blushycadaver

[blushycadaver]

Your troll situationship was typically a serious sort. No cuddling, no teasing, and everything on his terms. Still, it was always fun to mess with him.

M!troll x f!reader, size difference, nipple play, rough sex, brat taming, oral: male receiving.

Minors do not interact

————

You flicked one of your situationship’s nipple rings, a risky decision considering how much he seemed to hate most physical contact. It got quite a jolt out of him, making him go from lazily lounging to bolting upright and shooting you a nasty look. Though not before you caught the way his breath hitched a bit and the soft sound he made before it became a snarl.

“Was that necessary?” he nearly hissed at you.

He was intimidating. Large like any other troll, long and elephant-like tusks, and blue skin. His personality was much the same, temperamental and gruff, though occasionally charming when he thought he could get something out of it. That’s how he got you to go home with him the first time.

He had been charming, swapping from his previous tactic of catcalling and being forward to instead being playful and friendly, dancing with you at a festival, and flirting instead of catcalling. You were a bit ashamed how well it worked.

He looked nearly scandalized staring back at you, a hand covering his assaulted nipple, seemingly in disbelief of your actions.

You couldn’t help but giggle. Honestly you weren’t sure what made you reach over and give his piercing a flick, but his reaction was worth any consequences you might face.

Both of his nipples were pierced, with several more piercings along his long, pointed ears, all fairly typical for trolls. Unlike the orcs who favored tattoos, trolls went with piercings and jewelry as their de facto adornment.

“I don’t know, you seemed to sort of like it” you teased him and reached out a hand to give the other a flick.

He quickly swatted your hand away in a less than dignified manner, “I do not appreciate it.”

“You really could stand to lighten up a bit.”

For a brief second you say the flash of annoyance on his face, the faint curl of his lip into a snarl at being told what to do even playfully. There were precious few people he’d ever listen to, and you certainly weren’t one of them.

“Stop being a brat” his voice was low, serious.

“Really? Are you that annoyed because I flicked your nipple and told you to lighten up?”

He drew himself up to sit at his full, imposing height, towering over where you sat by him in bed as a subtle reminder he could absolutely manhandle you should he choose to. “I will say it one last time, stop being a brat.”

While certainly you should have felt small and intimated by his posturing, instead you saw an opening to try to flick the nipple that eluded you before. No matter how quick you were, he was faster. A hand swiftly catching your wrist to stop you and a snarl on his face.

“Really?” he snapped at you, “I can’t even have a nice morning without you trying something?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “seemed like you were having a pretty nice morning when you woke me up by yanking my hips up to fuck me.”

“And I didn’t exactly hear you complaining while you were moaning the whole time.”

You had long since gotten used to him doing what he wanted when he wanted, the catch of staying at his place, which still beat the inn you had been staying at while visiting the city. He had a large bathtub with running hot water unlike the inn where you had to heat water one bucket at a time. His bed was large and comfortable, with nice pillows and blankets. His home was warm and draft free. All in all it wasn’t a bad deal for you; you got to stay somewhere much nicer and the sex was good, if not a bit rough.

Still, you pushed your luck one last time. Swiping out with your free hand for one more try. It took a second to figure out what happened, and you still weren’t sure how he moved so fast, but he had pushed you down on your back, both of your wrists grabbed in one of his large hands and pinned over your head, and straddling your thighs with just enough of his weight on you to make sure you weren’t going anywhere.

“What did I say?” he asked.

You just huffed and rolled your eyes, which only seemed to set him off more.

“What did I say?” he asked again, this time giving your nipple a firm pinch while asking.

You let out a yelp in surprise.

He raised a brow and gave your nipple a tug, still waiting on an answer.

“To stop being a brat” you said.

“And yet, you’re still acting like a brat” he hadn’t stopped playing with your nipple though, now rolling it between his fingertips. “And what was the point of being like that?”

You stared back at him, watching his expression closely.

“Use your words” he said, switching to giving your nipple a good twist.

You cried out from it, feeling a familiar ache between your legs while he continued to toy with you. He wasn’t the sort to get handsy, preferring a quick, rough fuck. You were even fairly certain that first and last time you ever got any foreplay was him was the first time you slept with him and even then it was just enough for him to be able to physically get into you. If you knew that this was all it took to get him to get his hands on you, you would have ticked him off a lot sooner.

It wasn’t just you who seemed to be enjoying it though. His cock twitched where it laid hard on your stomach, bobbing a bit each time you moaned. He was thick at his base with a more tapered tip than a human. Most of his length was the same light blue-gray as the rest of him, though his hip faded to a much darker and almost navy blue shade.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you” he gave your nipple another firm twist and you tore your gaze off his cock to look him in the eye.

He leaned down, his tusks on either side of your face. They were long enough so there was still several inches between the two of you, but with how they were spaced you couldn’t turn your head to look away. Like this you could really only move your legs a little. Your hands were still restrained over your head, he had your thighs and hips pinned under his weight, and now you couldn’t even move your head.

And it really was doing a lot for you. It was easy to feel small around him, but this was something else. The ache between your legs was nearly unbearable, and your clit was throbbing, and you were fairly sure you were leaving a damp stop on the bed.

“Are you going to behave if I let you up?” he asked, immediately snapping you from your fantasies.

You opted not to answer. Partially because you had no intention of behaving, and partially to see what he would do if you just kept refusing to talk. Instead you rolled your hips up against him, seeking any friction against your clit that you could.

“Fine, be like that” he sat back up, “But brats don’t get what they want” he punctuated the statement with another sharp tug on your nipple which only made you squirm more.

Making sure to not release your wrists he climbed off of you and used his grip on your hands you yank you to the side of the bed. He knew his strength well though, using enough force to move you with ease but not even close to enough to cause you any harm. Any time he manhandled you was the same, just enough force to remind you he was powerful but never enough to hurt.

He got you in position, laying you across the bed with your head tipped off the side, now keeping your hands pinned against your chest instead.

“Open” he commanded, his pre-cum dripping tip against your lips.

“We’ve tried this before, you’re too big” you protested through gritted teeth to keep him from being able to jam his cock down his throat.

“And we’re trying again now so open up” his free hand move to your throat. He didn’t squeeze or put any pressure on you, just a thumb against your pulse.

Hesitantly you obeyed and his tip slipped past your lips with ease. To a degree you had gotten used to blowing him, through deep throating was almost always off the table with his size. Sometimes for a moment or two you’d get the courage to try here or there, managing to take all of him for a moment or two before gagging so hard you couldn’t breathe.

Slowly he kept going, carefully making sure to stay lined up as you felt his tip enter your throat. Automatically you tensed up, already on the verge of gagging, which he clearly noticed.

“Deep breaths,” he nearly cooed at you using that fake, saccharine voice that he defaulted to when he wanted something.

You closed your eyes and just tried to focus on remembering how to breathe. The urge to gag died down a bit. Slowly he resumed his pace, removing his cock from your throat here and there to make sure you could get a few good deep deeps as needed.

“Get a good, deep breath and hold it” he commanded and you obeyed. Once you were ready he pressed back into your mouth until his balls were against your face and you took all of him. You gagged and squirmed, though he held his position for a few seconds before carefully withdrawing.

“See? Just like that. We’re going to keep going until I’m satisfied and you aren’t gagging so much” he released his grip on your hands and you felt his now free hand slip down between your legs, a thick finger between your folds that then dragged a trail of wetness back up along your stomach, “And if you’re good maybe I’ll do something about that.”

The process repeated over and over. Deep breaths between trying not to gag, slowly getting used to it. At one point he even moved one of your hands up to your throat so you could feel each time his cock moved down your throat.

“At least now you have a reason not to talk” he teased. His pace picked up, making you adjust to timing your breaths with his strokes, heavy balls slapping against your face each time until with a final and particularly firm thrust you felt how he throbbed in your throat as he came.

Slowly he withdrew from your mouth as he caught his breath and gave you a once over. He grabbed the edge of the blanket and wiped off the corners of your eyes where tears had pooled from gagging and then your mouth. Without saying a word he walked off once you sat up and were breathing alright, returning moments later to hand you a glass of water.

“Feel like being a good girl now?” he asked while you sipped on the water to soothe your throat.

You nodded, feeling a bit too raw to talk, but the nod seemed to suffice.

“You’re such an odd thing,” he mused, not particularly talking to you, “one of only a few humans in this city so far, and here you are getting wet from being pushed around.”

He made a similar comment the first time you slept with him. Remarking on how even when you were teary eyed and saying the stretch was too much you were still wet and moaning. He teased you over how you must like to play the role of the poor little dominated human ravaged by monsters. You had been embarrassed by how fast he clocked that about you, though he seemed more than content to play the big, dominate monster.

“Come here” he beckoned and pulled you on to his lap. He was only soft on you when he thought he might have pushed you too far. He was crass, or at least on the surface. Truth be told you never really could get a good read on what side of him was the real version of him, which parts were an act. But maybe that didn’t matter in whatever casual hookup or situationship was going on.

“Ok now?” he asked.

You just nodded again between sips of water.

His hand slipped down between your legs again, dragging some of your wetness up to tease your clit. You also felt his half hard cock pressing against your backside letting you know that he wasn’t done quite yet.

He shifted you off his lap and sat your glass of water aside, quickly then busying himself with getting you positioned how he wanted. You were bent over the side of the bed, face down with a pillow under your hips to raise you high enough for him to line up better, and one leg bent up into the bed.

There was never any warning. It only took him a moment to position himself between your legs and then bury himself fully in a single stroke. Any softness he showed you moments ago had vanished, jumping right into an unrelenting pace and pressing into your cervix each time. Still, you couldn’t complain, anything was welcome relief from the ache between your legs.

“So fucking wet” you heard him groan, “fucking wet and tight every time.”

You whimpered, somewhat from his words but mostly from a mix of the discomfort of him skipping over any warmup up against the toe-curling feeling of how deep he was in you. It was never a comfortable experience in all honesty, and he really seemed to take a certain level of joy in knowing you were uncomfortable, but he was deep in a way that gave you chills. Every thrust rubbed right into your g-spot regardless of angle or position, it was a stretch that toed the line between incredible and painful, but still you found yourself showing back up at his place.

A hand was on the back of your neck, pinning you down while he did what he wanted. He always wanted full control, the few times you had tried to lead or take control you always quickly found yourself face down, ass up and him somehow rougher than usual. Though he seemed to enjoy the chance you really manhandle you in response.

Right now he seemed to be going for deep over fast, almost entirely withdrawing before thrusting back in fully with enough force to shove you forward a bit each time.

“Look how well you can take it now” he cooed into your ear, leaning down so that his chest was pressed to your back. His tusks were on either side of your neck, rendering you nearly immobile. “You don’t even cry anymore.”

You teared up the first time, even with foreplay and him going slow. It was something he really loved to remind you of.

In the absence of any more remarks from him, only the sounds of skin against skin and your whimpers filled the room. Every time he withdrew from you, you felt your muscles flutter around him, almost trying to draw him back in. Each deep thrust feeling like it was forcing the air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping and squirming under him but unable to move.

“Come on pretty girl, cum for me. Let me feel how much you love getting fucked like this” he said into the back of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

You were a panting mess, already bordering on overstimulated between him playing with your nipples earlier for so long and how worked up you got when you blew him, or rather while he face fucked you. The pressure was still building low in your belly, giving way to the tingles and jolts as you tipped over the edge. Groaning as you finally got the relief you needed. Your walls spasmed around him, making you really feel every throb and twitch of his cock.

He fucked you through your orgasm, setting a ruthless pace in addition to his already deep strokes. Quickly it made you squirm and twitch from the overstimulation, making you tear up as it got too intense and made you feel raw.

It was always a weird feeling when he came. Significantly more cum than human just because of his sheer size alone paired with the fact that he was more than thick enough at his base to keep it all plugged inside of you lead to an odd, but not bad, sensation of feeling stretched and stuffed with cum.

He only stayed in you for a few moments, just long enough to catch his breath before rolling off of you and allowing the deluge of cum pour out, before settling into his routine. As always he immediately went to grab a damp washcloth and start cleaning you off, something he always insisted on. He was a tidy person, bed always made, everything always in its place, and definitely always freshly bathed. He expected the same of you, though not trusting you enough to clean yourself up to his standards afterwards and instead taking it upon himself.

“All good?” he asked and offered you more water.

“Yeah” you managed this time.

He didn’t touch you, he actively disliked cuddling, but he did always make sure you were alright. Which you supposed really was the best you were going to get in this situation.

Regardless, you wouldn’t be here forever. Just staying here for scholarly work for a while before returning to your human city with all your notes. Maybe it was better that way.

[blushycadaver]

Captain Ju’do.

[blushycadaver]

My troll boys

Basic info and links to their stories. Will update as needed.

Zen’jan

Avatar to the Lord of Shadows, Zen is fairly used to having way too much responsibility and it’s weighed heavily on him over the years. He’d rather watch people and events than actually take part, he’s a bit awkward but well meaning. Most people would describe him as an oddball, but a good person. Being given too much responsibility as a kid/young teen meant he missed out on a lot of normal socialization and it shows. He’s a very gentle person who tries to take care of others. Even tempered and loving, he’s a creature of routine and habit who’s happy to live a quiet life with his spouse.

Ba’tual

A well known fighter, Ba follows the Lord of Shadows. An expert in combat magic, particularly blood magic and hexes, with a slight cruel streak, he inspires both fear and admiration when he’s not catcalling and being a bit of an ass. Ba has a very short list of people he truly cares for, just his parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, and best friend Zen’jan, though despite his cocky nature he does lend a hand around the city when needed and often when no one is looking. Ba is usually looking for his next hookup and has a reputation for being dominate and pushy with partners.

Mala

An ice troll hailing from the southern mountains who loves him home but felt like he was missing out on life. He spent a few years traveling on his own, often ignored or shunned in human town when asking for directions or trying to buy supplies because of his intimating appearance. Mala is curious and friendly with a love of learning and exploring and who is highly social. Affectionate and loving, he’s doing his best to make sure his human spouse is adapting to life in his brutally cold mountain home and trying to figure out life as a first time dad.

Daz’ai

A Zandalari troll and captain in the Golden Fleet. Daz’ai is confident and self assured, but not cocky. He lives for adventure and new experiences, whether it be new sights, foods, drinks, or people, anything new is exciting. Daz’ai is happy to spend a night with people who he finds interesting, and while he’s usually hoping for a hookup he’s still more than happy to trade stories over drinks if someone isn’t interested in sex. Charismatic and well spoken, people are often drawn to him. He has friends and hookups in nearly every port and loves them deeply, it’s just not romantic, which has lead to him accidentally breaking hearts. He loves people, but it’s in his own way.

[blushycadaver]

The King’s Right Hand Pt9 (Yautja x Human)

Warning: Violence

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

You tossed and turned on the thin bedding, pain and relentless thoughts pressing down on your head.

Your chest ached again and you squeezed your eyes shut.

He was gone and with him vanished that tiny, fleeting sense of comfort you let yourself feel.

You mentally slapped yourself. Comfort… and him in the same sentence? Ridiculous.

It was both unbearable and absurd. You felt like you were losing your mind and it wasn’t just the bruises along your ribs and face, it was that stubborn thought, clanging in your skull, refusing to let you get some rest.

You lay still, staring at the ceiling. Everything in the cell was cold, metallic, dead. Images of the guards he had beaten, bloodied and broke under his hands, flickered before your eyes. You couldn’t shake them, even if you begged your mind to let go.

Why had he done it? Was it the king’s orders to punish the guards… or was it him?

You sighed, fingers clenching the cot beneath you.

The cell door creaked open. Your body froze.

Play dead, you heard your inner voice.

But you ignored it, swallowing hard and keeping your eyes wide open.

A female Yautja stepped in— the one who had first cleaned and scraped you when you arrived on this planet. She carried something resembling a cloth and motioned for you to stand.

Reluctantly, you did, stepping out of the cell.

“What’s going on?” you whispered at her.

“He told me to collect you and bring you to your new cell,” she said, voice guttural and rough, yet her movements were almost gentle.

She closed the door behind you and nudged you softly toward the exit.

You glanced back at your old cell, as if you might miss it. God, no. You turned with a glare and walked on. You hoped the cell—and every memory it held—would burn to ashes.

The Yautja walked beside you, her steps slow and heavy. You passed door after door in a vast corridor.

“Thank you,” you murmured, almost under your breath, grateful they had sent her instead of a male guard.

“Don’t thank me. What they did to you was unacceptable. The least we can do is put you somewhere safe,” she said, eyes fixed ahead.

“I…” You hesitated, then let the words out bitterly. “I had it coming. I thought if I fought, bared my teeth… I’d get respect.” You ran a hand over your face, exhausted.

“You’re human. You don’t usually bare your teeth, do you?” she asked.

“No. But I panicked. I didn’t know what would happen if I simply obeyed.” Your head hung low as you walked.

“I saw how rough you were here… how dangerous. I imagined if I acted like you, maybe—”

“You are to be a concubine in the king’s harem. Do concubines bite on your planet?”

“We… don’t have that anymore. But when they did… no. They weren’t biting.”

“If you want to survive, serve your purpose,” she said flatly.

“That red bastard—” You caught yourself. “Red guard. He won’t let me do anything. Keeps me locked in the cell and…” You clicked your tongue, annoyed just thinking of him.

“Tarr’kon?” Her voice carried a scoff, almost amused.

“What?” You slowed your steps, tilting your head at her.

“The king’s right hand. Tarr’kon,” she said, voice rough.

You repeated the name in your mind.

Tarr’kon. Tarr’kon.

Burning it into your memory.

“I don’t care what his name is. He’s a pain in the ass. He humiliates me, toys with me, and forces me on my knees every chance he gets.” Your voice grew louder now, echoing in the corridor. The female Yautja glanced at you, her mandibles clicking softly.

“Is he always like that? Taunting and breaking the tributes… is he getting off to this?” You flailed your hands, each movement punctuating your words.

A deep, rolling rumble vibrated from her chest, echoing against the metal walls.

“I can see why he keeps you in your cell,” she rumbled, teasing in her low, guttural voice.

“What?” you gasped, hand shooting to your chest.

“Tarr’kon doesn’t care for the tributes, nor does he visit them. He’s only here to decide their fate once they arrive,” she said, halting before a metallic door, heavier and more reinforced than your previous prison chamber.

“He doesn’t pay me visits either,” you mumbled quietly.

She tapped a few buttons and the door hissed open.

She stepped in first, waiting for you to follow. She didn’t push, didn’t threaten, yet somehow commanded your trust. You weren’t foolish enough to run, but you could and she knew it.

You stepped into your new cell without a second thought.

It was wider, the bed plain but sturdy. Nothing luxurious, but at least it promised real sleep.

She held the door open, patient, waiting, and you stepped fully inside.

“You’re… obedient,” she said, locking the door behind you. “I don’t know what he finds challenging.” She sounded genuinely curious. You tilted your head, uneasy.

“I’ll listen… if you treat me right,” you said, crossing your arms defensively.

“He only pushes me, messes with me… asks me to crawl—”

“Only that?” she interrupted, folding her arms to mirror your stance.

You hesitated. Was there more? Memories of him breaking the guards, pressed against your mind, almost driving you mad.

“He… brought me food. But that’s his job,” you shrugged.

Her scoff was so clear, almost sounding human.

“Tarr’kon? No. His job is to break. To burn.”

She tossed the cloth to you. You caught it midair, before it hit your face.

“So… who’s going to bring me food now?” Your eyes fell, hands twisting the cloth, desperately trying to hide your nervousness.

You didn’t know if you were going to see him again.

You didn’t care—not really.

You just wanted to know.

“I only brought you here by request,” she said, stepping toward the exit.

You murmured, “The King…”

“King?” She shook her head. “This wasn’t the King’s doing.” Her bejewelled dreadlocks swung with the movement, almost mesmerizing.

“Wait!” you shouted, before she closed the door behind her “Your name?”

“K’rethya,” she said, bowing slowly before leaving you all alone.

If it had been confusing before, now the doubt dug its claws deep into your chest, rooting itself like poison ivy wrapping tighter with every breath.

You clenched your jaw.

No. Fucking. Way.

This was his doing, but that didn’t mean anything.

It couldn’t mean anything…

You kept telling yourself that, begging your mind to find an explanation that made sense, something clean, logical, stripped of whatever dangerous emotion kept pushing into your thoughts.

But the words rang hollow.

Your confusion pressed against your skull like a migraine, but it eased the moment your eyes caught it—a shower at the corner of your cell.

Primitive, strange, but real.

The cloth in your hand suddenly made sense.

For the first time since you arrived, your body remembered what relief was. The water was cold, biting into your skin like tiny needles, but you welcomed it. No soaps, no perfumes, nothing but the hiss and rhythm of the stream. And somehow, that was enough.

The noise drowned everything else out. The fear, the suspicion, even his masked face. For those minutes, it was just water and silence.

You scrubbed until your skin burned, until the grime and stink of your previous cell felt like it was being peeled away. You washed your mouth, spitting out the lingering taste of blood, as though you could spit out the memories themselves.

A sigh broke free of your chest, shaky but real. For the first time in what felt like forever, you almost believed you might sleep without watching shadows.

Almost.

Because the moment you lay down, the cell felt too quiet. Too still. The comfort of the shower evaporated into a chill that crawled under your skin. The silence pressed against your ears until you swore you could hear your own pulse.

The thought of someone walking in, of rough hands dragging you up just to beat you down again, dug into your gut.

You shifted on the bedding, trying to find a position that didn’t make your back scream, but no matter how you turned, your body stayed stiff, alert. Sleep never came easy here, but tonight it felt impossible. Your eyes kept snapping open at the faintest noise, half-expecting a shadow to break through the door and remind you of pain.

You weren’t resting. You were waiting.

In the end, exhaustion won. Your body gave up, and sleep dragged you under.

Until you snapped your eyes open.

You sat up slowly, pulse hammering in your throat and whispered into the dark.

“What the fuck?”

(Requested tags: @blushycadaver @aphrodite4lover @minnie-rae @elita1 @broken0verseer @softycheol @blxuqueenie @wanderlustingcastaway @shadowhyde666 @moon-trash1507 @aphroditeadores @whorangi @kyriekurokami @urlocalgal82 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff @anothergojostan @dustyeclipse)

[blushycadaver]

The King’s Right Hand Pt8 (Yautja x Human)

Warning: Violence

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

The questioning dragged on like a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

The red Yautja forced guard after guard to their knees in front of you, demanding an answer, demanding the face of the one who had dared to lay hands on you.

You didn’t know why he was doing this. Maybe you didn’t want to know.

Because if you ever did point him out, if you gave him a face, he would skin that male alive in front of you. And you weren’t sure you could live with that image burned into your mind.

You rose slowly from your bedding as he dragged in another guard. This one fought harder than the rest, snarling and thrashing against the iron grip around his throat. Your stomach tightened. Those who resisted… he was always worse with them.

“THIS IS THE LAST ONE. IS IT HIM?”

The roar tore through the prison, guttural and raw, shaking in your chest until you thought your knees would give up.

You blinked, stunned. Had he really broken every single one of them?

“I swear—” your voice shook. “I can’t remember. I– I didn’t see much—” The words tumbled clumsily out of your mouth, then caught in your throat as he made a sound.

A muffled, furious growl under his helmet. His chest heaved like he had been running too long, like he couldn’t pull in enough air to keep the fire inside him contained.

You gripped the bars. His body was so tense you could feel it radiating from where you stood—the heat, the rage. Green blood slicked the stone floor at his feet, bright stains from the ones he had already torn through. His claws flexed into fists.

The guard in his grip scrambled free and bolted for the door, stumbling like prey that had just been given a second chance.

The red Yautja didn’t move. He just stood there, shoulders rising and falling, breath harsh and ragged, the mask aimed at the floor as if staring down at the blood he had spilled.

Your gaze caught on his tresses. Some of them were scratched, bleeding that same unnatural green. You blinked at the strange sight.

Your throat felt like sandpaper. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t tell them apart.”

The words came out a whisper, like you were afraid even speaking might snap the thin thread keeping him restrained. You trembled at the thought of his rage turning on you.

His breathing slowed, steadied. His spine straightened, shoulders locking back into that familiar, controlled stance. Menacing. Unstoppable.

He tilted his head up, looking at the ceiling before turning to you.

Eye to eye.

For the first time, it felt like you were truly facing each other. Not as prisoner and predator. Not with you on the ground. Just face to face. And the weight of it rooted you to the spot.

You didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.

He stepped closer. Slow. Deliberate. The kind of movement that gave you time to think, to panic, to hope, to fear.

His fist smashed onto the padlock. It hissed, popped, and the door swung open.

He stepped inside.

Every muscle in your body screamed to back away, and you did, slow and steady, until your shoulders pressed against the cold wall. His steps matched yours, never hurrying, never stopping, just closing the distance until he stood over you, cornering you completely.

His dreadlocks shifted with the tilt of his head as he studied you. The dim light caught the red of his skin, making it look like embers burning low, waiting to flare.

You tried to keep your eyes on his chest, too afraid to meet the black lenses of his mask.

His hand rose.

Fingers caught your chin, rough against your skin, forcing your face toward him. He turned your head, inspecting you. Then his hand lingered, palm dragging over the side of your face, pressing against the bruise that burned from the guard’s slap.

You shut your eyes, waiting. Waiting for pain. For humiliation.

But none came.

His hand lingered for a heartbeat… then lowered.

“Where else?”

His voice cut through the silence, low but steady, carrying that same command it always did.

You clenched your jaw, eyes falling to your stomach.

“Show me.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want him to see. Didn’t want his eyes on your body.

“Now.” The word was harsher this time, rumbling deep in his chest.

You exhaled shakily, lifting your shirt just enough to show the spot where the kick had landed. The skin hadn’t bruised yet, but it burned with pain anyway.

His head tilted down. He stared, silent and then looked back at you. You lowered your shirt quickly, pulling it tight against yourself.

“Where else?” His breathing came uneven again, a sound you weren’t used to hearing from him.

You swallowed hard. “He… he grabbed my hair. Threw me against the wall.” You touched the stone behind you with your fingertips. The same wall you were cornered against now.

He turned, then took your wrist firmly and guided you away, toward your bedding. You stumbled after him, nerves fraying with every second.

“I’ll have you removed from this cell.”

“Am I… am I going to a better chamber—”

“No.” The answer was sharp, cutting you off. “Another cell. Limited access.”

The finality in his tone left no room for questions. You nodded, staring down at your hands instead.

He stood over you like a statue, silent, unreadable. You swore he wanted to say something. But as always, the words never came.

“Why did you—” you started, but his hand lifted, palm out, silencing you.

You pressed your lips together, nodding.

“Thank—” Again, he stopped you with a gesture.

Your lips pressed shut. You nodded instead, obedient, though your chest ached with unspoken words.

He turned slightly and for the first time, you had the space to really take him in. His armor gleamed, sharper, cleaner, more intricate than any of the others you had seen. His skin—red like fire over scorched earth—looked different from the rest, more alive, more dangerous. He didn’t belong here.

Your fingers twitched before you could stop yourself. Almost without thinking, you reached out, brushing the edge of his lower armor, the metal cool beneath your touch. Just a distraction. Just something real.

His head snapped down at the contact, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place.

You yanked your hand back immediately, lowering your head like an apology.

“Did he hit you anywhere else?” he asked again, voice quieter, but rough.

You shook your head.

He crouched suddenly, kneeling in front of you, his massive frame folding down close. His shoulders tightened, claws flexing as though he had to wrestle his fury into submission. His dreadlocks spilled over his shoulders, some brushing the ground, some falling against your hands. You froze, fighting the urge to touch them, to know what they felt like.

His claw curled under your chin again, forcing your eyes up. Your lashes fluttered, nerves spiking at the feeling of him being so close.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” His voice wasn’t soft—not really—but it wasn’t as sharp as before. It almost… wavered.

Your lips parted, shut again. Then parted once more. “I wouldn’t,” you whispered.

His gaze held yours for a long, unbearable second. Then his hand released you. He rose in one fluid motion, armor clanking softly with the movement.

Without another word, he left.

The cell door closed with a hiss.

His heavy steps echoed down the hall until the silence swallowed him whole.

You sat frozen on your bedding, your thoughts racing.

Was this another one of his games? Was he toying with you, breaking you down only to shatter you later?

Or… was it something else?

You shook your head hard, forcing the thought away. No. This wasn’t help. This wasn’t protection. You wouldn’t believe that. You couldn’t.

And yet…

Deep inside, buried under fear and doubt, a spark stirred. A spark you didn’t ask for. A spark you couldn’t kill.

(Requested tags: @blushycadaver @aphrodite4lover @minnie-rae @elita1 @broken0verseer @softycheol @blxuqueenie @wanderlustingcastaway @shadowhyde666 @moon-trash1507 @aphroditeadores @whorangi @kyriekurokami @urlocalgal82 @cottoncandyclouds-stuff )

[blushycadaver]

The King’s Right Hand Pt6 (Yautja x Human)

Warnings: Violence

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Your anger still boiled in your veins. Hotter than ever. Nothing else existed while you sat behind those bars, trapped with it.

The loneliness made it worse. Your mind wouldn’t stop wandering back to the past, to how unlucky your fate had been. You could’ve been a tribute, treated with at least some dignity. Instead, they tossed you around like trash.

Purpose.

The word stuck in your head like a bad taste. What purpose did you even have anymore? Sure, humans had sent you here to serve as a peace treaty, but they hadn’t asked you. They had just picked you, at random. No warning. No choice.

Survive at any cost, that’s what they wanted. And the cost was you.

Maybe you had come here ready to play the role, ready to be whatever they wanted. But the roughness, the cruelty, the constant humiliation… it sparked something else in you. Something that refused to bend.

You weren’t going to kneel. Not now. Not ever. Not when they treated you as less than an animal. A toy. A rag doll. Something they could toss around whenever it pleased them.

You’d rather die. That would be the only sacrifice you’d ever make.

Still, you couldn’t stop worrying if resisting would bring danger to humans back home. But if they weren’t bothered, why should you be? Their king wasn’t. He seemed amused by your defiance.

Except for him. The red Yautja. The one who hovered near the king like his shadow. He was different. Crueler. He wasn’t just a guard, he felt like your personal enemy.

When he made you crawl for food, that was it. That was the moment you realised, you weren’t just another prisoner to him. You were something to crush.

Hours passed. Your pulse pounded in your ears. You were waiting for something—for your chance to strike back, to take any control.

But the waiting dragged on. Your body grew heavy, your mind restless. He didn’t show with food like usual. For a second you thought maybe they really would just leave you here to rot. A part of you almost wished they would. But another part… another part panicked.

You wanted to die, but you didn’t really. Not like this.

Your breath hitched. Your hands trembled. You pinched your skin to keep yourself grounded. Tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

If you die, it’ll be on your own terms.

The door creaked open.

Your eyes shot toward it, bracing for red skin. But it wasn’t him.

Your frown set in as you rose to your feet. It was the other one. The guard you had spat at before, the one held back from tearing into you.

“What? Came to start a proper fight this time?” you threw at him, voice sharp with mockery.

He shut the door behind him quietly. Too quietly. That’s when you felt the wrongness settle in your gut. No one knew he was here.

Your back hit the wall. Fists clenched.

He dropped his spear against the stone and smashed the padlock open with one blow. The cell door swung free.

“Didn’t bring a friend?” you sneered. “Afraid to share the fun? Coward.”

The guard growled, low and heavy.

You smirked, lips twisting cruelly despite the fear clawing in your chest. “Oh, right. Wouldn’t want the king to know you’re harming one of his precious toys. He’d skin you for it.”

Another growl, louder this time.

“Come on then,” you spat. “Fight me.”

He moved fast. Faster than you could brace. You swung, but he caught your wrist and slapped you across the face. Hard.

You hit the floor, your mouth filling with the sharp taste of iron, head ringing like a bell.

The room spun as you tried to push yourself up. His steps drew closer. You kicked out blindly and felt your foot connect, weak, but it landed. He made a muffled sound. It didn’t matter if it hurt him. It mattered that you’d struck back.

But he was on you in a blink. A kick on your stomach and then a fist in your hair, yanking you up until you were eye to eye with his mask.

You clenched your jaw, bloody smile curling your lips. “Wait till your king finds out,” you hissed, grinning through the pain.

He shoved you against the wall so hard the air left your lungs violently again.

“More will come,” you heard his low growl.

And then he was gone. Spear in hand. Silent as he had come.

You crumpled to the floor, gasping, clenching your stomach. Your fingers brushed your swollen lip, finding blood. The adrenaline drained and with it, your armor. Tears came, quiet and hot, no matter how much you tried to stop them.

You were helpless. A fragile human in a den of predators.

Anyone could walk in here and do whatever they wanted.

The thought broke something in you.

You crawled back to your cot, body aching, face throbbing, and curled into yourself. For once, you wished it would all just end. You wished someone would take your life and be done with it.

You must have passed out, because when your eyes snapped open again, the cell door creaked on its hinges. The sound sent your heart hammering against your ribs.

For the first time since you were dragged here, you felt something raw and unshakable. Pure fear.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You let your body go slack against the bedding, pretending sleep would make you invisible. You thought maybe if you played dead enough, whoever came wouldn’t bother. Maybe they would just leave you alone.

But the footsteps were heavy. Slow. Each one sank into the stone, dread feeling closer now.

Then came the familiar clatter of metal, the tray, the jar of water. Your eyes snapped open again and you saw him.

His red colour always standing out.

Something inside you broke when you saw him.

You bolted upright, stumbling across the floor until your hands slammed against the bars. The iron was cold under your palms, but you clung to it like it was the only thing holding you together.

The red Yautja stood still, the tray balanced in his hands, frozen in place. His head tilted just slightly, as if you had caught him off guard. The silence between you stretched, pressing against your chest until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“Kill me.” Your voice came out hoarse, broken. “Please. Just kill me.”

Tears blurred your vision, spilled hot down your face, dripping onto your fists as you clutched the bars.

“You wanted me dead from the start, right?!” you cried, shaking against the iron. “I’m untamed, I’m not fit for your king!” You pressed your forehead against the bars, the sting grounding you in your fury. “Then do it. Kill me now. I won’t resist. I won’t fight. Just—please…”

Your voice broke completely, and your knees gave out. You sank to the floor, your forehead pressed against your palms. The sobs ripped through you and you clutched at your chest as though you could tear the pain out of it with your bare hands.

And still, he didn’t move.

He just stood there, massive and unshaken, watching. His mask hid his face, but the way he lingered, the way his body seemed locked in place, it was different. Not the usual sharp bark of orders. Not the dismissive shoves. Not the quick strike of humiliation he always dealt when you resisted.

No. He was frozen.

And that stillness hurt more.

“If you won’t do it,” you whispered, voice breaking between sobs, “then I’ll find a way. I’ll do it myself.”

You dragged yourself back on your elbows and knees, your body trembling with every movement until you collapsed onto the bedding. You curled up, facing the wall, refusing to give him your eyes anymore.

The silence stretched again. Too long. Too heavy. You almost begged him to speak, because anything would be better than that awful silence.

But he said nothing.

The only sound was the scrape of the tray as he set it down close to your cell, the heavy thud of his boots as he turned, and the slam of the door shutting behind him.

And you were left again. Alone. Except now, the silence was worse. Because for the first time, he hadn’t mocked you, hadn’t ordered you, hadn’t forced you down.

He had just watched.

And somehow that made you feel smaller, weaker, more breakable than all the blows and words before.

You shouldn’t have expected mercy…

(Requested tags: @blushycadaver @aphrodite4lover @minnie-rae @elita1 @broken0verseer @softycheol )

[blushycadaver]

The King’s Right Hand Pt5 (Yautja x Human)

(Well… at least he’s patient)

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The cell door slammed shut behind you, the clang of metal echoing through your cell.

You froze for a second, fists clenched, your whole body buzzing with fury. Then it all came spilling out.

“Worthless?!” you shouted into the empty cell, your voice breaking the silence.

“Rot until I learn?!”

You started pacing, your voice getting louder and angrier. “Who the hell does he think he is?! Dragging me around like some damn animal!”

You slammed your fists against the bars, pain jolting up your arms, but you didn’t care. Rage pushed you forward, kept you moving. You ripped at the thin bedding, kicked the wall, hurled the useless scrap of cloth they had left you. Anything to stop yourself from losing your mind.

But the images wouldn’t leave you. The king’s eyes, glinting with hunger. His claws flexing, reaching toward his whip. The whole hall waiting, ready to watch you bleed.

And then him. The red Yautja. His voice cutting in, cold and dismissive: “Not this one.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, the memory searing through you. He hadn’t saved you. He had humiliated you. He had made you look like nothing in front of everyone.

But the words still echoed in your head:

“Do you want his whip across your back? Or worse?”

Your chest tightened, your throat burning with something you refused to name. Fear. Shame. Or maybe that tiny, dangerous flicker of understanding.

“No,” you snapped out loud, shaking the thought off. “He doesn’t care. He’s just playing with me. Like a cat with a half-dead mouse.”

You paced again, dragging your hand on the cold stone, trying to get your breathing under control. But the anger stayed. Heavier now. Until it settled into something else.

You weren’t going to survive this by kneeling. You weren’t going to break.

And him? The king’s right hand, who thought he could pull your strings?

You would find a way to make him choke on every single word he threw at you.

Even if it killed you.

You dropped onto the bed, body shaking with exhaustion, palms raw from pounding the bars. The cell was quiet again, suffocating.

The next day dragged like rusted chains. No king. No red Yautja. Just the same stone walls pressing in around you.

Your rage hadn’t cooled, it had hardened. He thought you would kneel. He thought you would fold. But if he wasn’t here, you would find someone else to take your anger.

So when the two guards came to check the cell, you rose like a coiled snake.

“What?” you sneered, stepping right up to the bars. “Came to gawk at the king’s new toy?”

They didn’t answer. Their masks gave you nothing, but you could sense the way they shifted, uncomfortable. That flicker of discomfort stoked your fire, made you feel something.

“You hide behind those masks like cowards,” you spat. “Big warriors, but you can’t even look at me properly? Pathetic.”

One guard stepped closer, tilting his head. You could feel his stare, sharp and aggressive.

“Go on then,” you pressed, your voice rising. “The king keeps me here like some prize, but maybe you’d rather have me first? Or is that against the rules? Afraid of your master’s whip?”

The guard’s hand twitched toward the controls for your cell door. Your pulse raced, fear and satisfaction. You had struck a nerve.

“Do it,” you hissed. “Step inside. I’d bite your throat before you touch me.”

The second guard growled something guttural in their tongue, holding the first back. After a tense second, they both moved away, leaving you alone once more.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, your whole body shaking. You weren’t sure if you had won or if you had nearly doomed yourself. Either way, it left your blood pulse in your eardrums.

“Cowards,” you muttered to the empty hall, but your voice trembled.

The guards footsteps had long faded, but the burn of your own anger hadn’t cooled yet. You had paced the length of your cell until your legs shook, replaying every word, every look. They wanted you afraid. Small. Obedient.

And you hated that it was working.

The scrape of metal made you jolt. You looked up, startled, just in time to see the bars slide open.

It was him.

The red Yautja. His massive body filled the doorway as he stepped inside, carrying something in one hand. A dish, if it could be called that, and a small jar of water.

Your body tensed. Anger rose in your throat before you could stop it.

“I don’t want it,” you said. “Take it back. Shove it down the king’s throat for all I care.”

He didn’t respond. Just crouched and placed the food on the ground near you, then straightened, standing silently.

The sight of him there, calm and unflinching, only fanned the fire. “Do you enjoy this? Watching me rot in a cage, waiting to be dragged in front of your king like some… some pet? You think this makes you better than me? Stronger?”

Still nothing. He stood like a wall, arms folded, mask angled down at you.

Your voice cracked as you spat the words at him. “You think I’ll kneel because you tell me to? You think I’ll beg, crawl? I’d rather starve than take your scraps!”

The sound of your outburst filled the chamber.

Your eyes dropped to the food. The scent of it twisted in your stomach, hunger clawed at you, relentless. You hated yourself for it, hated that your body betrayed you.

You snatched up the meat, tearing into it with your teeth, as if the act itself was a rebellion. “Satisfied?” you snapped between bites, glaring at him. “You win. The little human eats.”

When you dropped the last scrap back onto the plate, you wiped your mouth and glared at him.

“You think you’ve won, don’t you? That I’m just some pathetic human that will roll over because you brought me food?”

Nothing. He didn’t move, didn’t even twitch. Just leaned on the wall like he could stand there all night.

The silence made your skin itch. You stood up, anger taking over.

“Say something! If you’re gonna treat me like dirt, at least have the guts to talk to me!”

You shoved him. Both palms against the hard plate of his chest. The jolt traveled up your arms, but he didn’t even move. It was like trying to move a wall. He simply tilted his head and the sheer dismissal of it made you snap.

With a choked sound, you shoved him again, harder this time. “Do you hear me?!”

That’s when he moved.

His hand shot out and caught your wrists, impossibly fast. You gasped, stumbling as he shoved you back. Your shoulders hit the wall hard, your breath forced out of you. His grip tight, claws pressing just enough to make your skin sting.

For a second he held you there, close enough that you could feel the steady weight of his breath through the mask. No strain, no effort, like holding you was nothing.

And then he let go.

You staggered, catching yourself against the wall, wrists stinging where he had grabbed you.

“Coward,” you said, voice shaking with rage. “Hide behind silence, behind your king. That’s all you are.”

Not a single word.

He turned, stepped out of the cell and the clang of the bars slamming shut was final.

You stood there breathing hard. Your wrists throbbed, but worse was the annoying thought you couldn’t shake. He could have crushed you… and he didn’t.

(Requested tags: @blushycadaver @aphrodite4lover @minnie-rae @elita1 @broken0verseer @softycheol )

[blushycadaver]

Party Of Two

Preview— Patreon Exclusive

Raccoon Hybrid x fem!reader— pining, dude is mad horny for you, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk off you, overstuffed with cum, clitoral stimulation, marking, overstimulation, cum so much he’s shooting blanks, soft aftercare, implied established relationship by the end

Party Boy Raccoon Hybrid was on top of the world. He had it all. A decent job, great friends, a new chick in his bed every few nights, and all the partying he could ever want. He was content to live that life for as long as he could.

Until the day came where a letter was plastered on his door with the words ‘FINAL NOTICE’ written all over it. Turns out he was partying a little too much for what his job payed him for. Gave too many hot people too many free shots. Even if it led to a great night he was now reaping the consequences.

So he did the only thing he could. He got a roommate. Of course, living with him wasn’t gonna be easy. And he needed someone who was on his level. The listing he posted definitely reflected that as it came with a full shopping list of requirements he had for his roommate.

Things like: willing to buy beer for the entire house, doesn’t mind loud music blasting at any given moment, accepting of being woken up in the middle of the night by his drunk ass, cool with sharing everything you bring with you, down to doing all the cleaning (dirt totally freaks him out. You understand right?), and a whole ton of other stuff.

Party Boy Raccoon Hybrid didn’t understand why after weeks of his ad being posted no one was responding. His demands were completely reasonable. He’d be great to room with!

After a lot of thought he decided to delete the paragraphs of conditions that came with living with him. It was only a few hours later when a ping came from his computer and he scrambled over to see someone had finally answered. Who’d have thought?

Out of everyone he thought up after he saw your name and texted you to set up the visit, you were not who he was expecting to see. You looked nothing like he imagined. But that wasn’t a bad thing at all, no, something about you was magnificently beautiful. The energy that flowed out of you drew him in like a moth to the flame.

Suddenly instead of him being the one to make all the demands he found himself agreeing to all of yours. You were strict in knowing what you wanted. He likes that, he likes that a lot. His head was nodding before he realized but he didn’t regret it when he saw the satisfaction in your eyes.

Party Boy Raccoon Hybrid slowly but surely started to go out less. Wanting to spend time with you rather than go out and get wasted for absolutely no reason, flirt with people only to have shallow conversations and meaningless sex, and all so that he can push aside the ache of loneliness he didn’t even know he was feeling until he got to wake up to seeing you every morning.

Now his heart and his cock were on the path towards one thing and one thing only. You. With you everything was different, he’s never had this experience with a person before. You actually talk to him, ask him questions and genuinely want to know the answer. He finds he wants to know these things about you too. It’s weird. But he likes it.

When he sees you doing something he doesn’t understand he asks you about it in hopes you want him to join. Instead of spending his Saturday nights out at the club he’s now cuddling with you on the couch in matching bath robes with face masks on while you show him some of your favorite movies.

This is a Patreon exclusive fic so you'll only be able to read it there! Check it out if you're interested in reading the entire fic and many more. I have a ton of other exclusive and early access fics that you can read there too!!

[blushycadaver]

It's pretty obvious that your roommate is in the military, or maybe a private security firm? As, he comes home sporadically and then disappears again for weeks, rent is paid before he leaves and bills seem to always end up wired to you at stupid hours in the morning but at least it's always early, and he always seems to have enough sent to cover his time away from a single month to one three month stint, always the perfect amount sent through.

For a wolfdog hybrid it makes sense he is in some sort of vaguely military setting, or at least it makes sense to you.

Due to this schedule you'd gotten used to not seeing him often but recently he's been home more, only away for a week or two at a time, door left open as he lounges on his bed when he's home.

What you haven't gotten used to is how he always has his door open.

Four times this week you have walked past his door unaware of what he was doing till you turned to ask him about something apartment related, only to find him head tipped back sweats around his knees as he lazily fucks his own fist. Panting happily as his tail wags against his bed, hips jackhammering into the grip on his cock with one hand, his other wrapped around his knot squeezing it and making himself whimper in a way that has echoed in your ears for the past week since you heard him.

Something in your head twists as you awkwardly bring it up hoping he will close his door more or maybe even do it when he knows you're not home, but no, no he moves from his bed to the couch you bought together.

It had been an exhausting day at your job and all you wanted was to flop on the couch, order shitty takeaway, and pass out but the world has different plans for you. Stepping into the living room and kicking the god awful shoes you wear to work off, your half way to the couch when you see him, fully naked this time, the scruffy mess of his off duty hair moving as his ears flick towards you, he's kneeling on the couch a pair of your underwear between his teeth as he turns to look at you over his shoulder.

He smiles at you and spits the soiled fabric towards you as he pants and shudders, leaning back more to make sure you can see down his chest to where he is lazily stroking his cock dribbling pre onto the shirt you usually sleep in. His free hand scratches across his chest drawing your already shocked gaze down to the thick swell of his knot, you can visibly see as he wraps his hand around his how it swells under his grip, making his fingers spread slightly as he squeezed and wrings out his own orgasm, dumping a watery load onto your ruined sleep shirt.

If you thought it was hard to forget the whimpering sound he had made in his room, you're never going to forget how he pants your name as he swipes his fingers through the small puddles of his cum before licking his fingers clean.

[blushycadaver]

tumblr is such a beautiful place. there are so many kinks i never would have developed with out the help of my beautiful mutuals.

[blushycadaver]

big bull cock from a Minotaur who kisses your forehead and tells you you’re doing such a good a good job taking it. Then as lovingly as they can manage, they rail you into next week.

[blushycadaver]

Yes we love mer!141 and researcher!reader but what abt the reverse???

Youre a mer that got permanently injured by a boat, so you get taken into a mer sanctuary. The staff there are...surprisingly nice compared to the horror stories your podmates told you.

Soap and gaz are more than happy to splash in the shallow zone while they feed you. Theyre trying to socialize you better to having others around, hoping to introduce you to the other mer. Unfortunately for them you still seem pretty nervous when the other mers chirp or bellow in other tanks, clinging to gaz or kyle instinctively. Strong arms keeping them in a hold, they have to gently remind you they dont have gills, less you drown them.

Ghost and price are great too. Doctors who help ease your pain. Ghost is much more indulgent with you, offering pats and treats for good behavior. Price is less so, but he does give good tummy rubs if you are exceptionally well behaved for check-ups. Hes the more experienced doctor, you think, judging by how he is always watching ghost and offering small corrections.

Sometimes, all four of them come to see you! It makes you happy to see your pod all together, offering gifts of small food or shiny things you find. They've all accepted their pod gifts, now you just need them to accept their mate gifts!

You try and get their attention, but they dont fully pay attention. Soap pats your head where it rests against his thigh, but you catch snippets of conversation. "Confused....mates....poor socialization...."

Its hard to follow when they used big words or talk fast, so you just nuzzle against soap and let their voices drape over you. Its odd theyre so worried with the spring approaching. But hey, they are your pod after all, no need to worry when they're here!

[blushycadaver]

The right place

I hope we will have more nice Predators/Yautja contents soon. Killer of killers was wonderful and really inspiring.

Y/N still didn't understand how she'd ended up in this situation.

If only they didn't speak her language, it would be normal for them not to listen when she kept saying she'd been lucky, that she'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but she was neither worthy prey nor a hunter, and therefore someone who deserved their attention.

But for the Yautja, only the facts seemed to matter.

And in fact, not only had she killed one of their own, but also the creature they called "hard meat," returning home safely. Succeeding in all this was bound to be worthy.

To make matters worse, Y/N had managed to escape the first time they tried to abduct her. Another stroke of luck, she kept repeating. A natural reaction of fear in the face of giant aliens, her instinct that had screamed at her to run, fast, now.

Desperate and ready to do anything to survive, she hadn't given up when a young warrior grabbed her, biting their hand violently and kicking them, jumping into her car and driving straight ahead without looking back.

Her escape had lasted several days, another feat they seemed to admire, before she was caught in the middle of the night.

It was hard to know how long she had remained asleep in her cryogenic chamber. A few weeks, several years, a century ? Time passed differently for the Yautja, who could live very long lives and most often died during a hunt.

For them, successfully killing their prey deserved as much respect as dying honorably while trying to win with all their might. It was with this in mind that they had invented the Arena.

Some might have thought they enjoyed humiliating the creatures who had managed to defeat them once by forcing them to fight until only one remained, who would then have to survive against their Warlord, but that wasn't entirely true.

Of course, they found the spectacle amusing. And there was almost never a winner, the King being the strongest among them, with an irrevocable right of life and death. But the rules didn't say the fighters had to kill him, only beat him.

If they succeeded, they gained the right to join the clan. If they failed, it was death. There had been victors, but since they all wanted to return to their planet, they had ultimately ended up like the others, or returned to their crates.

Y/N didn't want to end up like this. But as she continued to try to explain to the guards who were leading her into the arena, and to the other humans present, she wasn't a killer. Just someone unluckily lucky, surviving only to find herself here.

She didn't know how to fight. She was simply intelligent and full of life. And since her desire to survive was stronger than her fear, she ended up standing alone in the middle of the arena, under the screams of the Yautja, without realizing what had just happened.

This wasn't good news, however, since she only got the honor of facing the Warlord. The Grendel King, he called himself in the Arena. A nickname one of the winners had given him and which he had appreciated.

He jumped in front of her, spear in hand, and looking amused by this ridiculous little human girl, covered in blood, trembling with fear, who stood no chance against him. He knew it, she knew it, everyone knew it. After all, she'd been saying it since she woke up.

"Please…" Y/N begged, tightening her hands around her weapon. "I don't want to die. I don't belong here."

"You killed one of us. You killed a hard meat. You killed killers. Where else could you be, little thing ?"

"That was luck, I'm no fighter."

"No ? Yet you proved your fury in the arena, the last one breathing. Savage little thing. Face me with all your will, and maybe I'll spare you."

It was obvious he was taking his time with her, letting her run and try to hit him, sneering cruelly every time she missed and he violently pushed her away. But never hard enough to knock her out, or worse.

When Y/N was completely exhausted, barely able to stand but still holding onto her weapon, facing the Wardlord, he let out a strange sigh.

The crowd then stopped cheering, leaving a long silence in the arena.

"You fight well, little thing. Even if you pretend otherwise, you are a killer. A true killer of killers. Full of life, full of rage. I've made my decision, pet. You amuse me too much for me to send you back to your chamber. You are mine now."

"What ? No !"

"Yes. Resist as much as you want, my little fighter. It won't change anything, except amuse me even more."

And so it was that Y/N found herself in her new "home," in the Grendel King's room, proudly displayed among all his hunting trophies.

From what she understood from the mutterings of the other Yautja, it wasn't customary to keep a live trophy, but it was very rare for a human to kill a hard meat, more so than it was rare for them to kill one of them. So she had a certain value.

It was even rarer for an ooman, so small, so fragile, to become a concubine. But their leader did what he wanted, and if he wanted Y/N in his bed, then no one would comment on his choice.

Except the young woman, at first.

Her refusal shocked him, and he could have crushed her for this outrage. He could have forced her, without her being able to do anything about it.

But he nodded, taking this rejection as a challenge. She was his, his pet, but one he respected, feeding her, protecting her, punishing her only when she tried to escape.

"My wild ooman is acting like an ungrateful puppy."

"You wouldn't say that if you were in a cage." she groaned, less impressed by him and slightly tired.

"Do you want me to put you in a real cage, little thing ? I can if you wish."

"… No, thank you."

"Brave, but clever still. I've never met a creature like you." he purred, pressing himself against her.

Y/N still thought she didn't deserve all this attention. After all this time, which had lost all meaning, especially since they'd tampered with her DNA to extend her lifespan, she was starting to get used to it, without considering herself legitimate.

It was one of the things the Warlord loved most. This inability to see her potential, her true worth. Like a treasure hidden, even from himself, that he discovered a little more each day.

Perhaps one day she would see what he saw, and she would accept her true place, submissive but rebellious, bending but not without a fight, and standing by his side as a queen would.

[blushycadaver]

The King’s Right Hand Pt4 (Yautja x Human)

(Oh. Oh)

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

The sound of footsteps and guttural voices tore you awake. This time, it wasn’t the silence that warned you, it was the noise. The guards approached, their heavy feet pounding the stone, their weapons glinting in the dim corridor.

And there he was.

The red Yautja led them, steady, his presence commanding more than all the guards combined. He didn’t look at you as the door opened, but you knew this was his doing. It was always him. No one came unless he did.

The guards seized your arms roughly, dragging you upright. You hissed at the pain as the iron cuffs clicked around your wrists.

“Where are you taking me now?” you snapped, jerking against their hold.

No answer. Just his broad back ahead of you as they dragged you down the hall.

You spat toward him, the words tearing out before you could stop them.

“Dog. That’s all you are. The king’s dog!”

The guards stiffened, shocked by your audacity. But he only tilted his head slightly, his voice came low, unbothered.

“A dog still lives. Worms are crushed.”

Your teeth ground together, rage flooding hot in your veins. You hated how he never raised his voice. He didn’t need to. He cut deeper with calm cruelty than most could with fury.

By the time you reached the great hall, your heart was thumbing in your chest. The air reeked of blood, banners hanging from the high ceiling, the throne looming at the far end like a predator waiting in the dark.

And there he was.

The King.

Massive, scarred, his armor adorned with bones of kills long past.

But his face… It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even close. The mandibles flexed outward, clicking against one another and the ridged brow above them twitched in a way you couldn’t decipher. His eyes were deep-set, golden, piercing, like something that had hunted in darkness for centuries.

Every instinct in your body screamed at you to look away. But you didn’t. You stood frozen, heart pounding, unable to break from that gaze.

It wasn’t disgust that filled you. It was something heavier, colder. Fear. Not just of his strength, not even of his alien form. It was the realization that you were prey in this world. That the thing in front of you had killed more beings than you could imagine and that he might decide to add you to the number with a flick of his claws.

His eyes gleamed with cold amusement as he leaned back, watching you dragged before him.

The guards shoved you down onto the stone floor, but you stood back up, refusing to bow, refusing to let your knees touch the ground.

The king’s mandibles flared in offense. Silence fell over the hall.

“Kneel,” his voice thundered, a guttural growl that shook the air.

You lifted your chin higher, chest heaving, fire burning in your eyes. “No.”

The silence was suffocating. The guards shifted nervously. The king’s hand twitched toward the whip at his side.

And then, before he could move, the red Yautja stepped forward.

The sound of his boots against the stone echoed as he closed the distance. He stopped at your side, towering above you.

His mask turned down toward you. His voice was quiet, meant only for you, but filled with command that left no room for arguments.

“Kneel.”

You glared up at him, anger twisting your face. “Go to hell.”

He leaned closer, the faintest growl rumbling in his chest, words biting like ice.

“If you want to keep your skin intact, you will do as I say. Now. Kneel.”

You shook your head, heart pounding, refusing to give in. But then you saw the king rise.

His whip cracked through the air with a sound that made your blood run cold.

And suddenly, iron fingers clamped hard on your shoulder. The red Yautja’s strength was overwhelming, forcing you down, shoving you to your knees before the throne. The stone crushed into your skin, your pride screaming louder than the pain.

“Let me go!” you hissed, struggling against his hold.

But his grip only tightened. His voice came low, cold.

“Stay down. Or bleed.”

The king watched, mandibles clicking in satisfaction. Slowly, he lowered the whip, leaning back into his throne, satisfied by your submission.

The guards relaxed, though their heads turned nervously between you and the red Yautja.

Finally, his hand left your shoulder, the weight gone, but the humiliation stayed heavy in your chest.

You spat at the floor, rage boiling. “I hope he kills me. It will be better than letting you push me around.”

The red Yautja straightened, his gaze unreadable behind the mask.

He turned and walked back to his place at the king’s side, leaving you trembling, your fists clenched tight against the stone floor.

You hated him. You hated how he forced you down, how he humiliated you.

The king’s mandibles flexed with a loud click as he leaned forward on his throne, his eyes lingering on you like a predator savoring prey.

“She amuses me,” he rumbled, his voice thick with command. “This one will stay tonight.”

The hall tensed. Guards shifted, but no one dared question him. The king’s gaze locked on you, sharp and hungry, as though your defiance only made you more entertaining.

Your stomach dropped, but you forced your chin higher. “I’d rather rot in the cell.”

The hall fell silent. Several guards looked away as though your words were a death sentence.

The king’s mandibles spread in what might have been amusement or the beginning of rage. He stood up and your pulse spiked. His clawed hand rested on the hilt of the whip again and the feeling of danger pressed against you.

Before he could take a step, the red Yautja moved.

“Not this one,” his voice cut through the chamber.

The king’s head turned sharply, eyes narrowing at his right hand. The hall held its breath. No one spoke against the king. No one.

“She is untamed. Too wild,” the red Yautja continued, his tone as sharp as his blades. “She will break before she bends. Worthless for your chamber.”

The words burned you like acid. You spun toward him, fury boiling hot. “Worthless?”

His masked face didn’t turn toward you. His attention remained on the king, every word measured. “She has nothing yet to give. Better to let her rot until she learns.”

The king studied him for a long, suffocating moment. Then, with a dismissive wave, the king sank back onto his throne.

“Take her, then. Break her, if you can.”

Your blood boiled. You spun, voice sharp with venom. “I’d rather die—”

The words barely left your lips before his clawed hand seized your arm. His grip was harsh, brutally dragging you toward the hall’s doors. You stumbled, clawing against him, rage spilling out in a stream of curses.

“Let me go, you bastard!” you shouted, jerking against his hold.

His voice dropped low, for your ears alone, venomous and sharp enough to freeze you.

“Shut your mouth. Do you want his whip across your back? Or worse?”

You hesitated, caught between fury and the cold truth behind his words. But you didn’t answer, your pride wouldn’t let you.

The guards parted as he hauled you through them like nothing more than a captive animal. To them, it looked brutal, absolute. To you, it felt humiliating, suffocating, your wrists aching in his grip.

When the heavy doors slammed shut behind you and the echo of the throne room faded, he finally released you, shoving you hard against the cold wall of the corridor.

You stumbled, breath fast, your body burning. “You—” your voice trembled with rage, “—you don’t get to decide what happens to me!”

He loomed over you, mask inches from your face, his voice lower than ever.

“I just did. You think you would survive one night in there? Fool. He would split you open before dawn.”

Your breath caught, your anger crashed with the sick twist of fear in your chest. You opened your mouth but no words came.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower.

“Learn this, human. You breathe because I allow it. Defy me again in front of him and I’ll let him take you. And then you’ll beg for death.”

You glared at him, every muscle trembling with rage, your throat burning with words you didn’t let out. You hated him. You hated him more than you had ever hated anyone.

And yet… a part of you couldn’t ignore the truth that lingered under his cruelty.

He had saved you. Again.

He turned sharply, striding down the corridor without another word, leaving you pressed against the wall, frustration and confusion tearing you apart.

(Requested tags: @blushycadaver @aphrodite4lover @minnie-rae @elita1 )

[blushycadaver]

For the ask game:

Monster cums pants

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What is he watching? 📱

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[blushycadaver]

Trapped (yautja x human)

Part 10

[The long awaited part 💚 Bombard my comments and asks for this story, I love hearing your thoughts about it 🥰 and if any artists are reading this, please I’d love to see how you have pictured Keth’raal in your mind 🥹]

Read: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 💚

Tagging 💚: @celticsrightbuttcheek @sojetocame @shmoopah @kyriedesai @btsgangleader @legallyblindasian @ineffable-maniac02 @tea-drinking-nerd @umbralremedy @maemaymayo @fujistarrbytz @blushycadaver @lilly-main @jaxxyz @shylahjoy24 @spoopydidit @broken0verseer @lemonbl0od @bamtomio7597 @stupendousnightmaretrash @just-a-sewer-goblin @carminhadaavenidabrasil @anothergojostan @iprezolgyuve @sojetocame @night-shadowblood-writes2 @moon-trash1507 @ghostslillady @xxvoidgrangerxx

You looked at him now.

Unmoving like a statue carved in pride, impossible to sway.

Stubborn. Reckless. Infuriatingly arrogant.

You were so sick of him. Sick of how little he valued his life. How he flirted with death like a lover that kept coming back.

You knew how dangerous he was, but danger to him was like an instict he was chasing after.

“You’re so stupid,” you whispered under your breath, stepping off the stretcher and pulling him into a sudden embrace.

His head came to rest beneath your chin, catching the breath you didn’t realise you had been holding.

His arm jolted upward, instinctively bracing for a hit, but then froze midair.

Processing.

You laced your fingers through his dreadlocks, bringing your lips to the forehead of his helmet and resting there, the gesture gentle but heavy with meaning.

He didn’t move, but something shifted in him.

The steel tension of his body softened ever so slightly under your touch, his shoulders releasing weight like a drawbridge finally lowering.

His breath grew heavier, deeper, like someone finally letting themselves collapse into bed after carrying too much in a day.

His remaining arm dropped into his lap, the last of his defenses falling with it.

And then… he tilted his head.

The side of his helmet aligned with your sternum, as if listening.

Your heart pounded beneath his ear.

A low purr rumbled up his throat, warm and rich, a sound meant only for you.

It was deep, steady and meaningful. Like words he didn’t dare to speak.

His helmet grew heavier in your arms, as if the last lock in his body had finally clicked open.

You could feel the way his breath matched yours now. A bubble of silence where the outside world no longer mattered.

You held onto his helmet, not tightly, not enough for him to know what you were about to do. But just enough to stay. Your grip trembled, your jaw locking as you leaned in, pressing it against the curve of his mask. You didn’t touch his skin, but somehow, it still felt like him.

And for a second, you let yourself breathe like this. Cherishing the moment, carving it into your memory.

His arm rose carefully now, uncertain, his clawed hand found your waist, hesitant at first, as if afraid he might crush you. His touch was rough in texture, but the pressure was soft,delicate, almost nervous. He always handled you like this. As if strength was something he wore, not something he used.

You felt his palm leave the small of your back, trailing upward carefully. It slid along your side, past your ribs, then swept down your arm in one careful motion. His claws traced the line of your forearm, barely grazing skin, until he reached your wrist.

You shivered as his cool skin ignited something impossibly warm in you.

He held it there for a moment, your pulse beating beneath his fingers, before guiding your hand downward. And you let him, you always did. He brought it to his chest, just beneath his collarbone, where his armor gave way to his bare skin.

Right where his heart should be.

You could feel it. Strange and fast beneath your palm. Not human. Nothing about it was human. But it was real and it was him.

You didn’t speak. No words. No translation.

But something passed between you.

A truth you weren’t sure you were ready to carry.

My life is yours.

The thought echoed in your mind, not in your voice, but in his. Your throat tightened and your stomach turned painfully with it, as if the weight of his trust was too much. You tried to chase the thought away, but it clung to you, clawing onto your heart.

You weren’t strong enough to hold this. To hold him.

He lifted his head to look at you. The dark lenses of his mask catching your reflection.

He didn’t speak again, even though he could.

No words passed between you, yet you felt it in your bones.

The way he held you and the way you clung to him, unwilling to let the moment just slip away.

It was your peace, fragile and precious, and you were quietly counting the seconds before it shattered. Before all that remained was this memory of calm you would carry inside you forever.

Your focus stayed on him. The rest of the world blurred, your hearing dimmed until all you could catch was the rhythm of his breath, the rise and fall that held you to the present. He looked at you, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like nothing else existed.

Your mind betrayed you with a false memory, a crafted wish.

You imagined the two of you lying under the stars, free from fear, simply existing together. No words needed. Just the quiet understanding you always shared. You didn’t bother scripting your fantasy with witty dialogue, you already knew how it would feel.

In that place, there was no war. No walls, no alarms. Only you, him, and the night sky stretching endlessly above.

Sometimes in those quiet moments, you would ask him about the stars, how far they were, what they looked like up close. He would click his mandibles in that way he always did when he felt proud, boasting. But the pride would soften and he would ask you to go with him and see them yourself.

Because to him, you were an equal. Just as capable. Just as brave.

And, like now, you would refuse, not because you didn’t want to, but because you believed people needed you here, on Earth, more than you needed to see the stars. And he would accept that without argument. Because your happiness meant more to him than his longing to keep you close.

It was perfect in its way, this fragile bubble of wishful thinking, these stolen moments that could never be real.

“I’ll come with you,” you said, brushing your thumb across the cold glass of his mask, right where his eye would be.

He leaned back slightly, taking a moment to process it, as if the words didn’t make sense yet.

As if he had always assumed you would say no.

Then, slowly, he rose from the chair.

His hand came to rest on your shoulder, the weight steady but always careful.

It lingered there, before moving up, the cool edge of his claws brushing your neck until his palm cupped your face.

His thumb touched just beneath your mark.

Not just a touch. An acknowledgment.

As if he was reminding himself of the honour it meant, the trust bound into it, and the moment he had given it to you because he believed you were worthy.

No words passed between you.

They weren’t needed.

His choice had always been clear in the way he touched you and you understood him better in silence than you ever could in speech.

He started gathering what remained of his weapons without hesitation, tossing you the pouch he had carried alongside his armor.

You caught it with your good hand and fastened it to your waist.

He had accepted your final touch.

Now you needed to get him out of here.

You tested your weight against a makeshift crutch, some battered piece of lab equipment he had fashioned into something functional. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. You could move. Slowly.

Carrying you was no longer an option, not with one arm and a full arsenal to manage.

You would have to walk beside him.

When the lab door creaked open, you were relieved to see that the exit wasn’t far.

His ship had to be nearby.

He walked first, spear strapped across his back, his remaining hand navigating through the flickering map on his forearm.

You couldn’t stop watching him, how impossibly powerful he looked, even missing an arm.

It somehow made him more. Like his scars told the story of survival better than any battle cry ever could.

You admired how his dreadlocks swayed against his back, some sheared, some still intact, yet each moved gracefully.

You followed him, the pain flaring in every joint and breath, throbbing down your fractured shin, but you refused to slow down.

This wasn’t about comfort, it was about survival.

And you weren’t going to be the reason he didn’t make it.

The corridor ahead was long and sterile.

Your path out of hell.

He glanced over his shoulder, snapping the map shut and moving to lift you.

But before he could, you heard it.

Voices. Humans.

Your blood turned to ice.

They were just as dangerous as the xenomorphs, maybe even more.

And they wouldn’t spare him.

Not now. Not ever.

There was no time.

Carrying you on his shoulder would impale you on his spear.

Cradling you was impossible.

Instead, he moved beside you and threw your arm over his shoulder.

You clung to him as he broke into a run, dragging you at his pace.

And still, you didn’t stop.

Even as your lungs burned and your leg threatened to give out.

You kept moving.

This was it.

One last sprint.

One last chance.

Your bodies were in sync now, he could feel your exhaustion, you could sense his determination.

Adrenaline linked you, both craving freedom.

The final door came into view, its window revealing falling snow on the other side.

There it was. Your way out.

He let go of your arm, watching your every move as you stumbled to the padlock and entered the code with shaking hands.

Behind you, he raised his plasma gun, lasers ready, watching every shadow.

You pressed the final key.

The lock hissed and the door split open with a mechanical groan.

A burst of cold air hit your face, you inhaled the scent of soil and ice, tasting the freedom on your tongue.

Suddenly, a gunshot cracked through the corridor like thunder.

You flinched, body curling in on itself, ears ringing loudly.

Humans.

Armed.

Already firing. No warning. No hesitation.

Always taking what’s not theirs.

Keth’raal stepped in front of you, red laser dots flashing across the white walls, spear sliding into his hand.

He didn’t flinch. He never did. Never backed down from a fight, even if it meant certain death.

But you saw it in an instant, he wouldn’t survive another fight. Not this close. Not with you next to him. Because you knew, he would die just to protect you.

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and pulled him hard.

Yanking him through the door with you.

Behind you, voices screamed.

In the midst of the chaos, loud and all-consuming, he had somehow obeyed the pull of your hand.

He let you drag him outside with you.

And then, with the last shred of strength you had left, you pushed him forward.

Out of your grasp.

Out of danger.

You slipped from his grip, slamming your weight into the reinforced door and sealing it behind him.

Silence.

Not in the corridor, not really… but inside you.

You stared through the small glass window, your breath fogging the surface as you watched him react.

You could barely hear his roars, muffled beneath the mask and the door between you.

But you could see the rage.

The betrayal.

It was in every movement, wild and raw, animal and deliberate.

He wasn’t just angry.

He was hurt.

Your fingers met the glass, gently, like you were touching him again.

One last time.

A silent apology whispered.

For lying.

For leaving.

For choosing his life over your own.

He couldn’t hear it.

And still—no matter the betrayal, he didn’t stop.

He clawed at the door, kicked at it, slammed his fist until his knuckles bled, just to get you out of there.

It was in his nature, feral and loyal, violent but protective.

He lifted his plasma caster, aiming it at the lock.

A crack.

But thankfully, not enough.

Tears welled in your eyes as you watched him, striking the reinforced window with the full weight of his fury.

But you tried not to focus on his rage.

You searched his mask instead, imagining the eyes behind it, trying to memorise him.

The weight of him, the sound of his voice when it softened just for you, the way he tilted his head like he was always trying to figure you out.

The purr in his chest when your hand found his dreadlocks.

A sound only you had ever earned.

A beast moulded from war and violence had softened for you.

He had given up instinct for something that made no sense, something dangerously human.

You had found him behind glass.

And now you were leaving him behind it.

Your chest ached, twisting painfully. He wasn’t going to stop. And if he didn’t, if he broke through, then both of you would die here.

They would cut you down before he even reached you.

You closed your eyes for a moment, resting your forehead against the window.

“Please… just go. Leave. If you stay, they’ll kill us both.”

But he didn’t hear. Or maybe he did and refused to listen.

Another kick rattled the door. Another guttural roar that you could barely hear. He wasn’t leaving. He would rather die tearing through steel than abandon you.

And still, somewhere inside the ache, a fragile thread of hope twisted in you. If he understood, if he chose to walk away, then maybe you both could live. He out there and free. You here and alive. Apart, but not gone.

Behind you, the soldiers were closing in.

You turned away, giving him the only thing you had left. Time.

Time to run.

Time to disappear.

You turned from him as the boots came closer, weapons raised, fingers ready to fire.

A hand grabbed your arm and yanked you away from the door.

“Open it! Now!”

You didn’t answer.

You stumbled forward, your palm slapping against the keypad. Your body screamed in protest as they pushed you, but you forced yourself to stay on your feet.

You punched in the wrong code. The panel spat back a warning. A shock jolted through your arm. You bit your tongue and stayed silent.

“Code! Now!”

You hesitated.

Still listening.

Still searching for the sound of him on the other side.

Roaring. Breaking. Refusing to leave.

You fumbled the keypad, pressing the wrong sequence on purpose again.

Another shove. Your ribs hit the edge of the panel.

You flinched, but said nothing.

You only listened, counting the seconds, waiting for him to understand, to leave.

The third time, you thought you heard it. The silence. The door no longer shook. The roars fell quiet. The steel stayed still.

It broke something inside you, that silence. But it was what you had begged for.

Only when you were sure, when the sounds behind the door had gone quiet, when he was no longer there, did you enter the correct code.

The door hissed open.

Cold air struck your face again and you inhaled deeply, welcoming the burn in your lungs.

You smiled, despite the pain that throbbed through your body, because for the first time, you felt relief.

He was gone.

No longer trapped.

You had made it.

Both of you.

.

.

.

Epilogue

It had been almost two years.

Your time at the secluded facility quickly came to an end after the incident.

Bodies—human and alien—were buried beneath silence, and silence is what followed.

The incident never made it to the news. Of course it didn’t.

Things like that don’t.

You never went back.

You didn’t even return home that day.

You fled to another country, close to the sea. Somewhere quieter.

Somewhere where the wind smelled like salt instead of blood.

You started studying marine biology less than two weeks later.

Something you used to daydream about, back when your days were filled with cold corridors, lab coats and screams muffled by concrete walls.

It kept you busy.

You needed to be busy.

Because if you weren’t, the nights would swallow you whole.

Some nights they still tried.

When your cat curled up against your chest and purred softly, your throat would tighten.

You would press your face into her fur and pretend it was him.

It helped. But not always.

Surviving in a foreign country alone wasn’t easy.

But after what you have been through, nothing really felt hard anymore.

You had faced death and dragged it to the finish line.

Everything after that felt… do-able.

Your hand healed, mostly.

You could never close it all the way, frozen in that moment of time.

A small price.

You didn’t regret it.

Like the scar across your cheek, it became a quiet souvenir.

A reminder of him.

A part of him he had left behind.

At first, it hurt to look at.

You would trace the line in the mirror and cry without knowing why.

But time, ever so slowly, softened the pain.

Now, you touched the scar gently.

And smiled.

You didn’t cry yourself to sleep anymore.

You didn’t wake up gasping for breath, or calling his name into the dark.

Now, you woke up… and wanted to live.

Wanted to work.

To explore.

To keep going.

You had figured out what you wanted

and more importantly, what you would never settle for again.

He had taught you that.

Not with words, but with everything else.

Through survival, through grief, you had found your own strength.

And now you believed in it.

You believed in yourself.

Life had texture again.

Light. Flavor. Wonder.

Still, some nights, your chest would ache with the memory of him.

Your body remembering things your mind tried to leave hidden in the past.

But it didn’t hurt the same way.

It was tender now.

Bittersweet.

He had become a part of your story.

Not the ending, just a chapter.

One that would always matter.

You were happy.

And somehow, you couldn’t help but blame him for that, too.

You returned home late, the sky already dark, wrapped in the hush of a summer night.

The warmth clung to your skin like a soft touch.

You opened your window.

The breeze kissed your face.

The sky had turned into deep velvet, adorned with stars like shattered glass.

You used to look up at the sky every day, hoping to catch a glimpse of something—anything—different. Something alien. A sign that he was still out there, somewhere.

But that habit had faded now.

You no longer searched the sky. You simply let yourself enjoy the moment, holding on to one quiet truth.

He was out there. Alive.

And that was all that mattered.

You closed your eyes.

Breathed in the scent of salt and jasmine.

And then…

The black behind your eyelids pulsed orange.

Your eyes fluttered open.

Three red laser dots glowed steady on your skin.

“And I was starting to think you liked keeping me waiting,” you breathed, a grin stretching widely across your lips.

The End

Author’s Note

This started as a silly little prompt (as I state in the first part) but ended up becoming a full story 🥹 It has been a lovely ride everyone 🩷 I’m going to miss all your comments and reactions on this fic so much. Keth’raal is my first OC I decided to post online and for that, he will always have a special place in my heart. I hope you also got to love him throughout the story. Can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this finale! I’d love to see you in my next work! And I have a feeling, Keth’raal’s story will get a sequel one day 🤭

oh and for anyone who doesn’t read my tags (that usually contain spoilers 😆), the word “Na’kai” that Keth’raal uses in the previous chapter means “worthy”, finally deeming the reader as the most important thing in his culture.

[blushycadaver]

Silent Duty - (Monster Knight x F!Reader) Nsfw

Themes: Fantasy/Medieval setting, monster fucker themese, tentacles, female recieving, submissive monster, long plot with spice Words: 14k

Notes: Apologises for this taking as long as it did! The story just kept going and before I knew it...it was 14k words long... I really hope you enjoy! I loved this so much. Will probably be a part 2, but let me know if you would like a continuation ❤️

~~ ✨️ ~~

"Oh, hello!" Your surprised greeting echoed through the large empty space. Splitting the natural silence with your voice. So many times you came to these ruins looking for foragables, trinkets or other interesting things; but never have you come here and expected company.

Climbing in through the tight crack in the wall of what once had been a cathedral, your eyes adjusted to the dark interior to find a tall figure slouched against one of the moss covered walls. The person wore a heavy set of armor. Not an inch of them wasn’t covered by chainmail, leather or steel. A knight. Or at least a very wealthy soldier. They were a person very much a long way from any civilization that matched their attire.

The imposing figure gave you no indication of who or what was so well protected. From your squashed position, you could barely make out the way the helm turned in your direction upon your entrance. If your voice had startled them, they gave no response to your greeting.

A moment passed. You kept still, half inclined to wriggle back out of the hole; excusing yourself and apologizing for the intrusion. You should probably run. A stranger out in these woods only spelled trouble. And you really didn't feel like getting murdered today by some creep posing as a knight. You tapped your fingers against the stone wall. They still hadn't responded. Nor did they look like they were going to move. Maybe they were injured?

"Are you ok?" You found yourself asking. Shifting so your chest wasn't so painfully crushed against the sharp stone. You couldn't see any damage on the armour. But how the person was slouched appeared like they were too weak to stand properly. You spied no travelling gear or sleeping roll. The knight didn't have any weapons on them; not even a dagger.

I swear if I get murdered for trying to be a nice person…

You grunted as you heaved your body the rest of the wall through the crack, stumbling none to gracefully onto the ruined tiled floor. The Knight still didn't move. But the slitted visor did tilt as their obscured gaze followed your approach. "I have some medical supplies if you're hurt." You offered, stopping a few feet away from the towering stranger. Ensuring there was just enough distance that if they lunged for you, you had enough space to evade them…hopefully. This close you could make out the intricate lines on the metal plating. The armor was old. Dented and worn from battle and years of use. It wouldn't surprise you if this suit had been worn over many generations. But you spied no crest or sigil to symbolize a family or house. Just beautifully carved lines.

Still no voice answered your query.

You bounced on the balls of your feet awkwardly. The amount of time stretching between your sentences was getting mortifyingly long. They just stared down at you. Even slouched they were reaching close to seven feet tall. Their broad shoulders didn't move like you would expect from someone breathing while swathed in metal. They were freakishly still.

"Look, I don't want any trouble." You said after a soft sigh. "I'm just here for something to sell and then I'll be out of your hair." No response. Not even a dip or tilt of the head to signify a response. A little creeped out, you quickly shifted away and left the room in a hurry, venturing deeper into the ruins. You glanced over your shoulder once to ensure the metal giant wasn't suddenly rushing towards you. Nope. They just stared after you. Still slouched. As still as a statue.

You quickened your steps.

Some lefts and rights, a few broken stairs and through long, hauntingly quiet corridors; you searched for the little groves hidden within the rooms of the cathedral. Shafts of light streamed in through the shattered roof. Spilling warm light over mossy debris or rotting furniture, giving many pockets of plant life a paradise surrounded by ruin. You still weren't sure what befell this place. How it became a forgotten ruin lost between the dark trees of the surrounding forest. There was evidence of a battle, that much was certain. But not a siege or takeover. And everything had been left untouched. You were the one to disturb this place when you took items to trade or moved objects to allow more space for the plants to grow. Your local research didn't hold any record of there being a large structure out in the woods. The building was very well hidden and was some distance from any hint of civilization. But it was vast enough that it surprised you no one had found it yet.

It felt like it just…appeared one day.

You didn't dare share your findings with anyone back at the estate, least of all the greedy Lord. If he knew about this place, it would be stripped bare and tourists would be flooding the quiet halls.Eradicating this little slice of peaceful history for coin.

You were content not knowing what this place was. Curious, sure. But you didn't mind seeing this place as anything else but a glorified greenhouse with a few spare trinkets. Surrounded by strange symbols and strange books.

You only took something shiny when the coin was scarce and you were desperate. Most of the trade you dabbled in was medicinal. Plants, salves, liquids; and the majority of your finest ingredients came from these ruins.

These small protected gardens offered an abundance of foragables. Another reason you didn't want anyone else here; this was the only place you could find Healsby Root without scaling a mountain.

This site would be plucked bare of anything useful if word got out.

While you gathered what you needed, you kept an ear out for any approaching clanging. Surely, a person in that much armour couldn't sneak up on you…right?

Wrong.

You turned a corner, carefully pushing leafy greens into one of your numerous pouches and ran right into a chest of metal.You bounced off the ironclad belly with a comical ‘bonk’, the pouch slipping from your hand as you reeled back.

You were saved from falling on your ass by a leather gloved hand catching your elbow, steadying you after the collision.The leather was rough and cracked against your skin. A blazing heat pulsed against your arm where the fingers touched you and you could have sworn that the fingers writhed beneath the glove.

"I am so sorry!" You yelped as The Knight released you. "I didn't see you!" They didn't respond. Instead kneeled and gently pluck the pouch you dropped from the ground. They offered it to you on an open palm, one knee bent against the hard ground.

"Oh! Thank you!" You took the pouch and hastily tied the strings to your belt. Ensuring it wouldn't fall as The Knight rose to their feet.

"You really snuck up on me!" You laughed, stepping back so you didn't have to crane your neck to meet the helmed gaze. "I didn't know someone could move so quietly in so much armour." There was no replying chuckle. Not even an amused huff. You were starting to see a pattern.

"Sorry if I startled you earlier." You continued. "There's usually no one here. How did you get inside?"

The cathedral was locked up tighter than a bank vault. Even with its walls crumbled and roofs fallen in due to weather wear, it was near impenetrable.

What were once doors were now piles of rubble. And most windows or archways were broken and impassable. Your usual ways in left you scratched and bruised and were far too small for someone like this knight. So, that meant there was an easier way somewhere. But they didn't give you anything. Which was mildly disappointing.

With the continued lack of a response, you gave up on any future questioning. And instead decided it was better to leave now than risk this knight being some sort of murderer.

"Well, the ruins are all yours. Stay safe," You gave your farewell a little awkwardly and stepped around them to begin your trek back.

It startled you when The Knight finally deigned you with something'; a low dip of its helmet. Almost like a bow.

You almost missed it, the movement was so subtle; it felt courteous, strangely.

Unsure what to do, you awkwardly returned the bow and hurried on.

But you didn't continue alone. The silent stranger followed, unnervingly quiet and locked in your wake. You were vividly aware of how close they were at all times.

Always three steps behind you. No matter the turns or stairs you took. They kept that perfect separation between you.

You tried quickening your steps to steer around corners, hoping to lose this persistent follower. But this behemoth of metal's long strides made it embarrassingly easy for them to keep up. There was absolutely no way you'd lose them by ducking into another room. They continued to be unresponsive to your questions. Even when you demanded to know why they followed you so adamantly.

No voice gave an explanation. It was really starting to worry you.

You were so focused on trying to find a way to lose your stalker, that you lost track of where you were in the cathedral.Well, not entirely. You knew roughly where you were in the ruins, you just never came this way.

There was no real reason for the avoidance. This part of the cathedral just looked less stable than the rest. The roof looked one rainstorm away from caving in.

Everything you needed was in the other wing too, so there was no reason to risk yourself.

But regardless, you wouldn't be able to track your steps back accurately.

You sighed heavily and stepped into the doorway of a room that looked like it was once a kitchen.

Your quiet escort was, as they have been since they found you, three steps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder at them…up at them. They must have gotten inside somehow. Otherwise, you'd love to see someone this big wriggle through one of your entryways.

"Do you know a way out?" You asked. If they were going to follow you everywhere they could at least make themselves useful if they weren't going to kill you.

A part of you knew you weren't going to get a reply. And that part of you was thrilled it was wrong.

The Knight offered a silent dip of their head and a step back out into the corridor. You watched, a little shocked, as they walked down the hall to a corner, looked both ways and then turned right. You could have made a run for it in the other direction, but your problem of being lost didn't quite get fixed.

It was the only reason why you hesitantly followed after The Knight. This way, if The Knight did know of a way out, you could fix one problem before dealing with outrunning a giant.

You still sent a little prayer to whatever deity was watching that you weren't about to walk into a trap.

The Knight led you to a room that was absolutely decimated. It was larger than some of the others. Maybe an entertainment venue of some kind. Whatever it once was, rubble and bits of ceiling now covered it. A doorway sat adjacent to the one you stood in, leading out into one of the courtyards. Which you could faintly make out through the grimey windows. A beam from the rafters above now rested across it, firmly blocking the exit.

You waited by the entrance and watched dubiously as The Knight crossed the room. They stepped around broken rubble, nudging ruined furniture out of their way until they reached the blocked door.

"I don't think…Oh, nevermind."Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue the moment The Knight hooked their arms under the beam and effortlessly lifted it.You weren't sure if it was the lighting or your heated imagination, but you were sure their armoured arms bulged like flexing muscles.

When the beam moved, rock and rubble tumbled away from the door, clearing it. And without thinking, you hurried forward, slipping under The Knight's arms and pushed against the door. You felt the knight's stomach against your back, blazing hot against the material of your shirt. The metal scraped against your skin as you slammed your shoulder into the flat wooden surface. You apologized softly when you had to squirm a little against their waist. Getting a better angle to try and force the door open.

You heard something whisper against your ear. A soft breath of wind that made your skin crawl with a chill despite The Knight's furnace like body against your own. You ignored it. Using that rising anxiety against the resistant barrier.

A loud groan filled your ears and with some heavy scraping, you managed to force the door open.

You shuffled out into the afternoon air and the entire wall creaked as The Knight shifted beneath the beam. Still carrying it aloft, they passed under it, waited for you to move further back, and then stepped outside. The beam came crashing down behind them. Taking half the wall with it and you flinched away from small bits of debris that rained down on you from above. The Knight rushed forward and you felt their arms circle you, protecting you from any larger chunks. They were swallowed by a large cloud of dust, becoming a towering shadow above you as you coughed and spluttered.

That whispering echoed on the edge of your hearing. Too soft to make out where it was coming from…but it sounded like it was all around you. Shaking your head of that eerie noise, you pulled away from The Knight as the dust started to settle. The sound dissipated. Leaving an odd ringing in your ears.

"Thank you." You said, dusting off your hands on your pant legs.

The Knight passively stood by your side, scanning the new area with an air of intrigue. A little part of you was giddy from the impressive display of strength. Your eyes wandered over the steel arms, gleaming in the sunlight.

You scolded yourself for thinking they were anything strange. They weren't bulging unnaturally now. But they were an attractive width, hinting at the strength beneath. You forced your eyes to look anywhere but at The Knight as their helm dipped again.You didn't even register that they finally gave you a response.

You were at least outside… but you were now in one of the few walled gardens. You had once attempted to climb into these areas, back when you had no other way in without going through the cathedral. But the walls were smooth and slick with moss. Even the thick vines of ivy had little grip on these boundaries.

They were meant to keep people out and they did a fantastic job doing so. But now they are keeping you from getting out too.

"Hmm, new problem." You said with a huff. "Unless you can break through rock, we may have to break back into the building."

The wall was so broken that it would be impossible to slip back through the door. You could break one of the windows, you guessed. But after what The Knight just did, it felt counter-productive.

You took another glance over the courtyard. Wincing at the neglected beds.

The garden was heavily overgrown. Burs and tangles of grass choked the once neat paths and raised flowerbeds. Thorny vines covered the stone boundaries and flowering weeds gave the forgotten garden some color.

Compared to the beautiful groves inside, these beds were a horrible reminder of what could have been a beautiful, lush tea garden.

The Knight didn't seem to mind. They cleaved a path through the foliage like a bull plowing through reeds. Their heavy boots crumbled anything underfoot, clearing you a path to follow until you reached the wall.

Staring up at the barrier, it towered over the both of you. It was twice the height of your new companion.

You clicked your tongue and switched your attention to your silent strongman, "You wouldn't happen to have any rope stuffed up in that armour would you?"

No response. Figures. Heaven's forbid the stranger uttered a single word…

But their helmet did turn towards you after a moment of what felt like contemplation. Looking down at you, they offered you their gloved hand. You eyed the cracked material warily. You doubted you'd get a response if you asked what they intended to do. So, you took the risk and placed your hand in theirs.

Gods, please don't snap my neck…

Nothing so life ending, but in one smooth dip of their body, The Knight kneeled down and scooped your legs out from under you. Gracefully lifting you so you were cradled against their chest. Their arm braced you comfortably against them. You dropped their hand to throw your arms around their shoulders, yelping in surprise at the sudden shift.

That whispering became a breeze behind your ears. You shivered. Looking at The Knight with wide eyes…that sound was coming from them!

Before you could protest, the world disappeared out from beneath you and the air rushed around you as your captor jumped. You heard the stone edge crack as The Knight gripped the top of the wall and heave themselves effortlessly up to stand securely above the garden.

In half a second, you were first standing behind a wall to now peering over it towards the forest. A chilled breeze brushed past you both and your terrified body clung to the hard metal shell like a kitten to a scratching post.

That whispering…it was everywhere but sourceless…no, it couldn't be coming from The Knight…the voices weren't muffled. The sound felt like it was coming from the very wind itself. Greeting you. Comforting your racing heart.

You pushed aside that rising unease, your breath snatched away by the very far fall beneath you, "That isn't at all what I thought you were going to do."

The Knight replied by leaning towards the other side of the wall and then looked at you.

Taking the hint, you tightened your hold on their armor and braced for the drop.

The white-noise increased. Becoming more of a gust than a breeze of sound. More comfort. A promise of safety. Then The Knight stepped off the wall and the fall was far enough that your stomach flipped once before the ground came up to meet you.

The Knight landed gracefully. A harsh jolt jerking your body. But a much better alternative than splatting against the grass.

The Knight didn't even grunt from the impact!

They stooped low and placed your feet back on solid ground. Allowing you to lean on them when your knees threatened to buckle.

"Thank you." You said a little shakily, staring up at The Knight with a heavy dose of bewilderment.

That noise has to be coming from them…but how? "I've never seen a knight clear a wall like that. Impressive."

You've never seen anyone clear a wall like that!

The helm dipped, angled away from you and you dared not think that it was anything but bashfulness.

You removed your hand from their arm and the voices stopped.

You stared. But didn't dare return your fingers to the armour…it would be rude…

A heavy snort pulled your attention away from The Knight towards a brown horse grazing by the cathedral gates. Still tied to the post where you left them, your steed offered no greeting as you approached.

"Ah, good, you didn't chew through your ropes Reed." You called to the animal, stroking a hand along its neck.

The only greeting it gave was when The Knight walked up behind you. The animal pivoted and snorted loudly enough that you hushed it gently, "Easy, Reed, they're friendly." You told the chestnut animal. Glancing at the stranger as they stopped three steps behind you…again.

"Thank you for helping me get out of there." You said. The eerie silence The Knight created became deafening without that strange whispering.

You started transferring your pouches to the saddlebags. "There's an estate not far from here if you need supplies. I work there as a herbalist. They welcome travellers for a night or two if you have coin. I'm happy to show you the way, if you'd like company."

More so, you'd like company.

After your run in with The Knight and your attempts to lose them in the endless halls, you had lost track of time.

The sun was beginning to dip lower than you'd like for the ride back home. The forest had a variety of beasts and people, and night was where the worst of them ventured out. Having someone else with you, even if they didn't have a weapon and carried an air of strangeness with them, would make you feel a lot safer.

Learning from your past one-sided conversations, you flicked Reed’s reins over his neck, prepared to wait and see if The Knight followed you or not, and went to mount- but stopped when The Knight kneeled.

Their fingers interlocked together near your boots, creating a wide net of leather for you to use as a boost into the saddle.

Now, Reed wasn’t exactly a large horse. He neared the stout build of a pony.

But were you going to miss an opportunity to be hoisted up like a royal person? Absolutely not.

Grinning a little sheepishly, you placed your boot into The Knight’s palms and pressed your weight down on their fingers.

The leather of their old gloves creaked as their fingers curved around your foot. Somehow, it was a very secure feeling.

You could have probably thrown yourself from the saddle and never see the ground.

The Knight stood once you were safely in the saddle, handing you the reins while simultaneously moving to stand beside Reed’s head. Which your animal had much to complain about, snorting loudly and knocking his hoof against The Knight’s foot with a loud clang; startling himself. In which The Knight hooked a hand under Reed’s bridle and settled him with a stroke along his neck. Reed didn’t immediately calm, but at least ceased rearing.

“I see you’re an animal person.” You joked. Watching the two pivot around one another until they fell into a comfortable gait beside the other. The Knight took every clank of a hoof in stride, barely acknowledging how Reed tried to nip at their hands. His ears laying flat against his head. Eventually, the animal gave up and walked reluctantly beside your new companion. Unuse to being led. You didn’t voice against The Knight’s guidance. Why not? There was no harm in it. It was a chivalrous gesture, fitting The Knight and all their weird, silent splendor.

You gave soft directions when The Knight stalled and their helm tilted towards you. Talking aimlessly to them. Still a little uncomfortable with their silence; you filled the air between you with different topics. The cathedral, your estate, Reed, the plants in your saddlebags; literally anything that wasn’t too personal, you mentioned. It was near night when the two of you reached the boundary of the Lord's estate. Lanterns blazed along the cobblestone paths, giving the very large stretch of land a warmly orange glow to it. The estate felt more like a town than a mansion owned by a wealthy nobleman.

The house itself stood proudly on the only grassy hill. Towering above the rest of the buildings glittering in the soft moonlight. The other buildings circling the grassy knoll included a large stable, an inn-house for the working staff, a guard house with an adjacent barracks and a collection of bath-houses. Lush gardens filled the spaces between the brick laid buildings. Separated by soft lawns and flourishing trees that cast vast blankets of shade over lovely sitting areas.

You may dislike the Lord as a person, but his estate was an impressive representation of his standing.

“The Lord here is as wealthy as a King.” You said off-handedly to The Knight. “You'll be able to find a bed in the inn-house. But you'll need to pass the Captain’s interrogation first. Sorry in advance. The man takes his job very seriously. Which is good for the Lord. But absolutely miserable for anyone else.”

There were a handful of staff out at this time. Most of them were guards swapping patrol with the night-shift. Others were workers finishing up their afternoon duties. And all of them stared when you neared. The Knight seemed to ignore everyone you passed. Guiding Reed through the wide street-like paths with a purpose in their steps. But it was hard to see where they were looking under their helmet. They must have been paying enough attention, however. For when the Guard Captain stalked out of the inn-house, eyes roaming over your companion with that cautious glint in his gaze, The Knight halted and stared him down.

You swallowed nervously, leaning forward in the saddle just enough so only The Knight could hear your warning. “The Captain is a prickly man. Just be polite and he shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

You’ve seen the Captain throw out newcomers purely for scoffing. Others had cuffs clinked over their wrists for talking back at him. Every person that passed onto the estate went under a grueling questioning. And it seemed The Knight, a colossus of metal and shadow, was no different.

The Captain’s gaze swung towards you. A look of contemplation passed through his worn gaze before he looked back to The Knight. “(Y/N), you’re later than usual. Any trouble?” The Captain asked.

You shook your head, busying your hands by tangling them up in Reed’s mane. “None. I ran into my friend here on the road. They were kind enough to escort me back to the estate.” You prayed your companion would cover your lie. You already had a story spun to keep your daily absence covered, one that most of the staff swallowed easily.

You were a herbalist after all. Not everyone bothered wondering what a herbalist did in the woods during the day.

The Captain crossed his arms over his chest. Lifting his chin in a way you knew was meant to be intimidating. It worked…most of the time. But The Knight had a full foot and a half over the Captain. So, when the soldier tried staring them down, it appeared more childish than what was originally targeted.

“And where are you coming from?” the Captain asked The Knight. Silence. Very tense silence. A small crowd was beginning to gather outside the inn-house. Curious staff began peeking out of the windows and doors to see the towering guest.

Especially when the question was repeated. It was rare to hear the Captain repeat something.

The Knight, as you suspected, didn’t reply. And it was a shock when the helm turned in your direction. Like they were looking for approval. You nodded. Silently begging them to break their mysterious demeanour for a second to avoid The Captain's ire. Even just a greeting. Something! Because The Captain hated being ignored. “You don’t speak? Or is that bucket of metal too thick for you to hear me?”

A few chuckles from some nearby guards bolstered the Captain’s confidence. Bringing forth a smirk that looked far too vicious for a man in his standing to have. You wouldn’t be caught dead smirking up at a person dressed like The Knight. Especially after you saw them clear a wall and lift a piece of building like it was nothing. You suddenly wanted to be very far away from this interaction.

“I found them on the East road.” You cut in, lying further. Your words split the tension like a knife.“I think they’re coming from the Capital.”

“With no gear or weapon?” The Captain’s eyes roved over the Knight’s physique. Caution coiling into suspicion. “That’s a long trek to here with no food or arms.”

You winced. You should have considered that…but you really didn’t like how The Captain wasn’t backing down. You needed to seperate them. “I offered them a place to sleep.” You explained. Nudging Reed closer to your companion. “Like you said, it’s a long walk from here to anywhere.”

You dared The Captain to argue. Actually, you preferred he didn’t. But your workshop was near the outskirts of the estate. Meaning The Knight would be out of the Captain’s proximity for the night. And better, out of sight of the bored and curious guardsmen. It saved you arguing for the poor person to have a room in the inn. Which by the look on the woman who ran the place, that wouldn't happen until The Captain said so.

“You’re welcoming a stranger into your house?” The Captain queried. And you hated the way he made you feel like you were being scolded for offering hospitality. “Are you sure?”

Dare that be concern in the Captain’s tone? Banish the thought that the old man actually gave a damn about anyone but his soldiers or the lady that poured his ale. You nodded, glancing at The Knight. “They helped me out today. It’s the least I can do.”

It was one the tip of your tongue: What harm could they bring? But you did recall thinking this giant of iron would have been your end some hours ago. And you saw the unease and distrust in most of the onlookers' eyes. They were sharing that same thought. So, you kept your thoughts to yourself.

The Captain looked up at The Knight. Seeming to try and meet the stranger’s obscured gaze. “Best keep out of trouble, Sir Knight. I want you gone by dawn.”

You opened your mouth to argue but the Captain turned on his heels and returned to the inn. The group of onlookers hurried after him. Undoubtedly to gossip about the newcomer and rile up the old bastard.

You sighed heavily, offering The Knight a small smile when they looked at you. “Well, I got you a night out of the forest. It’s better than nothing, I guess.”

You continued onward through the estate, slipping past quiet workplaces and dark areas of the mansion, to your cozy little cottage by the stone wall that circled the property. Reed led himself into your small barn. Waiting for The Knight to open the doors before wandering in on his own accord. You slipped out of the saddle before the old boy clopped into his stall, awaiting the tack to be removed.

The Knight stood quietly by the doors of the barn. A giant even more so now standing in the archway of the humble building. They at least had the mindfulness to light a lantern and stand by Reed’s stall entry. Allowing you ample light to take your harvest from the bags and remove Reed’s tack. You thanked them and led them into your home. Which seemed to shrink the moment The Knight entered the tiny space. It’s always just been you here. A pet or two and some clients looking for remedies. But never anyone quite as towering as your new visitor.

The top of their helmet clanked against the doorways and when they turned, their metal shoulders knocked against the hanging lanterns. You stifled your amusement. Somehow, even with their face obscured, you could tell they were embarrassed after knocking a tankard off your tabletop.

“This used to be a halfling home. The whole area used to be a halfling town. Until the Lord bought it off them and renovated it for his winter home.” You explained. Scooping up the cup and placing it away from The Knight’s large frame. “It suits my needs well. But I think you’re a little too much for it.” The Knight managed to sit at your table without clanking against anything else. Their knees were raised high and their elbows rested awkwardly by their sides. Looking like an adult who just sat down at a child's tea party table.

“I hope you don’t mind leftover stew.” You called as you slipped into the kitchen to prepare something warm. “I wasn’t expecting company. I hope there’s enough.” You muttered to yourself, looking down at the cauldron of broth and vegetables. When you returned to the main room, The Knight was poking away at the hearth. Nurturing a fire to life from the smoldering coals you left behind this morning. Carefully, they took the cauldron from your hands and placed it over the flickering flames.

They’re on top of everything. You thought in amusement. I wonder if they’ll take a job in house-keeping.

Something about the thought of this knight working as a maid, sticking out like a sore-thumb in your tiny workshop, amused you. They came from somewhere. Maybe a beautiful princess was missing their valiant knight.

You doubted the Lord would pass up hiring a person as malicious looking as your guest. He definitely had a preferred flavor of guards watching over him. But that all depended on if The Knight wasn't already hired by someone.

“What house do you serve?” You asked curiously. Looking over the armor once more. Nothing stood out. The metal definitely needed some care and much of the leather needed replacing. But there was no coat of arms or sigil anywhere on The Knight.

Given the make of the armour and the craftsmanship, either The Knight came from wealth or had quite a generous sponsor.

The Knight continued to poke at the coals. Adding a log to the flames to feed the heat. You took up the other chair at your table, watching your guest.

“Are you mute?” You asked. “Is that why you don’t talk?”

The Knight stirred the stew with the ladle you provided. “Cursed?” No reply. Just the quiet creaking of leather and soft clinking of metal whenever The Knight moved.

You huffed a sigh, frustrated. “Look, I just want to make sure you don’t strangle me in my sleep. Could you please-” That got a reaction. Something about your words seemed to horrify The Knight. Their helm snapped towards you, a tilt to their visor indicated reproach. Maybe even insult. Whatever it was, you immediately felt bad for some reason.

“Don’t give me that look!” You exclaimed. “You’re a stranger in my home that I found in the ruins of a spooky cathedral. You could be anyone! How do I know I'm safe when my guest won’t even talk to me?”

The Knight looked away. Gazing deep into the coals as if in thought. Then they shifted in their seat to face you fully. They lifted a hand and clenched their fingers into a fist so tight that the leather creaked and you were sure the stitching would give way, before slapping it against their chest with a thunderous clank in the small room. You arched an eyebrow. Waiting for them to say something. But they didn’t and only lowered the fist after you sighed again.

“I'll take that as a promise that you’re not going to do something weird.” You said. The Knight seemed content with your words and went back to caring for the fire.

You both ate in silence after that. Well, you ate. The Knight nursed the bowl as if they were absorbing the heat through their gloves. You didn’t question it. If they weren’t going to talk, you doubted they’d remove their helmet in front of you to eat. You gave them a moment of privacy by taking your bowl and the empty cauldron back to the kitchen. You returned once you heard their bowl hit the table. And your assumption had been correct. Their bowl was left empty and practically polished of any stew.

“I don’t have a spare bed, but you're welcome to the barn. You’ll at least have space to stretch out.” You said and gathered a spare blanket from your linen closet for The Knight to take out with them. The Knight bowed deeply and ventured outside without so much as a goodnight.

You locked every door and window before going to bed.

You slept restlessly. Nervous about a stranger sleeping just outside. You occasionally heard the clink of their armor and a glance out your window stole you a glimpse of The Knight roaming your gardens. They didn’t seem to sleep at all. Circling the outskirts of your abode until dawn spilled across the sky. You slept a little around early morning. Your exhausted mind finally gave in and released your anxious thoughts into the void of sleep. However, a pounding on your front door startled you from your blankets.

“(Y/N)!” The voice of the blacksmith’s husband was pitched with urgency. “Please hurry! Howard’s been hurt!”

You rushed from your bed. Throwing boots onto your feet while scrambling for your medical bag. You almost ran straight into Grendor in your hurry to exit your house. “Where's the doctor?” You asked, running a step behind the blacksmith as he grabbed your hand and sprinted for the smithy.

“The Lord's daughter is sick.” Grendor spat. Anger pouring from every pore of his body. “She has a sniffle, apparently. Please! I don't know how bad it is.”

You were no doctor. But until the estate's healer was free, you were the next best thing to keep someone from dying or losing a limb.

You were somewhat aware that The Knight was on your tail. Three steps behind, easily keeping pace with the two of you until you reached the blacksmith. Like your home, the blacksmith was near the edge of the property. Needing alot of space for their ever expanding workstations, the blacksmiths had taken up residence just behind the property boundaries. And with their distance from most of the other staff, came the independence of the pair doing everything themselves. Including changing the wheels on a rickety old wagon with just the two of them…and said wagon collapsing while one was still underneath.

Howard was thankfully conscious, but somehow had knocked his head against the wagon and got himself half stuck beneath the fallen vehicle. “I told you we should have waited for help.” Grendor huffed, kneeling down beside his husband as you took up his other side.

Howard, despite having a heavy weight crushing his legs and a pretty bad gash on his forehead, chuckled. “And I told you it would have taken all day before someone came.”

“It didn’t take (Y/N) all day to get here.” Grendor snapped. His worry creased his handsome face. “Annie went to get help to lift the-”

“Can you get it off him?” You asked The Knight. “Please. Just enough to get him out from under it.”

The Knight nodded- a response!- and stepped up next to the wagon. You instructed Grendor to take one of Howards arms and together you dragged Howard out of harm's way once The Knight lifted the giant wooden structure off the ground. Like the beam, they made it look so easy!

Even Grendor stared as The Knight lowered the wagon back onto the ground. Carefully, as if the vehicle was made of glass. “And, uh, who’s your friend?” Howard asked through a pained groan. “They just made a five man job look easy.”

“It’s a bit of a story.” You said, busying yourself with Howard’s injuries. They were cut up and red with swelling. You estimated the left leg was broken while the right would need rest and a few stitches for the deeper scratches. There was also the cut on his head. Which was deep enough to also require stitches. But thankfully there was no sign of a concussion. Just alot of pain.

“Only you could do that much damage headbutting a flat surface.” Grendor chortled. Rewarded with a wry smile from his husband while you prepared a salve to ease his pain. You'd need to keep him comfortable and stave off infection while you waited for the doctor.

“Well, if you had told me your grip was slipping…” Howard mumbled bitterly but there was no directed anger. “We only needed to move it a few metres to the workshop.”

“I did tell you! But you were just being stub- oh, friend! You don't have to do that.” You looked up from Howard’s forehead to look over at The Knight, who had lifted the wagon again, keeping the side without a wheel off the ground and began rolling it into the large open area of the forge. The vehicle creaked and groaned. But The Knight's fingers didn't slip or their strength falter. And under The Knight’s careful guidance, the vehicle settled in the workshop without any further hassle. You shrugged your shoulders when Howard glanced at you.

“He’s the helpful type.” You offered as an explanation. Returning to dabbing Howard's skin clean with a rag.

“We need more help like that around here.” Howard said. Watching The Knight curiously. “Is he for hire?”

The Knight returned to your side and gave no answer to Howard’s question. “They don't speak.” You explained. “But I don't think they'll be able to stay long. Cheerful Captain Asshole has given them a night before expecting them to leave.”

Howard scoffed a laugh. Wincing under the cooling sludge that now caked his skin. “You know what overrides an asshole’s authority?” You shrugged. “My money. You there, Knight, want a job? Now that I'm a leg down, we'll need another set of hands for the heavy lifting. I ain't a wealthy Smith, but I'll pay you fair. Unless you're moving on after getting the Captain’s cold shoulder.”

You looked up at The Knight, expecting the usual. But after a glance at you, The Knight dipped their visor in a shallow nod. You faked insult at the almost immediate response. “Wow. He gets a nod, but I barely get a look?” You asked heatedly. The Knight didn't reply.

Howard beamed. “Excellent! Grendor will have some jobs for you now, if you're not busy helping y/n.” You shook your head, smiling up at The Knight to show you were just joking about your hurt.

“I don't need help with anything today.” You found yourself saying. As if The Knight was under your pay.

The Knight tipped their helm in a small bow before following Grendor towards the forge. Who put them to work by moving large crates and chunks of metal out of the way of the workspace circling the wagon.

“Got yourself a loyal hound, it seems.” Howard grunted in amusement. You rolled your eyes, shuffling around his legs to start cutting away the material and applying more salve to his wounds. “Don't seem human, though.”

Howard's words made you pause. You had come to that conclusion last night. The way The Knight moved seemed too graceful for a person in heavy armor. The strength they possessed and their uncanny ability to stand like a statue for long periods of time; all of it seemed too inhuman. And that damn whispering….the emotions that weren't your own…it shook you to your core thinking about it.

Something in your eyes must have revealed to Howard you thought the same. He offered you a small smile. “I ain't worried about it. A hard worker is a hard worker no matter the origins. Though…makes me more curious to see under that helmet, though.”

You too. But you kept that to yourself.

Not too long, the doctor came flying out of the mansion. Sprinting down the hill towards the smithy. Flanked by her two assistants who carried her massive bags of tools and supplies. The Doctor looked utterly furious when she neared. And you knew right away that whatever sniffle the Lord's daughter had, was not severe enough to warrant keeping the Doctor from Howard.

Behind them was the Captain and an unnecessary number of his guards. Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the Captain’s gaze sour upon spotting The Knight inside the smith's forge. A giant, who had to bend their shoulders to fit inside the workshop, wasn't hard to miss.

“I thought I gave you till dawn to leave.” The Captain sneered when he neared. He made a show of blocking the forge doorway. Hands on his hips, nearly smirking at The Knight as if he just caught them doing something unlawful. Grandor glared at him. Clearly positioning himself between the Captain and his new employee. But The Knight merely carried on with their work of moving boxes. Completely ignoring the Captain's presence. Which fanned the man's anger and you hurried over to redirect his next words- but Howard beat you to it.

“Don't you dare interrupt my worker, Nathan.” The blacksmith snarled. Now being eased onto a cotton stretcher by the Doctor’s assistants. “He's helping Grendor until my leg is better.”

The rage that burned through the Captain's expression felt hotter than the forge. “You hired them?”

“Yes.” Howard said, lifting his chin as if daring the other man to challenge him. “With proper coin and jobs too. I'll need him around until I can walk again.”

“Which won't be for at least a week.” The doctor said, her hands inspected each leg with practiced care. “You didn't break anything but there's some serious damage. That means lots of bed rest and no heavy lifting.”

“You hear that tinman?” Grendor grinned up at The Knight, who had paused beside him, awaiting another job. “You're hired for at least another week. So, if you see Howard doing something, you tattle to me. Got it?” You couldn't help but smile when The Knight nodded down at Grendor and then proceeded to follow his next instructions. Still completely ignoring the Captain.

The man was grinding his teeth so hard you could hear his jaw creak under the pressure. His fiery gaze swung to you. “You're responsible for them. Anything untoward-”

“They're harmless!” You spat back with just as much frustration. “You're being unreasonable. And frankly, childish. The Knight is under my watch and care and I vouch for them. Now back off.”

The Captain’s cheeks bloomed with a deep rosy hue and he stepped towards you, his presence towering over you- but a particular creak of metal turned his attention away from you. The Knight had stepped out of the workshop and was now standing at their full height in the shadow of the forge. Their visor was tilted down and the way the slit was carved, it almost looked like The Knight was baring teeth. The very shadows bent inwards towards the metal snarl…a red hue danced beneath the helmet.

The Captain bristled and the color on his face faded “They have a week.”

“They have however long they want.” You hissed back. Tearing your eyes off the twisting image in the forge.

You released a long breath and Grendor laughed heartily from beside the forge. His arms straining against the bellows, producing a bright red glow behind The Knight.

Was that a trick of light or am I losing my mind? You wondered as The Knight returned to the workshop…looking completely normal. “You, Knight, better watch yourself. Puffing up your chest like that is how fights start.”

You tried not to grin too widely.

Their visor glanced over you once before taking over the bellows from Grendor.

No one else seemed to see what just transpired. The teeth…the twisting shadows…did no one else feel that hunger?

A yelp from Howard scattered your thoughts and you returned to Howard’s side. Staying with him while the doctor stitched him up and wrapped the worst of his legs in bandages. The doctor gave instructions to Howard to rest the leg, but it was you she gave the medical advice too. “Just in case the noble family gets another sniffle and I can't get here for a while.” The Doctor said with a little more venom than your use to hearing from such a nice woman.

The daughter must have really pricked at her last nerve.

“I also give you permission to chain him to the bed if he gets too restless.” The doctor joked, winking. “I know how blacksmiths are.”

Howard waved off the woman's pointed stare. “I know better than to push myself. Anyway, my husband will divorce me if I don't listen to you doctors. He's already on my ass because of my blood pressure.”

“As he should!” The doctor huffed and you left the two to bicker, sneaking away to the forge where The Knight was still at the bellows. Their metal visor gleamed above the white hot coals. Hellfire illuminated the colossus of steel in a warm glow, with sparks dancing around their broad figure. The carvings on their armor deepened, appearing to writhe amd slither in the dancing light. Their arm pumped the giant bellows in slow rhythmic thrusts. The other rested against the wall, bracing their weight away from the heat.

Gods, what type of muscle was beneath that armour?

“That’s enough, big guy!” Grendor's voice shattered the illusion that had you trapped. And you sheepishly smiled when Grendor noticed you standing by the door. “Ah, hey y/n! How's my man?”

“He's arguing with the doctor.” You said, stepping into the workshop to steal a seat on one of the empty stools. “Are you behaving yourself?” You directed the joking question at The Knight. Who had moved to stand by your side now they didn't have a job. They were slouched to save their helmet from knocking against the roof. Somewhat looming over you and tipping their chin in a nod.

At least they're getting comfortable enough to answer me. You thought.

“They're a Godsend, honestly.” Grendor laughed. He opened his arms and gestured to the workshop. Which looked much more organised and cleaner than it did when you arrived. “All those heavy crates? Gone. Metal scrap? Organized! That's been a job on our list for the past three months. And Hercules here did it in five minutes!” You watched as Grendor moved about the forge with a skip in his step. A deliberate one. To showcase how much room he now had to move around the workshop without tripping over anything.

“It looks alot better.” You agreed. But you honestly never ventured in here. And you did recall because it had been so cluttered you knew you'd stub your toe on something. “I'm about to head back, did you want me to bring you anything while Howard rests?”

Grendor shook his head, throwing a chunk of metal into the forge to melt. “Nah, we're good. Take your guardian with you too. I don't actually need much help today. You would just be standing around, I'm sorry to say.” Grendor said to The Knight. “But come back tomorrow and I'll have loads for you to do.” The Knight nodded and waited for you to leave the shop before shuffling out after you. With a promise of returning tomorrow to check on Howard, you said farewell to the blacksmiths and headed back towards home.

“I'll need to visit the washhouse.” You thought out loud. Having dove to help Howard, your pajama legs and hands were dirtied from the morning dew and mud. You were sure you could snag a fresh uniform to wear until you got home.

You glanced over your shoulder to your companion. Three steps behind you. Silent as ever. “Do you need to wash? There's…one for men or for women…” You still hadn't discovered if The Knight went by any particular pronouns. Or if they went by any set gender. “I'm sorry if I've been misgendering you. I automatically went to ‘they-them’ since, well, you're all metal.”

The Knight followed dutifully towards the washhouse, giving no answer. You found two familiar women were currently outside. Wet hair bundled up under a towel and their clothes hastily put on, a wash-house robe wrapped around each of them. “Oh! When I catch that little prick, he won't have a prick any longer.” One lady hissed angrily. Her face beet red. A younger woman was roaming about the gardens that circled the enclosed baths. Looking just as irritated. The windows of the houses were frosted to prevent anyone from peeking in, but something about this situation told you someone had found a way to do so.

“Trouble?” You asked as you and The Knight approached, almost startling the two women. The older lass, Carol, sighed so heavily her plump breasts almost escaped her robe.

“That little bastard son, Donny,” Carol spat through a clenched jaw. “Amy here spotted him peeking through a little hole in the wall.”

“Looks like he scraped away at the mortar until he got a spot open.” Amy said, wiping leaves and small twigs off her robe. “I filled it with mud for now but we'll definitely need someone to fix it. Until then, I'm not using the washrooms. Little fucker.”

You bit your lip and looked up at The Knight. And you felt a small thrill run through you when their visor turned down to you, as if addressing your staring. “Would you mind standing guard while we bathe?” You asked. “Donny's harmless, but that type of behaviour is not ok. Could you keep a look out for any little creepers for us?” Beside you, the two women visibly relaxed when The Knight bowed gently at the waist. Accepting the task.

“I will feel much better knowing you're out here.” Carol sighed, giving your companion a smile. “If you do see Donny lurking about, you have my permission to scare the life out of him. No harm, though. Unfortunately, he is the second in command's son.”

“Which is why he's gotten away with everything but murder around here.” Amy muttered bitterly and led the way into the washhouse. You stalled long enough to ensure The Knight was fine with their task. They seemed to be excited by the duty, taking a position by the gardens but next to the door. Their visor scanned the street before they would swoop their gaze around to inspect the gardens.

A proper guard duty for an idle knight.

You tried not to let the image of you being The Knight's royal charge get to your head. But The Knight's attentiveness was making you feel giddy.

You joined the other ladies in the baths. One of the wash-maids came to take your clothes. Poking fun at the mess you already were before breakfast. You stripped down to your naked bosom and sank low into the hot water. Amy had already filled the steaming water with a sweet smelling fragrance, which you eagerly started rubbing along your dirtied arms and knees.

“You and your friend have caused quite a stir.” Carol chirped from her seat on the side of the wide stone baths. “Heard about Howard, poor thing. But Maren has the drunkards absolutely whipped into thinking that knight is a bad omen.”

“They're harmless.” You grinned. Finding great amusement that the old tavern keeper was twisting a simple visiting stranger into something more. “They're just sticking around until Howard can return to the forge.” Or so you suspected. Honestly, you had no idea what this knight was doing hanging around for as long as they did.

“That's sweet of them.” Amy sighed as she slipped into the water. Humming contently while washing out her hair, which started to soap the water from her shampoo. “Captain Sourface stormed back into town so red I thought he was going to explode. Obviously, that was your doing?”

“The Knight doesn't speak.” You explained with a nod. “They haven't answered any of the Captain's questions. So, he's of course suspicious that they're here to do harm. And…between you and me, I think The Knight is deliberately ignoring him. I don't think they like him.”

“Who does?” Carol snorted. “Intriguing though, that your friend doesn't speak. Deliberately? Or another reason?”

“No idea, honestly.” You shrugged. Splashing water onto your face to clean the morning grime. “I only met them yesterday and they escorted me back on their own accord. They didn't speak then and they haven't spoken since. They follow me around alot, though. No idea what that's about.”

“Could just be looking for a purpose.” It was Amy's turn to shrug. “Might not even be Human. I've heard of ancient constructs coming to life and obeying orders from the first person they see.”

You nodded, seeing sense in her logic. But you were doubtful The Knight was a construct. “They're too quiet. Unnaturally quiet. And still. I was thinking of some sort of beast. But I have no idea what creature would wear armor like that. And they're smart enough to understand Common.”

“Some things are more fun left unsolved.” Carol said, but she then grinned. “However, if you do ever get a glimpse under that helmet, pass on the information to a nosey old girl?” You laughed and nodded, promising to share anything you learn about your companion.

The three of you chatted about mundane topics while you bathed and washed your hair. Amy still watched the spot where Donny had scratched away a hole in the wall. But according to them, you'd be able to spot if he was peeking through it again. The light had caught their attention. A tiny sliver of sunlight through a hole barely large enough for Donny to peer through. Anger surged through you at the thought. Barely turning eighteen and the bastard is as smug as an arrogant nobleman. All because his daddy was second in command to the Lord’s barracks. The young man has been a problem for most of his life; stealing things, a few arson attempts and outright aggression towards other members of the estate. But since his father could wipe away any charges, the kid grew up to be a right little prick.

“You know what, it's kind of nice having that knight outside.” Amy hummed with a smile. “Makes me feel like a proper princess while someone is guarding the door.” You grinned, inwardly agreeing but you refused the fantasy giddiness to show on your face. “I hope they stay. This has been the safest I've felt while bathing in a long time.”

You openly agreed to that. It was a relief to know that no one unwanted was going to “accidentally” wander in on the baths. It has happened too many times in this place for these folk to call themselves decent people. You were about to say something when loud cursing erupted outside. And a tidal wave of curses echoed through the walls of the bathhouse, startling all three of you into throwing robes around yourself and hurrying outside.

You ran out onto the street to a very complicated scene. Donny was currently being held up by the scruff of his shirt by The Knight. Kicking and cursing the armoured person with a mortified expression. The Knight, impassive to the assault of boots to their ribs and chest, held the flailing young man with immoveable strength.

“Hold on! Don't hurt the poor knight.” Carol shouted through a laughing fit, walking up to Donny's spinning boots. “You deserve being treated like a misbehaving kitten. Look at you! Acting like a right little criminal.”

“I didn't do anything!” Donny howled. “I was just picking some flowers.”

You joined Amy in glaring up at the man. More people were gathering now. Staff and even some of the Lord's guests. Who were gathering by the shade of the nearby trees. Watching on in amusement.

“You were trying to spy again!” Amy huffed loudly enough that everyone heard. “We caught you red handed, Donny. There's no way you can wriggle out of this one.”

“I didn't do anything!” Donny wailed. Sounding more like a child than a young man. “This brute grabbed me without reason! Let me down!” You felt a little smug that The Knight did not release him and instead looked at you. As if waiting for your command.

A ripple of disgust mingled with your anger. A disdain directed towards Donny's disrespectful actions.

You counted to four before nodding up at them. “Let them go.” The Knight's fingers released the shirt and Donny crumbled like a sack of potatoes at your feet. He quickly stood and dusted himself off. Looking wild, he turned to you.

“That's assault, that is. Your metal giant will get thrown out for what it just did to me.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I'm pretty sure perving on us bathing is a good enough excuse to be detained like you were. Can't wait for the Lord to hear about this.”

Like a cold bucket of water over an inferno, Donny's anger vanished beneath the threat. Donny may be a problem, but the last time he caused issues for the Lord of the Estate, he had been banished to the dungeons. Even his daddy couldn't save him from the Lord's wrath.

“No-no, I'm sorry. Alright.” Donny sputtered. About to say something else, but movement down the street made his eyes widenen. His father and the Captain were hurrying over.

Damn, The Captain really has nothing better to do today.

“Please, don't tell Father. He'll have me whipped.” Donny begged. Eyes ping-ponging between you and his father.

“Rightfully so.” Amy hissed but Carol lifted a hand to silence her. A wicked smile lining her aging face.

“Hold on. We'll keep our silence, if you promise not to spy any longer and help out in the kitchens for the month.” Donny's eyes blazed with anger, but one glance at his incoming parent full of rage and concern, had any refusal vanishing.

“Fine!” Donny almost snarled and then turned to the two men with a shaky smile. “F-Father, all's well here.”

“I doubt it.” His Father grunted, eyeing The Knight suspiciously. “What happened?”

“I just came to meet the newcomer.” Donny smiled and you hated how he lied so easily. Even those closer, who had heard what happened, kept quiet, but didn't share the boy's laughing tone. “Look at them! They're massive!”

“They're trouble is what they are.” The Captain said. Then directed his attention solely on The Knight. “I thought you were meant to be helping out the smith's.”

“Grendor gave him leave until to-”

“I wasn't talking to you.” The Captain barked so suddenly that you startled.

The Knight flinched beside you and you found them standing closer than they had been previously. It had been so quick that you were sure no one else noticed.

“The Knight doesn't talk!” Amy snapped back. “Don't yell at y/n when they're trying to keep the peace here.”

More people were gathering. Brought in by the commotion and now, you quickly realized, your companion. You forgot that not all travellers were behemoths. Or knights for that matter. They were quite a sight for the people of this estate.

“I've known men like this one.” The Captain huffed. “The quiet ones are always trouble.” You highly doubted this man knew anyone that was worth mentioning, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. Instead, you touched The Knight's arm, that quiet humming filling your body with a gentle vibration, and gave The Knight a little push. Forcing them to start walking away.

“Is that why no one worries about you, Captain?” You asked over your shoulder. You didn't acknowledge the roll of laughter from the noble onlookers, you just hurried The Knight away. Despite you walking through the estate in only a robe, you led the way back to your home as quickly as you could. You had to hide your visitor until the Captain cooled off. Or else there'd be trouble for sure.

“I'm sorry, this isn't the best welcome to the estate.” You sighed, leaving The Knight in your workshop while you went and changed into some clothes. “The people here are lovely, I promise. It's just The Captain hates anyone-”

You stalled part way removing your robe, half hanging around your waist, exposing your breasts to the air before quickly covering them. The Knight had followed you into the house. As quiet as a cat, about to enter the room, until your robe fell away from your shoulders. It was the creak of metal that startled you. A flush of heat slammed against your back and you whipped around just in time to see The Knight spin so their back was to you.

Your body flushed with embarrassment. And you wrangled your anger under control. Sighing through your teeth, you ensured your body was covered before clearing your throat and saying, “Alright. No more games and you better answer me. What do you want?”

The Knight didn't turn around right away. That simmering warmth had cooled into an air of intrigue. A feeling you heavily ignored. The stretch of silence felt like they were contemplating your question before facing you. Their visor tilted to meet your gaze and something gentle wrapped around you…beneath the robe, along your cooled skin. Unseen, but you felt an invisible brushing touch tickle along your entire being. You jerked back, eyes widening and you clutched your robe tighter against your body.

“So that is you that I'm feeling!” You almost shouted. Relief washing through you. “By the Gods, I thought I was going mad! I've been feeling all these weird things all day. How are you doing that?”

No answer. Other than a sheepish tilt of the head. Now that you knew where these sensations were coming from, reading The Knight was so much easier. “Right. OK. Back to my original question, what do you want?”

Purpose.

The feeling burst through you like a firework and you gulped down the sudden rush of unease. “Purpose…like a job?”

No answer.

Maybe you're not asking the right questions…that's why you're not getting an answer. You muddled with your thoughts until you decided on another question. “What type of purpose?”

Protect

Serve

Duty

Each word burst through your head like a headache. However every one left a lingering warmth that soothed the discomfort immediately. “OK…you want to serve someone.”

A nod. Alright! You were getting somewhere!

“Is that why you're following me around?” You asked and The Knight nodded. “You want to serve me?” Another nod. “I'm…I'm not exactly serving worthy. I pick plants and make medicinal things. The Lord of the Estate is probably a better option.”

No reply. But an air of determination swirled around your guest. You somehow knew anything you said would do nothing to dissuade The Knight from wanting this apparent purpose. You sighed and shook your head. “Alright. I guess…you're my knight.”

A colorful shimmer rushed over The Knight, like a shift of light rippling over a stained glass window.

How did you never notice how colorful they were before? “You'll still need to help Grendor out for the week. But I'll make room for you to have your own bed.” The Knight glanced around behind them, then to you and you had a sinking feeling that their shifted position to stand outside your door was them announcing where they would stay at night.

“I'm a herbalist!” You exclaimed at The Knight's rigid back. “I don't need a guard dog.”

Apparently, The Knight thought you did.

The rest of the day passed with you tending to your chores around the house. Adjusting to the new watchful presence now invading every room you entered. You used your fresh produce from the ruins to make new balms and teas. Having The Knight run packages for you to certain persons around the estate. Each with little notes explaining The Knight’s appearance and that they were now your assistant…and loyal protector.

The Knight revealed to be quite the delivery person. They followed directions acutely and ran packages more quickly than you ever could. You also found out they were a one task mind. Nothing distracted them from completing the job you gave them. Carol had attempted to greet them but The Knight had breezed past without taking notice.

“Thought they were being a right little rude prick.” Carol had chortled that afternoon, joining you for tea in your small garden. The Knight stood like a statue behind you. Silent as ever.

“They've made my duties here ten times easier.” You said gleefully. “I was a bit unsure about having them stay…but now, I don't think I could let them go.”

“Only a day and they've changed your mind?” Carol chuckled, turning her next words to The Knight. “You did good in impressing them. But now you need to ensure they stay impressed to keep you long term.” That pulse of determination rushed through you and you watched Carol to see if she felt it too. She only sipped her tea and moved on to other topics of conversation.

A routine slipped easily into place. Much easier than you thought with a massive guest guarding your room every night. You woke and made breakfast for the both of you, which you gave The Knight a moment of privacy to eat their portion. You didn't push them to reveal themselves. It felt disrespectful when they never offered and did what they could to ensure you never had a glimpse. Then The Knight would spend the morning at the smithy. Helping Grendor where they could and even coming to fetch you if Howard needed aid.

Then, around midday, Carol and Amy would fetch you for a bath. Bringing your new protector along to ensure no unwanted visitors happened to wander in. You found more women of the estate bathed at this time now. Seeming to feel safe with a sentry outside. Donny never tried to peek a look again. And even delivered another apology after his third day in the kitchens. Being sent to you by the chefs after he complained about his hands for the hundredth time.

“My hands are raw from peeling vegetables.” He grumbled that visit. Eyeing The Knight warily while you placed a balm on the blisters scarring his palms. “So…that thing is staying?”

“They're staying, yes.” You corrected him. “They're my guest. For lodging and food, they keep trouble off my doorstep.”

“But you're just a herbalist.” Donny said and you chose to ignore it. Even The Captain backed off after the fourth day, finding no real reason to kick The Knight out. But you knew their silence still had him raging every time they passed by. Untouchable now that half the estate staff relied on them for various things.

Even the estate lord had nothing to say about the newcomer. You guessed he was happy to have a presence like The Knight behind his walls. Either way, after the fifth day, The Knight was a part of the estate as anyone else.

Slipping into daily life as if they belonged.

The sixth day, The Knight was on their way out when you noticed a smudge on their visor. It looked like dirt. Something you rarely see on the armour nowadays. Grendor polished The Knight's attire as a thank you. Finding it both amusing and annoying that The Knight didn't “drop the brooding mysterious act for an hour so the armour could be taken off for cleaning”.

You called them back and had them kneel so you could inspect the grime. “How did you manage to do that?” You asked with a laugh. “Your face is so far from the ground!” You lifted a hand and wiped your thumb over the mark- and the room filled with a vibration that shook your very core. You startled, but the sensation wasn't negative. In fact, it felt almost wanting…

The Knight had melted into your palm. Leaning so heavily into your hand that you had to use a bit of strength to keep them from falling into you. “Aw, do you like that?” You asked. Grinning when the Knight nodded, relaxing further when you grazed your fingers along the jawline of their helm. You had suspected that the armour wasn't just iron and leather. But now with your fingers gently pressing against them, what you thought would be hard steel, was in fact giving way under your touch. And the surface wasn't smooth, either. You felt the tiniest bumps tickle against your touch, vibrating with that soundless sensation.

Wanting…

You dragged your knuckles along the Knight's cheek, tilting their helm in a way that allowed you to meet their obscured gaze. “You've been awfully good this past week. If you want, I can do this for you this afternoon. A little thank you for all your hard work around here.”

That wanting turned to eagerness. A need to do whatever it took to feel your touch again. They'd carry as many boxes as they needed to if it meant being rewarded by you.

There was also an underlining reproach in the sensation. They didn't do this for rewards. They did this because you asked. Their purpose.

You slid your hands from their helm and The Knight tried to follow your hand, but caught themselves, shaking their head as if coming out of a daze “This afternoon after dinner.” You promised.

And you did. When the plates were cleaned and the fire roared to keep the winter chill at bay, you motioned for The Knight to you. They kneeled in front of you, slouching just enough so your hands didn't have to raise up too much to touch them. And they melted under your fingers. Like a cat pressing against your hand, they tilted their helm in certain ways so your nails tickled over favoured spots. Under the chin, where the visor met the helmet involuntarily caused The Knight to lift their head and push against your palm.

Along the jawline caused a tremor to ripple through their armour. A strange sensation to see happen to steel and chainmail. But everytime your knuckles grazed delicately along their cheeks, the room filled with a soft soundless vibration.

Their one-knee position soon collapsed to The Knight fully at your mercy, resting heavily on their boots as they reveled in your tender attention.

“You're a wonderful being.” You almost whispered. Not wanting to break this cozy silence. “You've been so good for me. I should have done this for you sooner. You deserve a little treat for all your hard work.”

A heated pressure bloomed around you both and The Knight sagged further into your lap. Their arms hung limp by their sides, respectfully keeping their hands away from you. They weren't worthy. They didn't deserve your warmth until you asked.

You bit your lip. A swirling buttery feeling swelled in your chest and you dared to tilt the helmet back, just enough that your gaze leveled with theirs, and very gently pressed your lips to the warm visor.

An eruption of goosebumps swept along your body as the very air in the room thundered with The Knight's elation. You laughed softly. Keeping your voice quiet as you traced the carved lines on the armour down The Knight's neck, then tickled your fingers along their shoulders before trailing lazily back to cup their cheek.

“You like that?” You asked and The Knight nodded earnestly. It's the fastest you've ever seen them respond to your words before.

You rewarded them with another kiss. This time brushing your lips just above the visor and the warmth against your palms turned volcanic. “Oh, you really like that.” You teased. “Well, good knight's get all the attention. Continue to be sweet and I'll continue to do this every night for you. Would you like that?”

Seven feet of armour shook with the anticipation of more attention. And it became part of your routine before retiring for bed. You would sit by the fire and trail patterns over The Knight's armour. Following the carved lines or changes in metal until your loyal guest was crushing you against the chair. They folded so quickly. Melting into your lap until your skin blazed hot with their heated shell and left imprints of their armour on your thighs. The house shimmered with a light you couldn't directly look at. But your peripheral vision bloomed with beautiful shards of starlight. It would brighten and dim depending on where you touch them.

One evening, the winter night brought such a chill that even the fire didn't stave off the cold. You retreated to your bedroom to stoke the coals to life. It was easier to warm a smaller room than fight the cold in the rest of the house. That's at least what you told yourself.

Your companion waited impatiently by the door. Hesitant to enter your sacred space.

You couldn't help but smirk at their reluctance. Not without your order would they venture across the threshold to your little bedroom. And that night, you called them over. Sitting on the edge of your bed awaiting The Knight's approach. The first step into your room was like a sinner stepping into a church. Uncertain and filled with awe, The Knight knelt by your legs and the soundless ripple filled the room.

“Come here.’ You purred, tugging their massive arms to settle around your waist. A startled shimmer ran over them. But they very quickly settled into the blanket, their fingers laying flat on the quilt. Staying their eager palms away from you. You smiled and pressed a kiss to their visor. Right where their mouth would be and whispered against the metal, “I give you permission to touch me, My Knight. It's OK. Go ahead.”

Surprise. Bafflement. Absolute elation. Emotions swirled through the room like a swarm. And you bit your lip as their warm gloved fingers caressed along your hips. With the new gloves from Grendor, their touch was no longer scratchy, but supple and smooth. And with restrained eagerness, The Knight stroked their palms down along your thighs.

Your stomach swam with nervousness. Not an anxious type of feeling, but one full keen tension.

The Knight looked up at you and you met their nervous gaze with a smile. “It's alright. It feels nice. I'll tell you if you go too far.”

The Knight shivered and their hands squeezed your hips. Feeling the way your soft waist molded under their strong fingers. You hummed some encouragement, your own fingers continuing to trace their neck and shoulders. Leaving The Knight to freely watch where their hands trailed along your body. Your breath hitched when their massive hands wrapped around your soft middle. They seemed to like how warm you felt…how silky you were against their touch.

And then they surprised you by venturing further and soon your breasts were encased by their gloves. You knew it was an innocent, curious, touch by the way they moved on just as quickly. They rolled the delicate mounds twice against their hands before roaming down along your stomach and then to your thighs again. Where they kept their fingers busy by massaging the squished muscle there.

You found yourself breathless by the time their arms settled around your waist again. And when The Knight glanced up at you, checking if they were still allowed to explore, you kissed the visor again. Harder this time, as if you were begging the metal to let your tongue explore behind the steel.

Volcanic heat erupted against your skin and you laughed, gasping lungfuls of hot air as the pressure in the room made your ears ring. “Could you do something for me?”

Anything. They'd do anything you asked in this moment.

“Your fingers…could you slide them between my legs?” You knew what you were asking was bold. But your core ached to be touched and The Knight had made it clear that you were their purpose…they wanted to please you. Be ordered by you.

The Knight nodded and their right hand tenderly slipped between your legs as you opened your thighs for them. Your sleepwear was soaked and The Knight dutifully slipped further until you told them to stop. “Right there. Arch your fingers against me.” You told them and when their gloved digits pressed against your pulsing heat, you twisted your hips and moaned loudly at the friction. “Just like that…keep them there…”

The Knight wasn't going anywhere…they would happily stay locked like this, kneeling between your legs, until the world collapsed around them. Their purpose…their duty to please…

You arched your back, gripping their shoulders to steady yourself as you ground down on their fingers. It wasn't enough. You needed more.

Through your lashes, eyes half hooded with lust, you hooked The Knight's chin and dragged them closer. Your lips crashed with the helmet and you pressed your chest against theirs. Heat surrounded you in an inferno of excitement.

Then you felt it…that sliver of fire brush against your chin and you chased it with your mouth. Surprise wriggled against your chest as you sucked the tendril into the kiss. It tried to squirm away, shame and mortification swelling against your hands;

“Don't.” You almost growled against the length. You wrapped your arms better around The Knight, staring deep into the darkness behind the visor. “I want to feel you. You want to please me?” The Knight nodded and you glanced down at where the visor met the helmet. A tentacle slipped further out from beneath the metal. It was smooth against your lips. It was a beautiful shade of green. Green moss against a dark oaken tree. The tip was sharp but soft against your tongue when you suckled it into your mouth.

The Knight shook under your arms. Their fingers quaking against your clothed heat and you pressed down until you felt their fingertips shake against your clit.

“You feel that?” You asked, moving your hips until The Knight began to circle your clit on their own. “Yes…Yes, like that. Keep doing exactly that.”

Pleasure burst through you. Your toes curled and your thighs clenched around The Knight’s arms. The tentacle grew confident and soon your mouth was ravaged by a thick appendage. Your tongue wrestled with theirs in a kiss so hungry The Knight started buckling under your touch.

Impatient for release, you stood and shoved off your undergarments and sat directly onto The Knight’s fingers. You sank smoothly along their digits and a following euphoria washed through The Knight as your velvety walls welcomed them.

You smirked and despite your want for release, you squeezed and The Knight nearly collapsed against your lap. “You're doing so good.” You purred against the top of their head. Rolling your hips slowly, greedily pressing your clit against their forearm. Which swelled and moved beneath you like the tentacle that had just invaded your lips. “My sweet knight…treating me so well tonight. Would you like a taste?” The Knight didn't answer…couldn't answer…their fingers shifted inside you so carefully you barely felt the leather brush against your walls.

Aching, but buzzing with a thrilling confidence you guided The Knight’s hand out from between your legs and held it in front of their visor. “Go on…have a taste…”

Eager to obey, a squirming mass of tentacles slipped out from beneath the visor and wrapped around The Knight’s fingers. The room shivered around you. A welcoming warmth wrapped around your body and you sighed a deep breath of The Knight’s pleasured reaction.

They wanted more. You've given them a taste of paradise and now they want that nectar of bliss between your thighs. But you've given them so much already. They would be lucky enough for just this taste for the rest of their existence.

You pressed another kiss against their visor, welcoming the feathery touches of their touch, and tugged their head down to your lap. “You may taste…but slowly.”

The room started to spin around you. A whirling of colors and shapes blurred together, leaving only The Knight and you in a vortex of heated tension. You smiled and leaned back on your hands, bracing yourself so your hips were angled up, revealing your dripping entirety to The Knight. Their tentacles squirmed and writhed against their visor. As if trying to escape their confining shell to get to you more quickly. And then the many velvety tips slipped between your folds and your head rolled back with a guttural moan of ecstasy flying from your lips. You felt the tentacles prod and flick against your warmed skin. One immediately sought after your clit. Pressing eagerly against it and coiling around it just as their fingers had done. The others, especially the largest, slipped between your legs and darted to where the ache was worse.

You hissed and pushed their head back, tentacles dripping with your wetness flailed in the air in despair. “I said slowly.” You tsked, scraping your knuckles against their jaw teasingly. “Or do I need to put an end to this?”

The Knight's tendrils coiled in on themselves, as if pleading for a second chance. You cooed softly and readjusted yourself so your legs swooped over The Knight's shoulders and you were laying against the bed. The Knight hooked their arms under your hips and trapped themselves against your core. Their touches were cautious this time. Exploring your entire centre with slow, careful brushes of their velvet tips. You sighed and melted into the bed. Moaning softly into the dimly lit room as The Knight feasted on your slick cunt. The thicker appendage slipped into you at such a tortuous pace you rewarded The Knight by squeezing around it. Your lover shivered and you felt their weight collapse on top of your waist as they were overcome with pleasure.

Everytime the tentacle pulled out, only to slide bit by bit back into your soft embrace, you rolled your hips and squeezed. And every time, The Knight's feasting faulted, their many tongue-like limbs quivering, before the pleasure passed and they returned to their duty.

It didn't take long for your climax to build. The heat and weight of The Knight, their attentive exploring and tender ploughing; twisted your core until you were panting for release. You murmured sweet nothings, encouraging The Knight to quicken their pace, praising them as your pussy was pounded ruthlessly by the engorged tentacle- and then something thick poured into you and The Knight stiffened between your legs. You cried out as the tentacles thrashed against your clit and your walls clenched down on the fat tentacle, fluttering, welcoming the gel like heat that flooded your core.

You felt it fill you until the liquid seeped out from between your thighs. The sound of squelching sex filled the room as The Knight rutted their limb as deep as your body allowed.

“Oh my…” You gasped, panting hard, squirming beneath you giant lover. “What did you…”

The Knight didn't answer. And you somehow knew you wouldn't get one out of them until they removed their helm from your thighs. The visor dripped with your shared pleasure. The engorged tentacle swiped greedily along the metal face, soaking up every drop of your wetness until the steel gleamed with your slick.

“My Knight, you did very well.” You purred, sitting up so you could draw The Knight into a kiss that had you gagging on the tentacle. “I want this every night.” You told them. “That's your duty to me. Protect me. Serve me. And I'll reward you with this every night.”

The Knight pulsed with determination and the tentacle slithered back into their helm. A shimmer of anticipation washing through the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @tex-pleasure-palace

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