I'm back.

A proper request should, in the best case, include the following things:

• A scenario

• A Yautja

• A reader character

The more vague you leave your request -> the more gaps you leave for me to fill -> the more I'll make the story my own!

This can be a good thing, if it's what you want. If not, try to be specific. I'll give you an example.

A vague request might be something like this:

"Hello, I'd like to request a Yautja who gives the reader a really big trophy and doesn't realize it can't possibly fit into their living room."

I can generally work with just a scenario, but without details I might change the mood from silly to dramatic or angsty, or I might give the reader an entirely different personally than you wanted, or make the Yautja super young or super old. It can be a fun surprise for you.

A detailed request, in turn, would be something like this:

"Hello, I'd like to request an elder Yautja who feels deeply depressed after losing their lifelong mate and decides to go and spend the rest of their time on an abandoned planet only to encounter the clumsy but veracious reader who crashed there after a kidnapping attempt by a bunch of bad bloods. Please write a story where they grow fond of the reader and defend them, but end up dying just as they regained their jest for hunting."

Something like this ^ sets the tone and scene and leaves little to the imagination. If you already told me exactly what outcome you want, I'll only write in the details and bring the story to life. Which is great if you've been itching for something specific.

Now, there are things that generally don't change, regardless of how you phrase your request.

That is:

• All my Yautja go by they/them

• All my readers too (exceptions can be made, talk to me!)

• The length of my writing. You may get 2K words. You may get 900. I really can't promise to stay consistent here, sorry.

When it comes to smut, you can and should include the sex of both the reader and the Yautja (ie "female Yautja" x "male reader" or other)

Seems reasonable?

Could you follow along so far?

Wonderful.

You certainly weren't inexperienced. On earth you had bedded more than one human man or another whose package was something to gawk at, and your fair share of women, too. You could handle this, you'd thought, until you actually saw them.

On your trip here, which took place on a 'private' shuttle that was way too cramped to offer any actual privacy, you were sat a few rows short of the beasts.

"Those're young-bloods" explained the man in uniform beside you in hushed tones, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the stunned look on your face. "Means they ain't killed anything worth killin' yet. Like one of 'em slimy xeno-whatevers they found a sample of in-"

But you'd completely drowned out his talk of how humans count as worthy kill under certain circumstances, and how he'd almost had a run in with an elder but managed to appease him by speaking their language, and the following beat-boxing that you were almost certain wasn't their language.

No. The only actual thought on your mind as you stared at those two walls of yellow-green glistening muscle that look bigger than you even when they're sitting down was- oh shit.

I'm actually gonna have to fuck these things.

You froze up as the doors to your little section of the ship swooshed open, the three bottles of wine you'd all but inhaled to try and lower your inhibitions apparently doing jack shit to stop the hammering of your heart.

You barely heard them enter, but you did see them. Oh did you see them. And to your horror, they saw you too.

Piercing yellow eyes were fixed on yours, and everything in your body, every instinct your species relied on to survive, was telling you to run. To scream. To fight.

But predator knows predator, so you stay perfectly still in this little standoff, praying that they were more reptile than mammalian and that the myth about T-rexes applied to them too. That if you didn't move, they wouldn't see you.

That if you waited long enough, you wouldn't have to find out if the myth about a man's hands was also true, since their fingers alone stretched the span of yours.

Then they moved. And you flinched. And they stopped moving.

Silence again.

It was kinda awkward. You hadn't been taught anything on their species. In your mind, they should've at least given you some basic yautja 101, maybe some alien-inclusive sex Ed. But you got sent out with nothing more than a gallon of lube and a good luck! Don't die!

They move again. You flinch again.

They move again, slowly.

Crouching down from ceiling height to 'you could almost attempt to kiss them if you had a stepstool' height.

Could you kiss a yautja? They don't have normal mouths. Would yautja even enjoy the act of kissing? Many questions, all of which you couldn't get past your anxiety-sealed lips.

Instead, you let out a dignified "ah..." to which they slowly tilt their head, to which you slowly die inside.

"Hello..." you decide would be your greeting, your voice barely even carrying in the humid air that filled the entire ship "...sir?"

That was polite. Polite people don't get killed. Surely.

Somehow, you'd hoped they would magically know your language. Would speak in the silky smooth tones of Ryan Reynolds or some other stand-in hot guy about how; hey, I know I'm a giant killing machine whose hands have seen more blood than you can carry in your tiny little pathetic ooman body alone, but I'm a good guy, I promise. I will make love to you gently in missionary position, finish in the dignified 60 seconds it would take any normal man, and then drape a soft blanket over you before I kiss your head and tell you you did well.

But all you got was a 'hmpf.'

A grunt, a small nod of their head as they lower themselves further to the ground, sitting in front of you with their legs in pretzel position. Okay, so big bad yautja also sat criss-cross-applesauce. Good to know.

Still slightly terrified, but moreso curious now, you let your eyes finally drop from theirs down to their body. This one was a black yautja.

Dark skin that looked almost moist and was freckled with little specks of yellow, not covered by the usual fishnets you'd come accustomed to seeing in what little research you did. Instead, they were bare. Your eyes move down further. Yep. Completely bare.

Embarrassed, your eyes snap back up again only to see that theirs had never left your face. They make a series of clicking noises. You imagine them asking why you were shitting yourself being in the same room as them but somehow didn't have the sense to not stare at their junk.

In reality as well as in imagination you had no real answer to that.

"How are you?" you decide to once again follow standard human protocol. They once again reply in a series of clicks. This wasn't productive.

You take the risk and extend a hand. They spread their legs. You take your hand back.

"Oh, uh..." you swallow "You want me to uh...?"

They return to a normal position, then let out another huff. This time it sounded kinda annoyed. Okay, you get that.

"Listen," your voice breaks, you cough, "listen." you repeat again.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?"

For a few moments too long, silence settles over you, along with a deep feeling of disappointment and regret in your gut. As a result, the ecstasy you feel as they nod their head once, was even greater. FINALLY. You were getting somewhere.

Letting out a slow, calming breath, you nod as well, then take a second to contemplate what to say next. Better be honest, right?

"Listen," you repeat, getting tired of the word yourself and wondering if in their language they also sometimes begin their sentences with commands. How do they feel when you speak to them like this? Disrespected, perhaps?

"I'll be so real with you-" you sigh, "I don't know anything about you. And I'm a little scared? Okay, a lot scared. It's my first day here and I don't want to like, mess up and offend you and get my skull cracked or something."

Their unwavering stare, along with their unwavering silence, pushes you to go on.

"I mean- look at you. You're huge. And I'm...well. Not. You look like you could crush me with one hand and I don't really want to test that theory, is what I'm saying. And I know I signed up for this, but please be gent-"

You were cut off as a clawed hand that felt as rough as it looked yanked your naked leg toward them, making your back hit the, thankfully still fur covered, ground. "Gentle!" you finish, now panicked "Be gentle! Please! And front hole only!"

But your legs were spread before you could even try and familiarize them with the concept of foreplay, and you close your eyes tightly, mentally counting to ten to prepare yourself for counting their inches.

Though about as you hit the 8 second mark you realize the intrusion doesn't seem to be coming, not yet anyways, and you slowly open your eyes again. And for the first time, you aren't met with theirs.

Instead, you're greeted with one very large...forehead.

"Um..." you breathe out slowly, hoping your pulse wasn't visible from where they were nestling their face into your crotch "that's my um...yeah"

"Y-yeah, so..." you prop yourself up on shaky elbows, attempting to guide them through...whatever they were doing.

From what you know their mouths at least don't look like they're made for oral. If anything the idea of having those tusks on you or, God forbid, sticking something between them, had goosebumps rise on your bare legs.

"It's...very sensitive" you explain, reaching out to tug on a lock of their hair (for lack of a better word), trying to get them to back off a little and earning yourself a growl that had you instantly freeze up. "O-okay then..."

Raising their head enough to glare at you, you contemplate if now was the right time to be begging for your life, or if you should keep that for when they rip you apart. Keep it special, you know?

They sigh. You let out a breath. They let go of your legs. You close them with a speed that was anything but erotic and sit up.

Back to the start.

Honestly, you were beginning to feel a bit bad for them.

Yautja males, outside of but especially during mating season, had an insanely high libido. That was the one thing you had been breached on, since that is the whole reason the IBP was even formed- to keep sexually frustrated yautja from losing themselves in heat by losing themselves in a human, instead.

The specifics were as alien to you as their anatomy, but you imagine it to be similar to female cats. Painful, distracting, making you forget everything except the itching need to get rid of that goddamn feeling.

They were dynamite, lit and ready to explode. And you were their salvation, hesitant and afraid like you weren't paid to be here.

You hold up a lone hand like a fence between sheep and wolf, shifting onto your knees as you look them over. They were a beast, but as your gaze reveals, certainly not monstrous.

Broad shoulders, a well defined chest, thick muscular thighs that met at a sort of...knob. Like a rounded bulge that made you wonder at why they were covering that part with armor at all. They make another clicking sound, but for once you don't tear your eyes away. After all, if they were unashamed about getting an eyeful, why wouldn't you be?

And they're definitely not shy. At least you thought so, until their large palm moves to cover it up, and you look at them in confusion for a moment, prompting "How...how does it...work?"

Their response was not verbal, but came instead in an act that seemed all too familiar to how you would touch yourself, and for a moment you considered if maybe you had been wrong entirely. That perhaps the way they were rubbing their fingers against the bulging flap between their legs suggested that they had an innie, not an outie. Which would at least be something you'd have no issue working with.

But then it, in a hilariously literal sense, sprung free, and you found yourself almost amused-

If not for the sheer size of it.

At first you assumed that the drugs, and the free medicare, and the actual barrels of lube were mere incentives. Simply things to get more humans warmed up to the idea of taking on a Yautja. Like, hey, none of these are actually necessary but we provide them for you just in case, so don't even worry!

But now that you see those 15, somehow fully erect inches staring back at you, you realize that they aren't incentives- they are necessities.

"Oh fuck me." you whisper harshly, staring at their anaconda like it was about to bite you.

And as their big hands reach for you again you realize human expressions do not translate well at all.

They cup both your cheeks in one, use the other to pry your legs further apart and ignore your sputters and squeaks like a parent would a stubborn child. To them, you may as well be. What was it? One yautja year equals ten to every human?

"Wait- wait! HOLD ON!" you squack with no regards to your dignity as you feel the beginning of them press against you, but it was only when you move to yank their head back by their hair that they seem to listen.

They roar like a tiger, the appendages on their faces spreading like they were about to crush your skull with them, but you stay determined to get your point across.

"It won't fit!" you cry "It won't fit! I'm sorry! Let me down! Please let me down!"

For a moment you feel the hand spanning the circumference of your leg dig it's claws into the flesh, ask yourself what sweet god took pity on you today and made this creature at least somewhat fluent in consent as it reluctantly sets you back down, and vow that the next time you find yourself bored of your life you'll simply dye your hair a bright blue or book a random trip to Mexico.

"T-thank you," you breathe out deeply, settling back onto your knees "I'm sorry."

But despite their respect for the word no, their frustration was still evident.

They have no eyebrows but still you could see them furrow, hear a faint grumble reverberate in their chest as they must question for the umpteenth time tonight why they had been coupled with the ship's worst prostitute.

"I'm sorry." you add again, this time less out of fear and more out of embarrassment.

They growl again in response, their eyes fixing you in something that somehow manages to not feel like anger.

"Listen," that word again. You smile and wonder if they know what a smile is. "maybe we can work something else out?"

Your eyes drop again, to the part which—just like them—demands attention. And you'd give it, once you figure out a way not to die in the process.

"Do…I mean maybe if I just take half- oh!" you look back up into their eyes that seemed to never break contact with yours "Can I give you head?"

It certainly wasn't your smoothest line, but from what you could tell they don't really care for subtlety.

They nod, and you can finally breathe again.

You look down again, and realize you won't be breathing freely for long.

As if expecting further instructions, they remain seated and staring at you, legs spreading just a little further again. Okay, you think. You can do this.

On all fours, you do your first attempt at seduction tonight, crawling closer towards them—and then briefly kissing the floor before quickly and awkwardly picking yourself up again. It's hard to be sexy when you're drunk.

Though it does make it a little easier to act before your thoughts can stop you, hand reaching out to gently wrap around- fuck. Try and wrap around their cock.

They let out another deep huff, twitching against your palm.

"Damn…a-are all Yautja this big?"

You startle, almost recoiling from them as they erupt in a loud series of clicks and chirps. For a split second you think, and get weirded out by the prospect of those being, moans. Until you realize they're actually laughing. You smile.

"Is that—is that a yes? It's not a stupid question." you chuckle with them, still not sure if they're doing the same or laughing at you.

"Most" they rumble, deep and heavy, "I'm not big-est"

Not the biggest. Great. Wonderful. So a dick the length of your forearm and the width of a Pringles can was only the beginning of your journey. If that's the average for Yautja males giving birth for the females must be heavenly eas—

You startle again.

"What the fuck?!"

You let go of their cock in favor of giving them the most petulant, angry, surprised yet grateful, and just as confusing as trying to describe it, look one could have.

"You can talk? Why didn't you talk before?" you demand and they grunt again, though at this point you're pissed enough to say something about it "Stop huffing at me! You can talk!"

"Not good."

"Don't care!"

"Touch me." they say suddenly like they're trying to indulge you, voice as soft as their throat would allow "Please."

And you sigh, keeping your eyes on them for another moment like your glare would do anything to a beast of their size as you try and quell your anger at having to work with near silence to preserve their ego in the face of not-quite-perfect english.

But touching them was what you were here for, so that wasn't something you'd argue about.

Leaning down, you open your mouth as wide as you could go so your teeth wouldn't accidentally scrape them, and get almost thrown across the room like a ragdoll.

"WoaH-shit—what the fuck?!" you repeat, and they squeak, revealing that their voice could get an octave higher than venom-deep "NO BITING"

"What? I wasn't gonna-"

"NO BITING" their hand cups between their thighs, attempting to frantically stuff themselves back into their weird sheeth-thingy, standing back up to back away from you. Like a lion recoiling from a tiny snake because it knows there's venom in there.

"I wasn't-" you try again to explain, but they're already bolting from the room, 300 pounds almost putting a dent in the door when it fails to slide open fast enough.

You're left still naked, unfucked, untouched, and so very very confused on the floor of your make-shift brothel room.

Another thing learned, you supposed.