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#yautja boyfriend
mintymarabell · 3 months
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Bad blood elder yautja who cares in his own way
Sort of yandere.
You hated him, doubted he could have any emotional feelings for anything or anyone.
It’d been a few months since you’ve been taken, maybe longer considering it’s hard to keep track of time in a different galaxy.
The elder had you near him at all times, perched on his lap, his arm, or just holding his hand. He never let you get away or leave his field of view.
It had only happened once, he had dragged you to a foreign planet (though they were all foreign) for a dinner party with another clan of bad bloods who desperately wanted to start a treaty.
Maybe you finally slipped away, the elder too caught up in conversation and his unnaturally warm hand finally slipped off your knee; giving you the opportunity.
Wondering the long hallways a Youngblood came out of nowhere. Clearly the younger yautja had too much to drink as he slurred and poked at your fleshy cheek, his claw sharp and leaving a slight scratch.
There was a distant clatter but you paid no mind, instead trying to now get away from the youngbloods iron grip he had on your wrist with the promise of a good lay though it was to himself he spoke.
You yelped slightly as he yanked you along just then his grip loosened greatly and he fell to the ground, green pooling at his head.
You didn’t get a chance to react before you were enveloped in a pair of arms, turned around to face the elder you slipped away from moments ago.
He never kneeled for anyone and yet he kneeled for you. It was a small noticeable thing. Kneeled to fix your lopsided necklace he gifted you. Kneeled to give you a skull of a beast that had taken him weeks to slay. Kneeled to check if your arm was okay after you fell on it and nearly gave him a heart attack. (He almost broke through the ships window when he seen it. Was the only and last time he let you go out by yourself.) Yet now once again he kneeled to you.
He didn’t say anything, he just pressed you close to him and rubbed your back as if you were the one needing comforting.
From that day forward he had changed.?
He no longer held your hand or arm as if you were gonna run but now as if you were gonna disappear.
His claws that used to always be sharp were now dull as if he’d filled them down.
At night, when he forced you to share a bed with him you’d never see him sleep. Before he’d just stare but now he always stare at you with a longing look he never used to do. It was as if he was slowly baring his heart to you.
One time you had woken up in the middle of the night randomly and as you glanced over he was finally asleep. His hand on your back still absentmindedly drew circles as if it had a mind of its own.
Maybe deep down, all this time he had cared for you.
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empressnarria · 8 months
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Helmet Recordings.
W: Slightly suggestive.
Elder Yautja who uses helmet recordings of his S/O’s voice to lull him to sleep while they’re away on duty. He has the equivalent of a sleep aid playlist where there are just files upon files of you either rambling on about your day or a new interest of yours. His favorite ones to drift off to are when you’re singing in the shower (which he secretly records...)
It takes every bit of his willpower not to snatch you up and away from that godforsaken planet. But similar to him and his lingering obsession for the hunt, he understands the commitment you have to serving your country and how securing the safety of its people and those who cannot fight for themselves weighs heavily on your heart, so there’s little room for convincing you to leave all that behind. He has buried feelings of bitterness as he sits with his resolve, though.
So, when the freezing night’s air infiltrates his home and soaks up all the warmth from your side of the bed—of which the sheets are still swished and crinkled from when you shot up in a blind panic at the sound of your commanding officer calling you in—he’ll switch on his helmet and place it on his bedside table, the hollowed-out eye sockets casting a glowing blue shadow on the floor.
Then it’s only a matter of time before he’s rooting through your dirty clothes hamper, searching, searching, searching, and fisting out a shirt laced with the smell of your delicious sweat. He curls up with it as he drifts off to the sound of your voice and his favorite thing by far, your scent, creating the illusion that you’re just one room away instead of millions of miles doing Paya knows what.
He misses you. A lot. He knows you’ll come back; you always do. You wouldn’t get too far anyway; he has eyes and ears everywhere, even on Earth. But the time you two do get to spend together never feels like enough. Granted, with his title as Elder and the endless responsibilities that come with it, it’s not rare for the only interaction between you and him after a long day to be a late dinner, bath, pleasure you for his tardiness, and then pass out with you caged in his arms.
But at least he knew where you were. At least he knew you two were walking on the same planet. At least he knew you had one of his sons accompanying you whenever you decided to step out of the safety of that heavily guarded home of his.
And just as his gigantic heart settles into the routine of rolling over in the morning and nuzzling his mandibles into your hair, taking in your scent, he hears the familiar and sickening ‘ding’ of your pager, signaling your immediate departure.
The noise rips open the blistered wound cemented deep within his soul every time he hears it.
He’ll hide his sadness from you. He already knows the guilt that tugs at you every time you have to leave, so he puts on a brave face despite the bone-crushing need stirring inside him to keep you near, to keep you protected at all costs.
Out there, on Earth, he can’t reach you. He can’t protect you. He can’t do anything but pray. If something were to happen to you... ...He tries not to think about that.
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sweet-mary280 · 3 months
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Me: Ow, my back...
Me: hey hot alien, can you help me to make my back better?
Yautja: hm... Sure.
Yautja and me:
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Me: thank you.... *die*
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wthtorke · 6 months
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Snowstorm
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*Looks around* Well hello lmao what a better way to return than posting a THICK ass fic huh
8K words - Warnings for getting trapped, small spaces, and everything that comes with it + general trauma + injury - Gender-neutral reader
Enjoy! <3
-
You often put others' needs before your own. 
Not that you noticed you did it. It took some pointing out from your close friends to get you to realize just how you swept your desires under the rug.
After god knows how much pushing, you agreed to go on a trip by yourself. "No work worries, no guys, no girls, just you and your alone time!" Your friend had said. 
You sat in your living room with your laptop, browsing through destinations and flight tickets. Everyone seemed eager to see you go on the trip. At least, you hoped it was that. While you loved your friends, you worried that if you were not helpful somehow, they would drop you cold. 
Were they happy for you or happy to see you go? You didn't know, but the trip could help that too. You wanted to be more independent, sure, and in tune with yourself. 
Your eyes stop on an ad, and immediately you click it. 
Skiing in the Rocky Mountains.
You smile. The cool crisp air may do you some good.
You book the ticket and the hotel for your stay, and as the week goes by, you pack your bags. You had gone on other trips throughout your life, of course, but this one felt a little different. Maybe because it'd be your first alone adventure in a long time, but whatever it was, you felt good about it.
The day before the trip, you say goodbye to your friends and head back to your house. Only 7 hours of sleep and a couple more of flight separated you from snow and, hopefully, a lot of fun.
The trip is easy enough. You get to your room at the hotel and unpack just enough to start exploring as soon as you could. 
Groups of people gathered at the tourist stops choosing what they would be doing and booking activities for the day. Just as you reach the board, the ski equipment is fully booked for the day already. 
You frown as a lady beside you nods. "Yup, all gone! I'm pissed as fuck too! You either bring your own or get here at the butt of the morning to rent equipment." She sighs. "I'm going on a hike. Make sure to leave your name in the equipment call, though. If somebody gives up, they should give you preference, it seems." She shrugs.
You nod, perking up and signing your name with the clerk's list, looking back at the girl again, "what hike did you choose?" 
"Me? One of the easy ones, that one-," she points at the boards again. The list still had some spots left, "It's the longest of the easy ones, though. Thinking about joining?" 
You nod, "Yeah, it's only my first day here. It sounds good enough for a first day," you say, picking up the pen and putting down your info on the list. The group would depart in 30 minutes, enough time to prepare for it. 
"Nice! I'll see you at the meeting point later then!" She smiles and walks off. You smile at the clerk and head back to your room to pack your bag for the hike. 
You pack your backpack with energy bars, the biggest water bottle you could find, the emergency first aid kit one of your friends gifted you, a hiking map you bought in the reception, a small emergency light, an emergency bivy, and an emergency blanket, just in case. 
On your way down, you buy two sandwiches from a machine, along with a soup-filled thermos, stuffing them in your backpack before heading to the meeting spot. 
You look around, searching for the lady you talked to earlier, wondering if she would make it in time. 
She arrives 2 minutes before your departure, panting a bit but smiling at you, waving as she walks over. "Hey there, ready to freeze up there?" 
"Definitely not." You two laugh as your guide speaks up, stating the hike rules and emergency tips. "And lastly, do not go anywhere alone. The hike is easy, but don't underestimate it! Safety is in numbers, always. Now, with all of that said, let's get hiking!" 
The way up is slow. People chat quietly while they walk, taking pictures and generally marveling about the views, you included. 
The wind is ice cold and makes your lungs feel a bit prickly when you breathe. Your cheeks are cold, a reminder that you were really there, enjoying a hike on a trip you made on your own. It makes you smile. 
You're halfway up when your newfound friend approaches you again.
"So, you came by yourself?" The girl asks. You nod, "yeah, I thought I would do something different…what about you?" 
"I travel alone all the time. First time here, though!" She smiles, "After I started going places alone, I just couldn't stop. It's way easier." She says. The guide announces your first stop to rest is just up ahead. 
As most of the group sits down to eat and drink, you and your friend sit on a fallen log at the edge of the trail. You pull out one of your bars while she takes a few swigs of her water bottle. 
You're laughing at her jokes when a crack calls your attention toward the trees.  You turn around to look, staring intently at the trees. Your friend’s gaze switches from you to the trees multiple times, “Bestie? You good?” 
“Did you hear anything?” You ask her, still searching. The chatter from the rest of the group dies down as you strain to hear anything from the trees again. “It’s probably a squirrel or something.” She shrugs.
“I think that was too heavy to be a squirrel.” You say, hearing it again as you get up from the log, picking up your backpack. She does the same, “Okay….maybe it’s a huge squirrel or a deer?” She says, starting to sound worried as well.
The cracking sounds get louder and more violent before a strong gust of wind hits both of you. A big thundering sound follows it. You realize what’s happening all too late.
“Avalanche! Run!” 
You both scream and make for it. The snow comes crashing down through the trees as you and your friend sprint through the trail, trying to catch up with the rest of the group. You look at the snow for a fraction of a second and slip. 
You fall to the ground. You can barely hear any screaming over the falling snow’s booming noise. You scream and try getting up again, putting your hands up to shield yourself from the snow. 
Another sound hits your ears before a blur launches itself toward you. The sound is blood-curdling, bone-chilling, roaring as loud as the snow coming for you. You feel the impact of said thing against your body, throwing you both off the edge. You hold onto it, whatever it was. Screaming and closing your eyes as you both flew over the edge. 
He had seen it coming, of course. While his brothers and sisters went for the hottest countries on whatever planet they landed in. He loved the snow. He had over two centuries of experience with it. 
He saw it coming. 
You are as light as he thought you would be. He holds you and your backpack against his chest as you fall off the snowy ledge. The cord of his wrist gauntlet catches against the stone. He snaps it off as you both get launched into the cave underneath the ledge.  
He lands hard on his feet, setting you down unceremoniously on the ground before rushing back to the cave entrance. The snow rages violently over as it falls from the edge, washing over anything in its way. He had been using this cave for a few days now. He knew this could happen. Would happen.
Still, he needed to close the entrance. 
The snow piles and pushes inside the cave. He aims his blaster toward the entrance’s ceiling and shoots, jumping over to your side as the stones crash down, stopping the snow from burying you both alive as he shields your body from the falling rocks. 
It’s too much. You cry and scream while keeping your face on the floor, hands shielding your head as the booming noises of cracking trees, snow, and falling rocks make your heart pound in every which way inside your ribcage. You get dragged closer by the man who saved you, and you hug the thigh he was crouching on the ground with, sobbing into it as you wait for the nightmare to be over. 
It feels like hours. It probably is hours long until the wreckage comes to a stop. You still hear the avalanche layers settling on top of the cave and its would-be entrance. The cave is pitch black. You can’t see a palm in front of your face. All you hear is your ragged breathing and the man’s -somehow- calm one. His is heavier, although slower than yours. he was big, you were sure he was from the blur you saw standing there before the rocks fell. His breathing had a dragging sound to it, a soft ‘ch ch ch’ that made your hairs stand on end. Oh God, what if he was asthmatic? 
“I- I think we’re okay now-” You say. He doesn’t reply. “Sir, are you hurt? Oh God-” You panic, patting around the floor for your bag, scooting away from him until you find it. “I’ve got a light in here. God, I hope it’s not broken!” You take a deep breath and try to remember where you placed it, counting the small bags on the front before reaching the fourth one. You pull its zip and reach for the light. The thick, now wet, gloves you wear make the metal almost slip from your grasp. 
“Please turn on, please turn on,” You pray as you push the button, successfully illuminating the wall in front of you. “Yes! Okay, now we can-” You turn around, looking for the man,
Finding something else entirely. 
It’s bigger than any man you’ve ever known in your life. Its skin is of a blueish hue with black mottling. It has protrusions that remind you of a hedgehog’s quills up its forearms, chest, and the sides of its face. It wore a mask along with dense-looking armor that looked battle-worn. Its chest heaved the same slow and steady breathing, making the quills drag against the black netting it wore. 
Your pupils dilate in dread as you perceive it whole. Your body freezes. Your breath hitches.
And you faint. 
The light falls from your hand as your body hits the floor. Your backpack acts as a hard pillow as the world darkens and comes to a stop. 
He watches as you turn into stone and pass out on your equipment, and only then does he move toward you. He grabs the small light you produced from your pack and turns it off with the click of a button, careful not to break it. He did not need light, not as long as he had his mask (even if he didn’t, if he was honest), and not as long as you were unconscious. 
‘Might as well save its power.’ He thinks. 
He takes a quick check over your form. Bruising was sure to occur. Your ankle was sprained, also expected. All in all, everything is fine. He’s glad about that. 
Now, for air.
He stands up and walks to the entrance again. While it wasn’t safe to leave the cave while the layers were still loose, and with the temperatures dropping outside, your chances of survival were low, even if his weren’t. But being wholly shut in wouldn’t do either, especially with your panicked breath. Screaming requires air. Lots of it. 
He stretches his palm over the cold stone, feeling around. A few well-placed holes would do well enough. Stepping back, his aim shines over the stone once more. 
Adjusting the width of each blast, he lasers perfect circles scattered on the wall. The snow outside melts, and fresh, cold air drifts in through the holes before more snow covers them once more. He reaches for his back pocket, retrieving several silver rings, and places them into the holes in the stone. Adjusting the desired length of each ring before pressing a button, he watches the holograms expand on his gauntlet until they surpass the snow outside. He checks each tube, satisfied when air flows steadily through all of them.
He turns back to you and walks over.
He couldn’t say what made him save you. He had been hunting in the mountains. He did see you and your group going up. But why did he risk himself to save you? He didn’t know. He found himself clutching the tree he was perched on when the snow went down, even though he would have been safe. He leaped before you fell to your knees in the snow. 
Crouching down, he takes a second to look at your face.
You groan, and he sits down, moving back to give you some space. You look around, seeing the thin light streaks coming from the wall. You look a bit to the side and squint, spotting the one figure you hoped was a dream. 
A scream rips from your throat as you panic once more, almost crushing your light in the process. You back up into the nearest wall and point your light at him, turning it on again. “What are you?! What-!”
It’s a strange creature, half man and half… something else. You had no idea what.
He lifts his hands up, and you grasp your light firmly as if it were a gun. “Don’t move-! Stay there! Who are you? What do you want?!” You ask. Demand. 
You hear audio shuffling before a distorted, “Easy…- Easy…” reaches your ears. You recognize the voice. Your instructor, the line spoken to the whole group while going through a particularly slippery part of the trail that morning. “What-...What are you? You’re not a man-, who are you?” You ask desperately. 
He shakes his head, and you want to cry harder, though he didn’t answer your second question. “Am I dead?” You sob. He shakes his head again and slowly points to the door. 
“-..-Thick S̴̨̛̛̞͉̗̜̦̘̤̤̱͉͖͒̍̑̆̑͌͆̃̕n̴̡̳̖͕̹̞͎̝̞͂̿̀̾̏̈̈́́͝ơ̸̝̣̓̔̾͊̈́̇̇̋̎̓͜͝w-.”
You sniffle, not peeling your eyes from him. “Are you going to hurt me? Please don’t-” He doesn’t reply, slowly lowering his hands again. You start to get nervous again before he points to the corner of the cave. Hesitantly, you cast the light to it, seeing the glint of the metal-like cord he had used to save you both. Your eyes widen as you try to remember the quick flashes of the occurred. You fell. The snow was coming. Something caught you, held you, and you fell over the edge. The light moves back to his form. “It was you-, so you saved me, okay-, but why?”
Again, no reply. 
The tears form cold, stiff streaks on your cheeks as you try to wipe them with the back of your gloves. You look around the cave. It wasn’t that big. You doubted you could stand up fully inside it, let alone someone as big as your…new friend. He had taken care of the air supply, but you weren’t properly trained for this. You feared you wouldn’t last until the morning. Not like this.
“You-, you made the holes in the walls, right? Can’t you get us out?” You ask him. He shakes his head. “Safer-...Here.” 
“How is it safer here? We’re buried to our necks in-...Snow.” He nods. 
“Snow is a good insulator, right?” He nods again. “Right…So you’ll get us out in the morning?” He doesn’t reply. “I’ll take that as a hopeful yes.” You say, setting your light down in the middle of the cave, pointing at the ceiling, illuminating the space the best it could. 
You open your backpack and set to planning your night here. You see your phone and gasp, trying to get it. No signal. 
You sigh as you look at the rest of your pack. You had your blanket, emergency bivy, and food and water were also fine. Nothing got broken during your rescue, thankfully. 
You take a look at your companion to find him also going through his own pack, though his equipment looked far different than yours. They almost seemed like…weapons. 
Oh, God.
“Do you come here often?” You ask. His head snaps at you. You freeze. 
He shakes his head, and you sigh in relief. “You don’t…hunt people, right?” 
He keeps staring. You wish you hadn’t asked. “Innocent people? You hunt innocent people?” Perhaps it was the trauma, the ice, the pain, or the sheer chaos of the situation you found yourself in. But judging an alien creature wasn’t as impossible as you thought it’d be. “Hunters- -Like me.” His mask croaks.
Your eyebrows shoot up. “You hunt…other hunters? Human ones or, like, -really- like you? People like you?” 
“-Like me.” He repeats. 
“Your own species? Like a cop?”
A few seconds pass before you hear your own voice. “Like a cop.” Your eyes widen more. “So you’re a space cop, got it…Then what are you doing here on Earth? And in the -snow- of all places?”
A strange sound comes from him. A scoff. 
“Vaca̶̤͔͚͌̃͝ͅtion timee̷̛͖̬͙̞̞̯͙͉͓̓́̈́̀̚e̴̛̞͎͆̀͂̉̎̂͘̕͠͝e-” A young girl’s voice followed by laughter. 
You find yourself laughing nervously at the audio. A soft laugh that makes him tilt his head slightly. “Me too.” You say, “Ironically enough.”
You set out your equipment in silence before you unwrap your first sandwich. You look at your watch. 3 PM. Nice time to have a heavier snack, then you could eat the bars until the night and then eat your soup. And you’d still have your second sandwich! 
Your…second sandwich. 
“Hey.” You look at him again. He looks up from organizing his gear. “Do you have any food in that pack of yours? I have an extra one here.” You lift the wrapped sandwich to show him. 
He seems to consider before giving you a dismissive hand gesture, going back to his fiddling.
“I have plenty here,” You say. “I don’t think…someone as big as you shouldn’t go too long without eating something.” He looks at you again. His mask moves slightly. You weren’t sure if he was really looking at your hand or not.
“It’s just a turkey sandwich, are you vegetarian?” You ask, worried, for some reason. He makes a strange sound. Clicking and huffing came from his mask. Was he laughing? 
“Look, to me, you’re a carnivore -at least- but I can’t be too sure, right? You’re the first…alien I know.”
He shakes his head. “Not-, Vegetarian.” 
You nod, digging around your backpack for the other sandwich before tossing it to him. The speed with which he catches it is impressive enough. You blink, and his hand moves from the ground to beside his mask, catching the sandwich. 
He eyes it as you eat your own. For a second, you wonder if he’s allergic to anything in it. You’re about to ask when he moves again, sitting with his back turned to you. 
You frown in confusion as he sets the sandwich down on his thigh before starting to take the mask off. 
Each pop it makes has your eyes widening impossibly more. With everything that happened, you forgot the mask wasn't his -face-.
He sets the mask down, its impassive expression staring at you from the floor while he picks up the sandwich again, unwrapping it. 
You wondered what he looked like without it. It felt too rude to ask. Maybe he wanted to remain anonymous from you. 
Maybe the light hurt his eyes. Maybe he didn’t want to scare you.
Maybe he was just -shy-. 
The clicking sound- now much louder and clear, calls your attention back to reality. You watch as he apparently throws the whole sandwich into his mouth, if he really had one, and swallows it whole. 
If he chewed it, you didn’t hear it. But you do hear the biggest ‘gulp’ of your life coming from him. 
You jump a little bit when he picks up the mask again, snapping the tubes back on and turning around again.
You finish eating your own food and put the trash in your bag. "I need something I can…call you- you know, other than alien? That feels rude.” 
He shakes his head, and you lick your cold lips in thought. “How does Storm sound? I don’t think ‘Avalanche’ is any good.” You shrug, taking a swig from your water bottle. “I don’t think I should mention this to anyone, right?” 
He nods. You purse your lips again, “Look- I know the less contact between us the better, and I definitely shouldn't be asking these questions- but if I don't talk I think I'll go insane." 
Storm crosses his arms, seemingly in thought before he says a simple, firm, "Yes."
"...Are there more alien species? Do you know them? Seen any?"
"Yes. -Yes….Yes." 
"Wow." You whisper to yourself. "You're the most amazing and intense thing that ever happened to me…besides the avalanche, of course."
He relaxes, shifting a bit to sit against the stone wall. You do the same, resting against your pack. "Our government must know of you- are we friends? Our people?" 
He shakes his head. You sag. "Oh…that sucks" Storm tilts his head, and a series of cut audios gather your attention again. "Government- sucks." 
You laugh. His shoulders shake slightly. Maybe he was laughing as well? 
"This wasn't what I had in mind when I came here, but I'm glad you're here. Thank you for saving me," you say. He stares at you before nodding slowly.
You smile and look at his pack on the floor, "Hey, do you have water? I have some if you want." He shakes his head and pulls out a metal bottle from one of the pouches on his back. A canteen? 
“Do you want to lay out our things? We could see what we have and how we’re going to split it until tomorrow. I know the first rule is overpacking is good but…I don’t reeeally have that much,” you let out a nervous laugh.
He takes a second and stands on his knees. He is almost as tall as you'd be standing like that. He gathers his pack and throws it closer to you while he moves over.
You stare at him for a couple of seconds before the mask slowly turns to you. “Oh-, right, sorry- you’re just- okay never mind- So, I got my light, of course-, I got some energy bars, water, a map, a bivy, a blanket, a knife, a little emergency kit, and soup! Well-, more food if you can’t translate that.” You hold up the thermos like it was a prized trophy, "what do you got?"
He starts laying his own things out.
A dagger, cuffs of some kind, knives, a -whip-, the canteen he had shown you earlier, mini orbs that suspiciously looked like smoke bombs from movies, plus other things- probably weapons too, you had no idea the use of. And last, but not least, he offers you a jar. 
You put yours down and hold his. The lid is not nearly as simple as yours, it has a mechanism on top of it. You frown in confusion before he snorts and presses two buttons on top of it. 
The lid fizzes, and you gasp, looking up at him. He nods, and you slowly take it off, placing it on top of your blanket. The smell hits your nose, and you look at him again. "Jerky? Oh my God-, can I?" He nods. 
You carefully take a strip of meat from the jar. "What kind of meat is this? This isn't…human, right?" You gulp. He shakes his head and lifts his wrist. His gauntlet shows a hologram of a deer. 
"Ohhhh, wow, you're really a hunter, aren't you?" You marvel, putting the strip back in the jar before closing it again. Storm taps the same buttons, and it seals tight again. 
You place the jar on the floor along with everything else. The contrast between your equipment and his is stark. You laugh a bit. "Well, aren't we made for each other?" He snorts as you check your watch.
You look up and find his mask very close to you, also looking at your watch. "It's not as fancy as yours," you laugh, holding your wrist up for him to see. 
Being this close, you feel your face heat up. You look down at his torso when he gently grabs your wrist, inspecting it closer. "You- are you not um- cold? You're not exactly ah…layered up." 
He did wear some fur around his shoulders and waist, but other than that, only the netting and some armor. He does the clicking sound again- chuckling? 
The hand on your wrist firms it while the other pops your glove open, pulling it up and off your hand. You jerk a bit when he pulls the naked hand to his chest. "Oh- what-...Oh." 
Hot. He is hot. Literally. 
You can't tell if the netting is heated or if he's just a furnace. But he's incredibly warm. Your fingers twitch as you concentrate on the feel of his skin. It wasn't like yours, that was for sure. It was almost rubbery, and hot but texturized as well. It was…well, alien. The prickly quills he had also were interesting to stare at. 
What a Tarzan moment.
You take your hand back, putting your glove on again, "I'm jealous of that temperature. Even with all these layers, I'm still cold," you frown, "your planet must be scorching hot," you say. 
He takes a while but nods. 
He didn't exactly like sharing information, you learned. It was fair, he saved you- and he was an alien. Things were complicated. "I think you look great here though, in the snow," The glove feels cold compared to what you just experienced. 
He scoffs, crossing his arms as you think about the events of today over and over again before looking at him once more. "Do you have any family?" The question hits you like a train and blurts out of your mouth before you could filter it. "I mean- if you can tell me." 
He nods, and your eyebrows go up in surprise. Not that you thought he wouldn't have one. He had a belly button, so he couldn't have just…spawned from somewhere. You smile at the mental image of him just popping into existence.
You look back at your equipment, especially at the food. "Look, I know we're on 'not too much involvement' thing, but you don't have to turn away every time to eat. I won't tell anyone- though I'm sure the government must have blurry pictures of others like you in their archives somewhere already."
He's closer to you than before, having not moved away since your little touching moment. His presence is as grounding as it is exciting. It makes you alert and awake, even though you're so tired. 
Storm's mask turns to you slightly, considering. 
"Scary." 
You frown. "Scary? Your face is scary? But your mask is so…familiar? Is it too different from it?" 
He nods again. 
"Oh- well, I won't be afraid of you, you saved my life, and now we're here chatting and having an icy picnic covered in snow. I'd say this makes us best friends." You smile. He huffed.
What he does instead is lift his wrist gauntlet again. Another hologram pops up. 
"Ohhhhh my-" You look back up at his mask. Its cold expression almost mocks you. "Okay, you weren't lying when you said it was different- why do you guys make it like that? You know what- that's none of my business, sorry." You look back at the hologram. 
While you didn't know if it was really him- the hologram was all red-, the way their faces were just…made sense. The tusks, the teeth, the mandibles. You marvel at the quills on the eyebrows, just like they were on the rest of him. 
Something must have been wrong with you, but you didn't think he was ugly.
"I get the scary part. I'd freak out if I saw you in the dark, no offense." He chuckles deeply, the most you've seen him laugh so far. You smile again. "Thanks for showing me, now I won't pass out on you again if you take it off." He shuts it off. You almost made a sad noise at it.
Suddenly, all the excitement takes a toll on you. With your last burning curiosity sated, your eyes begin to get heavier. "Okay, I think the adrenaline is starting to wear off." You say. "I think I'm going to sleep a bit." 
He gets up, checking the air supply tubes in the stone. You worm your way into your bivy, leaving the blanket for him if he needs it. He probably wouldn't, but the thought eased you. "Wake me up if anything changes okay?" You say. He doesn't react. You take a painkiller and lay down again.
"...and please don't leave me here alone." You say, with a little more emotion than you anticipated. 
He turns his head and nods before going back to his inspection. 
You close your eyes for a second.
Just a second. 
You jolt awake when a hand closes around your shoulder. You blink several times, breathing in deeply as you focus on the mask before you again. "Hey- anything changed?" 
Storm shakes his head, pointing at your watch instead as you sit up. You check the time. 7:15 PM. Your ice cave definitely feels colder now.
You get up, taking your soup thermos out of the bag. Its lid made for a little bowl. You prayed it was still warm. 
You sigh in relief as you pour the soup on the lid. It was lukewarm, but the warmth spreading through your torso was priceless. You're on your second sip when you hear the same fizzy noise as before. Your eyes darted to your side where Storm was taking his mask off. 
You gulp as the second tube is snapped off. He's facing forward as he's sitting beside you. But still, you would see it.
You tip the cup back as you swallow your third sip, hoping the thick plastic would disguise your blatant staring. 
Storm's fingers slip under the metal, snapping it briefly before lifting it from his face. Your breath quickens quietly as your eyes follow the metal until it's placed on the floor. You stare at it before slowly looking back up. 
Storm is looking at you. 
Your eyes dilate as you take in every aspect of his face. The mandibles, the tusks, the sharp teeth peeking from behind tightly closed tusks. The blue hue from his body painted his face, fading into a cool white tone in the middle of his face. The edges of his head are shaped like a crown. A black crown that closed into the middle of his head, where the blues and whites were. 
And then the eyes. His eyes.
Unlike the rest of him, Storm’s eyes were yellow. Deep, electric yellow. The primal instinct in your brain told you this was wrong. His face was wrong. Well, he wasn’t human. You were coded to think anything with different features walking on two legs was weird. 
Your brain told you to run, scream or get help, to do something -against- him while the rest of you knew well that he was an ally. It was hard to go against every fiber of your being and stay still. 
‘He’s still your friend.’ You think. ‘He just looks a little different.’ 
Storm’s expression changes, and while you can’t grasp what the tusk movements must mean yet, you surely know what a skeptical eyebrow raise looks like. “I’m not freaking out, I swear.” You manage to say. You have no idea if he still understands you without the mask. 
He seems to, as his top tusks twitch and his eyebrows relax. He looks away and grips his own jerky jar. You’re suddenly reminded of your soup. You pour more soup onto the lid, gulping it down while trying your best not to openly stare at him.
It’s evident he’s also trying to ignore you while he eats. His tusks part and he inserts the chunks of jerky in. You can’t see any molars in your ogling. Maybe he was made for tearing out chunks of food and swallowing them like a crocodile? 
You gulp down more of your soup until it’s down to half of it. You shake the thermos a bit, doing your best to stir the soup before leaning it toward him. “Would you like some?” To your surprise, he’s also offering you his jar. You smile, nodding, “Let’s swap.” 
You trade bottles, picking out a piece of jerky while he brings the thermos closer to his mouth. He didn’t have an apparent nose, but maybe he just smelled things differently. He must have deemed it good enough for his mandible part, and he tips his head back, drinking the soup. You half expected it to spill over and make a mess, but having done this for however long he had lived, he knew what he was doing. 
You, on the other side, had no idea what you’d do without your lips.
After eating your fill and re-packing, you huddle close to him. Storm messed with his wrist gauntlet as you lost yourself in your thoughts once more. For once in your life, the silence was comfortable. Sure, you couldn’t exactly communicate, but that didn’t feel like a problem. 
You could communicate with your friends and family, but it still made you anxious at times. Next time you check your watch, it's about 9 PM. “I think we should sleep,” you say, getting his attention once more. “I’ve slept a bit and…fainted, but you haven’t slept yet.” 
Seeing him without the mask was as otherworldly as it was interesting. Seeing his expressions as he listened to you, then changing while he thought before finally setting as he nodded. 
You smile and crawl back to your bivy while he checks the air supply once more. You had no idea how you would get out of the cave tomorrow, but you trusted Storm and his high-tech equipment. And his muscles. The muscles were a big plus, too.
By the time he turns around, you’re inside your bivy, but you point to the blanket folded neatly on top of your backpack. “I know you’re well warm, but the blanket is over there if you need it.” He looks at it briefly before nodding at you. He hands you your emergency light and lays down on the opposite side of the cave, about two arm's lengths away from you. 
“Good night, partner.” You say before shutting the light off, getting a grunt in return. 
The cave was pitch black as you expected. You shuffle a bit in your bivy before settling down completely on your side. You wondered how people outside were doing. Did the avalanche make the news? Did your friends know? Was anyone else hurt during it? You were thankful to be alive, thankful for Storm, but you felt bad for everyone else. 
Tears prickled in the corners of your vision as you try so hard to fall asleep. It’s cold, you’re trapped in a cave with an alien. Not that Storm was a negative point. You’d be dead without him. But things were far from okay right now. 
You hear shuffling and wonder if Storm also has trouble sleeping. He’d been calm so far, never raising his voice or panicking. ‘Maybe he’s used to these situations.’ You think, given the scars he bears on his body. You didn’t want to think of what could hurt someone like Storm. 
Your chest feels tight. It’s hard to push the anxiety down. You almost want to talk to him again, but what would you say? What -could- you say? You were the one to suggest sleeping in the first place. Your heart beats faster, and you’re awfully aware of your surroundings, even in the dark. 
The walls are cold and wet. The air is a little stale. You can smell yourself as you can also smell Storm behind you. You can smell the thick rubbery scent of your gloves as they grip the bivy’s lining with all they got. Like you had gripped Storm earlier that day when he rescued you.
You swallow dryly, trying to breathe in and out to avoid negative thoughts. Things would be okay. You were alive, fairly warm, and you had a big alien as your personal bodyguard through a disaster. You hear more shuffling. The sound of the emergency blanket being unfolded hits your ears. You wait a couple of seconds, eyes darting around in the dark before you open your mouth to ask him if he was okay. 
You’re in the middle of breathing your first word when you feel the blanket getting laid on top of your bivy. Storm smooths out the blanket on top of you before laying down again, closer to you this time. You’re at loss for words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. 
You feel his breath against the top of your beanie, so his chest must be somewhere in front of you now. You bite your lip, feeling the knot in your chest loosen the tiniest bit. You were not alone. Things were going to be okay.  You focus on his breathing pattern, so even and calm. Constant. The sound his tusks occasionally make is soothing over the deathly silence of the cave. You don’t remember closing your eyes, nor do you remember falling asleep. 
The way your bladder burns wakes you up. Storm’s breathing is heavier now, asleep. It pains you to move, like getting your pet out of your lap after it finally got comfortable. 
As soon as you move, his breathing stops. Then resumes in that light, calculated rhythm. Awake. 
“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, worming out of your bivy, patting around for your light. You go to the far corner of the cave and do your business, covering it with loose dirt with your boot, thanking the universe Storm didn’t move an inch from where he was. 
Taking your pants off in the unbelievable cold of a 3 AM shut-in ice cave was no easy business. Curse bodily functions to the end and back. You do your best to push the burning shame down and head to your backpack, sanitizing your hands. 
You steal a glance to your side while you think, catching Storm looking directly at you. Your spine shivers a bit, a mix from the cold and his gaze. You take another sip of water and crawl back into your bivy, mindful of your ankle.
It makes your face heat up more to see how close he’s been to you for all these hours and how he doesn’t care enough to move away, even now that you disrupted him awake. 
You lick your lips and clutch your light, looking at him again before shutting it off. Your face is still hot from all of it, but you listen intently to his breathing and clicking. You hoped he wouldn’t move away from you just yet, at least until you fell asleep. 
You feel the warmth coming from his chest, moving your head forward so you could be closer to it, trying to chase away the rest of the cold from your suit again. That pee break cost you some precious degrees. 
You’re still sulking internally when he finally moves. Your eyes widen in the dark as he spreads the blanket over you again. You smile and close your eyes, only to open them again as widely as before when you feel his arm drape over you.
He grunts, and suddenly you’re being dragged forward by that same arm. Your forehead hits something, and you instantly know it's his chest. You swallow hard. It’s as hot as it was earlier, rumbling with each breath. 
“Warm.” He croaks. You shiver at how deep his real voice is. You nod fervently against his chest. The arm stays around you. 
It takes you several minutes of internal struggle to calm down again. Your face is hotter, both from your embarrassment and his body temperature. Your ears turn back on when you hear a faint noise.
You squint, leaning in closer, and the sound gets louder. 
His heartbeat. 
Your body relaxes, almost melting against him.
His arm tightens the tiniest bit around you. You press your cheek against his chest, feeling his mandibles graze against the top of your beanie. 
The rest of the night goes by too fast for your liking. 
He wakes you up at 7 AM sharp. You almost want to cry when you realize the arm is no longer holding you, that his heartbeat is not against your ear still. 
He packs his equipment, and so do you, leaving only the map out. “We were here yesterday.” You say, pointing at the map. “The hotel is here, and I think the equipment stall is here?” You felt like you were explaining your destination to a taxi driver. 
You look up at him. He’s masked and ready to leave. So are you.
“How are we going to do this? Or, well, how you’re going to do this?” You ask. Storm makes a punching motion toward the stone. You almost can’t believe your very eyes. “Oh.” 
Storm retracts the tubes and puts them away in one of his bags. This was it. 
You stand at the side as Storm readies himself. He pushes some buttons on his gauntlet. You brace yourself as it makes a firing-up noise. 
Storm steadies himself and times the punch with the gauntlet’s blast. 
You close your eyes at the noise, protecting your head with your hands before you’re snatched from the ground once more. 
You open them again when blinding light covers your eyelids. Everything is white as your eyes adjust. When colors flood your vision, you realize that not only you’re out of the cave but you’re in the air. Everything moves too fast. 
Storm holds you up as he lands harshly in the snow piled below between trees. You shake the snow off your face as he works you both out of the thick snow bank. He squats again, and you hold tightly onto his neck before he jumps once more.
You struggle not to scream this time as well.
Storm lands firmly onto the snowy forest floor. He places you down gently as he surveys the area before relaxing once more. You look around, looking at the mountainside, following the trail of broken rocks until you see the cave's would-be entrance, quickly getting topped with more falling snow. “We were there?” You ask, out of breath. Storm nods. You turn to him. “Good legs.” You compliment. He huffs behind the mask. 
You feel buzzing coming from your backpack, frowning in confusion before you remember your phone. Placing the pack on the floor, you quickly check it, watching as the multiple messages and missed calls finally load into your screen. You smile, choking on your breath before looking at Storm again. 
You avoid your hurting ankle as you surge forward and wrap your arms around him again. He barely moves, not stepping back or stopping you. His hands hesitate at his sides before coming up and resting them on your shoulders, pressing you against him once before letting go. 
You look up at him, seeing him at full height in daylight felt unreal. “Thank you so much. I owe you everything. You saved me. You had no obligation to, but you did. Thank you so much.” You bury your face into his chest again, feeling it rumble. You smile before he tenses up, and you both hear the helicopter sound from far away. 
You let him go, looking up at the sky before looking back at him. Your heart tore into pieces. “You can go now.” The tears sting your eyes. “I’ll be fine from here.” He looks back at you.
“I’ll never forget you.” You sob, “Thank you again, for everything.” 
The helicopter gets closer. You watch as he disappears in front of your very eyes. The blue skin and armor blend with the snow and trees behind him before the reflective figure jumps up one tree to another, and another, until you lose track of it in the distance. 
Cold tears slide down your face as you hobble your way to a clearing, throwing your arms up when the helicopter comes into view. 
The rest of the day goes by too slowly for your liking.
You’re taken back to the hotel, where a makeshift hospital has been set up. You’re asked questions, to which you reply either ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I was buried in the snow all night’. You text your friends and relatives back while your ankle is tended to. You see the hiking girl from yesterday when you’re getting cleared from IV hydration hours later. 
She screams in surprise, coming to hug you. ‘How did you make it?! Oh my God, we thought you were dead! I’m so happy to see you!” She cries, and so do you. After talking for a while, she shakes her head. “I’m cutting the damn trip -short-. I’m going the fuck home, and so should you. The flights are crazy, but there’s a company giving preference to the victims and their families.” She informs you. 
One hour later, she hugs you one last time before leaving. 
You do as she says, cutting the trip short as well, needing to process and recover from everything that happened. You’re promised heaven on earth by the hotel and the flight companies for future trips. Your friends scoff at the very thought of it. “Why the hell would you go back there? That’s insane of them to offer you packages like that.” One of them says.
You nod along the next few weeks until things slowly blend into normality again. You don’t tell anyone about what happened that night, and people don’t bother you about it. You look at your bag in your wardrobe every time you open it, thinking back to him, wondering if he also thought about you.  
Six months of this go by. Followed by another six months. 
One day, you open your wardrobe and pull your bag out again, dusting it for your trip. People worry about your decision of going back there. Some worry it might reopen wounds rather than closing them for good like you told them it would. Some others just thought you were crazy.
Crazy or not, you packed your bag and left. The flight took off and landed. You found yourself at the hotel, looking at the same clerk in the eyes again while she checked you in again, welcoming you back to the hotel. 
You look at the hiking lists, finding them slightly different, but still running. You check in for solo hiking.  You pack your bag accordingly this time, filled with all the necessities a survivor could need before you take off. 
The forest is peaceful, and the track is fresh beneath your boots. You’re enjoying soup fondly at the end of the track when you hear that noise. The rumbly, clicking noise that you heard in your dreams for the past year. Always followed by the steady sound of a strong heartbeat. 
You turn around, smiling when blue hues and armor flood your vision once more. ----------- If you read it till here, you're a champ lmao
Thanks for reading <3 muah muah
more work like this here
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trashcanfanfics · 11 months
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Since you asked for something simple, how about some Yautja headcanons about you gifting them a weapon you made for them.
Thanks!!
*Honestly so honored
*When you first present it, they drop everything and make out with you right there
*If they didn't love you already, they are over the moon
*Gives you something they made too and considers it an engagement
*Showers you with praise and love and gifts
*Doesn't use anything else on the next hunt to honor you
*Brings back a skull for you
*Will be SO upset if it breaks
*Will be open to getting more weapons from you in the future
*Brags to everyone who is within a 5 foot radius for the foreseeable future
*Just solidifies the fact that you are the perfect mate and they chose well
*Puffs up with pride when they show off the weapon
*"My mate made me a weapon, what has yours done?"
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monnowo · 7 months
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COMMISSION!!! My actual first yautja commission and is for @himbo-in-limbo !!! Is just one pose, not finished yet…but I really love him!!
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Yautja bf in sweatpants
The weathers getting cold on earth and your yautja bf has to put on some longer clothes.
All prounons for reader is gender neutral.
Warnings: swearing, starring at butts
Minors Don't Interact!
Didn't prof read or spell check sorry about any mistakes
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You lived on earth so that's where he would stay when he wasn't hunting. He didn't like how cold it was on earth but it was worth it.
His first winter? Absolute hell.
He had left his armor and body regulator on his ship beforr the snow had started to fall and now he was absolutely regretting it but he didn't want to step into the snow to get it.
(Insert angry clicking here)
He'll pout for a bit and will steal all your blankets to snuggle into for warmth. He can't carry them around constantly like he wants too, the blankets keep knocking things down.
Solution? Sweatpants and sweaters.
Nothing you have fits him, he's a damn gaint after all.
It sure looks funny though.
Your sweater looks like a crop top on him and your sweatpants look more like leggings.
His ass looks great though.
While he wears those you custom order some that would fit him.
Once they come in the mail he puts the on immediately. It's the kind that's softer on the inside for extra comfort.
First day he spends just laying on the couch purring just loving up his new sweater sweatpants combo. Please come cuddle him and bring a blanket, he would die a happy death.
He didn't think about how the clothes looked on him until he caught you staring at his ass. He starts doing the same to you when you wear your sweatpants at first to give you a taste of your own medicine. Then he realized hie great YOUR ass looks. Now the two of you spend hours starting at each others butt.
You have to convince him not to take the sweats on a hunt. He's upset about it but when you tell him the sweats could rip an get ruined he'll leave them behind with you.
Put them on as a joke. You look absolutely ridiculous wearing those sweatpants but man is it funny. He's entertained for sure.
Loves when the two of you wear sweat plants and lazy clothes and just cuddle all day long.
If the sweatpants have pockets you might find small bones in then when doing the laundry. You need to check the pockets each time you wash them.
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shaymin-99 · 10 months
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wanna sit on this comfy couch? 10$ YCH, just pm me
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mintymarabell · 4 months
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Your elder is the definition of gentle love and affection.
This is just something I thought up and it’s so random and out of order!
He always plays with your hair but never in a way that would mess it up.
Rubs your back at night while he thinks of future plans.
He puts your shoes on for you, kneeling down and putting them on while taking the time to admire your soft human legs.
Well not just your legs, he loves all of you. He loves the small things especially, like your ankle bone and how it always pokes out in a weird way when you have your foot propped up.
Your fingers and how they fail to curl around his much larger ones.
He loves your excitement when you finally shaved your whole body and how you want him to feel your smooth legs though to him you are always smooth regardless of the hair.
He loves the small pudge your stomach has. The reminder that you’re human and he’s not but that’s what he loves about you.
If he touches your face it is ALWAYS with his second knuckle, he has a horrible fear of nicking your perfect face.
He carries you around on his arm when your feet get tired.
He won’t argue with you when you say you don’t need a jacket on the cold planet he had taken you to see.
He’ll wrap you in his big fur cape as he carries you around after you mentioned you were cold, he always catches himself staring at your nose because of its redness. He adores it.
He’d take you to meetings and let you sit with him while he talks for hours on end, his hand always finds itself fiddling with your fingers or the hem of your shirt.
At night he likes to comb your hair after your shower, it’s so different compared to his own.
He fingers through your hair while you sleep, looking at you as if you had made the world go round.
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empressnarria · 11 months
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Elder Yautja is displeased with your (inferior) skincare products.
Elder Yautja having all of these lavish and expensive oils spilling over his bathroom sink for hide-protection purposes or for when he’s traveling from planet to planet and is exposed to different atmospheres and their chemicals getting downright revolted by your 3-in-1 men’s body lotion that you just haphazardly slap onto your face and then call it a day.
You try to explain to him that it’s just more time-efficient for when you need to wake up and walk out the door, but Elder is having none of it.
When you wake up the next morning, there is a crate adorned with beads and a burlap bow sitting on your side of the sink. It's filled to the brim with bottles of various colors, shapes, and sizes; you pulled out a few and inspected them, finding a whole bunch of lotions, perfumes, and a semi-transparent jar labeled "Ooman Sun Protection Oil." You peer over the counter to find the 3-in-1 bottle toppled over in the trash at an unusual angle, as if someone threw it down with an unnecessary amount of force.
When you question him about the crate (after thanking him for the wonderful gift because you know this man is starved for your approval), Elder claims that his mate deserves far better than "a bottle of three things mashed into one;" it’s not enough! Your fragile skin is so sensitive under the glare of his planet’s suns, and too much exposure could cause long-term problems if you aren’t careful. His pupils shoot daggers at the bottle laying in the trash, and you were sure that if he had his canon right now, the only thing left would be a blackened smudge up the wall.
The audacity of those Ooman marketers to swindle you into buying such a counterintuitive thing. It’s almost as if they don’t care about your well-being and just want to wring you out of all your money like a disposable dishrag!
…He gets even more heated when you tell him that those are some companies exact motives.
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sweet-mary280 · 3 months
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Literally no one:
Yautja's Pov & Human:
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I love it when the Yautja boyfriend holding a human's neck in some movie 😩🫶✨
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But... what about us??? 🫣❤️‍🔥
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wthtorke · 1 year
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Feral
Feral predator x Afab reader NSFW - Warning for kidnapping
You've been warned! This one is nasty lmao also has 4k words so be prepared, and enjoy! As always this was seen over a month and something ago on my patre0n! 
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Hunting runs in the veins of his people. From the youngest child to the wisest elder, it was a rite. Tradition. Part of them.
Some warriors had their rites before a hunt. Some prayed, some others cleaned their weapons and sharpened their blades. He chooses to watch.
Hunting is about patience, he believes. So he watches them days before striking.
He sees her on his first day. A foggy morning in the dense forest they resided in now. A small village on the outskirts of a kingdom he flew over before landing; since then, he got bewitched.
The air smelled of leaves, the occasional local fauna scent hitting him as the thick smell of humans below made it almost too annoying to breathe without his mask.  He wasn't hunting- yet.
He stretched over the thick tree branch supporting his weight, looking intently at the artificial shelter he knew belonged to her. Man-made.
To say he was interested was an understatement. He was intrigued, rather obsessively, even. What he feels in his sheath isn't the thrill of the hunt but the desire for a partner. A mate, It's odd.
He feels his cock throb, pressing against his crotch armor, yearning to be free and inside of something right after, to be inside of her.
He had heard of it before from older, wiser warriors. "Your cock is stupid. Sometimes it will mistake prey for a mate, don't listen to it." He had scoffed, just a youngblood then, "So what to do if that happens?"
"Kill it."
She seems to hear his thoughts, or feel the ghost of them, for she looks straight up at the tree he had been resting on, now watching her from another angle- Lower, closer. She seemed to be a servant of some sort, always carrying a basket of food, feeding the stock, or hauling buckets of clothes to the river like she was now, crouched on the side of it. She forgot the scrubbing as she looked around, looking for him.
She hadn’t seen him yet. None of them had. He hadn’t killed anything yet, nothing that didn’t deserve it, but he found that he liked watching her. All of her species was weak; her included; a frail little thing was washing her strange clothes on the riverbank, day after day, with no greater ambitions for the future than to get her daily chores done and maybe get some rest.
He slowly stalked across the grass, staring at her from the other side of the river. His camouflage made him feel beyond lucky in situations like these; most warriors used it for sneaking surprise attacks, others used it to flee- he used it to watch. He could taste her scent on his tongue, taken by the curving winds into his mouth beneath his mask. It was a hot day like yesterday was, but he’d still have to catch her swimming in the river as she did days ago. He had wondered if she could smell him like he did her. Maybe he just alarmed her prey instinct, watching her lifted head, eyes still scanning for the source of her uneasiness.
He felt his chest rumble, claws gripping the tree bark under his fingers; she might not smell him like the deer or the bears do, but she knew something was wrong. She knows she's not alone, and he can't help but feel his hunter's instincts kicking in.
She doesn't have a mate, not that he can tell- but then again, humans here were strange. Some tribes were more advanced than others; some had shelters made of hide and fabric while others had them made of stone and wood. He found them all to have some hidden savagery in them —especially the wood and stone humans.
She was a wood and stone human, but another thing he noticed about them was the way they looked at one another. Humans and yautja held their differences regarding facial expressions, but every sentient species he knew had a universal "I don't trust you," look. She didn't trust any of them. Especially the males.
He thought about his options as a hunter, and then he thought of his options as a male whose -possible- mate felt distressed around their people.
What to do?
He checks back to reality when another scent hits his nose, muskier, filthy—a male. Feral watches him make his way to her, smaller than him by two of their human heads. He doesn't like it, so he slowly stalks forward, crouched and cloaked to see their interaction.
Human words are odd, he can't make out many of them, and his translator was always shit, but he wasn't an idiot- he could read tones. Every species sounded about the same when pissed the fuck off.
"I've told you time and time again, Gale, I'm not interested." She snaps, scrubbing her clothes harder onto the rocks.
"What in God's name is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I even want to marry you? You should be licking my boots for this." The male hisses. She shakes her head.
He grabs her. She screams.
So he grabs him.
It takes less effort to kill an adult man than it does to skin a snake. His blades slice through him, and his screaming stops– hers do not.
So he grabs her.
He slings the woman over his shoulder as he hears barking in the distance and the faded shouting of other males making their way to the river. He scoffs and runs off.
You keep screaming when the demon carrying you jumps up a tree to another, then another, and another; endlessly, far away from your village. Where to? You had no idea. Your futile attempts at punching its stiff back turned into desperate clinging when he landed straight into the river again, splashing water everywhere and soaking your dress as it scents the air before running up the river with you over his shoulder.
You commend your brain for whatever half-thoughts it could muster while the beast ran away with you. What was it? A demon? An animal never seen before? A creature? It had to be a demon, didn't it? Animals didn't run standing, and they definitely didn't throw people over their shoulders while running.
Its hide was thick and textured. You felt its ridges and needle-like protrusions under your fingers, not enough to cut skin but enough to tickle your palms, its tips pressing against the skin bluntly.
"Please- please put me down!" You pleaded, trying to look back at the thing's head; did it have no ears?
It growled and snarled, shaking you some before speeding up again- as if telling you to keep quiet, so you did.
After an hour, the demon diverges from the river, turning and entering the dense forest. You dozed in and out as it carried you around, getting shaken awake when it stopped by nightfall, dropping you on the patchy floor. Your body screams as you sit up, looking around in the dark, looking for it.
You whip your head around, squinting your eyes and trying to calm your breath; the moonlight is scarce through the trees. You sniffle and wipe your face as you try to listen for any sounds- the ringing in your ears makes it hard to discern any noises.
A twig snaps, and you jump. Your dress drags, wet and heavy, against the grassy patch you're sitting on, "Please- please don't hurt me-," you choked on your words when a twig snapping made you jump a second time. You look back as heavy steps begin walking towards you before the big hands from before are on you again. The clawed fingers close around your arms and move you around as you thrash and squirm in their grasp to no effect.
"Unhand me-! Stop-," you hiss as it drags you onto another grassier spot and sits you down like a toddler, pushing you down two times as if to say stay.
It growls and walks about. You can hear it now; twigs were snapping, huffing, and snarling. You listen to things get thrown around. The sound is like-
"Wood? What are you trying to-,"
A weird sound reaches your ears, like metal scraping against metal; shrill, thin, and prickly like a new needle. You shake your head at it, only opening your eyes when something bright- when immediate warmth reaches your cold, wet frame.
Fire.
“Oh my God!” You gasp in surprise, seeing the structured twigs as you scoot closer to the fire, bringing your stiff fingers closer to the flames, shaking as you did your best to chase the shivers away from your bones. Still- you weren’t alone.
You look around, fire briefly forgotten as you struggle to locate the creature that kidnapped you from the river. It saved you, yes- but what for?
“If you plan to cook me, that fire won’t do!” You blurt out. The panic forces nonsensical words out of your mouth. You shake your head, feeling more tears welling up in your eyes. You cry out loud when the creature comes forth again, only that the fire made him very visible now.
You crawl backward as your lungs burn with every desperate attempt at sucking air. Its skin was not like anything you’d seen before. It wore no clothing other than some kind of leathery loincloth that hung around its hips. Your eyes ran up its form, taking in its muscles- no man you had ever known had muscles like that. No man you knew could kill another like it did, too.
Rapid breathing makes your chest hurt. Your heart is speeding when you meet its face.
Bone.
Its face was of pure bone.
It snarled and snapped, making you cry louder and recoil, pulling your knees to your chest and hiding your face so you wouldn’t face imminent death. You cry harder, feeling your shoulders wack with every desperate sob that leaves you when you hear more cracking in front of you.
You feel its breathing on your skin. The clicking and raspy sounds make you shiver but still, no contact. Why wasn’t it doing anything? You wanted to look, to face your fears. But it was easier said than done.
Feral snorts on the thick fear stench that rolled off you in waves. He shook his head as his open palm hovers over your head, claws spread and ready to close around your form again. He felt annoyed. He didn’t know your language but being so different from you, it was apparent you thought he was some sort of monster. Not far from the truth, but still not it.
He huffs and snarls, trying to catch your scent under all the panic and fear you presented so strongly now. That one trail that made him feel the way he did at the river. The way you’ve been making him feel since he laid eyes on you.
Stupid, he was stupid.
Of course, you would fear him. Of course, you would want to be as far away from him as you could. But there was no way to explain. No way to communicate. Would you even listen to him if he could? Maybe he could try.
Yanking you off the floor like a twig by your arms, Feral steps closer to the fire again, sitting by it as he slowly lowers your struggling form to the floor again. You act like a restless toddler to him, trying to get away from his grasp and run off into the forest.
Luckily for him, he has many young siblings.
Every time you get up, he pulls you back down, forcing you to sit multiple times until you tire out. He can’t hold back his laughter when you land yet again on your ass in front of him.
“What do you want?!” You hiss at him, face hot from the strain, feeling anger boiling over the fear.
It’s easy enough to guess what you’re asking him. So he lifts his finger, points at you, and tensely points it to the floor, growling to make a point.
“What is the point of dying sitting? I’m not making your job easier!” You frown and tense your legs to get up. The speed with which he draws a blade from his thigh and sinks it into the ground next to your leg has you melting back onto the floor.
‘Good.’ He thinks. ‘We’re leaning.’
“O-Okay- I’m sitting now.” You say. His jaw twitches slightly. “Si-tting! I’m sitting! See? Sitting! Sit!” You point at yourself and then at the floor, just like he wanted. “What now?”
Feral snorts again. The stench is still strong. He sheathes his knife again, turning back to look at you. You make him feel things, and he wants to make you feel things in return, but not while you’re so afraid and angry at him.
He places his palms on the floor and leans forward toward you. You try to shy away, and he growls again, lowering to a low hiss when you stop moving.
It was like the hounds back at the village. You spoke to the kennel master a couple of times while helping him deliver puppies into this world. “You have to respect animals.” He said, “They have their own language, learning it means survival to both of you. That usually means find out whatever makes it stop growling and keep doing it until it trusts you.”
So you keep still, chest heaving as the demon gets closer and closer to your face. It didn’t seem to have eyes, but it knew of your every move. How could it be? How could it see anything?
Its bone cheek grazes against yours, its thick neck hovers over your own body. It felt hot, so very hot. Almost as hot as the fire to your side. You could feel its growling in your core, intense, rattling.
You don’t see it move its hand from the ground until it almost touches your other cheek. You close your eyes, gasping a bit. Nothing comes. You feel your tightly shut eyes sting with tears again, and your chest tightens with upcoming sobs before another strange noise reaches your ear.
It's a sound you know well. A sound that made you happy when you were a child, whenever it was your turn to feed the cats milk, a reward for their hard work keeping the mice away from the grains and seeds the village had harvested.
Purring.
Heavy, deep purring.
Your eyes snap open, and your hand shoots up on reflex against its chest, trying to push it back. But it doesn’t move. Nor its body or its hand, still lingering close to your face. Your hand trembles with the vibrations coming from its chest. It goes up your arm and makes your heart skip more beats. You blink, confused. Your cats never purred to people they didn’t like. Was this a trick?
“What-?” You croak, voice raw and raspy from crying and screaming. The tears dry on your eyes, not yet shed as its hand finally comes in contact with your dirty face. You jump a bit when its purring slows down, dragging out more as its clawed thumb slowly strokes your face.
You feel petrified as your fingers curl a bit on its chest, feeling the texturized hide under your palm. Your other arm hurts from supporting your weight when you tried leaning away from it. The strain burns your muscles as you wince a bit, still afraid to move. But not as much as before, scarily enough.
Feral breathes in your scent, letting his other hand snake behind your back, slowly wrapping around your waist to relieve your arm. An excuse to bring you closer to him. You notice the change and shift against him. Not away, but against him. A win, in his book.
He keeps stroking your face, feeling the plush cheek under the pad of his thumb as he slowly drags you closer to him. Feral can feel that scent again, only ever starting to break through the foggy fearful one from before. He rubs his mask against your face as your chest meets his collarbone. So small, yet yielder of such a strange power over him.
“Oh…”
The smallest of noises leaves your mouth. The first one not touched by dread ever since you’ve met. It sends a shiver down his belly, straight to his sheath.  Feral lets the hand on your back slide up and into your hair as he buries his face in it, reveling in the way your chests touched, reveling in how relaxed you were in his hands now.
You couldn’t say what made you let out that breathy sigh for the life of you. Everything felt too real and not real at all. No man had ever touched you like this. No man had ever treated you so…gently. Gentleness this coming from the beast who mauled a man to shreds not hours ago.
Still, it did not matter. Nothing mattered. You let your free arm come up, and touch its shoulder, resting your palm on another patch of prickly skin as he kept sniffing into your hair. It was still sitting as your knees stood just before the ground as it held you in its arms, reminding you again of just how big and dangerous it was.
You sigh and close your eyes for a second, feeling its hot breath against your hair as its hand moves from your cheek to caress your ear, making your hairs stand on end once more. For a different reason this time. Your hand grips its shoulder tighter as its face comes closer to your neck. Maybe this was the end. Maybe it finally tired from toying with you. You can’t bring yourself to be afraid again.
Feral lets his tusks touch your throat before he lowers his jaw and lets his tongue drag against your skin, making you arch your back, pushing your chest against his again. “A-Ahhh…” He chuckles at the noise, his huffing cutting through his purring before it evens out again, deep and constant as before. If not heavier with lust.
You pant, opening your eyes again as you feel the hot tongue swiping against your throat over and over again. Your body felt hot, not from the fire or Its body heat, but from your own desire. Desire. For a demon. Your heart beats faster as you realize what you’re truly feeling in his arms. And just how tight you had been pressing your legs together. You breathe in deeper, heavier, as his tongue moves down to your collarbone.
He supported your body by letting his hand close around your neck, holding you up against him as he licked the skin between your breasts over the fabric of your bodice. You moan, feeling your face burn in embarrassment from everything. But it was not like you. Maybe it had no idea you were embarrassed.
The moan sends another shiver down Feral’s spine and another spike down his sheath. He wanted to breed. Badly. But most importantly, he wanted to breed you.
Feral pulls back long enough to let his claws hook around the bodice’s fabric, slowly pulling it down, baring you to him. You panted and closed your eyes. The hand on his shoulder tightened even more, but he couldn’t smell fear. Shyness wasn’t a thing among his people; there was no use for it. But he couldn’t say he didn’t find it oddly endearing.
The fabric catches under your breasts as the sleeves strain against your shoulders, leaving your chest exposed to the night air. To his tongue. He breathes heavily as he looks them over. Most of the females he knew were flat-chested. Their breasts only swelled when they were with child. But you had no child now. Was this normal of your kind? What would you look like when…?
Another shiver. His cock strains against his sheath, ready to breach it.
He growls and lowers his face to your chest again, feeling the softness with his tusks, letting his tongue drag over the nipple he chose to lick. Your gasps and foreign words urge him on, bringing his other hand to feel the other breast as he purrs louder than ever. You smelled good, tasted good, and felt good. How could he deny this? He brought your hips closer to his torso as he switched breasts with his tongue, making you arch against him again. Only some more layers of fabric separated him from you. He shivers again. His sheath opens.
Feral groans as he lowers you to the ground, positioning himself between your legs. Between the rumple of the fabric of your dress’s skirt. You pant as he plans his next move, lifting your skirts over to your belly, and exposing your legs along with your chest.
You clutch the fabric nervously as you try to regain your breath. You knew how things worked between a man and a woman. But this was no man, and you surely never heard of one so big as this for comparison. It fumbles with its crotch cloth before turning back to you.
His cock stood fully hard before you, slick and as big as you thought it’d be, if not more. Your eyes widen, and your cunt tightens around nothing. You let out a breathless sigh as he moves closer to you, hooking his hands under your legs and pulling you to him. His cock was reddish like the center of his chest, ridged and bumpy like his skin. It’s your turn to shiver, and he purrs for you.
The head of his cock slides against your slit, and you gasp, choking on a moan as he nudges your clit before coming back down and repeating the motion. Your slick mingles with his as he presses his head against your hole. It’s tight, unforgivingly tight. It’s going to hurt.
Your entrance is breached, and you’re frowning hard already, feeling the thick, swollen head of his cock pulsating inside your cunt. The corners of your vision go white as you pant in strain, lust, and anxiety at what's to come.
He pauses and reaches for his back, his free hand stroking your thigh as he produces one of his weapons from his back. Some kind of spear.
Feral’s hand leaves your thigh to aid him in pulling it apart, making it a two-piece. He lays the blade part on the ground and keeps the end part to himself. He purrs heavily again as he lowers the pommel to your cunt, resting it over the small nub that made you react so hard before. He reaches for his wrist gauntlet and presses two buttons, causing it to vibrate.
You yell out in surprise and pleasure as he presses the vibrating pommel to your clit, leaning over you as you moan and squirm under the best sensation you’ve ever felt in your life. A sudden rush flows through your body as your pussy spasms around his cock. You groan as he presses more of his cock into your cunt, slacking on the floor as he lifts the pommel from you again, stopping his movements halfway through once more. He strokes your thigh, and you crane your neck to look up at him, “Please- please do that again. Please.”  You beg, pointing at his spear’s end.
He understands. And lowers the pommel onto you once more. “Please-” you pant, moaning as he shifts closer to you, pressing the same spots on his strange wrist armor. You rest your hand over his on the spear, panting harder before that sensation kicked in again full force. It shook you to your core, rattling you from the inside out in the best way possible. “In me-, in me-” you beg in between moans, grabbing his thigh under yours with your other hand, trying to pull it closer to you. Feral snarls and closes his free hand around your hip, thrusting his cock the rest of the way in. You shouted again as that same rush crashed over you again, making you tighten around the massive cock deep into you.
Feral roars and bucks his hips, small spurts of precome getting squeezed out of him by your pussy. “Please- please- please fuck me, please-” He recognized the word as he pulled his cock back and thrusted back in fully, tossing the spear end to the side as he focuses on you again. Your eyes roll back into your skull as he sets a bruising pace, hands tightly gripping your hips as he roars and snarls.
You panted and gasped as your dress dragged roughly against the forest floor as he fucked you hard, the loud noises of your mating enough to make you close your eyes in embarrassment once more. No one could hear you here, only him. All of your moans and screams were for him and only him, as his growling and purring were yours, and yours only.
“I’m going to- I-” You shudder as you feel that rush coming through you again, in a slightly different way this time, but no less pleasurable than before as you grab his arms, coming onto his cock for the third time. Feral roars and slams his cock as deep as he could, filling you up to the brim with thick come. It drips from your cunt and onto your skirt’s fabric, torn and dirty after everything you went through this day alone.
Feral doubles over and rests his head on the ground next to yours supporting himself with one of his hands. He purrs and nuzzles into your hair again as you struggle to regain your breath once more. He licks your cheek, and you smile, wincing briefly when he pulls away from you, laying down on the grassy patch before pulling you close to him. You cover your chest again and lower your skirts before snuggling up to him.
You hug his middle as he wraps his arms around your form, feeling his chest pick up its purring as your eyes grow heavier by the second. Feral watches you slack against him, out like a light. He strokes your hair and rests his jaw on top of your head. He scoffs as he drifts off to sleep himself.
The elders didn’t know shit.
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trashcanfanfics · 6 months
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Male yautia x fem reader
You an your mate live on earth in a picture perfect neighborhood. White pick-it fences, big backyard and one of those big roundabout at the end of the street.
Yep, life sure is good.
Except when the neighborhood bitch Karen and her group try and one up your husband. Karen and your mate have been in a while on fud for years. But your mate, ever the gentleman, acts like a petty white bitch back.
As for her husband? You an him golf every Sunday, a nice guy, just no back bone, an a grate baker.
Reader gender not mentioned, could be any gender
Getting your yautja to agree to a quiet life in a cozy little neighborhood would've been next to impossible if they weren't an elder looking to settle down. The fact that it was you they'd been able to settle down with helped too.
Everything was peaceful; you had a great house, a pet, your mate. All perfect. They'd even found a love for gardening, and you had fresh vegetables and fruits growing. It kept them busy and in shape, they said.
Of course, things can never be too perfect. Enter Cheryl, your neighbor across the street. She had been polite and nice at first, complimenting the flowers out front and your funny little gnome. Things went downhill after she met your mate, however. There was an unspoken hostility that made the tension in the air almost unbearable.
From then on, she and your mate made attempts to outdo each other. If your mate planted roses, she'd plant at least two bushes of different colors. Once at a block party, your mate made strawberry ice cream from an old recipe book and Cheryl was quick to pull her posse into shaming them for making a dairy product.
"What about the lactose intolerant people, hm? That's why MY dish is gluten and lactose free. For those who have dietary restrictions." Her smug look and the hushed laughter of her group infuriated your mate. They grumbled for a week after that and vowed to make her pay.
Her husband, Henry, on the other hand, was a genuinely good guy. How he ended up with Cheryl of all people is a mystery. You two walked your dogs together and fish on the weekends. Henry even shared his recipe for his famous angel food cake with you. He's the only reason your mate hasn't incinerated Cheryl by now. That and the fact that your mate secretly enjoys the challenge.
Overall, your life with your mate isn't completely peaceful, but you wouldn't have it any other way, and you know your mate feels the same whenever they look at you.
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rotten-carcass · 2 years
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Posting my bday gift for @bonnie-irahsaj with their permission
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Had a yautja idea I had to write down and share with everyone.
Minors don't interact
Yautja's are light big cats, we can all agree on thst right?
How would they react to a Christmas tree?
The yautja watched you bring in a tree confused on why would would bring that inside but then get mad at him for bringing his kills inside. He gets even more confused when you start putting things on the tree. The shiny orbs confuse him and yet allure him. He most have it.
The whole time your setting up the tree he's trying to steal the ornaments from you. It starts to get on your nerves but he looks at them with such an intense curiosity thst you can't help but smile. When the tree is finally all decorated and covered in Christmas lights you plug it in and take a step back to admire your work.
The sound started off quiet at first, you didn't notice it right away until it got much louder. Looking to your side you found the source. He's purring as he looks at the lights with wide eyes. You've never see his pupils so wide before. The moment was magical until he pounced on the tree wanting the sparkly shiny lights.
Getting him off the tree was neat impossible but after a while you managed it. He now does that every time he sees the Christmas tree lit up. Every year you think he won't do it but he does.
One year you didn't bother with a tree sense he tackes it every dakn time. He was very upset by this and stormed out. An hour later he came back with a whole ass grown tree wanting you to set it up. You went back to setting the tree up every year again after that.
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