#Warlord Predator

[dafspiart]

I really enjoyed Killer of Killers. Grendel King is top notch 👌

This is also my first Yautja fan-art since 2018. Fandom burn-out really got to me so I had been putting everything Predator on the back burner for a couple of years and I went on a large hiatus from the fandom. Except for when I watched Prey in 2022. Badlands can't arrive soon enough. Maybe all this Predator hype will get me back into the fandom :)

[chicken-blitz13]

Watching that scene for the first time cracks me up

Same energy

[shqrkdud]

I like him

[thick-monster-thighs]

Warlord Yautja/Reader; An Act of Respect

Title: An Act of Respect Rating: Explicit Fandom: Predator: Killer of Killers Ship: Warlord Predator/Grendel King (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Canon typical violence, blood & injury, angst Author Note: This is part 03 of my Warlord series! The full fic is (as always) available on AO3! Summary: Time has twisted your rocky relationship with the Warlord into something very intimate, very strange; from prisoner to plaything to something that has no name. Your world has become a balancing act between reality and wishful thinking — until one bloody night turns everything upside down.

When travelling in a spaceship, there's no day or night. Time warps like a planet that meets an unfortunate end in a black hole; days become months, which become seconds, which become mere moments. If you listen closely, and if you're not working shifts in the belly of the ship or on the bridge, but instead are alone with emptiness and boredom, then you can hear yourself slowly but surely going mad.

You turn onto your side. Soft fur tickles your nose, and the scent of sleep and tired bodies surrounds you in this non-night, in these hours designated for rest.

At this point, you even miss the nights in the colony. Being on a planet gives you a certain rhythm that you miss so much in open space. Even a Weyland-Yutani barracks can feel like paradise when days are no longer days. A worn-out cot or even the floor can seem beautiful when you can feel day and night merging into one another. On the freighters, you worked according to Earth time or the time of the colony you had just left. It didn't matter, as long as it was something to cling to. Time is a spider's web that anchors you in reality. Without it, you're little more than space junk, drifting through the void.

Free fall in zero gravity.  With a snort, you roll from one side to the other. You've been rolling back and forth for hours, like meat on a spit over a grill. No position is comfortable enough and no thought is pleasant enough to lull you to sleep. Everything is dull and has been overthought a thousand times before, every possibility weighed up dozens of times. Boredom has eaten its way into the folds of your brain like a woodworm, leaving behind a yawning void that can only be filled with discontent. Who would have thought that boredom could be so annoying?

No, seriously, you'd kill for a datapad with a book, or even just old archive entries on it! Though it's probably this mental wasteland that drives the Yautja to train and fight so intensely. They pass the time through training, bloodshed and the quest to become the best hunter. They have to keep themselves busy somehow.  

Getting up and looking for something to do isn't an option either. You still share your bed with the Yautja who claimed you as his property about a year ago. Has it really been a year already? It feels more like a month. Or ten years. Time is strange; it often exists in two places at once, yet it's merely a vague framework to which simple beings such as humans and Yautja cling.  The Warlord takes up most of the fur-covered bed; you have to snuggle up to him to lie reasonably comfortably. At first, this took some getting used to, but now it's everyday life. His body is an anchor and an obstacle, and it's dearly missed when he's out hunting again. When you sleep alone in this nest of trophies, the bed feels enormous and empty – a thought you never would have expected to have. It's so strange to long for the person who kidnapped you and is holding you captive. Is this perhaps the final form of Stockholm syndrome? Yearning for him when he's not here? Absent-mindedly, your hand strokes the arm beneath you, the one that is holding you in a semi-firm embrace. Gentle fingertips trace the scales on the thick, leathery skin up to the biceps, which feel hard and firm even when relaxed. It would probably be easier if the Warlord wasn't so attractive; unfortunately, however, there's no denying that you're physically attracted to him. Emotionally speaking, the whole thing is pretty neutral territory. Love is not something that really happens here on the Hkr'Rcho. The fighting and fleeing never stopped. Since you first lured him into a trap and took what you wanted, there have been several similar incidents. As with so many things before, it has become a game of hunter and hunted. Predator and prey. Whoever can force the other into a hopeless situation wins and to the victor go the spoils. He often has the upper hand, but you've also managed to leave him with a scar or two. Raw power is pitted against adaptability and speed: Yautja against human. Broken bones and open wounds are all part of the game, as are the sweet nectar of victory and the almost ridiculous satisfaction of winning. Every orgasm is a thousand times better when it's earned by blood.

It's crazy how much fun it is, as well as it's incredible how quickly you began to feel as a part of this ship, this clan. The boundaries between human and Yautja identity become increasingly blurred. Being part of the whole makes the loneliness less painful.

Your nails lightly scratch his thick skin and he sighs in his sleep.   The Warlord himself is in a category of his own when it comes to contrasts and oddities. He's like the sour wine that the Yautja love to drink: it tastes strong and bitter, but it gets you oh so wonderfully drunk! He's the chain that binds you to this ship; yet he's also the hot metal that stokes your desire and creates something beyond logic and common sense. He pushes you to indulge in whatever lurks in your own shadow, and you love it.

He mumbles something in his sleep – or is that a growl? Hard to say. Then he moves slightly. You can vaguely make out a few words in Yautja beneath the deep rumbling of his chest, but even the best linguists would struggle to distinguish between mocking growls and clicks and an accented Yautja word. Is he dreaming? Are these warriors dreaming of successful hunts? Well, you are. You dream of the moment the great warrior falls into your increasingly creative traps, when he's all yours to play with. They are good dreams, hot dreams, full of lust and satisfaction.

Your gentle movements on his arm don't stop. He's somewhere between deep sleep and being slightly awake, exhausted from leading this clan and enjoying a well-deserved break. This semi-awake state of your jailer and lover brings you peace. The soft, human hand continues to gently caress the inside of his wrist, which is otherwise covered by the wrist gauntlet. Interestingly, the skin there is soft and sensitive, receptive to the tenderness that keeps the giant warrior in this twilight state. Even these monstrous and terrifying creatures have weak spots and vulnerabilities. The Warlord has few weaknesses and you know them all by now. And what an interesting discovery this one was: A tired Yautja is a tame Yautja. If you manage to wear one out, they seem to regress into the reptiles from which they probably descended. Their deadly claws and warm muscles then search for a source of warmth to cling to - a safe place to rest and restore their energy reserves through deep sleep.

Yautja sleep in short phases; they usually rest for no more than 3–4 hours at a time so that they can be fully active for around 30 hours. However, every few days - more or less a week on Earth - this short sleep rhythm is replaced by a long, deep sleep phase, which enables them to function with so little sleep in everyday life. This deep sleep lasts between 16 and 24 hours, during which their senses are duller than usual, making them vulnerable to attack. Therefore, they first look for a safe place to sleep. Only the stars know whether the Warlord feels safe with you, but it's probably also the case that he sleeps peacefully because you are physically inferior to him. Either way, the huge, warm body next to you gives you a completely new feeling of security: When you work on a freighter, there's no security, either from the W-Y company or your own crew. Short-distance freighters have motley crews, many of whom have dark pasts and even darker desires. You have to sleep with one eye open; otherwise, you could quickly find yourself with a knife in your back or a stranger in your bed.

It's different here on the Hkr'Rcho. Although this Yautja is the opposite of a guardian angel, nothing can happen to you while he's sleeping next to you. Your status as his favourite pet gives you immunity among the crew. You're absolutely safe when he's around - because you give him something that only you can give him. This secures your special status at his side: You're his toy and he's yours. You live and breathe together, sleep in harmony and fight like old friends, enemies and lovers. His rough manner is an unchangeable part of him, just as your bitterness is an unchangeable part of you.  A tired Yautja is a tame Yautja, and a tame Yautja is a gentle Yautja. The growl in his chest has become a deep, vibrating purr as your fingers continue to gently stroke the skin on his wrist. It's a weak spot, exposed to you like a wound. He smells like sweat and something earthy, mixed with that sweet, irresistible undertone. You know what you want and you're going to get it. He moves and turns onto his side; chest muscles press against your back, and you make a satisfied sound somwhere in your upper body. Hard muscles, warm flesh. Wonderful. Your free hand pulls the Warlord's other arm around you, engulfing you in his firm embrace. And when you push your pelvis back towards him, a soft sound rumbles in his chest, breaking through the fog that still surrounds his mind.   Yes, you're going to get what you want.

>>> Continue on AO3

[afreakforyautja]

I see Warlord predator, I reblog 🙌

Artwork in intro: @macabreblublu (🫶🏽)

We add a bit of Gaga. For myself and all the other gays

[mschomper]

Warlord Yautja when I catch him bending down

[whimsyvixen]

⚠️ SUGGESTIVE CONTENT AHEAD: ADULT THEMES, WARLORD PREDATOR X HUMAN ⚠️

@chocoyautja I could kiss you for giving me this idea

Y'all know exactly what his "meal" is when she's spread out like that

[shmoopah]

This ooman is not for fighting

[loulouyautja]

look at this angry kitty

[risen-from-stardust]

Predator: Killer of Killers spoilers

Saw someone mentioning the template below but with the big guy, can't remember where but I decided to draw it

✧

[chicken-blitz13]

quick sketches of these guys

[thick-monster-thighs]

Warlord Yautja/Reader; An Act of Rebellion

Title: An Act of Rebellion Rating: Explicit Fandom: Predator: Killer of Killers Ship: Warlord Predator/Grendel King (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Non/Dubcon, captivity, canon typical violence Author Note: This is the first third of this fic. The whole work can be read on AO3! Summary: You are one of the few chosen by the Yautja to fight for their entertainment. Before you are taken to the arena, however, you catch the attention of the Warlord. Fighting back seems like a good idea at first - until he effortlessly turns the tables and demonstrates his power and control over you.

You spit onto the floor, releasing a mixture of saliva and old blood from your aching mouth. Your head throbs as if it had been slammed repeatedly against the metal wall of the room, even though you only fell out of the capsule holding you. A dull pain radiates from your hip, knee, and left hand—the parts of your body that broke your fall.

Who comes up with such nonsense as a floating cryo capsule?!

Dizziness makes the entire room dance and spin around you, causing deep, oppressive nausea. You have to muster all your willpower not to vomit on the cold floor beneath you.

"Fuck..." Blinking against the dizziness helps, if only a little. Don't throw up. Luckily, after a few seconds, your vision slowly becomes clearer. And your throat stops itching, mouth stops producing extra saliva.

Your weak knees can barely hold the weight of your own body. Cold muscles scream in silent agony, trembling and shaking as they threaten to give way. The cryo capsule you're pulling yourself up on is technology your foggy brain doesn't quite recognize. It's certainly not a Weyland-Yutani pod. Its rough, angular design is made for beings larger than humans. It's alien technology, an alien ship.

What's the last thing you remember?

It takes a moment for your brain to search for memories. The fog is thick, hiding what brought you to this creepy room lit only by narrow red lamps on the walls. The floor is cold. You hear the roar of an engine that doesn't belong to one of the company's large haulers. The vibrations in the material of this ship are more penetrating, reaching into your bones. Weyland-Yutani ships sound different. They sound hollow and somehow... cheaper. Their ships sound like cost-cutting measures and a willingness to lose entire crews if it means saving a little money.

This is not a human ship. Its high-quality engine emits a deep growl that resonates in your chest like a steady purr. A purring monster made of metal, on its way to who-knows-where. You gasp for air as your brain finally locates the missing memory in the darkness. The Karattera. The strange cargo the company wanted to be transported to one of the research facilities back home. The crash on Vokila-2. And the black creatures that wreaked havoc. As this tidal wave of memories washes over you, accompanied by the lingering smell of blood, a trembling sob escapes you.

It's a sound as unstoppable as it is desperate. There are no tears, just the realization that the entire crew of the Karattera is dead. Just like the mining company team on the planet. You remember killing three of those black, fast beasts with long skulls using the Vokila-2 station's trash compactor. You heard the sound of bones breaking, of monsters screaming out in agony, of acid eating through metal - and then you sensed movement behind you, followed by a click and a growl. And then? Nothing. Only the floating emptiness remains, waking up in the cryo capsule with the stale taste of blood in your mouth. With trembling hands, you touch the back of your head, where there should be a wound because you were knocked down - or were you? It's the obvious conclusion to the blackout, to the lack of memories, but there's nothing there. Just a small bump that is hardly worth mentioning. The unanswered questions pile up in your stomach like a bunch of needles. What the hell is going on here?!

The door opens with a hiss. Every muscle in your body tenses in panic when you see the huge figure in the hallway. Ah, fuck.

It's a Yautja.

Rumors about these warriors - as fearless as they are brutal - have spread to the farthest corners of the company's colonies. People whisper on the freighters that these massive warriors are monsters who kill without mercy, whether with blades, plasma cannons, or their bare hands. They hunt for fun, pleasure, and the thrill of success. If that's true, then you're either a trophy or their afternoon entertainment. Double fuck. The Yautja makes harsh growling noises - it's a command, that much is clear. Given the situation, move your ass is the only logical conclusion. He's coming to get you. But why? And to where? With your legs trembling from the long, cold sleep, you stagger toward the door, trying not to appear threatening. Supposedly, the Yautja don't attack defenseless people: They don't attack the unarmed, the sick, children, or pregnant women. Hopefully, there's some truth to these rumors because you don't want to end up on the wrong end of that huge spear he's holding. Nevertheless, your pride demands that you lift your chin and walk as upright as possible. You make smooth movements despite the jelly knees. Don't appear threatening, but don't appear easy prey either. This phrase echoes in your brain over and over again like a mantra or a prayer to reason. The chance of survival is probably slim, but not zero. If it happens, it happens. At least take one of these bastards with you. This attitude was helpful when the black alien beasts overran the Karattera and Vokila-2. It kept you alive and gave you the courage to fight back. Maybe it'll save your out of luck ass again. The spaceship's corridor is long and empty. Several doors lead to other rooms, but they are locked, and you can't peek inside any of them. A rough, deep rumbling sounds from somewhere. It's an animalistic roar that echoes off the ship's walls until it becomes a distorted sound of rage. Your heart skips a beat in despair. Getting out of here alive is going to be difficult.

Suddenly, the Yautja grabs you with an incredibly strong grip. Before you can dodge his hand, the cold of the walls and floor wraps around your neck. There's a click, and something heavy hangs around your neck, pulling you slightly down. The weight and the realization what it is sends hot rage shooting through your head.

A fucking collar!  

"Hey, what?!" Your angry hiss is drowned out by the mocking growls and clicks of your opponent, who seems to be thoroughly enjoying your expression of stupor. Trembling, weak human fingers pull at the metal holding your neck like an iron grip of death. But the collar won't come off; it just rubs uncomfortably against your sensitive skin. With a fiery gaze, you look up at the Yautja, nodding slightly and twitching your shoulder in a demanding manner. "What is this? What's going on here?! Am I your prisoner?" The collar is beeping almost audibly, making you increasingly aggressive. Like a fucking time bomb around the neck. The Yautja raises and lowers his chest with a deep, flat growl and lets out a snort. Mocking and amused. Then, he pushes you toward the end of the corridor to get you moving. Apparently, there's a schedule here because he pushes you again, urging you to pick up the pace.

The corridor itself is long with a floor of metal grates that echo your footsteps. It leads to another corridor, then another, and finally, a last one that is significantly wider and shorter than the rest. This cursed ship is a labyrinth and must be enormous. How are you supposed to get out of here? Hide in a ventilation shaft if you can escape at all. And then what? Steal a rescue pod and drift off into nothingness? Honestly, the options don't look good.

"C'jit, this one's particularly unimpressive." Another Yautja approaches you and your guide. He's armed with a long spear as well, though he has a much more relaxed demeanor than the guy who's been pushing you around. The loud hissing of a door at the other end of the hallway drowns out the words whispered into your ear by the collar. It's a translation of the warriors' language. Granted, it's useful that this thing around your neck acts as a translator, though that's definitely not its main function. It's probably more like... a shock collar. Or a real bomb. Oh god, please don't let it be a bomb. The hissing of the double doors announces the arrival of more inhabitants of this ship. Heavy footsteps thunder on the grated floor, sending vibrations through your whole body until the inside of your ears starts to hurt. And the closer the footsteps come, the faster your heart beats. Three. Two guards and a monster that can only be described as such emerge from the gloom of the dimly lit corridor. The two guards stop and lower their heads as the third emerges from the dimly lit corridor.

Oh man... The newly arrived Yautja is massive. The chances of making it out alive are closing in on zero.  

His stature easily surpasses that of the others of his kind, and his cloak of bones and spines makes him look even bigger, more powerful, and more terrifying. The vertebrae protruding from his shoulders and upper back are a stark, ominous warning not to mess with this specimen, a warning reinforced when the other two Yautja take a subtle step back as he glances at them.

The urge to look away is so strong that your neck muscles tense up. However, looking away now would be a sign of weakness, and weakness is something you can't afford right now. These people crush the weak like bugs between their giant hands, amused by emotions like fear and terror. And yes, of course you're afraid. It would be stupid not to be. A few deep breaths, though, allow you to think somewhat logically. You clench that fear into a tight little knot below your diaphragm and think back to the mantra:

If it happens, it happens. At least take one of those bastards with you.

So, you straighten your back, pull your shoulders back, and stare stubbornly ahead.

>>> Continue on AO3

[lleswea]

He’s a little bit angry but still just a lil’ kitty

Little sketch of the Warlord predator, because i liked him a lot 🤲🏽

(also I screwed with his armor design cuz I couldn’t find normal references, sorry-)

He looked so majestic in the movie, MY GOD, looking at him RESPECTFULLY (please someone write the fic with him and reader I’M BEGGING—)

[sh1-n0bu]

so,,,, despite being a monsterfucker for a while, i never really got the love for yautjas. until i was forced to watch killer of killers due to the rampage going on my feed and uhhhhh im pretty sure there are at least a handful of monsterfuckers out there who wants to top/dom a yautja like myself. also this isnt much of a fic. its just a sudden little thought i had after going thru the rule 34s tag of yautjas. no yautja in particular, take it as you will, imagine whoever you like. i dont know anything about yautjas or how this all works. im just horny and freeballing it. feel free to correct me

so… yautjas huh? what an alien species and mind you, this is my first impression of these guys. despite the majority of the killer or killers tags thirsting over the warlord — as we all should — i found myself liking the viking predator a lot. the goons are cute too. the three predators of the movie parts even have names too. jotun, oni and baron in the order they appear. of course, the guy in the pic above, the last one everyone is thirsting over, is warlord predator, also called ‘Grendel King’ by one of the characters

anyways, enough geeking over the yautjas of the movie, time to move on to my actual brainworms

yautjas are alien species and just as they are humanoid, some parts of them are indeed humanoid. and some parts, not so much. i have seen a decent amount of yautja smuts on the yautja tag — haven’t read them yet bc i prefer to be the one to fuck rather than get fucked — but one headcanon answer had me thinking multiple things

yautjas — male, female doesn’t matter — have two dicks and a vagina as well as an asshole. bigenital, if you will. every yautja can therefore sire their young, but the female yautjas tend to sire them and grow them in their bellies due to their stomach having more padded muscles, serving as a protective meat shield for the babies. the male yautjas carry them as well, but it’s more common to see the females carry them

i can’t find the author but one author here on tumblr had given their thought that yautjas never knew about blowjobs and lemme add to that — fingering as well. look at their mouths and hands, full of claws, fangs, mandibles and shit. truly a creature meant for hunting and killing rather than feeling fleshly pleasure. yautjas don’t really care about it either, they’re more of an animal mating ritual type of pleasure seekers. find a yautja who shakes your fancy, court them, knot them full and have a few strong, next generation of young’ins. simple and straight to the point like an animal mating ritual. no need for foreplay, fighting and wrestling to see who will knot who is a foreplay enough for their species

blowjobs? never, unless one is trying to bite off the dick of the other one. their mandibles stretch and open, sure. but they will never stretch big enough to take the other’s dick into their mouths. even if they do manage to painfully keep their mandibles open at all times, their fangs and canine sharp teeth will lead to bleeding and injuries soon enough. so even if their two dicks are weeping at the tip, untouched, and their pussy is glistening wet, the easiest way to just get it done with is to fuck their cocks into the other’s folds. it’ll be full of yowls, cracks, chirps and even growls because i personally like to think that the yautjas have a ribbed dick with a spliced tip. not that their tips could open up like their mandibles, but it definitely gives odd sensations. add the constant bumping and ribbing feeling of the scales and folds of their cock and the mating session between yautjas are usually always loud

so what happens when a ‘ooman is thrown into the mix? a great fighter, a blooded one who has been marked by one of their kin (like lex in avp), a recurring champion from the gladiatorial combat? yautjas are impressed, respectful and some are even vying after your attention on the few occasions you’re allowed awake from the cryo sleep and wandering around the strange, deserted, hot world of theirs. their kin usually has a bias against ’oomans due to their race being resourceful and cunning. they’re just as smart as the yautjas, if not, even more. able to use whatever is around them for survival and able to keep going even after multiple injuries (bc adrenaline). they’re an annoying species and yautjas tend to stay away. a little bit less with you, though. they want to be in the presence of the undefeated champion of the gladiatorial combat, size you up and see if you are truly worth the heavy title you bear upon your meager ‘ooman shoulders

maybe one thing would lead to another or one had gotten interested in your strengths in the bedroom as well and that leads to a yautja receiving their first head and fingering. the moment you drop them to the ground and settle between their legs, the yautja is tempted to wrestle. it is a foreplay between their kin after all. but no, he was dealing with a ‘ooman right now and as excited he was about getting to the fucking, he was also curious. how do ‘oomans show affection? how do they mate? how do they carry their young? so many questions, so little time

they would stay down and obedient, an occasional curious thrills and crackles leaving their throat as their mandibles click and clack softly. mutually curious as well, you finally manage to take off their intricate and annoying loincloth like thing, dropping it to the ground. and the hum that escapes you is equally returned by the yautja as they watch, the soft clicking of their ever moving mandibles filling the silent room. a slit like opening. two of them, even, with what you assume is an asshole underneath them. rubbing the back of your finger’s knuckle over the one on top, you hear the slight rumble from their chest like a purr, taking it as a good sign

the slit on top is bigger than the one underneath. they’re much more harder and covered with protective shells and scales as well, rather then the second one underneath that seems more softer and gummy like a vagina. messing with the scaled one, you watch with an ever growing interest as the slit opens more and more before a cockhead is pushed out, followed by a second cockhead which was a little bit smaller. so, the yautjas have both anatomies huh? like certain animals and how their two cocks are kept inside a protective slit like some reptiles and lizards’

it’s bumpy, it’s ribbed, it even has little round shaped ribs on its sides too. such curious beings, how alike they could be to your kin but also so different. of course, there was much needed poking, prodding and an eager snooping around. two large uniquely shaped cocks and a vaginal opening as well as an asshole. interesting

hearing the impatient hisses of the yautja, you merely grumble under your breath, hissing back at him with annoyance upon being cut short of your little experiment. what do yautjas even do for pleasure anyways? do they fuck like humans do? must be it, right? at least they had the anatomy for it

the moment you get down on them, head between their strong, tight thighs and restless shifting body, a sound like a warning growl was heard before it was swiftly replaced by some soft noises like the purring of a cat. yautjas don’t know what blowjobs and fingering meant after all, their bodies prevented from such types of pleasure. so when your soft, small ‘ooman mouth took in the head of the bigger cock, the warmth around it felt like the yautja was melting in the fiery chasms of the many volcanoes of the yautja prime. it was soft, it was hot and it felt good. way too good to the point the creature was growling, groaning and even letting out odd hitched noises that you guessed was the closest to a moan

and when you put their entire dick into your mouth — with much anticipated gagging, choking and the constant wild bucks into your open mouth — deep throating the bigger cock while gently stroking their smaller cock using the slimy substance the tip oozed, the yautja has basically experienced heaven. the urge to just let go of ‘honor’ and ‘instincts’ and knot inside your warm, tight throat was strong. a deep, gurgly sound escaping them as their mandibles shook all over, unknowing of what to do when your free hand slipped further down and pushing your finger into their softer slit

if you thought the yautja was loud before, they were even louder now. constant, short little noises leaving them, rattling their huge body and even causing you to shake alongside as well. strong legs kicking and clawed hands tearing off the poor floor into shreds. it was a good feeling, the very best, even more than having a clan leader recognize them or hunting down the most honorable prey. ‘oomans’ hands and mouth felt good, they were amazing at fleshly pleasures and had the yautja acted on their interest in you a little bit earlier, they would have. they honestly should have because whatever you were doing to his poor life time long neglected dicks and gushing pussy were making the yautja feel odd. so so very odd. a tight coiling in their stomach, and they for a moment, thought you infected them with something

and then, the tight coils of his stomach is gone within a moment. a loud roar leaving the beast as their body went rigid like a spring, dreadlocks slipping into the floor in a heap as their legs even gave a little tremble. the tip lodged inside your throat twitched and shook, a thick substance filling up your mouth before you could pull it off, causing you to hack and cough out the strange liquid. it didn’t take long until their smaller dick was following along, spilling a smaller load into your jaws and chest, second slit tightening around your fingers as a soft, more thinner liquid like the one from his bigger cock coat your palm. all because your little ‘ooman fingers delved inside their cunt a bit further and seemed to have found a soft spot, loud roars and short breathy growls being switched to little cat like yowls. so, they were just as sensitive as humans, huh?

safe to say, the rumor of ‘oomans being extremely amazing at fleshly pleasures spread across yautja prime swiftly and before you know it, more and more yautjas are interested in a little endurance test with their longest reigning champion

[shin-thalia]

WARLORD PREDATOR ANALYSIS POST

Going incredibly public about my love for this guy. Even beyond HOW HOT HE IS!!, he's a great insight into Yautja culture AND Badblood Villainy. More below the cut

Wow. Oh my God. Cover them up.

BUT!!! SO SO SO COOL!!!

Wearing a YAUTJA SKULL for a mask?? It makes it look like he has six tusks in a few shots?? Also all of the spines, which are most likely Xenomorph in origin!??!

Not only does he get points for being badass, but he's also just really interesting. He taaaalks!! In Yautja language!! And it sounds so fantastic!!

A bit I love is how he seems to enjoy the final battle. He doesn't see the united efforts of our protagonists as particularly serious until they actually hurt him, which immediately motivates him to just overpower them both when he didn't before.

Not to mention the calm demeanor he has when he "loses". For what is most likely the leader of a clan of Badbloods, you'd expect him to have a massive tantrum when his precious prisoners/warriors get away..but nope.

He just walks up, watches them go, and then SICS A FLEET OF SHIPS ON THEM.

He isn't freaking out because he knows they can't escape. He's the damn Warlord.

Overall, 10/10. Love him. Also!! FIRST MAIN YAUTJA (who isn't a background clan member) TO SURVIVE THEIR FIRST FILM APPEARANCE!!!! LETS GOOO

They call him Grendel King.. does he need a Grendel Queen perhaps..

[whimsyvixen]

So I may have written a little something 😗👉👈....

ℝ𝕒𝕞𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕥 (short drabble)

Fic: Predator Killer of Killers

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Warlord Predator x Human Female Reader, Grendel King x Human Female Reader

Synopsis/Excerpt: You were not aware of the physiological changes in your body, so you were oblivious to their sudden interest.

WARNINGS/TAGS: NSFW, explicit content, dark themes, alien/human, teratophilia, size difference, ovulating, pheromones, choking.

A/N: I did very little to no research regarding the culture/mannerisms of yautja so I kinda just winged this one, you guys. I needed to get this idea out of my head, even if it was done poorly. It was haunting me for days! 😭 Enjoy! ✌️

As a human, you lacked the ability to smell any change in pheromones. This made it hard to distinguish moods and social cues amongst the yautja, a race of alien warriors that kidnapped you from earth and forced you into servitude weeks ago.

This developed sense of smell they possessed would soon be your damnation.

You were going about your duties when you spotted him. Flanked by his entourage of warriors, The Warlord Predator was a marvel to behold, his massive and scarred frame depicting a being with monstrous strength and power. You've seen him battle at the arena and witnessed his physical prowess amongst his clan. He was truly a force to be reckoned with. You moved out of the way, providing them a wide berth, sticking as close to the wall of the cave as you waited for them to pass. You swore you felt the ground tremble with each of the yautja's languid steps, the audible scrape of his jagged cape trailing behind him.

Unbeknownst to you, you had started ovulating that morning, your female pheromones running rampant in the air and causing the nearest males of the group to glance your way. You were not aware of the physiological changes in your body, so you were oblivious to their sudden interest.

Then the Warlord Predator caught a whiff of your scent and nearly snapped his neck to look back at you. His intense stare unnerved you, your body on edge as his eyes trailed over your feminine curves in a seemingly hungry manner. Thinking you must have done something wrong, you quickly lowered your head and tried to make yourself appear as small as possible.

Your heart kicked into overdrive the second he stepped towards you. Trying to calm your breathing was difficult, your eyes widening with terror when his sharpened feet came into view and you felt the heat emitting from his body. He was like a burning furnace, your body sweating from the close proximity of the menacing male. You could hear inquisitive clicks and low rumbles from him, his curiosity evident as he tilted his head to observe you carefully.

A sudden, musky scent attacked your senses. It was a scent unlike any other, earthy and... intoxicating. Before you could question it, you felt your mind turn heady as your senses grew lax with the powerful smell. It was like a drug, your mind losing any rational thought as the scent nearly suffocated you. No longer were you tense, waiting with baited breath if he would kill you. Instead, you lay back against the jagged wall and mewled when the male pressed himself eagerly against your smaller frame. Everything felt sensitive, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You nearly choked on your saliva when you felt the hardened bulge on his loincloth dig below your chest. Inhaling deeply, you let out a weak gasp at the deliciousness of his scent and felt your body react strongly in turn. The small nub between your legs pulsated so fiercely you had to clench your thighs together to alleviate the unbearable sensation.

"W-what are... you...doing to m-me..?" You breathed out the words. You shook your head to clear your mind, only to let out a groan when he forced a knee between your legs and had you straddle his thigh. It placed your naked vulva in direct contact with his reptilian-skin, your feminine juices soaking him in your scent and making him purr with satisfaction.

The yautja glances down at your half lidded eyes and panting mouth, eyeing the strings of saliva with rapt attention before grabbing you by the neck and lifting you close to his face. He was not gentle, nearly choking you to death and causing you to squirm in discomfort. You let out a pained whine, hoping to receive some mercy as he dangled you feet above the ground. His mandibles clicked with the movements of his growling mouth, his language undecipherable to your ears. In a chilling tone, the translator around your neck lit up with his response.

"What am I not going to do with you?"