#predator imagine

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅳ▬ ⁽ 𝓎𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒿𝒶 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₈˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : mdni----- unedited, NSFW,  explicit content, teratophilia, yautja/human, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, breeding, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, violence, alien abduction (??), reader is lowkey horny all the time. ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after a yautja breaks into your home, all hell breaks loose.

꒰m!yautja ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

THUMP THUMP

Crash!

𝒴our eyes flutter open, bleary with sleep and confusion. The room is dark, the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a soft glow onto your thick blanket. With a yawn, you stretch out your limbs, feeling your joints crack as you reach out for the lamp on your nightstand. The small clink of the knob being twisted breaks the silence of the night in your quiet house. You take a moment to rub the sleep from your eyes before you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle down, your warm feet making contact with the cool touch of your house shoes. It takes a second for you to come to but you finally find yourself upright and walking out of the room. You weren't necessarily worried, as your mischievous cat often wreaks havoc on the counters at night. It's a familiar sight. Typically, you would leave the mess until morning, but this time, an inexplicable urge pushes you to investigate. Plus, you're quite thirsty. Descending the wooden stairs leisurely, you reach the end of the hallway at the bottom and flick on the light switch. The single bulb illuminates only your immediate surroundings, but it's enough for your eyes to adjust to the darkness downstairs.

The shuffling of your footsteps reverberated in your ears, causing an inexplicable unease to wash over you. Your legs became as heavy as lead, making each step a painful endeavor. Suddenly, a surge of alarm courses through you as when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting across your skin. You halt your movement, allowing your senses to sharpen and tune in. The faint jingle and jangle of your cat's collar catches your immediate attention, prompting you to cautiously retrace your steps towards the staircase. As your trembling hands gripped the railing, you were taken aback by the sight of your black and white feline leisurely stretching at the top of the stairs, its mouth opening wide in a yawn. If your cat had been upstairs all along, then what was the noise you heard?   Fear crept into the depths of your stomach, churning your insides and burning your throat. In this moment of vulnerability, you realized that you were unarmed, with the only available option being a baseball bat tucked away in the closet just a few feet from where you stood. A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard, desperately attempting to maintain your composure as you stealthily made your way toward the closet. The thought of calling for help vanished from your mind, replaced by a gripping fear that consumed your every thought.  Your attention was suddenly captivated by a mesmerizing neon green hue, its splatters leading a mysterious trail toward the dining room. 

  With trembling hands, you press them against your mouth to stifle a sob, cringing when you feel the clamminess of your skin. As you stand frozen in terror, your ears tingle and twitch, picking up on a soft clicking sound in front of you. Slowly, your eyes scan upwards, only to be met with an impenetrable darkness in the dining room, with the glowing substance serving as the sole source of illumination. A soft whimper escapes your lips, and at that moment, all thoughts of finding a weapon vanished. Whoever or whatever was in your house, one thing was certain - it was not human.   As you stood there, the air before you seemed to ripple and quiver, creating a captivating display of ethereal pink and green hues before your dark dining room came back into your 'sight'. A shudder traveled down your spine, and your legs wobbled, as if unable to bear your weight any longer. With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, you tentatively extended your hand, half-expecting your senses to deceive you in this surreal moment. The sensation was akin to touching a brick wall, the object beneath your hand was rigid and corded with muscles. You clenched your eyes shut and bit your lip, pulling your hand away briefly from whatever was there. Your lashes fluttered, lifting to reveal glossy eyes and unshed tears. The air suddenly materialized into something inhumane. The air around you suddenly morphed into something otherworldly. It stood imposingly tall, slender, and muscular. Once more, you heard that clicking noise coming from the being in front of you. Overwhelmed by the intense mental stimulation, your mind reaches its breaking point. Your eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of your head, rendering your body completely incapacitated. In a sudden motion, you stumbled forward, colliding with the mysterious entity standing before you. With surprising tenderness, its clawed hands extended to cradle your delicate form.

With ease, the colossal Predator effortlessly lifted the small human who had fallen into him, ensuring that its sharp claws didn't puncture your tender thighs. Your head hangs limply, narrowly avoiding the menacing tusks attached to the Predator's shoulder armor.     Perturbed the Predator emits a series of clicks, and swiftly makes his way into the living room and to the small couch, gently unfurling his arms from around you and placing you onto it. Tilting his head his tubed dreads cascade over his shoulder, and behind his mask, the Predator's intense gaze is fixated on your motionless body. Fortunately, you appeared unharmed, it seemed you had simply fainted. Ahn'thu's head jerked up abruptly, rendering himself invisible to the naked eye immediately. The sharp crunch of broken glass echoed in his ear canal as he swiftly surveyed the room through his mask, instantly identifying multiple human heat signatures. Glancing down at the small figure nestled on the couch, he reassured himself that you would remain unharmed among your own kind. Revealing himself now would undoubtedly result in a hasty and reckless response from the intruders, no doubt they would fire without thinking of who was in the house originally.

The Yautja took his eye off the human on the couch and ventured into the darkness of the living room. The heat signatures were moving closer, almost to the living room. The heat signatures were getting closer, inching towards the heart of the room. Humans, being as noisy as ever, made their presence known with every step, every whisper, and every click of their weapons. Ahn'thu maintained surveillance on their positions, making sure they stayed within sight. The soldiers eventually entered the living room, speaking in hushed tones. It took awhile but one of them noticed you unconscious on the couch, nudged his fellow soldier, and pointed towards your body.

" We have a civilian here Captain, your orders?"

A burly man in the front came to a halt, scanning the area until he spotted your motionless form."Check for signs of life," he commanded. Ahn'thu's warning trill sent a shiver down the soldiers' spines. The sound of his gauntlet blades unsheathing itself made them wary and the room was suddenly filled with red dots from their weapons, aiming at nothing and everything.   " Stay on high alert! It has the advantage of being able to see us, but we are unable to perceive its existence. Keep your guard up and remain cautious at all times. "

 Ahn'thu almost let out a click of amusement. He didn't want this gruesome scene to play out in your home. He didn't want you to wake up to the putrid smell of metallic blood and death. He didn't want your eyes to widen in horror at the sight of crimson stains on your wooden floors and white walls.   The sound of your groans echoed through the room, instantly drawing the gaze of everyone present. With bated breath, they observed as your unconscious form gradually stirred back to life. Ahn'thu emitted a contented purr, relieved to witness the small human's recovery. Although reluctant, the Predator seized the opportunity to depart unnoticed while their attention was fixated, skillfully concealing itself nearby.

With a flutter, your eyes blinked open for the second time tonight, accompanied by a pounding ache at the back of your head. Oddly enough, you couldn't recall any instance of hitting your head. As you propped yourself up, the fog in your mind started to lift, and your bleary eyes regained focus.

  The hushed shuffle of footsteps nearby caused your muscles to tense, and in that moment, the memories flooded back. You turned your gaze slowly towards the direction of the sound, your hands instinctively rising to cover your mouth, a gasp escaping through your fingers.

  In front of you, a group of armed men stood, the lasers of their guns fixed on your trembling figure. Suddenly, one of them took a step forward, gradually lowering his weapon. "We're not here to hurt you. We're after something that has entered your home. Have you seen anything?" Reluctantly, you nodded your head and swallowed a sob. "T-there was this man— no, this thing. It was tall, but it didn't appear human. It was injured. I didn't even notice it at first, despite it being right in front of me." Anxiously playing with your fingers, you muttered, "I know it sounds crazy, but it just appeared out of nowhere, like it was invisible at first." The man nodded, his face wearing a grim expression. He raised his gun again, aiming it at your head. " If only you didn't know so much. " Your eyes widened as you looked at the other soldiers in the room, tears falling down your cheeks. "N-no! I swear I won't say a word, please, please don't hurt me."

  ' gurgle '

  Blood coated your face in small rivulets, and you sat paralyzed on the couch, observing as the man in front of you collapsed to the floor, blood pooling from his mouth. Suddenly, the alien materializes, a massive eight-foot Yautja looming just a few inches away from the lifeless body. The masked creature locked eyes with you, its head cocked to the side. Time seemed to stand still as you both stared at each other until chilling words reached your ears.

"Fire!" Bullets whizzed by your face, lodging into the walls and furniture around you. You couldn't help but scream, curling into a tight ball to make yourself as small as possible, hands covering your ears, eyes shut tight, face buried in your knees. 

Ahn'thu vanished from sight, the sound of his blade cutting through the air was more deafening than the gunshots, and soon bodies were falling to the ground. Their cries pierced through your hands and tears streamed down your face. Despite the diminishing sound of gunfire, it didn't mean that it had completely ceased. A searing, white-hot pain shot through your thigh, prompting you to release a scream that resonated with pure agony. The intensity of your cry caught Ahn'thu's attention, causing him to swiftly turn towards you, his cloak disengaging in the process.   A deafening roar reverberated throughout the house, shaking its very foundation. With a swift and calculated movement, Ahn'thu twisted his body towards the soldier closest to him, seizing the soldier's head in his powerful grip. In a bone-chilling display, he twisted and pulled, leaving behind a severed head and a spine dangling from the Predators' colossal hands. Ahn'thu swiftly reached for the shuriken hanging from his waist, the sharp blades catching the light as they spun open. With a precise throw, the blade pierced through a man's throat, causing the others to scatter in fear dropping their weapons in the process. After dispatching the final opponent, the Yautja turned towards the trembling human huddled on the couch, your body covered in a sheen of sweat. The massive figure advanced, only to halt when you tucked your body to the couch, a pained gasp echoing in the room. While he wished for your comfort, that wasn't a priority when there was a bullet lodged in your thigh. Ahn'thu's gaze flickered to the wound, his concern evident as he saw the blood seeping through your clenched hands that were putting pressure on the area.   With swift movements, he approached you lifting you gently into his arms. A gentle purr rumbling from his chest, soothing you. Gradually, your body relaxed in his arms, the tension melting away and your heat signature indicating a decrease in distress. The Yautja grumbled as he heard the wailing of cop sirens. He walked over to one of the dead bodies, softly positioning you so you were cradled in the crook of one of his arms, and pulled the shuriken from the man's throat, flicking it out so that the blades closed. His ship was a considerable distance away, but luckily, he was surrounded by miles of woods. Calling for his ship and cloaking it in a clearing would be a simple task. Ahn'thu smoothly exited, slipping through the gaping hole in the wall with care not to cause you any discomfort. The clamor of the intruders breaking through the door pushed him to hasten his steps, the cloaking device immediately bending the light and allowing you two to become transparent. He realized he had to extract the bullet swiftly, noticing the ashen hue of your soft skin, and your eyes bleary with pain. He comforted you with a soft purr, holding you close to maintain warmth. With a gentle flutter, your eyes succumbed to the overwhelming pain, plunging you into a deep slumber for the second instance that night.

For the past half an hour, he has been walking tirelessly, determined to put a considerable distance between himself and the small town.  Initially, he frets when you don't show any signs of movement for the first ten minutes of the journey. However, he finds solace in the data and body temperature readings provided by his equipment, albeit temporarily.   Gently, he cradles you in the crook of his arm, drawing you closer so that he can operate his gauntlet. The ship will arrive shortly, in just a matter of minutes. He steals another glance at you, observing your shallow breaths and the rapid movements of your eyes beneath closed lids as if chasing fleeting dreams.

The ship arrives with a gentle breeze and the familiar beep of his gauntlet. It briefly materializes, showing him the entrance before vanishing and sealing behind him. The interior is pleasantly cool, but not too much so. The netting covering his body regulated his temperature, he was never too cold nor too hot— but Ahn'thu preferred it to be cold. His main concern is removing the bullet from your body, so he takes you to his room and lays you down on his furs to inspect your wound.

 Unfazed by the blood staining the plush bedding, Ahn'thu retrieves a reddish substance from a nearby chest. With a delicate touch, he grasps your leg, wiping away some of the blood to locate the wound. Placing the red putty against the injury, he allows it to work its magic.   As tears cascade down your cheeks and your body writhes in pain, he holds you firmly, emitting a deep purr from his chest to provide comfort and alleviate your suffering. Although you grow increasingly docile, spasms persist in your leg as he maintains his grip.

As the weight of the crimson putty becomes burdensome, he delicately peels it away from your skin, examining the bullet now cradled in his palm. Ahn'thu places it within a smaller container before retrieving a vial of cerulean liquid and returning to your side, his worried expression evident. Clicking his tongue in apprehension, he understands the impending agony that awaits you.     He applies a single drop of the liquid onto the wound, resuming his comforting purrs, almost stopping when your trembling hand finds his and clings tightly. Your cries grow louder, sweat trickling down your body, causing it to tremor uncontrollably. Though he can offer little in terms of remedy, he remains by your side, providing solace through closeness and doing his utmost to ease your suffering.

It feels like an eternity before your trembling stops, your wound closes, and your breathing becomes steady. In reality, it only took five minutes. You're still grasping his hand, his claws curled inwards to his palm so that he didn't hurt you in any way. And while he's reluctant to let go of you, he does so— he needs to report back to his Elder and start the hunt for the Bad Blood in the Town area. He lets out an amused click as your hand slightly rises off the bed to find him again. He turns and makes his way to the door, letting it slide open before leaving.

As your eyes flutter open, you struggle to adjust to the darkness surrounding you. The remnants of a bullet wound in your thigh send phantom pains coursing through your body, causing a dull ache. With a weary groan, you manage to sit up, only to be startled by the sudden flood of light that blinds you momentarily.   The room feels alien, unfamiliar, and a wave of panic threatens to consume you. However, you gather your composure and slowly maneuver yourself off the massive bed. Every movement is accompanied by the symphony of your body's protests - the creaking of bones and the popping of joints. Finally, as your feet touch the cool metal flooring, you take a moment to stretch your limbs, savoring the sweet relief it brings.

 It seems like you're just in a room, with no visible exit. Desperately searching for a way out, you cautiously explore the walls for any hidden buttons. You jump back as a door slides open, cool air brushing up against your skin. After cautiously venturing out, you find yourself in a maze of identical hallways, feeling disoriented. Biting your lip you walked a bit farther, gasping softly as you stumble upon a control room filled with strange symbols and advanced technology.

With a sudden jolt, you took a step back and collided with an unyielding force.  Suddenly, a sharp clicking noise resonated near your ear, propelling you into a sprint, deftly evading whatever obstructed your path. When you dared to steal a glance behind, there was nothing to be seen, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips.   However, as you redirected your attention forward, a horrifying sight greeted you, prompting a piercing scream to erupt from your throat at the thing in front of you.  Overwhelmed by fear, you stumble backward and seek solace against the safety of a nearby wall, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body convulsing with hiccups, and your breaths coming in deep, shaky inhales.

  Ahn'thu takes a step closer, then crouches down, his head cocked to the side. You seem to fear him, understandably so given recent events. He resorts to purring, noting the wariness and familiarity in your eyes. He looks down at his gauntlet and starts to type, you're curious but not enough to scoot closer and look. 

  You lean forward some to see what he's doing but jerk your body back forcefully when he moves abruptly, attempting to show you his gauntlet, hitting your head on the metal wall behind you. Though a dull ache lingers in your skull, you pay it little mind.

However, Ahn'thu on the other hand, clicks worriedly, leaning closer to look at your head. He reminds himself that you're scared when you move further away from him. With a sigh, he withdraws his hand and presses the enter key on the gauntlet. Although the voice is slightly distorted, you can still comprehend its words.

"You are safe here."

The sight of your chest's rise and fall gradually slowing down, accompanied by the subtle narrowing of your eyes in distrust, captures Ahn'thu's attention. He finds solace in the fact that you are not easily swayed by trust, recognizing it as a sign of your survival instincts. With caution in mind, you skillfully slide away from him, ensuring maximum distance before confidently standing up.   "Where am I? Why did you take me?"

 Ahn'thu's gauntlet and translator struggled to keep pace with your rapid-fire questions, causing him to click in frustration. However, as he began typing something, you paused, eagerly anticipating the voices of various individuals.

   "One at a time."

You let out an exasperated sigh and fold your arms tightly across your chest.  How ironic it is that these aliens, with their supposedly advanced technology, can't even comprehend a simple conversation. The throbbing ache at the base of your skull intensifies, causing your face to contort in pain. In response, the Yautja takes a step closer, triggering your fight or flight response.

  Your body instinctively takes a few steps back, almost losing balance and narrowly avoiding a collision with the cold, unyielding metal wall of the ship once more. Ahn'thu effortlessly closes the distance between you two, reaching out to firmly grasp your forearm and provide the stability you desperately need.

As you take a moment to closely observe it, you can't help but be intrigued by its reptilian skin, adorned with patches of green, black, and dark grey. Surprisingly, its skin doesn't possess the expected rough texture; instead, it feels more like a unique blend of softness and hardness, almost resembling a pliable plastic. Its claws delicately grasp your forearm, ensuring not to harm you.

   Although its face remains concealed behind a metallic mask, you can hear the faint sounds of clicks and growls, which you assume to be its language. Startled, you swiftly retract your arm and take a step back, fixing a piercing gaze upon it. "Who are you?" you inquire. The alien meets your gaze with its enigmatic blank mask but then proceeds to type something.

 "I am Ahn'thu, I am Elite Yautja Warrior."

You would have trouble pronouncing that, but you decide to give it a try regardless. The sound of your voice attempting to replicate his name brings a hint of amusement to his expression, and he responds with a gentle purr when you pronounce it as accurately as you can.

"What is your name?"

The voices startle you as you hadn't even seen him type it in. You seem wary for a moment, and Ahn'thu backs off, not wanting to push you into sharing if you're not ready. Your eyes reflect a bit of trust now, the stormy pools slowly turning into murky waters. "It's Y/N." 

   It's silent between the two of you for a moment before your stomach lets out a deep growl, making you place your hands over it with furrowed brows. Ahn'thu takes a step closer, and this time, you don't retreat. "I will feed you."

You slowly and warily take its outstretched hand and jump when he grasps your hand gently, pulling you down the hall. You follow closely, absentmindedly tracing circles on the skin of its palm with your thumb. Ahn'thu remains silent, secretly pleased that he has earned a fragment of your trust. The two of you enter a different room, completely white and almost blinding after the dimly lit corridors of the ship. It takes some time for your eyes to adjust to the stark brightness.

Ahn'thu softly ushers you towards a table, a subtle detail you might have missed if he hadn't guided you to sit down first. You quickly pull away your hand from his hold and give him a stern glare. The Yautja admires your boldness, pleased that you remain cautious - and rightfully so, as you're clueless about his intentions. The cooler uncloaks itself when he steps closer to it and you let out a startled gasp, head tilting. Ahn'thu trills and opens the door, unveiling a selection of exotic fruits from the various planets he's visited. He's tested to make sure that they're safe to eat, the inhabitants of Earth were known for their fragility after all. Ahn'thu returned to the table and sat down, the cooler vanishing from view. You observed the unfamiliar fruits with concern, some appearing intimidating. It was the first time you sought guidance since waking up, your wide human gaze up at him through lashes, showing a hint of trust towards him. 

 Ahn'thu purrs and grabs one of the fruits, flipping a blade in his hand and slicing it open. He extends a piece towards you, but your attention is completely captured by the fruit's unusual color. The Yautja lets out an impatient huff and reaches up to unhook his mask, causing a hiss to echo throughout the room as the restraints are released. 

  He braces himself for the typical reaction – a scream, a gasp, a recoil in disgust, or perhaps even a comment on his hideousness – but you defy his expectations.  Instead, your human eyes widen with genuine curiosity, your hands instinctively clench at your side, and your fleshy lips form a small 'o' of wonder, devoid of any fear.

 Your lips part as you gaze into his deep-set eyes, you can't help but be captivated by their human-like appearance and the profound intelligence they hold. His mandibles, though relaxed, twitch slightly under your careful observation. Intrigued, you lean forward, your eyes filled with soft wonder.   Ahn'thu finds your human fascination amusing and decides to indulge in the fruit, carving out a small piece and savoring it. The taste is sweet, leaving a delightful, bubbly aftertaste on the tongue but it isn't unpleasant in the slightest. 

As you gaze at him, your eyes widen in astonishment, fixating on his mandibles and teeth. Mesmerized, you observe him chewing effortlessly. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to grab the remaining portion. Carefully, you bring it closer to your lips, making sure to avoid the skin.

   A stream of blue juice trickles down your chin as you take a bite, causing a soft gasp of delight to escape your lips. The explosion of sweetness and fizziness on your tongue leaves you in awe. You glance at him, your eyes brimming with wonder, and Ahn'thu clicks in amusement. 

With a tantalizing flick of your pink tongue, his amusement gradually subsides. You savor the lingering taste by licking up the remaining juice. Your fingers diligently clean the stickiness off your skin before you devour it, relishing every bite. 

   Ahn'thu notices your swift completion and offers you his remaining portion. You accept it graciously, taking a gentle bite and sighing in delight at its exquisite flavor. Surprisingly, it not only satisfies your cravings but also leaves you feeling pleasantly full.

The Yautja carefully observes you, taking note as your eyelids grow heavy and your pulse begins to calm. Exhaustion from the day's chaos and frantic running through the corridors has caught up to you. Suddenly, you startle as numerous voices echo in your ears, urging you to rest. Despite your weariness, the idea of drifting off to sleep with a mysterious alien predator lurking nearby is not how you envisioned meeting your end.

Ahn'thu observes as your hair dances around your face while you groggily decline. He desires your comfort, but also knows it's for your own good. The Yautja rises and gently carries you in his arms. Sensing your exhaustion, you offer no resistance, allowing your head to rest on his chest. 

  He moves cautiously, avoiding any sudden movements. Your gentle breath brushes against his skin, leaving a warm sensation. The worry lines on your forehead and eyebrows have vanished, revealing smooth human skin.

 Ahn'thu reaches his room and delicately places you on the bed, watching as you immediately snuggle into the soft furs, inhaling gently. The fabric of your shorts ride up and caress your thighs, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of the soft globes of flesh that had playfully jiggled when you ran away from him. Your ass looks velvety smooth, and he longs to savor the delight nestled in-between your plush thighs.

   Suppressing his primal desires, he snarls at his own thoughts and shakes his head, causing his dreadlocks to whip around him. Ahn'thu swiftly turns on his heels and exits the room, making his way back to the meeting chamber to report the encounters with the humans and bad blood.

It takes a few hours for your eyelashes to flutter open completely. The room is cast in shadows, with only a faint light illuminating the doorway. Snug in your cocoon of warmth, you find it hard to part with the soft furs. Sliding out of bed, you approach the door and are surprised by its swift, noiseless opening. Stepping into the hallway, you begin to walk aimlessly, not quite certain of your direction but moving forward nonetheless.

Your movements come to a halt as the indecent cacophony of grunts, clicks, and growls fills the air. Backtracking, you cautiously steal a glimpse into the room, the door barely ajar. A gasp lodges itself in your throat, but you swiftly muffle it with your hand, preventing it from reaching your ears, or rather, his ears. 

   With eyes widened in disbelief, you watch him forcefully thrust into a contraption resembling a fleshlight, yet possessing an uncanny fleshy texture, reminiscent of the inner walls of a vagina. It drips with viscous neon droplets of cum, a soft hue of pastel green. What astounds you the most is the sheer shape, size, and girth of his cock. 

As wide as four of your fingers combined, the length stretches from the tip of your index finger to your wrist. It's not human, which is no surprise since he isn't either, but the shape and texture are mesmerizing. It brings to mind the myriad of 'alien' cocks you've seen on Tumblr.

   It shares the same hue as him, but it's noticeably softer than his actual skin. Veins course through it, thick and prominent. Small ridges and nodes decorate it from the top to the bottom, causing you to swallow hard at how slick and warm it seems. The only human aspect about him is the large testicles that hang imposingly underneath his cock.

 You peek up at what he's looking at and can't stop the soft gasp from passing through your lips. It was you. Your face on the pornstar, getting fucked roughly by a guy from your planet. Lost in his own world of desire, he remains oblivious to the sound of your gasp, thrusting relentlessly into the device. Unable to control yourself, your hand slips beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, gliding past the barrier of your panties, and delving into your dewy, swollen folds, slick with your arousal. 

 Your lower lip disappears between your teeth as a soft moan escapes you, your fingers tracing the outline of your engorged clit. With a delicate touch, you roll it between your fingers, steadying yourself when your knees start to buckle. Your fingers trail past your clit and to your slobbering entrance, hot and clenching against your middle and pointer fingers.

    Slowly you ease your fingers into your dripping pussy, eyes sliding shut for a moment as the thickness enters you. You weren't overly sexual when it came to normal living, you didn't really masturbate and most definitely didn't have time for men or sex toys. At the most, you'd rub one out or try a finger or two but that was about it.

  You try and imagine that he's behind you, that his thick cock is pummeling into you. Your hands fail to provide the same pleasure, leaving you agitated as you watch his hips move with urgency. Giving up, your fingers leave your cunt with an erotic pop and go back to your sensitive clit, rubbing, pinching, and patting at it. 

  Your teeth try and stop your lewd moans of pleasure from escaping but you can hear the wetness of your pussy loud in your ears, feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the floor. His thrusts speed up, his claws dig into the padding of the device and he shoved himself inside it once more before roaring out his release. 

You had never been able to reach orgasm on demand, not even the commanding voices of men on PornHub instructing you to climax. But the feral, animalistic noise of this alien spilling his seed? It made your knees buckle and your pussy convulse. It was the most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced. 

   Thighs twitching, you couldn't hide the deep moan that spills past your pretty little lips. The Yautja's head snaps up and he withdraws his cock from the machine, his cum trickling down his thick shaft. Your cheeks are flushed as you rise hurriedly, running down the hall on legs weakened from your orgasm. You locate the room almost instantly and step inside with a sense of anticipation. 

   Ahn'thu walks over to the broken door ( as it never fully shut ), and opens it completely, his breath finally steadying. He lets out a small sound of confusion before squatting down to examine the tiny pool of cloudy liquid at the entrance.

 His fingers dipped into the substance, and a delightful warmth enveloped them, catching him off guard. Raising his hand to his face, he took a deep breath, his body responding with a pleasurable purr to the sweet and slightly spicy scent that wafted from it. Unable to resist, Ahn'thu sensually sucked on his digit, feeling his cock twitch and precum drip. 

   The taste delighted him, urging him to dip his fingers once more and savor the intoxicating flavor. Standing, he heads back into the room and slips on his clothing. Exiting, Ahn'thu locates the h'dui'se, following like a hound. Unsurprisingly, he finds himself outside of his room. As he enters, he's overwhelmed by the captivating fragrance that surrounds him, suffocating his senses.

The sound of his clicking sends shivers down your spine, causing your body to tremble beneath the soft covers. You instinctively place a hand over your mouth, feeling the warmth of arousal smear across your flushed cheeks. Your thighs clenching tightly together, clit still pulsating from the intense pleasure just moments ago.

   Ahn'thu notices your movements but he doesn't confront you, he doesn't want to scare you even more than you already are. With an angry trill, he exits the room, realizing how difficult it is to be in your presence when the scent of your desire lingers in the air, clouding his senses. He seeks solace in another spare room, far away from the intoxicating allure of your essence.

As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself in a state of uncertainty. The absence of windows on the ship leaves you clueless about the time it's what you assume is the next morning. Stepping out of the room, you make a conscious effort to push yesterday's troubles from your mind and begin to explore. Intrigued, you cautiously peer into each door, hoping to find him. 

The ship is far too silent, calm– it's only you here. A frown forms on your face, and a sudden surge of fear grips your being. The thought of being stranded alone in an alien vessel, unaware of its destination or potential dangers, sends a shiver down your spine.

As you stumble upon the pristine white room, the very same space where he tantalizingly fed you with succulent fruit, a delicate gasp escapes your lips. Hastily, you scuttle inside, emitting a hiss of discomfort as you accidentally collide with the table, your eyes gradually adapting to the surroundings, discerning its form. 

  A wave of bewilderment washes over you as you frantically seek out the refrigerator, emitting a low grunt of frustration as you unexpectedly collide with it, as if it materialized out of thin air.  With a glimmer of delight, the refrigerator door glides open, revealing a mango, a tantalizing gift from Earth.

  You exit the room after searching for the door and head out into the hallway. Without a knife, you're unsure of how to eat the fruit but choose to bite into it, sucking and nipping at the skin until it's cleaned and pulling it from your mouth. As you continue your exploration, you stumble upon the familiar room from the previous night. A surge of desire courses through your veins, causing your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. With sticky fingers, you gently push open the door.

 A hum of delight fills the room as you bite into the fruit again, the juice spilling down your chin and neck. You'd have to ask him where the bathroom is if he even had one. Your gaze catches sight of a nearby table, and you delicately place the mango upon it, savoring the opportunity to lick your fingers clean. Slowly, you walk towards the machine, eyeing it. 

The remnants of his cum, mingled with his perspiration, have been meticulously wiped away, a part of you wishes it wasn't so you could taste him. As you compose yourself, your moistened fingers glide over the buttons, leaving behind traces of your touch. 

  The words displayed on the screen remain an enigma, but the images depicted hold your gaze captive. Among them, one bears an uncanny resemblance to your alien. Another portrays a man, while a third portrays a woman. With trembling limbs, you succumb to your curiosity and press upon the image.

The machine instantly illuminates, its intricate mechanisms gliding back and forth at a deliberate pace. A gasp escapes your lips as you instinctively retreat, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. As the video commences, you find yourself captivated, fixated on the scene unfolding before you. The alien thrusts into the human woman with a primal intensity, their bodies melding together. 

  Her face is twisted with an unapologetic, wanton pleasure, her eyes rolling back into her skull, and a trail of drool cascades down her chin as he ravishes her. Despite her apparent state of blissful abandon, she begs for more, tooting her rear up, arching her back, and pressing her petite hand against his sculpted abdomen. His low rumblings aren't as deep as your alien's yet they still ignite a pulsating ache within your pussy nonetheless. With flushed cheeks, tousled locks, and quivering thighs, she surrenders herself to his every whim. 

 You bite down on your bottom lip, drawing closer, fixated on the sight of him disappearing inside her. His size may be slightly smaller than your alien's, but you pause, questioning when that creature had become yours. When did you become comfortable with this arrangement?

The thunderous growl signifies its release, cum painting her insides. The woman appears fatigued, yearning for rest, yet enveloped in an intoxicating pleasure. A shuddering sigh escapes her lips, but she remains helpless, succumbing to moans as he resumes his relentless thrusting. 

   Your hand ventures downwards, fingers coated in a sticky residue, caressing your throbbing clit nestled between moist folds and layers of fabric. You're firm in your movements, taken aback by the immense pleasure that engulfs you.

Biting your lip, your hand ventures beneath the fabric of your shorts, gliding past the delicate barrier of your panties, until it reaches your throbbing, weeping pussy. The succulent juice from the mango you had earlier coats your sensitive clit as you rub and pinch at it. This time, you abandon all inhibitions, allowing your moans, soft pants, and whimpers to fill the room and your eyes flutter shut. 

   The sound of her moans intertwines with the rhythmic slapping of his hips against her round ass, becoming the only melody that matters. With your other hand, now free, you trail it up your body, your fingers finding solace on your breasts, expertly pinching and teasing your nipples, mirroring the pleasure the woman is experiencing. The newfound ecstasy consumes you, causing your thighs to tremble uncontrollably, and give out as a desperate whine escapes your lips, your hand drenched in your cum.

An electrifying chill dances along your back, prompting you to rise abruptly. Fingers dart across the buttons, bringing the video to a halt and returning you to the Home Screen. The sensation of not being alone lingers in the air. Withdrawing your hand from your shorts, a glistening trail of desire is left on your stomach and you gracefully exit the room, snatching your mango as you go. Your astuteness guides you effortlessly through the labyrinth of halls, swiftly finding the room.

You let out a gasp as you collide with him, feeling his hand encircle your waist, his knee pressing against your soaked thighs to steady you.  Ahn'thu gazes at you, his head cocking as he spots the fruit in your hand. He goes to question you but the warm trail of wetness on his leg makes him click in question. Then the smell of your arousal hits him like a freight train and he growls lowly, almost throwing you over his shoulder and taking you like a beast in heat when your cunt clenches. 

In a nimble and tender manner, he elegantly withdraws from your presence, his eyes captivated by the luminous sheen of his leg in the artificial white light. Your human cheeks are adorned with a blush, and from behind his mask, he can perceive the frantic beat of your heart, racing at an exhilarating pace.

The mask translates your soft words. " You're back." 

Ahn'thu had set off to pursue the bad blood and had triumphed, bringing back his head as proof. He clicks before typing on his gauntlet, not wanting to startle you too much. "Went to hunt." You bob your head up and down, swallowing thickly. The silence lingers uncomfortably, prompting you to offer him the mango, with the same hand that had brought you pleasure not long ago.

With a swift motion, the Yautja unfastens his mask, causing your eyes to eagerly scan his face. Your breath catches in your throat as he gently seizes your wrist and brings it to his mouth, bypassing the fruit. His mandibles unfurl, revealing their impressive expanse, while his forked, purple tongue sensually caresses your fingers.

 A knot of desire intensifies in your belly, and you observe with furrowed brows and tightly clenched thighs. He pulls away and locks eyes with you, tilting his head inquisitively. With flushed cheeks, you swiftly withdraw your hand and head into the room. 

In the depths of his being, Ahn'thu is acutely aware of your want for him, as the heady scent of your desire hung in the air, thickening with each tantalizing lick of his tongue against your delicate fingers.

Perched upon his seat, the colossal Predator's thoughts spin like a tempest. Merely moments ago, he stumbled upon the lingering evidence of your delectable mango-drenched fingers upon the Pleasuring Room's machine.  

 The air was thick with your intoxicating arousal. Intrigued, he delved into the archives of recently viewed videos, only to be taken aback by the unexpected sight. It was of a Yautja and Ooman-di, which hadn't been what he was watching yesterday.

Ahn'thu swiftly made his way to the Pit, reviewing the camera footage, rewinding time, and selecting the Pleasuring Room. He cocks his head when you first enter the room, setting down your fruit and heading over to the machine. 

  You tap haphazardly and become slightly startled after finally choosing a video, the same one that had recently been watched when he checked.  Initially scared, you gradually became captivated by the video, moving closer.

A deep growl emanates from his throat as your hand disappears beneath the fabric covering your lower body. Arm moving relentlessly, and thighs shaking. The Yautja can feel himself growing harder as you find your release, the lewd sound of your wetness filling the air. With a slight pinch of your nipple, you climax, causing Ahn'thu to grasp the arm of his chair to prevent himself from rushing to you.

   He reaches to replay the video, intending to watch it again while stroking himself, but he accidentally rewinds too far to the moment he had used the device. Switching the camera to the view outside the door, he pauses, enhancing the video quality and zooming in slightly.

  At the door stands your delicate human figure, observing him while you indulge in your own pleasure. Ahn'thu aligns the videos next to each other and emits a satisfied purr as you reach your climax at the same time as him, legs buckling. 

  He remembers hearing the pretty sound of your voice but didn't realize that you had been touching yourself to him. Ahn'thu watches the two newfound videos and strokes himself to completion, cum painting his body. He can't stop himself from heading to his room where you await with glistening thighs.

Lying sprawled on the bed, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, carrying away the remnants of earlier embarrassment. You had never been so driven by sex before but the thought of an Alien taking you against your will, fucking you mercilessly while you cried from pleasure, had consumed your every thought since you boarded the ship.   

  Your self-restraint has vanished, as you slide your hand into your shorts for what feels like the umpteenth time. Your swollen clit, already firm and pulsating, eagerly awaits your hard and rapid strokes.

The sound of heavy footsteps in the darkness sent a jolt of awareness through your body. You stiffen, your nipples hardening, and pussy tightening into a clinch. You can hear the breathy, deep growls of the Yautja in front of you. Can hear the deep inhales it takes of your scent. How long had he been there? When had the door opened? You're unsure but accept it with a little reluctance, tensing as his hot breath fans over your face. There's the distinctive sound of a blade being unsheathed before your top is cut open, leaving your breasts to spill out. 

“A-ah! Wait, what are yo— mph~” Your breath hitches into a moan as the alien's scalding mouth descends upon your left nipple. His hand ventures boldly between your thighs, seeking out your wet, warm pussy beneath the delicate silk of your shorts. 

With his thumb, he applies pressure to the throbbing bundle of nerves beneath the material and rubs at your clit. His teeth softly graze your nipple, sending a surge of pleasure coursing through you, coiling into a tight knot deep within your abdomen. Your hips buck uncontrollably, the waves of ecstasy building until you cry out in bliss as a powerful orgasm crashes over you. This sensation, unlike any self-induced pleasure, is intense, overwhelmingly pleasurable, and leaves you feeling incredibly sensitive.

A scorching inferno engulfs your entire being, setting your senses ablaze. As the Alien materializes before you, your mind spins with a heady mix of anticipation and arousal. His hands, resembling those of a primal reptile, explore the landscape of your body with a possessive hunger, his fingers delicately pinching and tugging your sensitive nipples.

   His commanding presence now hovers above you, his large, dome head nestled against your bosom, as his mouth hungrily claims your areola, a dark, sinuous tongue gliding sensually across your taut nipple, leaving a trail of electrifying sensations in its wake, his teeth tantalizingly graze the puckered flesh. 

 “No, no more!”  Tears well up, pricking the edge of your lower lashes, as you defiantly shake your head. Drool escapes your mouth, cascading down your chin, while your feeble hands weakly attempt to push him away. Your hips involuntarily buck as the Predator's hand stealthily slides into your shorts. 

  A surge of slickness drools from your pulsating core as he expertly parts your folds, effortlessly locating your swollen clit. The coarse yet drenched tips of his fingers expertly manipulate your sensitive nerves, eliciting a chorus of moans and writhing movements. Your hands desperately clutch his wrist, your hips convulsively jerking and twisting in response.

His serpentine tongue finally grants respite to your tender nipple, but instead, it ventures closer to your ear. The gravelly, otherworldly timbre of his voice commands you to cum,  causing you to shriek as an intense climax engulfs you. Your entire being convulses as he persistently stimulates your hypersensitive clit. 

   Only when you emit soft whimpers and desperate pleas does he cease his assault. As your lungs gasp for air and your thighs quiver, you regain your ability to breathe, your eyes widening when you notice the bulging, pulsing thickness of his cock nestled between your calves. 

 “Please, no. Too big” You whimper softly, trying to roll over onto your stomach and crawl away from him. Ahn'thu ignores your feeble resistance, grabbing your thighs and turning you back onto your back. He spreads your legs apart, bending them towards your chest to expose your messy pussy. With a hungry look in his eyes, he rubs his cock against your wet folds, coating himself in your arousal.

 A sense of shame intertwines with an intoxicating thrill, coursing through your veins. You had been wanting to feel his cock deep inside you, to bask in the delightful heat of his cum cascading upon your quivering walls.

With a gentle nudge, the head of his pulsating shaft teases your throbbing clit, and you shudder, biting your lip. The Yautja is well aware of the challenge that awaits, as your tight and seemingly untouched pussy appears small and snug. Your plush lips part, forming a perfect 'o', while the room is filled with the sweet and genuine symphony of your moans.

    Lost in the throes of ecstasy, your eyes roll back, providing him with the perfect opportunity to thrust forward, filling you completely with his long cock. The whimper of pain that escapes your lips only intensifies his desire, causing him to jerk involuntarily within you.

  Your head writhes against the furs as your lips part to take in a breath, shaking your head once more, palms resting against his toned stomach to push him out of you. “A-ah, s’too big. Take it out!” He goes silent, stilling inside of you, eyes flitting over your tear-soaked face. His chest rumbles in a purr and your pussy clenches deliciously around him. 

At the feeling, Ahn'thu's body becomes restless, unable to remain still. Your velvety walls, sticky and warm, possess an irresistible hold on him, refusing to accommodate his size. He watches with awe as your figure arches, your breasts swaying and jiggling with each vigorous thrust.

  Already you're fucked silly, the thickness of his cock grinding mercilessly against your g-spot as you find yourself cumming hard and long. Your fervent cunt tightens and throbs around him, leaving a creamy ring of cum on his length.   

 "More."  You sob dumbly and shakily reach down and spread your folds open, watery eyes locking with him and tucking your lip into your mouth, rivulets of drool dribbling down your chin. As the Yautja thrusts into your eager pussy relentlessly, you release a soft whimper, surrendering to the ecstasy that consumes you. The alien's monstrous cock, unlike anything you've ever experienced, fills you to the brim, stretching you in ways you never thought possible.

    Your body quivers uncontrollably, yet you strive to regain composure, your breaths heavy and labored. A surge of pleasure electrifies your hips as a teasing finger brushes against your throbbing clit before vanishing. Another finger traces a tantalizing path along your inner thigh, skillfully finding your clit once more, tracing rough figure eights upon the bundle of nerves. Waves of pleasure crash over you relentlessly as your pussy convulses sporadically, each orgasm more intense than the last.

Ahn'thu lets out a primal roar as he spills his seed into your awaiting cunt and keeps it there, maneuvering your body into a mating press. The hot slosh of his cum filling you have you orgasming again and you whimper out his name, back arching. The Yautja looks down at your worn-out form and purrs softly, gently resting his forehead against yours. As your breathing steadies, you drift off to sleep in his arms. He keeps you like that,  ensuring his seed finds its place within you, determined to impregnate you with his offspring.

#predator x reader #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x human #predator x human #predator x yn #yautja #smut #monster fucker #slasher smut #monster x human #fantasy #possessive #writeblr #female writers #writerscommunity #monster lover #mates #x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #alien vs predator #yautja x you #yautja imagine #yautja imagines #predator imagine #monster nsft #deunmiu dessie

[multific]

Constellation

Wolf Yautja x Reader

Summary: You loved living alone in your cottage. You moved out to be alone for a reason, you hated people, and you wanted to be left alone. And you were alone until a certain pair of eyes started following you.

You saw the news on the TV.

Aliens.

And yet you ignored it.

You tried to live the life you wanted for so long as best as you could.

For as long as you could.

You still took care of your land, fed your animals and did your daily chores as usual.

You did see a couple of ships pass over your home but nothing more.

You have never seen an alien. Only on TV.

It appeared that they were fighting. 

Then the government decided to nuke the city to kill both aliens.

It looked like it was the end of it all.

But little did you know, for you, it was only the beginning. 

You had a feeling that you were being watched. 

The feeling not quite leaving you alone. You tried to look. You walked around your land, in the woods, nothing, no one. 

Could it be that you were becoming more and more paranoid? Could it be because of isolation?

You were imagining things.

Until one evening, when you heard noises inside your house.

Loud distinctive noises of someone walking around.

Fear struck you. 

You couldn't move out of bed. You just laid there, blankets up to your chin as you were shaking. Your heart beat out of your chest as the door to your room opened.

The person was huge, way too tall for a human, they had to dodge under the door to move in.

Then, came a clicking sound.

This is when you realized, this was no human.

There was a God damn alien in your home!

You knew you couldn't do anything. This thing could tear you apart in a matter of seconds.

You pretended to be asleep, hoping it would leave.

It watched you for a minute or two, which for you felt like an eternity before it left.

After the alien creature left, you rushed to see how it got in.

All doors and windows were locked from the inside. But you surely heard its footsteps moving into the woods next to your home.

You were utterly confused.

How did it get in?!

Why did it get in? What did it want?

It didn't take anything, it didn't hurt you, so what could it want?!

For the upcoming days, you didn't sleep.

The thing came every night, sometimes late in the night sometimes earlier. It just stood there and did nothing.

By the third time you were considering asking it what did it want. Or staying awake to see how it would react.

But you were too afraid.

Then two weeks later, as you were leaving your home, the skull of a deer with antlers was on your porch. It was placed there delicately, facing the door so you wouldn't miss it.

You were sure it was the alien.

Was this its sign to show you that it could kill you? You already knew that.

You took the skull and left it on your porch. You thought if you ignored it long enough, it would get tired and just leave you alone.

But it didn't.

The next day, another animal skull was placed on your steps. Looked to be a cat or a dog.

Then, something like a fox and finally, a wolf skull.

You began to have quite a collection. But you didn't understand. Was this thing trying to intimidate you?

It was working.

You just refused to leave because you spent your life building this place into a home.

But, was your life worth staying?

It showed that it could easily kill you.

But then why was it hiding?

Why did it already kill you and take what it wanted?

What did it want?

--- 2 months ago ---

Yautja prided themselves if they died during a fight.

It was the most honourable death they could ever ask for.

He fought many xenomorphs. One even left its scar on him. 

And yet, now as he was fighting, he survived.

He got back on his ship and left, but his ship got damaged and it broke down in the woods.

Wolf had to fix his ship so he could go back to Yautja Prime.

On his way to find some materials he could use he stumbled upon a farm, he knew some humans lived out in the wild in their houses, away from other humans.

He hid behind a tree and observed, trying to figure out if this human opposed any danger to him.

The first time he saw you was when you took care of your crops.

He concluded that you were nothing but a harmless little human.

And yet, for the next two weeks, he found himself watching you. He sat up on the tree and watched you all day and fixed his ship all night.

He walked around your crops, looking at everything.

To him, it was clear that you were a provider. Much like the females on his planet, you took care of food while the males hunted.

But you had no male. Which was quite interesting to him.

How come no male humans wanted you as their mate?

One night, he got brave and decided to go inside the house while you slept.

He checked your home and found nothing of interest besides you.

He watched as you slept.

He stood there for hours, watching you. 

You were so different from him, yet so similar. 

You preferred to be alone, much like him. 

You didn't have a mate, much like him.

He liked you. Which was extremely rare for him. During his life, he never looked for anyone like he did for you.

And so, he made his decision.

He will court you, win you and bring you back to his planet.

It was a simple plan for him.

And so, the first skull was placed on your doorstep.

You yawned as you got out of the bath, heading to the kitchen for some water before heading to bed, you stopped in your tracks.

It was here.

It was standing right in front of you. It was huge and grey and green and tall and... and you nearly fainted.

You knew you couldn't fight this thing. 

You had no chance against it.

It raised its hands and pulled its helmet off, revealing its face.

This alien looked a lot like the one you saw on the TV once.

The one that fought the other.

You noted the scar on its face as it made a clicking sound. It started to walk towards you, you backed up into the fridge. 

It raised its hand and placed a palm against your cheek. You looked into its eyes for the first time.

And somehow, you felt calm.

It made you calm down.

He made you calm down.

"What do you want?" you asked, hoping he would understand.

But he just made the same clicking sound as he did before. 

"Why did you leave the skulls?" you asked and he moved his hand to the armour on his wrist and pushed a couple of buttons.

"Gi-fts." said a very broken robotic voice.

"Why did you leave me gifts?" you watched as he pushed more buttons.

"Gifts for Mate." 

"Mate?" you asked and he nodded. Realization hit you and you realized, he was leaving you gifts so that he could court you. This must be an alien custom. "What are you?"

"Yautja."

"What's your name?"

"Wolf." the machine seemingly translated his name, but it was okay. "Your name?"

"My name is Y/N."

He nodded again.

"I want to take you to my planet. So we can marry." your eyes widened.

"Marry?"

"Strong female," he pointed at you, "Strong male." you would have assumed that he would have some issue having to marry you, wouldn't they only marry their own?

"Give me time. Two months. T-Then I will go with you." what were you saying? Why did you say that?! You didn't want to go! But you had no other options! This... Wolf clearly would get what he wants.

Maybe... those two months will be enough for you to get used to the thought.

Maybe those two months will be enough for you to grow some form of attachment. 

Maybe... hopefully.

For the next two months, he stayed with you in the house. 

The first week there was a lot of rain and storm so you were inside.

Most of the time you just kept looking at him or watched TV. He didn't speak, but he did notice the skulls you put up above your fireplace.

It filled him with pride, it meant you liked his presents.

That you accepted his courting.

For the upcoming days you cooked for both of you, since you weren't exactly sure what food he liked, you tried steak with potatoes. You can't go wrong with that.

And you didn't. He enjoyed it very much. Then the next day, he brought you cut meat, from where you were afraid to ask.

But you did cook everything that he brought to your home.

And he ate it all.

He still watched as you slept.

But instead of panicking, you found yourself enjoying having him there. He made you feel safe and you found that you wouldn't be able to fall asleep without him in the room. 

You woke up each and every morning more and more comfortable in his presence, which did make you worry.

Turned out, you didn't hate company, you hated human company.

Wolf being the big alien that he was tried his best to be careful around you. He followed you everywhere, he watched you and learned. 

He learned a lot about you from just watching you in the woods, but now, now he knew even more.

He saw the way you worked, how gentle and delicate you could be. But he also watched you chop up wood, showing that you can be strong when need be.

He liked it.

He was proud to pick such an amazing Mate.

It was the last day, two months had gone by and his ship was ready, he was ready.

He entered your house and found you in the kitchen, you looked out your window as if trying to memorize everything. But when you realized that he was behind you, you turned and smiled at him. A gesture he wished he could give back.

"I'm almost ready." you said with a heavy heart, but you were also ready to leave and be with Wolf, see where that path would take you.

And you felt ready for the adventure, it scared you but you felt ready.

You just wanted to remember this place.

You looked back out the window when he came up behind you, standing behind you, you felt his huge body but you didn't feel scared. 

It felt good.

He felt safe.

He was a good two heads taller than you.

You didn't say a word as you turned around and looked at him. You really looked at his scar and his eye. You knew he still could see with it, but his vision wasn't the best on that one.

You could also assume that one of his... mandibles was missing. It's place is still present.

You wished you could ask, you wished he could tell you. He lowered himself, allowing you to reach his face as you reached up and ran your fingers down his scars.

You wished you were there to help him, you could have eased his pain.

And, just like that, you were ready.

--- 3 years later ---

Yautja Prime was very different from Earth.

Yautja were very different from humans.

You learned that Wolf was quite the loner. His name fit him very well.

He preferred to be alone in his home, working on his ship or head on a mission for a hunt.

He liked being with you.

You two were very similar.

You didn't enjoy the company of others, but you enjoyed having the others around.

On your wedding night, Wolf told you how Yautja found their mates.

He also told you about true mates. Which is what you would call soulmates.

He explained how he felt as if you two were true mates and you didn't agree at the time, but now you did.

Spending your last three years with him, you can confidently say that you are in love with him.

You only feel complete when he is there.

And from what he told you, he felt the same. You wore the necklace he gifted you with pride.

And you waited for him every day when he was away on a hunt. He always came back victorious with many gifts.

He proved his worth to you as a male and a Mate.

And so, you never once regretted coming with him. Even if you were nervous in the beginning.

He made sure you had a warm bed, filled with furs.

Every night he came to the bed, he held you close to him, keeping your smaller body close and safe.

You slept with the confidence of having him there. Knowing he would protect you if anything was to happen.

Not like anything ever did.

You found yourself not missing your old life.

The view you spent so much time trying to memorize, long forgotten. 

All because of him.

You woke up every morning in his arms.

His body wasn't warm nor was it cold. But the feeling of his skin under your fingers always lets you know that he was there.

And you couldn't ask for more.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

#x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #slasher x reader #slasher imagines #yautja x human #yautja #alien vs predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja imagine #yautja imagines #preadtor imagines #predator imagine #predator imagines #alien vs predator requiem #aliens vs predator #aliens vs predator fanfiction #predator wolf #wolf predator #wolf predator x reader #monster imagines #monster x reader #monster x human

[angelltheninth]

Rutting Yautja

Pairing: Male!Yautja x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, size difference, breeding kink, scratch marks, creampie, nesting, cuddles, size kink

A/N: Its finally time for the aliens you all thirst over.

Rutting!Yautja who at first doesn't want to spend his rut with you because they see you as a fragile mate. You already end up with bruises and scratch marks on the regular, he didn't want to risk really, really hurting you when his rut took over. It was only after many ruts spent alone and many conversations that he agreed to try.

Rutting!Yautja who doesn't want to fuck you just anywhere. It has to be the nest he build for the two of you. You can hear him almost purring and clicking happily when you lay in it, completely naked and already opening your legs for him.

Rutting!Yautja who snaps his hips forward the moment his cock makes contact with your pussy, missing the entrance and sliding his girth over your clit over and over, growling yet unable to stop as he sends you into your first orgasm just from grinding like that. Your slick is already all over his cock and stomach and he's just getting started

Rutting!Yautja who isn't even half way in when he comes, hot fluid filling you up and flowing out. He isn't embaressed in the slightest as he pushes forward even more, as much as you're able to take and starts to hammer into you with brute force.

Rutting!Yautja who doesn't just want to breed you to make offspring but also mark you as his, make you smell like him for months and months. It's very possessive he knows but can you really blame him when he has the cutest mate? He would go to battle for you no doubt, but this is more fun for the two of you.

Rutting!Yautja who takes care of himself when you're resting, growing and snarling as he shoots his cum over your body. This too is to scent you, no matter how much you wash up the other Yautja will be able to tell you spent his rut with him, that you are without a doubt his mate.

#yautja x reader #yautja x human #yautja x you #yautja imagine #yautja imagines #predator x human #predator x you #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator imagines #predator x femsle reader #monster imagines #monster imagine #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster smut #alien imagine #alien imagines

[tropes-and-tales]

A Hundred and One Nights

Characters:  Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW:  Talk of injuries and illness; talk of death; yearning.  No smut.

Word Count:  4819

Other Pieces:  There is a part two here.

The Yautja aren’t above making mistakes.  When they kidnap a number of elite soldiers and killers from Earth to hunt, you somehow get swept up too.

You, a high school English teacher.  The only things you’ve ever killed are centipedes and a squirrel once that ran under your tires as you drove down the street.  

You were not a killer.

It doesn’t stop the Yautja from making the mistake, which is why you wake up suddenly.  Falling.  Free-falling through a blue sky.  

You’re in a parachute, and it engages just a beat too late.  You crash through the tree cover and land in the underbrush, hard.  You snap your ankle, and the pain that lances through you is so sharp, so urgent, that you finally realize that you aren’t dreaming at all.

-----

There’s others.  They find you.

They leave you.

“She’d only slow us down,” says the one man.  He turns away without a second glance.

“We’ll come back for you,” promises the woman, but she doesn’t meet your eye when she says it.

You wait until they are out of earshot to start crying.  You’re scared and hurt and you have no idea where you are.

But once you’re done, you swipe away your tears and try to come up with a plan.

-----

You were a Girl Scout, so you know basic first aid.  Bush first aid.  You had the badge to prove it.

You snap a few sticks, tear off the bottom hem of your shirt.  You create a rough splint for your ankle, and then you find another, sturdier stick that is forked at the end:  a rough crutch.

It hurts so badly, and progress is slow.  You hobble through the jungle and every step is fraught.  The ground is uneven.  

In the distance, you hear screams, snarls.  You hear a high-pitched whistle.

You have no idea where you are, but some primal part of your brain is activated:  you are in danger, and every cell in your body knows it.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.  

The first night, you make it to the edge of the jungle just as darkness falls.  The stars are in configurations that you’ve never seen before, and your first thought is that you’re in the southern hemisphere.

Moments later, the moon appears over the ridge.

Then a second moon, and later that night, a third.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You can do without food for quite a while, but water becomes a problem.  The planet is hot and humid and you sweat so much, and your mouth takes on a desperately dry, sticky quality.

You hobble onward.  You pass another human, a corpse that looks like it’s been there a while.  You’d throw up but your stomach is empty, so it only cramps painfully until you get away from the smell.

You pass giant metal containers with deflated, tangled parachutes.  Other things have been dropped here—big things that required cages.

You find a river and you nearly cry.  You manage to clumsily kneel in the mud and you drink and drink and drink until you throw it all up.  Then you drink some more.

-----

You find an outcropping of rock.  You manage to tear up some saplings to lay across the rock face, giving you some scant camouflage.

You still haven’t eaten.  Your stomach has stopped growling, but you hallucinate food.  You swear you can smell smoke, and underneath it you catch the phantom scent of barbeque, of smoked meats, of charred vegetables with a balsamic glaze, of rich red wines and crisp white ones, of heavy cakes that lie sweet and rich on the tongue, washed down with coffee so dark it makes your toes curl…

You jolt awake with a start.  It’s night and you’ve fallen asleep but there’s flickering orange over the nearest ridge.  Something is on fire.

-----

When you startle awake again, it’s because of an explosion in the sky—a spaceship exploding into a fireball.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You catch sight of parachutes in the sky, but you can’t worry about them.  You know you are going to die on this planet, so far from home, but you wonder if any of the creatures being dropped are going to be the ones to kill you.

Maybe.  Maybe not.  The fever might kill you first.

It’s your ankle with the nub of broken bone sticking out of your skin, a sight so distressing that you can’t look at it without getting faint.  

It’s any of the handful of cuts all over your body.  You have no way to disinfect them.  You do your best to clean your wounds in the river, but infection sets in and you grow feverish, sluggish, crazed with heat.

-----

You wake up to a strange clicking sound.  A chittering sound, like an insect might make….if insects were huge.  The air in front of you shimmers and you think it’s the heat of the day, but then there’s a couple of beeps, and it comes into startling, terrifying view.

The thing.  The alien, though on this world, you suppose you are the alien.

The thing hunting you.

You had put it together piece by piece over the past days (weeks?).  The giant planet that seems to be empty save for the creatures dropped in via parachutes.  The humans you dropped in with—all of them elite fighters, from the looks, save the one smaller white guy.  

When you were young, your father and his brothers used to quail hunt.  They’d buy a crate of half-tame birds and then loose them into the grounds around their hunting camp, then pick them off one by one.  This seemed to be the exact same thing.

You’re not upset it (he?) found you.  You’re sick and exhausted and hungry and thirsty, and the infection raging through your body will kill you if he doesn’t.  A bullet to the brain will be quicker and less painful than wasting away.

“S’okay,” you tell him, holding out your empty hands to him in supplication.  “At least…least I got to see another planet.  D-different stars.  Better than…other ways to d-die.”

He tilts his head at you.  Says nothing.  Does nothing.  You lick your cracked lips and try to sit up straighter, but you cry out at the grinding pain of your ankle.  

He doesn’t move—he only watches.

“Figured it out,” you continue.  “Figured out what this is.  Game preserve, right?”  You chuckle, wince against the throb of pain in your head.  “Can’t be much of a trophy for you though, huh?  B-broke my ankle straight away.  W-weak.”

He’s so still that you’d think he was a statue, but the dread-like things on his head sway in the breeze.  

“Like the short story, y’know?  The Most Dangerous Game.  I tell it to my honors students sometimes.  General Zaroff and his hunting hounds, Ship-Trap Island, all the rest….”  You trail off, not sure why you’re babbling at this creature who is only staring at you.

You’re also not sure why he just doesn’t get it over with.  Just kill you already.

“It’s okay,” you tell him.  You shut your eyes, nod your head.  “I’m ready.  You can do it.”

You keep your eyes shut, and each moment that passes, your courage fails you a little more.  You’re sick and already dying, but you want another day, another night, another moment to feel the breeze or see these strange stars or remember all the books you’ve read and loved and mourn those you never got to read, all the movies—

“Tell.  Story.”  You open your eyes at the sound of your own voice, see the creature fiddling with some computer strapped to his arm.  It’s your own words.  Your words, recorded and played back to you.

“Tell.  Rest.  Story,” he repeats, using your words to communicate with you.

“You…you want me to tell you the story?  The Most Dangerous Game?”  You blink and shake your head slightly, sure this is the fever causing you to hallucinate the entire thing.

He nods his head.  Curt.  A single nod.

The fever roars to life in you.  A million emotions:  relief at earning another moment or two of life, disappointment for it to not be over.  Your head feels heavy and light as air at the same time, and your vision starts to waver again, but he’s still standing in front of you, impassive.

“I think—” you start to say, but darkness descends swiftly, and you aren’t aware of much beyond a handful of sensations:  a stabbing, needling pain in your thigh, a rough hand on your face, and your entire body being lifted and carried.

*****

He’s not sure why he saves you.

It wouldn’t be honorable to kill you and consider it an good hunt, but it would be merciful to kill you.  Be’kan can smell you from a distance, the sickly-sweet smell of illness.  You will die soon.  You are a filthy creature when he finds you, slick with sweat and shivering and coated in dirt, but you hold out your hands to show you have no weapons.

And then you fix him with your bright gaze—the fever giving you a crazed look—and you speak to him.

It’s the promise of a story.  Yautja live for the Hunt, but they live for stories nearly as much.  They hunt, then they gather and tell each other stories.  It’s half of why they record their hunts through their masks:  to learn from their prey, but also to glory in the retelling.

The promise of your story.  A story of a hunter.  Be’kan kneels beside your unconscious form and jabs you with needle to kill some of your pain.  Then he lifts you up, throws you over his shoulder, and takes you back to camp.

-----

His brothers tease him.  They share a sire but Be’kan is the eldest, and the younger ones torment him.

“This ooman is already dead, brother.”

“The ooman-di certainly smells dead.”

“Our brother has found a pet to nurse back to health.”

It earns them all a cuff to their heads, a snarled warning, but they chuckle and leave him to it.  Leave him to you.

-----

The needle he gave could heal small wounds, but the fever that burns through you requires something more.

He gives you a second needle’s worth of painkiller, and then he does the only thing that can heal you:  he gives you his blood.  Just a little.  Just enough.

First, though, he has to reset your broken bone.  His blood will course through you fast and hot, and it’ll heal anything in its path.  The bone needs to be set or else it will heal wrong.

You wake up when he hauls your leg into his lap.  You sit up, fold yourself upward towards him, and you try to pull away, not understanding what he’s doing.

“Be still,” he barks, and you freeze—long enough for him to wrap a paw around your leg, the other around your foot, and wrench the broken bones back together.

The shriek you let loose hurts his head, sets a roosting flock of birds alight over the nearby trees.  You’re in so much sudden pain that you grasp his upper arm, you bury your face against his shoulder before you go slack against him, and if love is an especially rare thing for a Yautja, then this is perhaps the moment it enters his bloodstream and starts to infect him, very, very slowly.

*****

You wake to find that you feel better than you have in years:  fever broken, ankle healed.  Your cuts and bruises have all disappeared.

There are three other…things.  Aliens.  Whatever they are, they are tall and broad.  They are packed with muscles and claws, and they have an entire arsenal of weapons on them.

The one who saved you—it doesn’t take long before you think of him as yours.  He is fascinating to look at, certainly ugly by human standards, but he’s fascinating.  Grey-blue in color, dull grey metal mask with a mark etched into it.  Ornaments woven into the dread-like things that sprout from his head:  polished stones and rings of metal and little pieces of bone.

He seems older than the others, though they don’t have any discernable markings of age.  No grey hair, no wrinkles.  He only seems older because he moves slower, more ponderous.  Where the others click and chitter at each other, he makes less noise—but when he does, the others still and listen.

-----

You figure it out—he keeps you alive for your stories.

The first story is the Most Dangerous Game, and he doesn’t seem to listen.  He makes you sit near the fire while he painstakingly polishes and sharpens his bladed weapons.  He makes you tell the story, and he doesn’t seem to listen, but when you trail off halfway through, he cocks his head and makes an irritated clicking at you.  So you finish.

He keeps you alive.  He feeds you, brings you water.  He gives you a wide fur to curl up in while you sleep, and he keeps himself between you and the dark night on the planet.  He keeps you from anything that may try to come out of the darkness and hurt you.

I have become Scheherazade, you think to yourself as you watch him where he lies near you.  I have to tell him stories to save my own life.

*****

Be’kan hunts with his kin, then he listens to your stories at night.  His kin may tease him, but he catches them listening on the sly, eavesdropping as you tell your stories and weave your tales with your words.  You get more and more comfortable each night; you seem to fear him less.

It is odd that you’re such a good storyteller.  He never thought of oomans as such.  They are a clever, sneaky species, but he never knew they had such stories.  And you seem to know them all.  

It is good that you are a good storyteller, because you are otherwise unimpressive.  You’re weak and small, a soft thing.  A ridiculous thing.  Up close, he can see how fragile oomans are:  the hide that tears so easily, the soft claws that cannot slash anything.  Bones too easily snapped.  He learned that lesson when he healed you—he had been too rough and hurt you.  He’d felt a sting of shame—a strange emotion for a Yautja—and vowed to be gentler with you.

Not that he will touch you if he can help it.  You are ugly like all oomans are.  You have no markings.  You have dull teeth and a strange fleshy mouth and wide eyes that leak water.  You are the same as all of your species.

So it’s good that you tell your stories, because otherwise he’d be quit of you:  he’d tear your spine out, and then he’d never again have to tuck you into his furs each night to keep your frail ooman body warm.

*****

It takes a while to calibrate which stories he wants, which…of course he wants stories about hunters and killers and fierce battles.

Which means you run through the standard fare pretty early on.  You tell him the Tale of John McClane, the Tale of Kevin McAllister, the numerous Tales of James Bond.  You turn Indiana Jones into a Nazi hunter instead of an archeologist.  The Lord of the Rings becomes a fellowship intent on hunting down and killing Sauron.  Luke Skywalker is a man out to kill an entire litany of Storm Troopers before he kills his father.  You have him kill the Ewoks too, just for fun.

Your creature….you wonder if sexism exists in his species, so you tell him the Tale of Sarah Connors to see how he reacts to a woman protagonist.  By now, he sits in rapt attention, takes a deep squat near the fire and stares at you as you tell how Sarah Connors starts as the hunted, then ends up the hunter.

He seems to enjoy the story.  He gives a slow nod at the end, as if he’s satisfied.

-----

You try more varied fare.  You tell him the story of Jane Eyre.

He takes the wrong message from it.

He also speaks to you, more than he ever has before.  He usually just gives you one or two word commands in his rough English, but hearing about Jane Eyre?

“No,” he barks, and he shakes his head angrily when you get the part where Jane flees to the moors.

“Well, the story isn’t done—”

“Jane is unworthy,” he spits out.  “A worthy mate would not flee.”

You catch the way his hands flex, the sharp claws that tip his fingers.  The warning growl he makes.

“You have to listen to the rest of the story,” you say carefully, and for the first time in the history of gothic romance novels, Jane Eyre regroups on the moors, and then stalks back to Thornfield Hall to kill Bertha Mason and prove herself a worthy mate to Mr. Rochester.

The next night, you decide to not test your luck.

“To survive a war, you gotta become war,” you tell him as you settle by the fire.  “Let me tell you a story about a man named John Rambo.”

-----

How many stories do you tell?  Fifty?  A hundred?  It’s hard to tell.  Sometimes you stretch out a story across nights, a tactic that seems to infuriate him—he snarls, he roars behind his mask, he stalks away—but then he seems more eager the next night, more eager to sit by you and listen.

And he is more willing to answer your questions, so you learn too.

His kind are called Yautja.  He is called Be’kan, a name that comes out of his mouth like a bark.  In his language of clicks and trills, it means Thundering Blade, which maybe explains why he enjoys stories with swords so much.

You tell him your name.  You tell him, as best you can, what you did on Earth.  He seems to interpret it as you being a storyteller of great fame, which makes you laugh—you barely made enough to live on your teaching salary, and your student loans would follow you into your dotage.

One night, he reaches up and undoes the grey metal mask he wears.  He removes it and shows you his real face:  an ugly thing by human standards, but just as fascinating as the rest of him.  Small, close-set eyes so yellow they look like molten gold.  Two pairs of tusks set around his mouth.

He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but you get the very real sense that this is a moment of intimacy between the two of you.  That he’s showing you a part of himself that many don’t get to see outside of his own kind.

*****

Be’kan can’t account for what he feels for you.

Yautja don’t love.  Their breeding is a violent, painful thing.  The females—larger, stronger—fight the males, kill the males to ensure they only breed with the strongest and most worthy.  It is the same with the raising of their young:  there’s no sentiment or cuddling once a pup is no longer a suckling.

You are a soft, small thing.  Ugly and weak.  And yet you’ve cracked open some hard part of him that makes him hurt when he thinks of parting from you.

And yet…he knows he has to.

He’s reviewed the data around the sweep that took you from your planet.  It was a mistake, unthinkable yet real.  You had crossed paths with a man that day—a certain man who had killed many in one of your kind’s wars.  A man who had returned from war and kept killing.  

You lived in the same building.  You had no way of knowing.

The Yautja meant to take that man, that killer, but they took you.

Be’kan knows he has to take you back.  His honor will allow him nothing else:  you are no killer, you are not worthy prey.  You are an exalted storyteller, a worthy position in his own society, so you must be returned to your own.

And yet, in that cracked-open place, he wants to forget his honor and keep you with him.  He wants to tuck you into his furs each night and lie nearby, keeping guard over you.  He wants to listen to your stories and answer your questions about his kind.  

He wants you to fix him with that bright gaze of yours with those too-wide eyes that sometimes get watery. You see him and you don’t recoil though he is surely as ugly to you as you are to him.

He plans with his kin:  they will return home in their ship, and he will take you back to Earth in his own before he joins them.  It isn’t a long journey.

Then he tells you, and you don’t react the way he thought you might.

You frown.  Then you go quiet.

That night, when he settles near you at the fire, you don’t tell him a story.  And when he asks, you turn away from him.

“I don’t have any more stories,” you tell him.  Then you curl up on your side, your knees to your chest, and Be’kan realizes he knows nothing at all about the ooman-di who has cracked open a part of him and left him aching and empty.

*****

Life back on Earth doesn’t resume quite so smoothly.  Turns out, when you are missing for months and then suddenly resurface, people have questions.

The government has questions.  Countless men and women in dark suits interrogate you, and since you can’t think of a single plausible reason other than the truth, you tell them the truth:  that you were on an alien planet being hunted by aliens.

They don’t seem shocked, which shocks you.

-----

The U.S. government relocates you to a different part of the country as a fresh start.  You keep your own name, and you still teach, but the government gives you a nice little house set back near the edge of a forest and a nice little monthly stipend to keep your mouth shut about your alien abduction.

Your new life is the same as your old.  You teach, you go home at night.  You make dinner and you read or watch a movie, then you go to bed.

Repeat day after day.

-----

You find that you miss him.  It makes no sense.  Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome, but it felt right to be there.  On Earth, you always felt a step out of sync with other humans.  You understood jokes a beat too late to laugh; you didn’t find joy in a lot of the things others did.  You struggled to date, struggled to make friends.  You had been alone for much of your life.

It was a simpler life, those few months.  

Sleep curled up in warm furs, tell stories to keep your place with him.  Look up at the night sky to see strange stars and create your own constellations with their own stories.  Learn the hand signals he and his brothers give each other, learn what their different trills and clicks mean.

Then he took you on his ship and brought you back to Earth.

The night before you arrived back on Earth, he had opened a chamber on his ship.  He stepped into it and gestured for you to join him, held his big paw of a hand out to you and you had taken it, tried to ignore how it felt when he closed his hand around yours, as gentle as if he were cupping a bird.

Then he placed his other hand on your back, just a gentle.  Pulled you into the room and turned you to look at the display along the wall.

It was covered in skulls.  Polished and mounted, so many different types that you gasped.  

It had the same charged feel as when he had removed his mask.  It was an intimacy that you guessed was rare.

You studied each skull closely, except for the one that was obviously human.  You reached out and touched the sharp teeth and tusks of each, murmured at how dangerous each hunt must have been, how good a hunter he was.

You knew enough of Yautja sounds by then to know that the deep purring he made was pride.

-----

When you curl up in your bed each night, you miss the soft furs and the foreign stars in the sky over you.

You think of when he landed on Earth and left you.  How he had reached out a hand to grasp your face, gently.  How he had pressed the tip of one claw carefully to your lower lip as if he were testing how it felt.

-----  

You spend one weekend building a fire pit in your backyard.  You dig out a shallow bowl in the earth, line it with flat stones.  You create a ring around the bowl with rocks.  You spend a few hours in the woods behind your home, dragging large branches back, cutting them up with a bow saw.

You build a fire that night.  You wrap yourself in a blanket and stare into the flickering orange flames while your muscles ache from the hard work.

It’s not the same but you try.  “Let me tell you about a woman we’ll call the Bride, who went on a journey of revenge with a magical sword,” you murmur to the flames, and it’s easy to pretend that he’s just at the edge of the firelight, crouched down and listening in his still, intent way.

*****

Be’kan is not a Young Blood anymore, so he’s surprised to find that he is still capable of having the inner turmoil, the unsettled emotions of a much younger Yautja.

He had recorded many of your stories through his mask, but it’s not the same.  The stories become flat and lifeless in the recordings.  They don’t capture the magic you wove each night when you told them.  And they don’t capture after the stories, when you’d curl up by the fire and when he’d lie a distance away, near enough to hear your deep breathing and the pitiful whimpers you sometimes made when you twitched and kicked in your sleep as you dreamed.

You belong with your own kind.  You are a master; you teach the younglings of your kind with your stories.  He knows this, yet he thinks of other oomans—their sly, sneaky ways, their treachery.  How quickly your kind was willing to abandon you to suffer during the hunt.  Then he rages at them, thinks they do not deserve you.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.  How many cycles in his ship, on his hunts account for the cycles on Earth.

He’s no longer a Young Blood, but a restlessness comes over him.  He hunts with his kin.  He hunts alone.  He takes new trophies and cleans them, hangs them in his trophy room, but even here he thinks of you.  He showed you his trophies and you had praised him, called him a great hunter, and he had trilled in pride.  

He replays the stories you told.  He replays the night he told you he was going to take you home, and how you had reacted.

You should have been happy to return to your own kind.  He thinks, perhaps, he understands why now.

*****

Sitting around the fire becomes your way of unwinding in the evenings.  A glass of wine, the warmth of the fire.  You can look up and see the stars, even if they are the same ones you have always known.

When you hear that strange, clicking growl one night, you think it’s an auditory hallucination.  There’s no way he’s here, no way he’s found you—

But he’s a hunter.  He’s an apex predator, so when the air in front of you shimmers and then reveals him, you can’t really be that surprised.

What surprises you is how hard your heart leaps to see him.  How quickly you spring to your feet and take those few steps to stand in front of him.  You stop at the last minute, but you very nearly tackle him—as if you could, with how big he is—in a hug.

“You’re here,” you breathe out, and he makes the clicking, chuffing sound that you’ve always thought of as his version of laughter.  But then it cuts off, and he tilts his head at you.

“Be’kan was unworthy,” he growls at you.  “A worthy mate would not have fled.”

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja imagine #predator #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator franchise

[emesesworlds]

THERE'S A THIEF AMONG US

I think I speak for many people when I say, I DISPICE thieves.

I find it absolutely disgusting that there are people out there who steal.

Someone else worked hard for the things they have and there you are, a slimy disgusting bug, stealing it.

@yautjabeast this one is for you, sweetie.

Or should I say POPPYTANJI123 ?!

The poster (because you are not the writer, hun) of Yautja Imagines off of Tumblr

I noticed recently while I was reading Wattpad that a supposed number 1 book is a freaking REUPLOAD.

How absolutely disgusting.

51 chapters of pure stolen content.

51 chapters most of them NOT EVEN CREDITED.

But it doesn't matter, since I saw NONE of the authors gave permission.

THE BOOK SHOULD BE DELETED.

YOU reuploaded other people's works and then decided to take credit for it, take likes for it and views!

HOW DARE YOU.

In one of your Wattpad posts you even ADMIT that @mintymarabell has too many and you won't copy that! your words! COPY.

"Authors note"

You have balls... some kind of an "author" you are when none posted is actually yours!

People like you are the reason many amazing authors have stopped posting or deleted their blogs!

So many amazing works LOST. Because of people LIKE YOU.

DON'T DO THIS.

And if you are a follower/reader of the above-mentioned person find the actual writers and give them the credit. NOT the thieves.

And now, to credit all the authors like you are supposed to.

@thefoldedbird

@mintymarabell

@partofmycharm

@multific

After words:

If you like a post, you are not showing your support by stealing it and republishing it! You are doing the opposite.

You are harming their page by taking views and feedback from them.

This will NEVER BE OKAY.

And we, as readers have to stand up and do something about this kind of people!

#x reader #fanfiction #plagiarism #plagiarizing #stealing #yautja x reader #yautja x human #yautja x you #predator franchise #house of the dragon x reader #horror x reader #slasher x reader #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator imagines #thief among us #yautja imagine #yautja imagines #multific #partofmycharm #mintymarabell #thefoldedbird #yautjabeast #yautja #alien vs predator #avp #yautja oc #marvel x reader #star wars x reader #calling all readers

[solitaryearthperson]

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

[we-love-the-murder-bois]

hi! may i request some Yautja x reader or Xenomorph x reader fluff where their s/o is is sick or injured? anyway, hope ur day is going well!

(Awe, my day is fine sweat pea! Here’s the Yautja part of your request, I may do the xeno too. Hope you don’t mind me using the Yautja from the last post. I call him Crook and he’s my favorite.)

Yautja x sick! Reader

The Yautja were a race of warriors. They were technical and built for battle, and rarely was there a problem that couldn’t be solved with weapons or bloodshed.

It was how they were raised, brought up to learn that their skill in battle was their greatest skill, that their honour was their greatest asset.

“Hiya Crook.” Their human whispered into the darkness of the morning, voice think with sleep and scratchy like they had been calling a war cry, shaking fingers tracing his crooked jaw. They had been given a name when they were born, another when they became a warrior, and yet another by their human. Crook was their favorite.

This was a problem he couldn’t solve with violence.

Y/n was never still, even in their sleep. They always moved, always occupied their hands with weapons or screens, learning and prattling on about everything and nothing. They added to their armour and sharpened their weapons, tried to run blindly into ecosystems of foreign planets, only stopped by his hand gripping the back of their armour. They were foolhardy, but smart in all the ways that mattered. Never still, always in motion.

Until today.

Today, the lights flicked on like they did every day at 0700, a median time between the mornings of their two worlds. The lights were necessary, the only sign of passing days in the black void of space.

Every morning y/n woke up with some complaints, making rude hand gestures at the lights and snuggling up to him before their usual energy pulled them from bed. They were a whirlwind of energy on the ship, bring life and motion to his life. Making his days so different that he wondered how he ever functioned before them.

But today they only whined as the sleeping room filled with light. (He used to call it the Rest Room but y/n wouldn’t stop laughing at him) Y/n pulled their covers over their head, curling into a ball beneath them. Just that was enough to tip him off that something was wrong.

He got up as he always did, giving them a moment as he found and fitted his armour. Most days Y/n would make their strange happy noises, whistles and loud calls made with a wide smile as they watched him, today they stayed silent.

“Darling?” He asked, laying a hand on their vague shape under the blankets.

“Mmm, love it when you call me that.” Came a muffled groan, a hand sneaking out from under the covers to gently grasp his wrist. Y/n was bad with translating early in the morning, another reason he had learned their language.

A warrior was patient, so he waited as they slowly peaked out with narrowed eyes, features drawn tight and skin ashy. They didn’t look their best, but human biology was such a strange thing. Maybe they were shedding? Did humans shed?

“Hey handsome, mind if I sleep in?” They asked slowly, sluggishly. They pat his arm, then slowly pulled it back under the covers like the retreating tail of a snake. Y/n usually proclaimed, very loudly with a lot of passion, that sleep was stupid and they were beyond such needs. They weren’t and they both knew it, but if it made them feel better he’d let them be silly and irrational.

He listened. He checked the ships controls and made sure the hound was fed, even letting the creature on the bed to curl into y/n’s side. Thankfully it was still rather young, he didn’t need to worry about it crushing them. He let a few hours pass, but Y/n didn’t leave the room, or their pile of blankets.

He brought them water, sitting beside them and digging around until he could feel their skin.

‘Too warm.’ He fretted, peeling away the blankets. Y/n whined and batted at his hands, taking a rattling breath that tapered into a cough that shook their shoulders. They gagged, curling against his side and clutching their chest.

Something was wrong. He looked for injuries, remembering how slow infection could kill, but every injury was healing well, stitches holding tight. They winced at his prodding, but no teasing, no strange human insults about parental chickens.

‘It’s fine, just…’ Their face scrunched up, the face they always made when a Yautja word escaped them. “Sick. I don’t know that word.”

“Sick?” It was a term they’d never used before. He didn’t have his translator, he rarely needed it anymore. Y/n had been all too eager to teach him, and they were far more interesting than a decryption software.

“Oh…It’s like, not well? Uh, we can get kinda sluggish and gross while our bodies fight off bacteria and stuff.” That didn’t completely explain the situation, but he stared at them in nervous fascination. Fighting? They were fighting something inside their body?

He retrieved his helmet, looking them over carefully and fretting. There was no tiny enemy, but their lungs weren’t right, too much fluid and working too hard.

“Help?” He asked, hoping there was something he could do. Inside his amazing little human was a battle, and he could do nothing to aid them. They were a fierce warrior no doubt, and this seemed to be a normal human issue, but he couldn’t help but fear for his human.

They just smiled, eyes still mischievous under the haze of fever.

“I got sick all the time as a kid, just keep me company, and hydrated and shit.”

Crook wasn’t good with enemies he couldn’t fight, problems unsolvable from technology. They were too far from Earth, too far from Yautja Prime, too far from anyone that could help. Just him and y/n. Normally he liked the privacy, now he hated it.

They told him about their childhood with a scratchy voice, about getting sick in the winter and how humans treated these illnesses. He liked their stories, but his human struggled to keep their stories in order, breaking off to cough up stuff he briefly thought was blood before he remembered humans had different colour blood.

The heavy humidity of the last planet seemed to trigger an underlying issue, leaving his human drowning in their own lungs. He would return to burn that planet to the ground if it wouldn’t put Y/n more at risk. Place probably wouldn’t burn anyways, stupid rainforest biogeography.

His warrior finally slept, fitful and interrupted by whimpers so unlike them. He didn’t judge, every warrior was allowed a few moments of weakness.

He carded through their human dreads, still baffled by the lack of feeling in them. He traced their scars with the edge of his claw, careful not to scratch. Their marks were still fresh, beautiful and stark against their clammy skin. Even then, with sunken eyes and paled skin, they were the most captivating creature he’d ever seen.

Yautja didn’t fear anything. Not death, not defeat. They were raised to believe that death was simply a part of a warriors journey, that to die in battle was a worthy cause. Technology came with advancements, and more wounds could be staunched until they returned home, where they could be healed properly. Still, warriors died of bleeding out, of infections that made their blood thick and dark. Those were unworthy deaths, deaths mourned by elders and bodies buried in sad shrines lacking of trinkets of honour.

Crook was afraid. Maybe it made him a coward, but he feared for his human.

Before them he had never needed a companion, never desired a mate past the season, content to hunt across the galaxy and prove his worth. He had goals of being elite, of being a elder warrior, and then he met them.

In two days, a series of small battles until a war, a clashing of titans. A human, prey to be hunted, standing up and fighting instead of running. A human that managed to get to a stalemate, one they both knew they could have won.

The truce had changed his life and he wasn’t sure he could function alone anymore. The ship was already so quiet and empty with them sick in bed, it would be maddening alone.

‘Get better, Goat.” He held them against him, feeling each labored breath and shuddering cough like they were his own.

“You definitely do that on purpose, asshole.” They wheezed, smiling with a flicker of their normal brightness.

He had to trust his human. They would win this battle. They had to.

—

(Poor Yautja, illness is scary. He doesn’t want his human to die, because surely they were dying.)

/part 1 of 2, I’m doing both requests because I have ideas/

#slasher x reader #slasher imagine #predators #slasher imagines #slashers x reader #horror imagines #predator x reader #prey 2022 #prey movie #yautja x reader #the predator #predator 2 #predator imagine #yautja oc #yautja #humans are terrifying

[cats-and-fiction]

The hunter becomes the hunted

I have been in the Predator hole for some times now and I want to write smth now. Not for any particular Predator just some fun thing. This is actually quite old I just finished it finally lmao

You had been seated upon your little chair up in the tree for two hours maybe and listened to nature. No animal walked in front of your rifle and with a annoyed huff you lay your bionuclars down and lean back. Closing your eyes you concentrated on the sounds in the background but something was off. You didn‘t hear anything. No sticks and leaves crunching under a deers hoof or birds singing to their hearts content.

It was eerily silent and now focusing on it you remembered that it had been for quite some time now. Turning around in your seat you look around but all that you can see are the trees and wide field in front of you. The cold morning air bit your fingers as you pulled one of your gloves off to write a message on your phone. Asking if one of your hunting buddies had any luck. The last time he had been online was an hour ago when you got sent a meme.

Looking around the trees of the woods you sat in for hours now you furrowed your brows and stopped at a particular branch to your right. It was a few meters away, presumably a five minute walk. What exactly made you stop there was the uneasy feeling watching into the direction and that you thought you saw something gleam in the sun. Taking out your binoculars your tried to see what was up in that tree. To your frustration there was nothing but you kept staring at this one point. The branch looked like something heavy was propped atop and the light broke weirdly around it. Just as if something was there. You had no idea what it could be but something was up with that tree.

Your heart started to beat faster and the uneasy feeling that had been in your stomachs in the background started to become stronger and you took the binoculars down. What you didn't know was that indeed something was on top of that branch. Something you should fear yet it didn't seem to do what it would usually do. And that's killing you.

He had been stalking you for days now, he had first seen you when you arrived at a cabin with a few other humans. It was pure coincidence that he had chosen you as his first victim this day but he couldn't bring himself to kill you. You enjoyed hunting as much as he did, despite only hunting the weak animals like little children did but nonetheless you weren't as squeamish as other females he had seen on this planet. You looked fascinating to him and his interest had been risen with every minute he had used to watch you. Not one single time you had suspected anything until now. Now you looked at him without seeing his hulking form standing on the branch creaking under his weight.

Usually you would stay up your little hideout all day but when you suddenly began to put your things away he got curios. You wouldn't do that at this time, it was too early. You knew he was there. You knew he watched you. And this excited him. He watched you do your things and climb down the tree before he followed suit and came closer to you. When he hid the soft ground a few meters behind you you form stopped in it's tracks. Your heart raced as you turned around to face whatever was watching you but to your surprise there was nothing. You heart raced and you could feel it up in your throat, your adrenaline was pumping through your veins and in a try to protect you somehow you pulled your rifle. Aiming to whatever was supposed to stand there. The light broke weirdly around a form, taller than any human you had ever seen. And soon you would see it actually as it appeared out of thin air. Broad shoulders and chest, just a few clothes that weren't used for any sort of protection. It's face had no expression, or anything that would be able to convey an expression, just a blank silver thing. It's head tilted as he watched you curious. Your weapon was aimed at him but it couldn't do anything to him.

There the two of you stood in silence in front of each other waiting to see what the other was doing. Shooting it? Would that even do anything? Whatever this thing seemed to be you decided that you wouldn't go down without a fight. Yet still your will to fight was easily overthrown with it coming closer to you, it's giant hand grabbing you rifle and softly pushing it to the side. It's head was on your small form the whole time and it seemed to watch you. It came closer until standing right in front of you, your chest almost touching it's skin. Heavily panting you looked up to it. Was this it? Was this how you would die?

As he raised his hand you closed your eyes. Expecting for anything painful to happen but not for his hand to softly and carefully touch your cheek.

#predator imagine #predator oneshot #predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x human #yautja imagine #yautja x you #requests open #writing blog

[tempestus-vein]

Unexpected Parenthood - Preadator Series

Let's all say that earth and the Yautja have a peace treaty that allows them to work together.

Now we have a community ship where humans and Yautja live together in somewhat peace as they travel to colonize a new planet.

All is well until a rebel human unleashes Xenomorphs onto the ship. At this the Yautja and a few humans rush to keep them from spreading to the more sensitive parts of the ship like the living quarters or the nurseries. They partially succeed with minimal deaths.

Only now they have some orphaned children that are assigned to a pair of one human and one Yautja. This should be easy for the world's greatest hunters...right?

Follow five pairs as they take care of orphans ranging from an infant, a toddler, a child, a preteen and a teen.

Oh how the chaos will reign!

#yautja #yaujta imagine #yautja headcanon #the predator #predator imagine

[multific]

Motherhood

Yautja x Reader

Summary: After you gave birth to your son, it took you some time to get used to having a half-Yautja and half-human. 

You felt sore all over. 

You moved against the fur but your whole body felt sore.

You could hear your mate’s soft breathing, it immediately made you feel at ease.

Yet, something felt out of place.

As you stirred from your sleep, you sat up in your bed and looked around. Everything looked normal, except for one thing.

The little child who used to be under your heart was now in a crib beside you. 

You looked at your mate, sleeping soundly beside you.

He got used to sleeping with you to the point where he didn’t even care anymore if you moved or woke up. 

It wasn’t always like that.

He often woke up with you when he took you into his home, but he got gradually used to you being with him.

You moved over to the crib, leaving the warmth of your bed, you stood up and got your son out of his crib.

It was a little strange to call him your son, after all, he looked nothing like you.

He looked like a pure Yautja, except for his eyes, his eyes were yours.

He wasn’t sleeping when you lifted him out of his crib, instead, he was watching, learning.

You ignored all the pain in your body as you moved out of the bedroom and into what you would call a kitchen.

You got yourself a glass of water as you sat down on one of the chairs. With your child in your arms, you moved him so you could see his face.

He laid in your lap.

“Will you never cry?” But your Baby had no reply. Of course, he didn’t he wasn’t even a day old. You watched him as his eyes wandered from your eyes to your chest and hands. 

You held a finger out to him, which caught his attention and he immediately grabbed it.

He continued to watch your finger as you smiled.

This little moment reminded you that even if he looked like a Yautja, he was still a baby.

Your baby.

This little boy in your lap was not so long ago in your stomach.

It was crazy to think about.

Your house felt a little too quiet, usually you were never up without your mate. So, this felt a little strange. 

You looked at your son.

“How am I supposed to feed you?” You said as you lifted him, trying to see if he was hungry or not. He was, you didn’t know how, but you could tell.

You pulled your nightgown down and you didn’t know how, but he was a natural.

You watched as he fed. 

He truly didn’t feel like your son. You looked after so many Yautja babies when you joined their tribe, this felt almost like one of those moments.

Except for the feeding part. Only a mother can feed their child.

And your son was no exception.

While he was born into a very high place in the hunting tribe, he was still your son. 

A highly anticipated member.

Your Mate was the right had of the tribe leader, a high position with lots of responsibilities.

One of which was to bring a son into the world.

Which you just managed to do.

You had a pregnancy which left your body sore and your mate feared the worst, but thankfully, you were able to give birth without any major issues.

And now, here you were, holding him and feeding him.

Your thumb ran down his little cheek, right next to where his mandibles were.

“You are beautiful.” You smiled and the child just kept looking at you.

Once he finished eating you pulled your gown back and pulled him to your chest, laying him down.

Did Yautja babies even burp?

Guess you will find out soon.

He did burp.

A small little burp.

And soon, he was off again.

You got up from the chair and headed back to the bedroom.

You got in, the fire was still going, but now, your mate was up.

He looked at you then at your son in your arms.

“He was hungry.” You said as you put him back into his crib before climbing back on the furs.

You let out a long yawn before getting under the covers. 

Your mate made a sound before laying back down himself. You lay down closer to him as he pulled you closer.

Maybe it was a difficult thing to give birth to a Yautja baby. Maybe it was difficult being married to one as well.

But you loved them both with all of your heart and that was enough, more than enough.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

#x reader #fanfiction #x female reader #yautja oc #yautja x human #yautja #alien vs predator #the predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #yautja imagines #yautja imagine #yautja x fem reader #yautja fanfic #predator wolf #aliens vs predator #predator #predator x human #predator x reader #predator x you #predator oc #predator imagine #predator imagines #the predator x reader #slasher short #slasher fandom #slasher movies #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher x you

[free-for-all-fics]

Random Yautja thought since I’ve never seen any Yautja x reader fics or HCs that discuss this topic. If there’s any out there, pls tell me 🥺. If someone wants to use this idea, pls tag me and I’d love to read it. 💜

Since Yautja have a much different lifespan to humans and can live up to more than a thousand years (that’s what the wiki says at least), what would happen if a Yautja was faced with their human mate’s mortality? Like something makes them become hyper-aware of their human mate’s limited lifespan. Maybe reader gets injured, really sick, or they find a gray hair, etc. Do Yautja have a technology or medical advancement that could extend the human’s lifespan? What would happen?

#yautja x reader #yautja imagine #predator x reader #predator imagine #random thoughts #random fic ideas #fic ideas

[og-danny-dorito]

Yoooo do you have any nsfw yautja headcanons?? 👀👀

I DO. I DEFINITELY DO.

𝐓𝐖: explicit sexual content. minors do not interact.

𝐂𝐖: scent kink, possessive behavior, primal kink, heats and ruts (sexual term), mentions of A/B/O, size kink

⟢ DUDE oh my god. ohhh my god. okay so.

⟢ so this is probably just my monsterlover brain speaking but i 100% believe they have bioluminescent seminal fluid/secretion fluid

⟢ I DONT KNOW WHY IT JUST. MAKES SENSE? like their blood glows so why would their cum kjdnfk

⟢ their scalps are super sensitive so if you tug on their locs a little it'll probably rile them up/catch them off guard

⟢ they're kinda possessive but its mostly because its fairly common to have a mate that you stay with until you die

⟢ like fighting over who can have a particular mate has a whole ritual and stuff so i feel like they're pretty defensive against anyone who they think is trying to take you away from them??

⟢ however! even though most of the time it's males fighting over females, the females are considerably more aggressive so it's not uncommon to have a female yautja duke it out over someone they think is hot but taken akjdknfs

⟢ females also tend to have a higher sex drive to promote procreation!! they don't have periods though.

⟢ instead they have heats. all of them have heats.

⟢ if you're vaguely familiar with A/B/O it's typical heat shit where they get antsy and horny and all that but they also get a little more agitated and prone to starting fights because of the hormonal fluctuation they're going through

⟢ which means that they tend to like it rough if theyre trying to work out their ruts ;]

⟢ i feel like most yautja like it rough regardless though?? their society considers combat as a whole an art form and a means to rite of passage so it's not surprising that they'd probably get in the mood if there was a bit of roughhousing involved beforehand

⟢ ESPECIALLY if there's like, a challenge involved? like the person they're up against has an advantage against them or something and can get them on their back

⟢ there's something about seeing the triumphant face of your love interest as they hold a weapon over you that just gets a dude goin yknow

⟢ BUT ANYWAY LMAO

⟢ im also like. pretty sure that they would kind of have a size kink if they had a lover who was smaller than them. a little bit.

⟢ okay a lot a bit but still

⟢ they like being able to loom over their lover. they like to see the fear and arousal coursing through their veins as they corner them into a wall, eyes trained on their own as they share quick glances over one another

⟢ anyway ive talked enough but thats most of the ones i have i think for them as a whole LOL

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: For the males, I don't think that their 'appendages' are really sized for human bodies so if you're the one taking it they're'll be a little bit of a stretch. They make it work, though. ;]

[ 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! :] ]

#yautja #yautja headcanon #yautja imagine #predator 1987 #predator movies #predator 2 #predator #monster lover #monster fucker #predator headcanon #predator imagine #alien vs predator #slasher #slashers #slasher headcanons #slasher headcanon #slasher imagine #slasher imagines #horror classics #horror headcanon #horror imagine #sci fi #science fiction

[tropes-and-tales]

A Hundred Nights More

Characters:  Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW:  Yearning; talk of sexual relations but no graphic smut; 18+ to be safe.

Word Count:  3440

Other Pieces:  This is a sequel to this.

It should be strange, leaving Earth with the Yautja.  You go willingly this time, no baffling falling through the sky after being kidnapped as prey.

The entire time you pack a few bags, your brain keeps asking, this should be strange, right?  Isn’t this strange?  Why doesn’t it feel strange?

You pack your bags to leave your planet with an alien species.  An alien species, it should be noted, that routinely hunts your species.  That routinely kidnaps your kind to hunt.  That had kidnapped you, in fact.

It should be strange, but you don’t hesitate to leave.  And why not?  Didn’t you feel more alive in those few months with the Yautja then you had in your entire life previously?  And didn’t your stomach flutter and twist to see him again, to see him step into the ring of your firelight and hold his hand out to you?

It should be strange, but when you step onto his ship, it feels like coming home.

*****

Be’kan is no Youngling, yet this decision to take you a second time…it’s rash.  Not well thought out.  For a Hunter who spends painstaking amounts of time in planning, this is something else entirely.

Though he doesn’t take you this time.  This time you come willingly.  

You follow him willingly, and you reach an unspoken understanding of what you are to each other:  he feeds you, keeps you warm and safe.  You tell your stories.  Together, the two of you travel to where he Hunts, alone or with his kin.

For a long while, it’s enough.

*****

There’s misunderstandings.  There’s bound to be.  You’re different species entirely.

So much of your life now is like your life on the game preserve planet.  He goes hunting; you stay at camp or in his ship and content yourself with tidying up, exploring the vicinity nearby.  You dust off those rusty Girl Scout skills:  you get good at building fire from nothing but a pile of sticks and a piece of flint-like rock.  You get good at banking coals, at cooking the raw, bleeding meat he brings back to camp.

He seems to prefer his meat raw or nearly raw.  He clicks, huffs in an exasperated way when you sear the meat…but he eats it and seems no worse for wear for it.

Sometimes others join him.  They are the same ones from the game preserve, and Be’kan explains that they all share a sire, a great Hunter who sired many generations of great Hunters.

The others regard you as a curiosity.  You feel their eyes on you as you move around the camp.  You hear their barks and chitterings, their strange way of laughing, and you guess they are talking about you.  Joking about you.

Maybe planning your death.  Though not a worthy prey, your polished skull might serve as a placeholder in their collection until they hunt something better.

One of them, a younger one, touches you one night.  He reaches out one of his massive paws and yanks on the end of your hair.  It doesn’t hurt much, and you don’t think he meant it to hurt.  He cocks his head at you as he rubs the strand of hair between a thumb and finger.  He’s studying you.

It lasts all of a second before there’s a streak out of the corner of your eye, then the younger Yautja is on his back in the dirt—Be’kan on top of him, snarling in his face, a blade pressed to his younger brother’s throat.

You don’t understand what he’s snarling, but you can guess:  hands off of her.  

It shouldn’t affect you, but it does.  No man on Earth ever had such a protective moment for you, and you can’t ignore the low ache of need as you curl up near him that night—close, but not touching.

-----

Which is why you are confused:  Be’kan almost never touches you.  

You can count on one hand the times he has:  on the game preserve planet, when he reset your broken ankle.  On his ship when he was taking you home, when he took your hand in his and showed you his trophy room.  On Earth, when he reached out and touched your lips, like he was testing the softness of your mouth.

So three times, then.

When he returned for you, he called you his mate, but you wonder if that word has a different meaning in his world.  After the incident with his brother, you wonder too if touch is something forbidden in his world, or if there’s some cultural component you hadn’t considered.  You know so little about him.

You try to touch him.  You test it.  One evening, when you hand him his portion of food, you brush your fingers against his wrist.

He reacts by jerking away from you, like you’ve burned him.  He drops his food in the dirt and lets out a bark of surprise.

Maybe he was just surprised.

Another time, when you are both lying down by the fire, preparing to sleep.  You use the excuse of the climate—this planet is far cooler than others you typically visit.  You wait until a long moment passes, until the fire dies off…and then you wriggle over closer to him.  Little by little until your shoulder is pressed against his.

He sits up, bolts into a sitting position the moment you touch him.

“Sorry,” you whisper.  “I…was cold.”

He doesn’t reply, but he pulls your fur closer to the fire, rearranges you and tucks it around you.  Banks the coals so they put out even heat.

Then, you swear he sighs.  He lies down a distance from you, and he sighs again.

-----

Two separate tests, two conclusive answers.

You apologize to him the next morning.  As he polishes his wicked blades, you stand nearby and apologize.  You try to explain, in the plainest words possible, that you misunderstood perhaps what the two of you are to each other.  You can feel the heat rise in your face as you speak, embarrassed by how whiny and childish you sound.  

He has his bio-mask on, so he looks blankly impassive as he watches you, but his voice is oddly gentle.  As he lets you down.

“You are not Yautja,” he explains.  

“Well, no…but I thought you knew that.”

He ignores your weak teasing.  

“I protect you, and you tell stories.”

“Yes.  Y-yeah, okay.”  

“It would kill you if I mated you,” he says, and he sounds almost kind.  Apologetic.

You shake your head faintly.  “No, I understand.  I just meant—"

He cuts you off.  “You are a very small and very weak ooman-di.  It would kill even the strongest ooman-di.”

There’s no point in trying to explain yourself.  No point in trying to explain that humans have all sorts of touch, and that you hadn’t been asking for….that.  That you only wanted a little closeness, to not always wrap yourself up in your furs each night alone.  

Your cheeks burn in humiliation.  Who would have thought you’d experience the same sort of rejection on an alien planet as you did on Earth?

“Yeah, got it.  Glad we, uh, cleared this up,” you mutter.  

*****

It was perhaps a bad idea to return to Earth for you.

He thought, at the time, that the cracked-open feeling in his chest would fade if he returned for you.  For a while, it did.  For a while, his chest felt too full, but not in a painful way, and he thought it was the consequence of having you with him again.

But now, the cracked-open feeling returns.  And worse than that, a restless irritation fills him when he’s with you for too long.  He cannot guess its source beyond you:  when he’s with you too long, you invade all of his senses.  The ooman scent of you, the sounds of you humming or singing, the sight of your soft body cooking or sparking a fire into life.  The sight of you wrapped in his furs at night, how you sometimes kick in your sleep, how your forehead furrows at whatever mad ooman dreams fill your skull, but how you sometimes also moan in your sleep, the sound alone enough to make his senses spark to life, but sometimes he can scent your arousal on those nights, and he must leave the light of the fire and stalk through the night until he calms.

The pained feeling in his chest, when you touch him and he recoils.  When he sees the sadness on your face.

The restless irritation when he stalks away because he wants your touch more than anything.  In the span of his long life, he’s never been so gently touched.  

It is an impossible thing.  He has to content himself with having you near him.  He cannot mate you:  for one, he could not give you pups.  For another, Yautja mating is a violent, painful thing.  He would not hurt you; he would not throw you in the dirt and overpower you.

He tries to explain the first part to you, later on when you’re both on his ship.  You blink at him, and he can see through his bio-mask how the blood rushes to your face and neck.  Oomans are so sensitive, and something about his explanation makes your temperature flare hotter.

“I understand,” you tell him, speaking slowly.  “Yautja…mating is just different from human mating.”

He nods, and the question only comes to him later, after he lands the ship on a new planet.

“What is ooman mating like?”

-----

Be’kan only understands some of it.  Your blood heats up to an alarming degree, and your words seem to fail because you are silent a long while before you start to speak.

You use words that are foreign to him, that have no translation into his mother tongue.  He makes you explain, makes you break each concept down to its most essential components until he understands.

Words like desire.  Pleasure.  Respect.  It takes so long to explain that your mouth gets dry, and you require much cool water before you can continue.

He’s always known that oomans are a crafty, cunning species.  It is their only advantage over the Yautja, the only thing that makes them worthy prey with their soft hides and soft claws and dull teeth.  Be’kan just never knew that the ooman inventiveness extended to mating.  To coupling.

It is so like your kind, to take the most basic imperative of any species—to continue the species, to breed—and turn it into pleasure.  Into fun.  Into some version of pain that leads to pleasure, and that takes Be’kan a long while to grasp.  

Much like how you, as a storyteller, take the facts of a story and embellish them with all of your fine ooman words, your kind takes the bare face of breeding and embellishes it.  You even have different words for the act, and your face flares hot and burning as you tell him those words.

Make love.  Have sex.  Fuck.

“What is the difference?” he asks, openly bewildered and you groan at him, pained, then ask for more water.

Afterwards, you hesitate, then ask him what Yautja mating is like, and he explains it.

How a Yautja male finds a female he deems suitable, then gifts her with a skull.  The more suitable the female, the more precious the skull—the best being the skull of a kiande amedha.  If the female accepts the skull, then the male is free to pursue her once her heat is upon her.  He accepts that if she is stronger, if she proves a better fighter, then he will die.  The female will kill him, and the species will be stronger for it.

“Sounds painful,” you murmur, and he admits that it is.  There is no soft touching, no soft words.  The only pleasure is that of a successful breeding, of continuing a bloodline.

So it’s a revelation, learning from his little ooman-di, that there could be another way.

*****

The change in him is subtle, at first.

At first, he only sleeps a little closer to you.  Within arm’s reach now (his arm, not yours).  

You suspect that when you’re asleep, he touches you.  Not in any way that’s inappropriate, but you guess that he touches perhaps your hand or arm when they stick out from under the fur.  Perhaps your face.  Perhaps your hair.

You also suspect that when he goes off to hunt, he’s not really hunting.  You suspect that he puts on his cloaking shield and stalks you—as you work around the campsite, as you tidy up.

As you bathe.

You know by now what it means to be prey.  When you go to the nearby water—the river or lake, depending on where you are—when you strip down and dive in, you can feel eyes on you.  His eyes.

Your long talk about….mating (the word makes you wince, embarrassed at how frank it had to be, for his sake) seems to have shifted something in him.  You still tell him stories each night, but he’s less attentive to what you say.  He seems fixated on you, staring hard at you, his small golden eyes unblinking as you make your way through the latest saga.  You’ve taken him back to earlier human stories, and you’re working through “Beowulf”—

“Will you touch me?” he asks, interrupting the part of the story when Grendel’s mother comes to avenge the death of her son.

You sputter at his question.  Gape at him a long moment.  Is he asking what you think he’s asking?

“W-where?” you ask, and he hesitates, then taps a blunt claw in the middle of his chest.  Where, theoretically, his heart lies.

You stand up and walk over to him.  Even sitting cross-legged as he is, he’s eye to eye with you where you stand in front of him.  You reach out a hand, pause, then lay your palm over the spot where he tapped.  And yes, that must be where his wild Yautja heart lies because you can feel it beating.

“Here?” you whisper, and he nods.  He makes a noise that sounds pained, almost a groan…but then he starts to purr, like a giant housecat content and lazing.

“It is like you said with ooman mating,” he growls, low.  “There is a pain there, but now there is also pleasure.”

You don’t question what he means and you don’t dare guess.  You stand there and watch as he shuts his eyes, as his mandibles flare and then settle.  You stand there a long while, hand over his heart, and when it’s finally time to retire for the night, he lies right beside you—pulls the length of your body against his larger one, tucks your head right against his heart.

*****

Yautja may not have the inborn inventiveness or imagination of the oomans, but they are extremely adaptable.  They learn from their mistakes.  They learn from their prey.

Be’kan learns from you.

He learns the pleasure of touch, though of course he has no way of knowing how chaste it is by ooman standards.  The feeling of your body tucked against his, the way it feels even more secure, like he can protect you even better.  The feeling of your hands on him—always slow to approach, tentative to touch.  Your hand on his chest, as he asked that night.  Your hand in his, your fragile fingers laced through his own.  

Once, you touch the sensitive appendages on his head—just a gentle touch, running your fingers through them—and the feeling is like a thunderbolt of want deep in his loins.  You have no way of knowing how sexual of a touch it is—how mating Yautja yank and pull against them.  Of course you wouldn’t know.  The appendages that grow from your head are soft, lifeless.  Ornamental.  They serve no purpose.

That touch—your gentle hand inextricably linked to the place where Yautja grab and yank and pull when they mate—once it’s in his head, he cannot dislodge it, no matter how he tries.

-----

Days later, back on his ship as you prepare to journey to a new planet, he asks you how oomans mate.

As always, your temperature raises, your heart rate increases.  He can sense all the ways you’re affected by his questions through his bio-mask, and he huffs out a breath, amused.  You are fragile in your form and your sensibilities.  

“Lots of ways,” you mumble.

“Explain.”

You sigh, and he sees you do that thing with your too-big eyes, the way you roll them in their sockets—at first he thought it a sign of distress, but he’s learned that it means irritation too.

“There are a lot of ways.”  You pause, sigh again.  “Aren’t there a lot of ways to kill your prey?  You shoot them, stab them, tear off their heads?  Human mating is like that.”

“Varied.”

“Yes.”

“Explain.”

He hears you heart.  He hears how it beats even faster, but then you explain the inventive, innovation oomans and the many ways they mate, the positions and more, how they can use every part of them to give and take pleasure—even their hands and mouths—and Be’kan sits in stunned silence for a long, long moment.

*****

Be’kan tells you that he has to leave you for a while, but he’s quick to allay your fear and say it’s not forever.  Not even for a very long time.

“I don’t see why you need to leave at all,” you tell him with a frown.

“I have a Hunt that is very dangerous.  It is too dangerous for you.”

“And where am I staying?”

As it turns out, you’re staying with his brothers.  He takes you to where they are, not hunting but resting and preparing for their next hunt, and Be’kan barks at them for a long while, furiously chitters and growls.  Once or twice, he cuffs them, then growls some more.

Then he returns to where you’re standing, uncertain.

“They will protect you.  They will make sure you are cared for.”  He pauses, tilts his head at you.  “They will not touch you.  I will be able to scent them if they do, and I will kill them if they do.”

“I don’t know why I can’t go with you.”

Away from where his brothers stand, he reaches out one of his giant hands and smooths it over your hair, tugs lightly against the ends.  “I would not risk you.”

“You’ll be careful?”

He growls.  “I will be victorious.”

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.  The planet you’re on seems to run long on the days, longer than on Earth.  You find yourself getting tired when it’s light outside, then waking up when it’s dark.  You’re disoriented, cranky.

Be’kan’s brothers are deferential, but still obviously curious about you.  They watch your every move, their cold masks tracking you around the campsite.  They also seem younger; they lack the calm dignity that your Yautja has.  One of their favorite things to do is to fight each other for your entertainment, like teenaged boys showing off.

You never know how to react, so when one is bleeding in the dirt, you clap politely, and that seems to please them.

Other nights, you tell them stories about warrior brothers (changing the story of “Lonesome Dove” to a story to obviously fit them), and that seems to please them even more.

-----

Be’kan returns soon enough, and you can see fresh scars on him.  His kind heal ridiculously fast, but there are white scars, barely healed, on his chest and shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything beyond offering his thanks to his brothers, then gestures at you to follow him back to his ship.

He doesn’t speak until you’re on your way to a new planet.  Once the coordinates are set, he stands up from his seat in the cockpit.  Gestures to you again, takes you to your shared sleeping quarters.  He reaches into a compartment, his back to you—and when he turns to face you, he has a skull in his hands.  A long alien skull, full of teeth.  Huge.  You hate to think what the creature looked like alive.

“A kiande amedha,” he says.  

Then he hands it to you.  Gifts it to you.  You know what it means, this gesture.  You know what it means to reject the gift, and what it means to accept it.

You accept it.

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja imagine #predator #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator franchise #the predator #tropes-and-tales

[gracecelestial]

This Neema'cte face has so much potential XD

But now I leave you with the following interpretations.

When you lend your computer to your siblings and the first thing you do is check the history.

when the person you like approaches you and you see that he wants to talk to you.

when you sneeze and someone says cheers, you say thank you and then you remember that you are home alone. XD

#yautja oc #female yautja #yautja #yautja art #yautja boyfriend #yautja x you #yautja female #yautja imagine #female predator #predator #the predator #alien vs predator #predator art #predator oc #avp #predator imagine #my oc #my art #aliens vs predator #avp: alien vs. predator #oc artwork #monster oc #monster art #monster boyfriend #oc art #alien oc

[solitaryearthperson]

Need A Hero Masterlist

Need A Hero

A Hero

Watcher

Ooman

Message

Feeling

Leaving

Etov

#Yautja #Predator #alien vs predator #AVP #Yautja imagine #Predator imagine #Yautja x reader #Predator x reader #Yautja x black!reader #predator x black!reader #Yautja x WOC!reader #Yautja series #Yautja fanfiction

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

#tumblr polls #predator #predators #predators 2010 #yautja #predator 1987 #predator 2 #the predator #yautja imagines #prey 2022 #prey #movie poll #film poll #dutch schaefer #predator franchise #predator series #predator movie #horror polls #predator yautja #predator imagine #ancient warfare #ancient warrior #sci fi movies #arnold schwarzenegger