Stolen Nectar

The Chase

@twobucksworld I hope this is more of what you wanted! I made sure to write more since I misinterpreted what you had originally wanted. This ~ means a POV switch, as I couldn't help but want to write in both the perspectives. The human male is a soldier stationed on a planet similar to earth and he wanders into a females territory. I hope you enjoy! CW: Fear, Blood, Percieved death, being chased, the wrestling move ‘Stinkface’.

The Yautja, though bipedal, was an expert on all fours. Should it need to run it just lowered its forepaws to the dirt and sprang away as fast as any wolf in the darkness. This was one of those times, accelerating on all fours toward a human foolish enough to be wandering by moonlight in her territory. She stops abruptly, her clawed foot scrapes over the jagged edge of a small cliff. With lungs full of this humid air her salty breath creates clouds of vortexes; while her head moves side to side to assess her territory. One would think she hasn't the brain for reason, but instead, simply a primal sense of rage twined with an indomitable will to survive. They wouldn’t be all wrong at least. Then she spots him, the rigged stature of the human male, a soldier of the Earth’s military with no weapon in sight- far to easy to be a real threat but an annoyance nonetheless. 

~

Through the darkness came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the boulder it stood on. They moved with a slight sway as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. The soldier stopped. The eyes did not, with rapid acceleration and a more bounding motion they came right for him. A string of curses unraveled from his tongue, like yarn unfurling, as the creature advanced. Every step it took rattled his bones and struck his heart. He tried to dodge a swing from its massive claws, but it struck his side and he tumbled into the dirt. All he could do was feel. Feel the cold ground pressed against his form, the heat from the pain, and the rhythm of his heart like a drum crescendoing down to a languid thump. The things nascent roar fills the space between my ears and speaks straight to my own primal center. Despite the ambient temperature, my skin is icy, all blood diverted to core organs.

That's when the adrenaline hits such a fever pitch that “freeze” isn't going to cut it anymore. Apparently “flight” is the new order of the day, but not slowly like a conscious choice. My legs explode into violent motion. The kick against the dirt and my fingers with dull claws scrabbling for purchase into the soil before I swivel onto my stomach and launch myself forward. My brain, barely registering what just attacked us, belatedly relays all information on the beast that attacked and I stumble on the words echoing through my mind. A Yautja. ~ She relished in the way the male scampered, ever amused by the show of dominance humans tried to give off while they were nothing more then sucklings just learning to crawl. This human, however, seemed inexperienced in even that and she could feel the amused chuckle leave her mandibles as she watched him disappear. She had laid her first strike, like feline playing with her prey she stood straight, keen eyes watching in the darkness as he disappears with a limp. The prey would be allowed to run if only to give him that hope of safety- this was just a game to her. She was no hunter by want or need, females of her kind never needed to prove themselves like the males. She would then descend to all fours, before bounding off after him, her own pounding heart echoing the thrill of the chase. She wondered for a moment what it felt like to be hunted by something like herself but made a click deep in her throat- she realized she didn’t care how he felt. He was in her territory, she would teach him a lesson all Yautja learn at a young age- do not enter a female’s territory unless you wish death. ‘The chase is only sport for me but means everything to you. For me, taking your life is just a small part of a wider game. I know you have been told that victory is assured for your side, it is, of course, a lie to bring hope where there should be none. You are in a dark cave being granted the illusion of light, no more. There is no spark of hope, there is no rescue coming, it's just me and you little rabbit. So run, let your whitetail bob high as you scurry to save your own skin. You aren't a hero, you are nothing, less than a cold raindrop on a scorching desert. What you bring will evaporate into the sky leaving the landscape unchanged, barren and desolate, a playground for my delight alone.’

~

He hides, quaking and sweating with fear as the footfalls tapper off into soft little pats on the ground. In the tall grass, pressed against the base of a tree with nothing but his weeping side; he wished to be anywhere else. In boot camp, demoted from his rank, which was clearly wrongfully given, and yelled at for his incompetence. He had seen the signs, the skulls, he should have known- but he half expected the tells of Yautja to be just that, tells. To be fiction spread around like campfire horror stories to new recruits to scare them into not sneaking off. But the shifting of branches above him with the accents of clicking had his heart stuttering in his chest. 

He would not suffer himself to look up, perhaps if he denied the thing any acknowledgment it would kill him quickly. It doesn’t. It drops before him, all rippling muscle and extended claws. It wore no armor, simple furs and beads- this one wore added fur on its chest and he realized it must be a female. A scientist once said they were more aggressive but rarely hunted- he must be lucky. She crouched down, far taller than any human he had ever seen, far taller than the pathetic 8 feet he thought her to be. Her head tilts and he swears she is speaking- he can’t clearly hear what language she speaks in over the sound of his own heartbeat and ragged breaths mixing into a funeral march in his mind. His eyes follow as she straightens, clenching her clawed hands to fists and he thinks she is readying a punch. ~ She watches him as he regards her with the horror all whelps experience when they first meet an angered female. She finds it amusing, humans truly are whelps compared to her species- it would be dishonorable to kill him while he did not even try to defend himself. But she never allowed anything to get away without punishment, without showing her complete dominance over others. She had claimed this forested part as her own and she knew how to disgrace any who she deemed unworthy of honorable death. She stalks forward, grabbing him by his shoulders and pulling a knife from her thigh. She gave an amused chuckle as he scrambled to push her away, now he fought. How pathetic. She slams the knife into the tree, catching his clothes and pinning him to the spot. She stepped back, releasing him and watching his declawed hands paw at the knife, knees slightly bent and he stared with wide-eyed horror up at her. She throws her head up, eyes still locked on his form before moving closer again. She then turns herself, pressing her ass to his face. For Yautja, to be shown this treatment was disgraceful and by the way, the male gave an anguished cry for mercy and he tried to claw at her hips, she knew her punishment was received. She stayed like that a moment longer before moving away, clicking as she turned back to him. Tears glistened his face as he gasped, body trembling like the whelp he was. She ripped her knife from the tree and he fell to the ground with a thud, slinking down back into the roots and earth to try and appear submissive. An annoyed click left her as she slides her knife back in its place, her back turned to him again. His cry as she did so had her chuckling, her hand moving in a flick motion to tell him to leave, he is of little importance to her. She then descended back to all fours, bounding forward through the tall grass soundlessly. She could feel herself purring, the omega having ignited something more carnal in her and she knew she would be visiting him again, if only to humiliate him further. ~

As he watched her disappear without a sound he realized she had been toying with him, allowing him to hear her to heighten his fear. He sobs, collapsing down into the soil and trying to regain himself as he fumbled for anything to defend himself. He had left camp for a smoke and piss, his pants soiled with his fear and his face burning in shame. He was close to camp again, he could hear the yells of his teammates and called back, using the tree to help him stand as he waved to their flashlights.

To add, this is the base drawing I used, I saw a few others animate stills from the comic so I figured I could do the same!

First attempt at animating, rn just focusing on lip-syncing lol https://www.instagram.com/p/B4GZ4YFDsUr/?igshid=p7695rzshu53

Reblog if you want your followers to ask you anything they're curious about.

When you get stuck on an invisible wall while gaming

V for Vendetta (2005) dir. James McTeigue

ʸᵉʰ

I also haven't really posted anything Lupin related I don't think? I know I reposted a bit of stuff, but I don't have it in my fandom list cause I'm still pretty new(that and The Quarry and Stardew Valley have consumed my soul so hyper fixation on those atm lmao)

Do you even ship for Lupin Characters? Even the first Characters?

Wym?

Like, ship as in ship them together? Cause nah, not really, I find a few characters attractive but I'm not super deep into the fandom atm

And if you meant simp, yes the detective (I can't remember how to spell his name) and Gerald, tho in a 'i hate him so much but also I wanna kiss his handsome face and I hate it's way lolol but I def don't knock anyone who likes him, his an interesting character and serves a really great parallel to Lupin!

how would the mtmte bots of ur choosing react to being called dad/mom?

Human Liaison!Verse because the concept has suddenly stolen my heart. ❤ I did a whole bunch of these (the officers, plus some more i thought would be brilliant) bc I got very big Brooklyn 99 Vibes(tm) from this one and that also gave me some Big Feelings.

Human!Liaison, distractedly: Oh, thanks Dad. Wait no-

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Rodimus: You got it, kid! [cheesy thumbs-up]

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Drift: No problem. Remember, dinner’s at seven. Mom (Ratchet) made lasagna.

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Magnus: [definitely not about to cry] I... you’re welcome, child... 

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Megatron: No.

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Swerve: Hey, no prob, squirt! Just, uhh, don’t tell uncle Magnus 'bout this, okay?

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Rung: Do you really think of me as a father figure, [Y/N]?

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Whirl: Got your back, punk. HEY EVERYBODY!! SEE THIS KID?! MY KID NOW. MESS WITH [Y/N], YOU ANSWER TO ME.

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Rewind: ...that is it, I’m adopting you. Have you seen your other dad? We need to have a chat. Domey? Hey, c'mere! You have to meet our new-

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Ratchet: I’m not your dad, kid.

First Aid, from the hallway: [Maury voice] YOU are NOT the father!

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Tailgate: [head pats] Of course, sweetie. Anytime.

Tailgate, running away: CYCLONUS!!! CYCLONUS WE’RE DADS NOW-

A Life Without Fear ft. Malborn

A/N: Got carried away with this, so it become a fic, lucky for you Malborn Anon.

- 

He’d forgotten how imposing she could be, unshrouded and unafraid of consequence. Her eyes shone in the dim, burning brighter than the candles that surrounded them, making his bones tremble no matter how hard he tried to hide his fear.

He never had been very good at that.

Please, help me, I don’t want to be like this anymore.

He’d begged, cowering at their feet. He’d barely set foot out of Windhelm when an assassin had thrown himself from their cover. If not for the vampire that stood before him, he’d be long dead, body ditched with no one to mourn or miss him.

I don’t want to be so afraid anymore.

He’d wept, and in the quiet of her home, she’d comforted him, gentle hands at his back and a soothing voice in his ear. She dried his tears, kissing them away in a manner that made him hot and breathless, he was weak to her, even if he went through with the turning he’d always be weak to her, and he was happy with that.

“Come to me, Malborn.” He shuddered at her voice, and for a moment he glanced at the door behind him, his last opportunity to live his life a mortal. A life of fear, flinching at every look he received, trembling too much to open a letter. The Thalmor haunted him, but she would keep him safe. She promised.

He stepped towards her, entering her arms with no resistance, the scent of death and decay surrounded her but still he buried his nose in her neck, desperate for the safety she provided.

“Strip.” And he did, all but his smalls lay on the floor as he climbed into bed with her, the sheets laying loosely at his hip whilst his head lay upon her breasts. There was no heartbeat, only the thrumming of her words as she spoke to him softly, praised him, lavished him, promises of a new tomorrow in absence of fear.

He couldn’t remember ever sleeping so soundly.

Morning should have come, but when he awoke he was greeted with night and the eyes of one unfamiliar. Ronthil, he’d introduced himself, a wood elf a tad shorter than he but a vampire that donned the same garb as the dragonborn. He sat with him through his first feeding, an ornate bottle of blood that coated his throat with copper, but even when he’d scrunched his nose in disgust his new friend had laughed, patting him on the shoulder as he spluttered. He’d left him to dress, new robes in a pale grey, he felt covered, armoured even, and for the first time in a while, he grinned, stepping from the room with confidence in his step.

It soon faded when he was faced with a portal, swirling blues that swallowed up his friend as he stepped through. He’d almost turned back until he heard her voice, calling to him, pulling him in. So in he went.

The castle was a level of grandeur he’d never known, and despite the eyes that watched him, he couldn’t remove his own from her. Draped in royal attire, she stood in the center, unobstructed and glowing in the light of the court. Her arms opened wide, and he found himself running to her, hugging her tightly around the waist.

When they parted, her hands held his face, fingers tracing the new grooves and hollows of his complexion. She kissed his forehead, and he knew he’d be safe here, with them, with her, no more running, no more fear.

In spite of undeath, in her halls, he’d never felt more alive.

My original ask was actually suggesting when she sits on his face it'd be with her butt. With more of a humiliation/claiming him as her's intent, rather than oral. Regardless, I still appreciate that you took the time to write this!

Ah! Well, expect a re-write then to be published soon! It may be published later on, as its past 2am for me but I will make another one :)