a stripper or something! I don't even know your name, that big one in that temple was looking at me like I was his next meal, I don't know what's going on and you still aren't saying anything to me-!"

"Scar." He growled as he approached her, easily overshadowing her as he watched her. "S-Scar?. . . That's your name?" She whispered as she slightly stepped back. "Top-Knot ha-as agreed to ma-ake you Blooded ally. He accepts yo-ou, but for yo-ou to keep your non-co. You mus-st become a kv'var-de." Y/n could piece his words together, but she didn't understand that word.

"A-A what? A kavalar?" Scar shook his head and knelt on one knee to be close to her height. "Kv'var-de. . . Hunter." He said. Y/n looked at her clothing then at him, "What if I don't want to become a hunter?" She whispered, "I'm weak. I'm not like you or the others out there. . . I'm just. . . Human."

He snarled, tilting his head but remained watching her, "M-di ooman can kill kiande amedha." He growled out. ". . . Huh?" His mandibles clicked as he stood again. "We te-each each othe-er." He said before walking out of the area and into another small room in the hut. She was left confused and lost in their language, how long is this going to last?

~Y/n pov~

Scar was true to his word about teaching each other something. He showed me how to sign, speak, and understand their language, after he tested my learning by signing a sentence out for me. Which I barely understood, so he flicked my head for messing up—it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but I forgot how much bigger and stronger he was compared to me. I'd teach him how to pronounce and understand English words and sentences, and in return, I'd be able to smack his chest—which I doubt even hurt this S'yuit-de.

He'd throw tiny insults here and there at me, call me a Hulij-bpe jehdin, which I finally found that it meant Crazy One, or Crazy Individual. So in return for learning his language, I called him S'yuit-de kv'var-de, which meant Pathetic Hunter, or Idiot Hunter. And I knew it offended him when he'd just quietly glare down at me, but I enjoyed it. At least four or three days have passed already and I've been dragged out into the unfamiliar world, I'd watch how he'd hunt and kill our next meal. It was upsetting but oddly satisfying to see. I saw the trees and strange like flying creatures that they had, but nothing prepared me to see the females who passed through.

I could feel their judgemental eyes lingering on me when I wasn't looking, they were taller than the males. Around eight feet tall at most, broader and rather aggressive. "Why are they staring at me?" I whispered to Scar. "They do not approve of ooman-dei."

They don't approve of human women. . . That explains it. They'd snap and flare their mandibles when I looked at them, I kept my eyes and head low out of submission, to not pose as a threat. I felt like I was at a new school and the mean girls were already scheming against me. Scar pulled my arm and held me against his body when a Yautja approached us, it was a female and of course she started to communicate to him.

My broken understanding of the Yautja language could only pick up so much. They rarely talk, but they used sounds to communicate to one another. The female arched her back and flared her mandibles at Scar, he roared at her before she shoved my shoulder back. Almost shoving me to the ground if it weren't for Scar's hand.

He told me about this. When a Yautja pushes your shoulder with their hand: they're challenging you for a fight.

I started to panic, my strength was nothing compared to Scar's, or even a female! I didn't know what they were clearly arguing about but it made her pissed off to the point where she wanted to fight me. And most likely kill me during that fight. "What's happening?!" I asked. She roared at me and Scar finally shoved her backwards out of defense when she tried to grab me.

He picked me up and his lower mandibles were flaring, before he carried me away from the female who was staring me down.

~~~

He didn't bring it up once, but it was on replay in my head, I'm pretty sure he sensed my confusion since he decided to lay beside me on the large furry cot. It was soft and comfortable to lay on, something I didn't expect. ". . . Scar, how long am I going to stay here." I asked him.

He raised his hand and tested me, he signed out what I could possibly read out as: Until you become Hunter. I held my head before asking, "How much time do I have until the Elders test me?"

He signed again: Two Weeks.

I groaned and laid on my back as I looked at the ceiling, I still wore the same revealing outfit before looking at him. "Why was that female mad? Did I do something wrong?" I whispered to him. "M-di. . . She wanted me to breed her." He answered.

"Why did she challenge me?" I questioned, slowly scooting closer to his larger frame and resting my head on his bicep. "I said m-di to her. I told her that you were my mate." I looked at him and felt my heart jump out of my chest. His mate. His mate!

"I-I—You told me that Yautja don't mate for life, you just. . . Reproduce?" Scar lowly purred before his sharp eyes looked in mine. "No-t you and me." He replied. I rested my face on his large pec and bit my lip, feeling that flutter of butterflies swirl in my gut when I thought of being his. His alone. He's not going to mate with anyone else except me. It then led me to getting an idea that would probably scare the crap out of any other chick, but not me, clearly I'm the crazy one for wanting to fuck this Yautja.

I sat up and sighed as I let my head hang back, "Do you still think about it? That night we spent together?" I asked him, he let out a deep growl before I turned and straddle his large hips. His eyes opened and found mine, "I still think about it." I added—letting my hips slowly grind against his loincloth, which I felt growing stiffer every passing second.

"Prove that you are not just kv'var-de, but a good Pauk-de as well." I smirked. Kv'var-de meant Hunter, but Pauk-de meant Fucker. His growl reverberated through me before he shoved me onto my back, pinning my arms above my head as he growled at me. "Do no-t temp me, Hulij-bpe jehdin." He warned, his dreadlocks brushed against my shoulders and arms. I let my right leg graze his waist as I arched my back on purpose—letting my top press perfectly against my breasts to show them off to him.

"What if I want you tempted?" I giggled, his mandibles clicked and snapped, he growled before placing his jaws on my shoulder and biting down on me. I gasped and let out a choked groan when he released my skin, licking up the blood that formed from the small puncture wounds.

"You need me to ell-osde' puak." He snarled out, I understood those words clearly: You need me to fuck you. "Sei-i." I mewled, yes, yes, I did want him to fuck me. I don't know what's been up with me, but I've been craving more of Scar ever since I got here. I've been pissing him off to make him snap, but clearly he has restraint. Maybe all I needed to do was make it obvious.

I lifted my hips into his and bit my lip when I felt his erection, "Come on, puak me, Scar." I purred. His jaws snapped in front of my face, I only responded by lifting my head and licking his mandibles. He held my wrists down with one hand, and let his other reach down to move my cloth to the side. A soft sigh left me when I felt his large length rub against my folds, "Kwei ooman-dei. . ." He snarled. Sly human woman.

I wanted to try something I've never done, but I wasn't sure. "Scar, please." I begged. His repetitive clicking was a sign of him chuckling at me, I whimpered when he notched the tip of his unnatural cock inside of me. Slowly pushing each inch into me, I could feel my cunt being stretched and accepting his invading length.

His hands clenched my wrists while he continued to sheath himself inside of me—finally gasping when his full cock was buried inside of my velvet canal. My legs hugged his sides as I arched my back, "Scar!" I moaned out; his scale covered body was emitting heat onto mine, his hand undid my top before he cupped my breasts. Squeezing and kneading them—exploring my body with his hand.

Slowly, he started to roll his hips into me. He earned multiple mewls, grunts, and moans from me; hisses and growls came from him, his tongue trailed up from between the valleys of my breasts, up my throat and into my mouth. I whined as I pressed my tongue against his forked one, he pulled out and heavily thrusted himself into me.

"Eek!" I yelped, I felt his claws tickle my side as it brushed down the side of my ribs and my waist to hold my thigh open. He watched as he slowly pulled out to the tip—then sinking back into me. Purring as he enjoyed the sensation of his cock being squeezed by my tight cunt, "More, more, Scar!" I pleaded as I clenched my knuckles.

Scar enjoyed being in control, taking his time and relaxing in the experience. He told me that the females were aggressive during their mating, and from what happened this morning, I believed him. Scar's pumps into me was satisfying to hear, it felt so amatory. He finally released my wrists and gripped my hips—he stood on his knees and lifted my lower body off the bed. I cried out when he continued to fuck me in such a lewd position.

It was so hot to see this Predator take what he wanted from me, such a sweet way but with harsh strength. "Ngh! Yes! Yes! Scar! Ah, keep going!" I exhorted out. Scar's snarls turn into a growling purr as he dug his nails into my flesh—I felt his thrusts get a bit harder. My mouth was agape as he started to get quicker with his grinding. He stilled inside of me fully for a moment and lifted my back towards his face—dragging his tongue over my breasts and tasting me.

I hummed with satisfaction as I let my body melt in his hands, he was so strong, it didn't bother him to hold me and fuck me at the same time. I touched his dreadlocks and licked one of them, he roared before he started to piston his cock up into my stretched cunt. "Oh fuck!" I screamed out with agonizing pleasure. The room was already hot and so was the weather, my body was shedding sweat as he grinded his musclar self onto me.

I dug my nails into his shoulders as he kept going, moaning at each heavy pump he made—my nails dragged down his skin but he didn't care. I doubted he even felt it. His skin texture was so different compared to mine, his strength, his eyes, his demeanor and culture. Everything was unique about him.

My end was nearing, I was going to cum, I was so close to cumming. I let my hand started teasing my clit as he kept fucking me, his large paw cupped my head while he wrapped the other around my waist—still keeping me midair. Weak and broken gasps croaked from my soaked lips as he kept getting rougher.

That tight band—tighter and coiling up in a tight ball, about to blow. The light from the stick of dynamite about to denote within my nerves—my hands instinctively grabbed his dreadlocks and held on. He roared again and hugged my torso tightly. Thrusting faster than before, my tongue was hanging out like a bitch in heat, my heart racing faster than a race horse as I finally squealed—feeling my juices coat our lower areas.

The spark ignited and finally blew. The shocks burned through my limbs and my sight went white as I shut my eyes, my breath lost from my lungs as I climaxed on his thick cock still ramming into me. My sensitive squeaks and cries were ignored by Scar—he was lost in the wave of his own pleasure.

I knew we'd be here all night, I'm tired out, but he won't be anytime soon. He told me he finished quickly last time because I was exhausted, but now, I'm sure he'll stop. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my head on him, he still didn't slow down. My body was beginning to feel like lead as I tried to speak. But I couldn't.

I was too exhausted by this. So exhausted, I wanted to sleep. . . Which I did eventually.

~3rd pov~

The sun had risen, and so did Y/n. She woke up to a messy cot, her top on the floor as she remained wearing the bottom piece. She woke up to an empty bed, Scar was gone and she didn't know where he went. She got up and tied on her top once again before heading walking out of the room to find him.

"Scar?" Y/n muttered, crossing her arms as she slowly walked around the hut, checking the meat room, the main area and even outside next. No sign of Scar. She was worried until she remembered that he was probably out on a hunt. Sighing, she walked to the room again and sat on the bed. Relaxing into the pelt as she thought about him.

She just woke up, fully clean and even tucked into the pelt, he cleaned her and fixed her up in bed. She lightly traced her lips with her fingers as she smiled at the thought of a extraterrestrial being treating her like a lover. Some time passed and he returned to the hut, she looked and saw him drop a strange creature on the ground before entering the room. Carrying a box with him.

She crawled on her hands and knees on the bed and sat as she looked at him, "I missed you." She said. Scar let out a deep hum as he approached her, she reached up and planted a kiss on his shoulder. A growl escaped him as he handed her the box. She took it and started to open it up, her brow arching when she saw the odd outfit.

"What is this-?. . . Wait a minute." She mumbled, pulling out a fishnet outfit with solid pieces of armor on important places such as the breasts, and the nether regions. Reminding her of Scar's own armor, she lifted the fishnet outfit and saw a silver mask that looked similar to Scar's just without the blooded mark. It wasn't big, but it was her size. Arm cuffs and a small weapon within it. She looked at him with a confused look.

"Today. . . yo-ou Kv'var." He said to her. She gulped as she looked down at the custom made armor.

Today, she hunts.

_______________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed the sequel!

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