#male drider x female reader

[monstersholygrail]

Imagine giving your Drider bf affection and kissing every single one of their closed eyelids. Watching their purple blush grow deeper with each kiss. And when you finish you feel their pedipalps (partially used for holding prey) pull you in closer. Their blush still vibrant on their lovely face as they ask you shyly, "Can I have some more?"

Of course how can you deny them when they ask you so sweetly, responding with a soft, “‘Course, my love," before you lean in and pepper their face in a flurry of kisses. Matching smiles on both of your faces. Your sweet shy Drider bf making those rare chirping noises that have you giggling as you shower them in love.

It isn't until you feel a vibration shoot up your legs that you know your drider boyfriend is looking to mate. A second later and you're both meeting in the middle as your lips crash together in a searing kiss, those songful vibrations they send shooting straight up to your core.

[terato-is-life]

For a few of us, monsterfucking is never about kinking over some creature having you in all the ways possible.

It is about letting yourself being vulnerable and fragile and emotional with someone that's supposed to hurt and kill you, but instead just worships you and cares about you for being just like them:

Being shamed over the looks you've never asked for, but having the heart and sould only a few could understand.

Monsterfucking/Exophilia etc isn't just about an unusual kink.

It is OUR way of telling Beauty and the Beast, because we can see the good in them, because we all wanted for them to see the good in ours.

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Drider/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,430 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You're invited to a masquerade ball, hosted by the mysterious Lord Iskinder. A mysterious drider catches your eye, and it turns out that these two may have more in common than you think.

You stood at the edge of the ballroom hosted by the mysterious Lord Iskinder, the grandeur of the space unfolding before you like a scene from a storybook. Opulent chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their light cascading over the guests and illuminating the room with a warm, golden glow. The walls, adorned with golden tapestries and gilded mirrors, echoed the laughter and music that filled the air.

Around you, the guests danced, the epitome of elegance and grace, their masks glinting in the light from the tall windows. Feathers, jewels, and intricate patterns disguised familiar faces, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to the evening.

Your own mask, a delicate creation of lace and pearls, felt like a second skin, its design both concealing and revealing. It was a perfect blend of mystery and allure, designed to intrigue yet allow you to blend seamlessly into the crowd.

Iskinder lingered in your mind as you navigated through the throngs of dancing couples and clusters of chatting nobles. The ball was a rare occasion where the norms of society could be bent, where one could indulge in the freedom of anonymity.

Amidst the swirl of gowns and the soft rustle of silk, your attention was caught by a figure unlike any other. The mystery man was a drider of remarkable presence, standing on the fringes of the dance floor. His upper body was that of a man, his skin a rich, dusky hue that complemented his flowing black hair; but from the waist down, he was a creature of legend, his eight, elegant legs belonging to that of a pinktoe tarantula.

His mask, a masterful creation of silver and obsidian, framed piercing eyes that seemed to see through the frivolous facade of the ball.

The sight of him, so regal and otherworldly, sent a shiver of excitement down your spine. The ballroom, with its gilded opulence and the sea of masked faces, suddenly seemed to fade into the background. The air around you thickened with anticipation, the moment poised on the edge of something transformative.

The concept of a drider, those beings of legend and whispers, had always seemed like a fanciful tale to you, stories meant to entertain and intrigue. Yet, there he stood, living proof of their existence.

His presence in the heart of high society was as breathtaking as it was unprecedented, drawing curious glances and hushed tones from the surrounding guests. Despite their stares, none dared voice their wonder or disdain aloud; the drider's demeanor, poised and unyielding, commanded respect and held a challenge in its stead, as if daring anyone to question his right to be among them.

As your gaze met his from across the room, the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. His eyes, bright as molten gold, burned with an intensity that pierced through the sea of masks and whispered conversations. In that brief exchange, something sparked to life, fleeting yet undeniable.

A flush of warmth crept up your cheeks, and you found yourself looking away, overwhelmed by the sudden depth of emotion that single glance had evoked. Your heart fluttered like a caged bird. It was an unfamiliar sensation, this desire to know more.

When you dared to glance back, hoping for another glimpse of the drider who had so captivated your thoughts, you found only the swirling mass of guests. He had vanished, blending into the crowd with a grace and speed you hadn’t expected.

Seeking respite from the press of the crowd, you drifted towards the refreshments table, the drider man still rattling about in your mind. The clink of glass and the murmur of conversation was a welcome distraction.

As you reached for a glass, the animated voices of two women nearby caught your attention, their topic of discussion sending a shiver of curiosity down your spine.

"... and they say Lord Iskinder, the host of tonight's ball, hasn't been seen by anyone this evening. It's all so mysterious," one woman whispered, her voice pitched with curiosity. "In fact, few have ever seen him at all. Those who have are sworn to such secrecy that no one knows what he truly looks like."

The other woman leaned in closer, her interest piqued. "A reclusive lord hosting a grand masquerade? It's the perfect setting for him to wander amongst us unnoticed. The anonymity of the masks, the mingling of guests... it's all by design, surely."

Your curiosity, already kindled by the encounter with the strange drider, flared into a blaze. With a polite interjection, you joined their conversation. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly? Lord Iskinder has orchestrated this evening's affair yet remains unseen? How peculiar for a host."

The first woman nodded, her eyes alight with the thrill of gossip. "Indeed, it's the talk of the evening. A lord who is more shadow than substance, his presence felt but not seen. This masquerade could very well be his way of hiding in plain sight, observing his guests from behind the veil of anonymity."

The second woman added with a conspiratorial smile, "Some even speculate that the masquerade is a test of sorts, a way for Lord Iskinder to seek out those with a keen eye or perhaps a kindred spirit, without the constraints of societal expectations."

The idea that the elusive lord might be among the guests, shrouded by the anonymity of his own masquerade, sent a thrill through you. The possibility that the ball was not just a social event but a personal quest for the host, a search for connection amidst the pageantry, gave the night an air of unpredictability.

It was all so romantic, wasn’t it?

With a glass of champagne in hand, you retreated to a quieter corner of the ballroom, the golden liquid sparkling under the chandelier's light as you gently swirled the glass. The conversation with the two women lingered in your mind. The idea that Lord Iskinder might have been mingling among his guests incognito, perhaps even observing you at this very moment, lent an exhilarating edge to the night.

Your mind wandered back to the drider, whose presence had so captivated you earlier. If the women's musings held any truth, and Lord Iskinder was indeed among his guests incognito, then the appearance of such a rare and remarkable creature at the ball was no mere coincidence. Perhaps the drider was one of the lord's exclusive guests, a confidant or even a friend, invited to the ball for reasons known only to them.

With each sip of champagne, the possibilities seemed to expand, the boundaries of the ordinary stretching to encompass the magical and the unknown.

Your contemplation was abruptly shattered by a voice, soft like silk and honey. The unexpectedness of it sent a flutter through your heart, a sensation akin to the gentle touch of a butterfly's wing against your skin.

Lifting your gaze, you found yourself once again locked in the captivating stare of the drider from before. His molten gold eyes, gleaming with an inner warmth beneath the intricate mask, held yours in a gaze that was somehow both soft and so intense, it made your toes curl. The mask, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship, could not conceal the expressiveness of his eyes, nor the gentle curve of his lips that hinted at a smile.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked, his voice weaving through the din of the ballroom to reach you, clear and resonant.

The invitation, unexpected yet undeniably thrilling, sparked a mixture of excitement and apprehension within you. The thought of dancing with someone so fundamentally different, whose very form defied the conventions of the dances you knew, had your heart quickening in intrigue.

"I would be delighted," you replied, the words slipping out almost of their own accord, driven by the allure of the unknown. "Though, I must admit, I'm not entirely sure how to dance with... someone as unique as yourself."

His chuckle, a rich sound that seemed to resonate from deep within, was both reassuring and infectious. "Fear not," he assured you, a playful glint in his eyes. "When one possesses eight legs, one learns to make quite a few adjustments. I shall lead, and all you need to do is follow."

With swift grace, he offered you his hand, his movements as fluid and assured as they were gentle. As you placed your hand in his, the contrast between his strength and the careful tenderness of his touch was striking.

Together, you moved towards the dance floor, the thrum of anticipation building with each step. The crowd seemed to part for us, their curiosity mingled with an unspoken respect for the majesty of his presence.

As you reached the center of the dance floor, the music swelled, a lilting melody that seemed to wrap around you, inviting you to lose yourself in the rhythm. With a grace that took your breath away, he began to move, leading you into the dance with an ease that made your earlier apprehensions seem distant memories.

The world around you faded, the grandeur of the ballroom, the whispering guests, even the constraints of your own body seemed to dissolve in the magic of the moment. Iskinder's movements were a marvel, lithe legs strangely delicate. He was beautiful.

As the dance reached its crescendo, he executed a twirl, his movements orchestrating yours with such skill that you found yourself spinning, the room whirling around you in a blur of lights and colours. In that moment, suspended in the dance, you felt a joyous abandon that had your heart in your throat.

As the momentum of the twirl gently subsided, you found yourself momentarily unsteady, the world still spinning slightly around you. In an instant, one of the drider’ss slender spider legs moved to steady you against his chest. The unexpectedness of the gesture, the feel of his leg against you, might have startled you under different circumstances, but in that moment, it was nothing short of a saving grace.

"I do apologise," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that resonated through the close space between you. "I sometimes forget how... unconventional my form can be."

You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips, your heart still racing from the dance and the near fall. "No, I should be thanking you. Without your quick reflexes, I'd have been the evening's spectacle, tumbling across the dance floor."

The thought alone was enough to bring a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks, the imagined titters and whispers of the assembled guests a mortifying prospect. Yet, his next gesture swept away any lingering discomfort.

With a tenderness that took you by surprise, he reached up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The contact, brief though it was, sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

"You are quite a spectacle, though for entirely different reasons," he said, his voice low, imbued with a sincerity that made you lift your gaze to meet his. In the gold of his eyes, you saw a warmth, an admiration that held you captive, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you.

The air between you charged. There was a pull as undeniable as it was unexpected. You found yourself leaning in, drawn by a force you couldn't quite name, the distance between you diminishing with each passing second. The possibility of a kiss, the mingling of breath and the meeting of lips, hovered in the space between you, tantalizing and terrifying in equal measure.

As the reality of the moment, of the public setting and the eyes that might very well be upon you, crashed back in, you took a step back, breaking the spell. The loss of proximity felt like a cold draft, a reminder of the boundaries that society, and your own caution, imposed.

Sensing the shift, Iskinder's expression softened, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "Perhaps you need some fresh air," he suggested, his gaze searching yours for signs of distress.

You shook your head, the rapid beat of your heart beginning to steady once more. "No, truly, I'm fine," you insisted, though the lingering warmth of his touch and the nearness of what might have been left you feeling anything but settled.

Seeing the hesitation in your eyes, he proposed once more, his voice gentle yet insistent. "Perhaps a moment of fresh air would do you good," he suggested, his gaze holding yours with an intensity that made it difficult to look away. "And, should you wish for company, I could join you outside in a few moments. It might afford us the opportunity to converse away from the crowd."

The idea of retreating to the relative solitude of the gardens, especially in the company of such an intriguing figure, sparked a flicker of excitement within you. Yet, the impropriety of the suggestion, the departure from the strictures of decorum that such a meeting would entail, gave you pause.

Sensing your reluctance, he added, "At events such as these, draped in masks and shadows, propriety often takes a back seat to intrigue. We are all here to escape the mundane, if only for a night."

His words, spoken with a confidence that bordered on persuasion, tipped the scales. The allure of stolen moments under the cover of night, away from the prying eyes and whispered judgments of the ballroom, proved too tempting to resist.

Resolved to take a chance on the unexpected, you agreed to meet him outside. Yet, before you could part ways, a sudden thought struck you. "I realise I don't even know your name," you said, a blush colouring your cheeks at the oversight.

With a smile that was both enigmatic and disarmingly genuine, he replied, "My name is Lord Iskinder." The revelation, delivered with a flash of sharp, predatory teeth that glinted in the ballroom's light, sent a jolt of surprise through you.

Lord Iskinder. The enigmatic host of the ball, the subject of whispered speculation and rumour, stood before you, not just a figure of myth but a living, breathing presence.

As the significance of the revelation settled over you, Iskinder offered a nod of acknowledgment, as if he understood the weight of what he had just disclosed. Then, turning delicately, he turned and vanished into the crowd.

As you stepped out into the crisp embrace of the evening air a minute later, the gardens unfolded before you like a scene from a dream. The lawns were bordered by beds of fragrant flowers, their sweet scent mingling with the earthy aroma of the night. Lanterns hung from the boughs of ancient trees, casting a soft, dappled light that danced on the pathways, guiding your steps and painting the scene with an ethereal glow.

Ahead, a gazebo, draped in climbing ivy and delicate blooms, stood as a focal point within the garden's design. It was there, under its latticed roof, that you noticed two orcish women, their forms silhouetted by the lanterns' gentle luminescence. They were locked in an embrace, sharing a kiss as the shorter woman titled her head back.

The sight, tender and unabashed, stirred a curious longing within you, a whisper of wonder about the sensation of Iskinder's kiss, the press of his lips.

Lost in thought, you scarcely noticed the approach of a presence until it was nearly upon you. The air seemed to shift, charged with an anticipation that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Turning, you found yourself once again in the company of Iskinder, his smile ravishing.

Under the moonlight, he appeared transformed. The soft silver light lent an ethereal quality to his features, highlighting the angularity of his face and the deep pools of his molten gold eyes. His hair, a cascading waterfall of black, shimmered with a lustrous sheen. The spider half of his form, though shadowed, moved with a silent grace that was utterly mesmerising.

His voice, when he spoke, was a soft murmur that seemed to caress the night air, a contrast to the visual ferocity of his form. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," he said, his words tinged with warmth.

The sight of him, so formidable yet so gentle, made you squirm. The flash of sharp teeth as he spoke, far from deterring you, only served to heighten the allure. Gods, you wanted to kiss him.

As if attuned to your thoughts, Iskinder leaned in, his proximity erasing the remnants of the evening's chill. The scent of roses, a natural, earthy fragrance that seemed to emanate from his very being, mingled with notes of champagne. His hair brushed against your skin, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine.

The air between you was charged with anticipation, every breath you took laced with the promise of what might come. His eyes, glowing softly in the moonlit garden, held yours with an intensity that seemed to pierce through to your very soul. You found yourself caught in the gravity of the moment, the world around you narrowing to the space where you and Iskinder stood, teetering on the brink of a kiss.

Yet, just as the distance between you dwindled to nothing, as you braced for the contact you both sought and feared, Iskinder pulled back. The sudden absence of his warmth left you momentarily adrift, a silent plea on your lips. He didn't move far; instead, his hand found yours, his grip firm and reassuring as he led you deeper into the garden.

The path wound through the garden, each step taking you further from the ballroom's echoes and closer to a solitude you hadn't realized you craved. When you arrived at a secluded flower garden, embraced by latticed walls that seemed to hold the night at bay, Iskinder stopped. Here, surrounded by the gentle fragrance of blooms and the soft rustle of leaves, he turned to face you once more.

This time, there was no hesitation. Iskinder pulled you into his embrace, his arms encircling you with a strength that was both protective and inviting.

Then, he kissed you.

The kiss was everything and nothing like you'd imagined. His lips were softer than you'd expected, their touch igniting a fire that raced through your veins, leaving you breathless and wanting. The taste of him, masculine and sharp, was tempered by the sweetness of champagne on his tongue.

As Iskinder deepened the kiss, the world around you seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on yours, the gentle yet insistent press of his lips, and the intermingling of your breaths. The sharpness of his teeth grazed your lip in a fleeting caress, a thrill of danger that made you sigh almost wistfully.

Finally, necessity compelled you to break the kiss, the need for air pulling you back to the present. You were left breathless, your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue - you knew by how hot you felt, burning up.

Iskinder, ever attentive, placed a lingering kiss at the corner of your lips. His arm remained securely around your waist, sharp nails just grazing your hips.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, the words a tender echo in the secluded garden. The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell.

In a moment of boldness, fueled by the magic of the night and the undeniable bond you felt, you replied, "So are you, Lord Iskinder. Beautiful."

For a moment, Iskinder seemed taken aback, a bashful light touching his eyes. "People rarely call me beautiful," he admitted, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "Yet, coming from you, I believe it."

You reached up to flutter a hand across his cheek, where the cool mask met his skin.

As the night air began to cool, Iskinder pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Shall we go back? I find myself eager to dance with you again, under the watchful eyes of my guests."

The prospect of rejoining the throng of guests, of stepping back into the public eye where the magic of your secluded encounter might fade, filled you with a quiet disappointment.

“Can’t we just stay out here forever?”

Sensing your reluctance, Iskinder offered a compromise, his voice low and inviting. "If you would grant me the honor of your company tomorrow evening, you could return to my home. There, away from prying eyes, we could spend the night… just the two of us."

The invitation sparked a flame of anticipation within you. The promise of more time with Iskinder was an offer too compelling to refuse.

With a grin, you nodded - and stood on your toes to pull him in for one last, lingering kiss.

[rxptxr]

Drirders are fucking hot. Change my mind.

Imagine, a soft night with your loving drider husband, his long girth cock buried in your cunt/ass, the soft sounds of his, and your breathing mixing to create a soft ambiance. “Darling? How are you?” he asked softly and started moving just slightly, “I'm doing fine” you responded smiling, and he smiled back his back two legs holding onto the web on the wall of your bedroom, the middle two on your bed the front two cupping your cheeks. You smiled and cupped his cheeks. He smiled again and his hands rested on your hips his thumbs rubbing the skin of your hips. The night continued like this for the next few hours. After the final round, he got up and headed into the hole he made in the ceiling of the attic to grab a water bottle. He came back soon and smiled “Here my dear, drink this.” he said and kissed your forehead as you drank the water. He smiled and sat down next to you picking up the blanket and placing it over the both of you “Sleep well, darling” he said and you both drifted off to sleep.

Hey! Thanks for reading my short reasons for driders being the absolute best. Not prof read, need someone to do that-

[bunnis-monsters]

Legend of the Drider(Pt2)

Male!Drider x Fem!Reader

Kofi Request

Pt 1

summary: the aftermath of mating with the drider of myth

wk: 800+ words

Life with your drider lover was surprisingly… fulfilling,

After successfully being able to carry his clutch of eggs, he was happier than ever with you. Since mating with you, he had been treating you like a princess.

No… a queen.

Although he had already mated with you, the creature was a traditional man, going about the courting process one normally would in his culture.

The first thing he did was find an abandoned cabin. You needed somewhere safe and comfortable to live, especially as the fall started to change into the unforgiving winter. Being high up in the mountains meant it was rough, and he wanted his mate to be warm and happy while carrying his clutch.

The cabin wasn’t anything special, and you’d have to do some renovations before it would be livable. Thankfully your mate had collected many trinkets, coins, and random wallets containing large sums of money. It was a courting present to you, and it all went to repairing the cabin.

Once it was livable, he was determined to keep you under him and warm at all times. He was almost like a cat, trying to lay in your lap and rub his scent on you.

“Heavy…” you whimpered, causing him to slowly skitter back a bit. He lowered himself, sitting on the ground so his torso was level with you on the couch.

“Better?”

You nodded, kissing his cheek.

Sex was a common occurrence, and he had the strange urge to tie you up and stuff you full of more eggs. He knew you were already carrying his clutch, but the scent of your pregnancy hormones made him go wild.

Feeling his fangs press against your neck, you let out a soft mewl. He loved giving you a low dose of his aphrodisiac venom to make you squirm while he pushed his cock into you.

His hands stayed on your belly, rubbing gently while he kissed the bite marks he had left on your neck, lapping up the little pinpricks of blood.

“Such a sweet thing… how I adore you.”

He was soft and sweet with you, always making sure your pregnancy cravings were taken care of and you felt loved. His heart swelled with pride to see you so content and well taken care of, proving that he was a good mate and providing you with everything you needed.

It was easy to take your college classes online, and even though your lover got a bit sulky when you said you eventually wanted to follow your dreams and become a photographer, he did everything in his power to make it happen.

While your babies grew in your belly, your lover began producing tons of spider silk. He confessed that he learned to knit from one of the females, and started making little sweaters for all of your babies.

Some baby driders came out fully independent, which made you sad to think about. You had severe pregnancy hormones and you wanted to mother some baby spiders damn it!

He reassured you that his species required motherly care, and that because he had mated a human, the babies would be more human-like.

The cabin became less like a place to live in and more of a home. Your lover hunted at night, and slept through most of the day. He was such a clingy thing, curling with you and whining if you got up to pee at night. He hated being away from you for even a second… especially as his paternal instincts started kicking in.

Recently he had been aggressive towards any other creature that dared to come near the cabin, and started building a nest out of his silk webs so you’d have somewhere comfortable to give birth.

As your due date drew nearer, he grew more possessive and territorial, making sure to scent and mark you. It wasn’t often that you had any time for yourself, he was inconsolable when you experienced even the slightest pain.

“I don’t want you to be in pain, love. I’m so sorry, I know it’ll hurt to give birth… I wish I could make it all go away.”

He was with you for the whole process, his hand in yours as you gave birth to 3 healthy drider babies. They were small, with the cutest little spider legs and chubby cheeks. Each fussed and cried as they entered the world, already seeking comfort from you, their mother.

From that moment on, everything seemed to click into place. Your little ones nursed as you teared up a bit. You had brought these little ones into the world, and your lover couldn’t be more happy with it.

“Do you think I’ll be a good mother?”

Your question was met with a chuckle. Your love leaned down to nuzzle against you, his eyes half lidded with contentment.

“I don’t think so, I know you will.”

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[abbyfmc]

My Ideas for #YandereTober & Halloween:

You already read the title.

Yandere Immortal x Female Reader.

Yandere Kraken x Sailor or Pirate Reader.

Yandere Angel x Reader.

Yandere Demon x Reader(Human, angel or other demon).

Yandere Wendigo x Female reader.

Yandere Frankenstein monster x Female reader.

Yandere Scientific abomination x Female Scientist Reader.

Yandere Zombie x Survivor reader.

Yandere Parasyte x Female reader.

Yandere Dark king ghost x Urban explorer reader

Yandere Mad scientist x Subject of experiments reader.

Yandere Clown x Tourist Reader.

Yandere Master of ceremonies x Female Tourist Reader.

Yandere Freakshow x Female Tourist Reader.

Yandere Corpse Groom x Female Reader.

Yandere Drider or spider monster/abomination x Lost Explorer Reader.

Yandere Pirate x Mermaid Reader.

Yandere Vampire x Pregnant Human Reader.

Yandere Human x Angel (male or female) Reader.

Yandere Pumpkin Monster x Female Reader.

Yandere Priest or cultist x God/dess Reader.

Yandere Werewolf x Female reader.

Yandere Naga/Lamia x Fe/male reader.

Yandere Painter x Model Reader.

Yandere Wizard/Witch x Fe/male reader.

Yandere Scarecrow x Female Farmer Reader.

Yandere eldritch evil god x benevolent eldritch goddess.

Yandere serial killer(like a slasher) x Female Victim Reader.

Yandere Cannibal Family x Female Guest Reader.

Yandere Coraline (Concept).

Yandere Fairy.

[sorcerous-caress]

I’m a lesbian (tho gender is a bit Complicated so idk if I should call myself that) but I do love the idea of Minthara x male drow reader because the Forgotten Realms wiki describes a “functional” romantic relationship between a female and male drow as “a spoiled brat and her well trained, obedient dog” and this is fiction so 😌

Also the idea of him leaving the Underdark with practically an army at his back to find her, he’s scary and ruthless and commanding, but the second he finds her he’s just like “yes ma’am, whatever you need ma’am”

Anon we should trade braincells because this idea is fucking gold.

Drow Male Reader, who was just for her during her days in the underdark. Like any other servant Male in the Baerne house, battle runs through his blood, he was shaped by war.

Who Minthara claimed you as her prize from her first ever successful surface raid. Her red eyes landed on your figure between all of the other males and announcing to the matron of the house that she wanted ownership over you.

She was ruthless, never allowing you to show even a hint of weakness. Breaking and reforging you into the strong capable warrior that you are today. You were hers fully in body and mind, even after a full day of brutal training, she'd still expects you to be laying ready for her on her bed each night.

You've known her body more than she has, given her pleasure more than she thought was possible. You've made it your sole purpose to memorise and trace every curve and mole on her painting of a body.

Part of the reason she kept around for so long was because she could see clearly how determined and willing you were to serve her. While other princess switched males every other month like toys, Minthara has always made it clear that you were off limit. That you belonged to her.

You've never betrayed her, even with the pathetic attempt of the uprising happened you still stood by her side. Watching the other males be cursed into driders without even a hint of sympathy for them, to you they deserved a worse fate for even thinking they could lay a finger on your mistress.

So imagine when in one of her raids, a one she refused to take you on, saying how it would be a matter of a couple days at most before her return, she never comes back.

You're restless, barely even acknowledging your own statues as you march into the matron hall and voice your concerns for Minthara. Ready for whatever punishment your disrespect will ensure if it meant you get your lover back.

Somehow, through various methods of blackmail, backstabbing and even begging or seducing, you accumulate a big enough army to march it into moonrise towers. Having sniffed information from some half-orcs your intel kidnapped and tortured.

Not even the shadowcurse deters you from moving forward, even when half of your army dies or flees in cowardness.

Fate has it that you manage to infiltrate the tower and be at the perfect spot to be able to view her argument with Ketheric. That fucking male faerie who dared to sit down on a throne whole your Mistress stood. That sorry excuse of a walking corpse that dared to threaten her life and make her argue for it.

Immediately after it ends, you signal for your remaining army to march into the tower. Hundreds of drow warriors emerging from the Shadows as they clash with the absolute followers.

You don't care for them or their lives, your main objective is to get to your Mistress and get her to safety.

In the aftermath, when it ends, when it's just the two of you in a far away camp safe from the shadowcurse. You kneel against her legs as you offer your apologies for taking so long, she pats your head, spreading her legs to make space for you.

And like any loyal dog you immediately obey and sit on the floor between them, your head on her thigh as she holds your face with her hand.

An unspoken trust between the two of you.

[yanphobia]

Cleithrophobia - Chapter 11

Cleithrophobia: The fear of being trapped.

Pairing: Yandere Male Drider OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, Spiders, NonCon Touching, Possible NonCon (depending on reader's interpretation), Implied Female Reader (although it doesn't really factor too heavily into the plot), Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 10 Index

Author's Note: Aaaand that's a wrap! I was going to wait until next week to post this, but you've all been so good waiting for updates that I thought you deserved to get it early. It's been so much fun starting this blog and seeing your reactions to the new chapters, and I can't wait to get started on my next story. I have a few ideas bouncing around, so stay tuned! But in the meantime, enjoy the final installment of our angry spider man!

This story was inspired by cobalt-sphinx's Drider x Reader from Quotev.

You didn't die that night; no. Death would’ve been kinder. 

Every waking moment, the events of that night haunted you. Every time you fell asleep, it was as though you were reliving it all again. 

Mars hadn’t let up the second you fell into his den. You tumbled down the tunnel that would be too steep to ever climb out of and slammed against the cold ground of the hollowed-out nest below, dimly lit with the lantern you had left in your meeting spot earlier in the night. The impact caused you to lose your breath, but almost immediately he was lifting you up again, roughly shoving his tongue down your throat as you weakly attempted to push him away. 

Then he carried you to the newly laid webs in the corner... you shut your eyes. You didn’t want to remember what happened next. 

But even now, you could still feel his hands ripping through your clothes, shredding them and leaving you in your most vulnerable state. You could feel his fangs tearing through the soft, delicate flesh of your body, the wet sound of his mouth slurping up your blood in between his loud proclamations of hate. Your voice was gone from all of the screaming, and crying, and begging for mercy, and you weren’t sure how often you passed out only to wake up again in the throes of your torture. 

He had left no part of you untouched, unviolated, and you haven’t seen him since. 

At some point, you had woken up to find him gone, and although it was impossible to tell how long you’d been here, it had to have been at least a few days. You were forced to lie there, starving and weak in a pool of your own blood and waste, as you fought with yourself to maintain your sanity. There was something inside of you, some weak desire to escape from the hell you’ve been subjected to, that was keeping you alive.  

It was quiet, but eventually you heard the scratching of his legs against the dirt walls of the tunnel. He stopped when he reached the bottom, no doubt confused by the darkness of the den. You couldn’t bear to look at your injuries anymore, and over the course of a few excruciating hours you were able to roll over and turn the lantern off. 

“This,” he said, as you heard him approach, “was supposed to stay on!” 

The lights flickered on and you saw your captor’s irritated face, which quickly turned to surprise. It would’ve been almost comical, if you had the heart to laugh. The two of you looked each other over, him, holding the corpse of a goat by its broken neck, and you, looking like a prey animal that had met a much slower end. As he took you in, his confusion turned to an obvious disgust, and the embarrassment and shame you felt at your current state overtook you. 

“...” 

“They’re infected.” You were quick to explain. “The wounds, they’ve, uh... they’re festering. They need to be treated.” 

It was awful and seeing them again was nothing short of nightmarish. There had been nothing here to clean them when they were fresh, and you wouldn’t have had the strength to do so anyway. In your solitude, you slowly watched as the area around the lacerations swelled and reddened, while a thick, foul-smelling pus leaked out of them. They burned and the redness spread around your body, along with the fever that’s been plaguing you ever since. Your skin glistened with sweat as you watched your skin begin to yellow, and then blacken, shriveling away to reveal the deep-seated fascia and layers of fat underneath. You laid there in agony as your condition worsened, all the while remembering your readings about the necrotizing properties of spider venom.  

You were rotting away, from the outside in. 

“Please...” you begged, your voice so weak and pathetic sounding that it only embarrassed you further. “Please, let me go. I just have to... have to treat it. I have to go to a hospital.” 

He remained unimpressed. “Do you really think that will work on me?” 

“I’m serious!” You begged. “I’ll do anything... I’ll come back the second that I can. But I can’t put it off any longer...!”  He eyed your injuries again, observing old blood stains on the webs underneath you. The smell was nauseating, and perhaps that was what made him compromise. 

“I’ll get you water-” 

“No! Water would not do anything at this point, not this far along.“ The only thing that could save you now was a clean environment, with plenty of antibiotics, steroids, skin grafts. 

“Please,” you tried again, “I swear to you that I will come back. I’ll die if I don’t!” 

“You’ll die?!” He scoffed. “What do you think I do every day? How do you think I feel, knowing that you’re here, wanting to be close to you, but then remembering all of the shit that you did to me?! What I suffer, [Y/N], is a fate worse than death, and all of it is because of you.” 

He leaned closer and held up the dead goat. 

“This-” he said, shaking it in front of your eyes, “is what I’m supposed to be. An apex predator, one that listens to no one, especially not a useless human like yourself!” 

And with that, he tore into its flesh. He maintained eye contact with you as you watched the meat of its body break down and liquify. You imagined yourself in the later stages of your necrosis, with your internal organs falling apart the same exact way.  

You didn’t have it in you to be sick anymore. You were too numb. As you watched Mars devour his meal, you realized that this was the exact fate that you deserved. For all of the things that you’ve done to the people you claimed to care about. For Laura, Stan, and Shadow, whose deaths you had caused. You could never be allowed to make a full recovery, physically or mentally, because you have not earned it. 

You sighed, closed your eyes, and waited for nature to take its course. 

--- 

Mars stared down at your unconscious form. You hadn’t been responsive for a few days, and he had lost the last of his patience. He knew, in his heart, that you were being dramatic, that your injuries THAT HE INFLICTED UPON YOU were not nearly as bad as you claimed. He even cleaned your wounds for you, scrubbing them down using water from a nearby pond YOU’D TOLD HIM WATER WAS NOT ENOUGH TO HEAL YOU and the scraps of your old shirt. 

He’s done everything he could NO HE HASN’T but you still refused to wake up. 

“Hey.” He barked out. Silence. 

“HEY.” This time he kicked you. Again, silence. 

He knelt, taking one of your hands in his. He briefly glanced over the withered, blackened fingertips and yellowed, peeling nails, before biting into your cold palm. Blood gushed from the puncture, and he waited intently for you to wake up screaming, but he was still met with silence. 

He stood and dropped your hand, which fell listlessly to the ground, and licked your blood from his lips. It was off, somehow, extremely sour and not at all as warm and sweet as it used to be. 

His hands raked through his hair as he thought to himself. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what a rotten carcass looked like, he had seen them many times out in the woods. But you weren’t dead. You couldn’t be. 

Slowly, he approached you again, and even slower, he lowered his ear to the marred flesh above your heart, ignoring the bit of yellow puss that rubbed off onto his cheek. 

A heartbeat. He could barely feel it, much less hear it, but it was still there. He looked again at your disfigured face, at the deep cuts in the muscles that so closely resembled the raw meat that you used to bring to him. 

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what a creature in its final moments looked like. 

--- 

You had no way of feeling your naked body being wrapped in a dirty threadbare blanket, or the night’s cool air on your face. You couldn’t feel the way it rocked back and forth as it was carried through the forest. You couldn’t feel it being propped up against the wooden balusters of a front porch, either. 

You could, however, hear a voice pulling you back from the darkness that you had been lost in. 

“Alright, you’ve won.” It said. It kept tugging on the fabric around you. Adjusting it. 

“I’ll take your previous deal.” 

When a star is about to die, it receives one final burst of energy before it diminishes completely. Why that was the first thought you had as you mustered up the strength to open your eyes... you could not tell. 

Your vision was blurry, and in your left eye it was almost entirely gone. You didn’t have a way to see how milky and deteriorated it had become. But somehow, you were able to make out a few pairs of red eyes staring at you, and a wide, thin mouth which revealed black fangs when it spoke next. 

“Go, then, to your little human hospital and sort all of this out. And then afterwards – immediately afterwards – you'll come home again. Don’t... don’t you di-” 

His voice caught in his throat, then he huffed in annoyance. 

“Don’t you try to screw me over, okay? I’ll know if you try to get out of this one...!” 

He stood up then, seemingly miles above you, and gave one final warning: 

“Go there and come right back, [Y/N]. Just like you promised.” 

Your eyes began to defocus as you heard him bang loudly on the front door and run away, into the pitch-black forest behind you. The door opened, and you heard the woman’s voice change as she processed the macabre scene before her. 

“Hello? What is...? Oh... oh my God! Kids! Brandon, Kayla, get in your rooms! Get in them, right now! Charlie, I – Charlie, call 911! You- hey... are you alive? ...Listen, we’re going to get you help! We’re calling an ambulance! Just... just stay awake, alright? Just don’t fall asleep...!” 

You held on to her words as much as you could. Deep down, you still felt the animalistic urge to continue living. No, a part of you still wanted to believe that you could get through to the other side of this, as little as you may deserve it. But as your eyelids pulled themselves closed, and as you felt your conciousness begin to slip, you weren’t so sure that you had the strength to hold on anymore... 

THE END.

[comewithmeintothedeep]

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[monstersandmaw]

Hi! So this Ask is kinda inspired by a Dream I had. Mostly SFW, but it could have NSFW if you want. Basically, Male Drider x Reader (I'd prefer Female, but it's your choice) where Drider has lots of little siblings (because spiders have so many children per egg sac) and is in need of a Caretaker for them. (Maybe not too many, like 5 or 6 younger siblings?)

Reader sees the ad listing, or is recommended by a friend, either way they get the job. They grow close with the kids and with the Drider, maybe some angst with Arguements about the kids or the Drider being romantically involved with someone else for a time?? But it all ends relatively happy for the both of them.

(For a more NFSW approach tho, the Drider having a Breeding kink after seeing how well the Reader acts as a Parental/Mother figure to his younger siblings?? I'm not sure if your universe has Humans and Driders as Compatible when it comes to having kids, but again, its up to you)

Hope your day is going well! Lots of Love!❤

My free story requests and commissions are currently closed (see my blog header for their current 'status'), so if you were hoping I'd write this for you, I'm sorry I'm not able to do that, but I do think the premise is cute. Perhaps if you share it with @monsterkinkmeme then someone might be inspired to write it for you.

[ghostlyforxst]

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[terato-is-life]

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[mxnsterbabe]

Male Drider/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,910 Tags & Warnings: character of colour (reader & monster) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You own a dance school and have one especially unusual student - a clumsy drider who loves human culture.

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden glow through the large windows of Rae's dance studio. She smiled as she watched some of her students chat; Kamaria was putting on her shoes, pausing to laugh in that pitched, gnollish way when Andromeda said something silly.

The studio was a sanctuary, a place where music could chase away the worries of the day. Rae's students were a diverse group—humans, elves, tieflings, a gnoll, and even a cyclops—each bringing their unique flair to the dance floor. She loved the mix of cultures and styles, finding joy in helping each person find their rhythm.

As she was about to start, the door creaked open, catching her attention. Rae glanced up to see a towering drider hesitantly entering the studio. The rest of the class turned their heads in surprise. It wasn’t every day that a drider joined a dance class.

The human half of the drider was a lean, tall man with richly dark skin several shades darker than her own, and striking grey eyes. His hair was tied in a haphazard bun, a few braids hanging loose. His spider half was equally impressive, a sleek black with a hint of iridescent sheen that caught the light.

Rae felt a jolt of nervousness, unsure how to teach someone with more than two legs.

He approached her, his many legs moving in unison. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice deep and calm. “My name is Amandi.”

Rae took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “It’s alright, Amandi. Welcome. I’m... I’m glad you’re here. Why don’t you find a spot and we’ll get started?”

Amandi nodded, moving to an empty space near the back of the room. The rest of the class whispered among themselves, glancing curiously at the new arrival. Rae clapped her hands to get their attention. “Alright, everyone. Let’s start with our warm-ups.”

She led the group through a series of stretches and basic movements, her eyes constantly drifting to Amandi. His upper body moved fluidly, mimicking the steps with surprising grace, but his lower half struggled to keep up. The floor seemed too slippery for such slender legs, and his delicate spider feet were bare. She could see the frustration in his eyes, and her heart went out to him.

As Rae moved on to the main routine, she couldn’t shake her apprehension. How could she adapt her instructions for someone with a completely different body structure? The thought was daunting, but she reminded herself that everyone deserved the chance to learn and enjoy dancing.

“Alright, let’s try the first sequence,” she said, demonstrating the steps. The class followed her lead, their movements in sync. Amandi tried his best to keep up, but his many legs seemed to get tangled, causing him to stumble.

“Okay, everyone take five,” she called, giving the students a break.

A few glanced Amandi’s way as he tried to regain balance. He ducked his head in embarrassment, brows scrunched in frustration.

“Hey,” Rae said softly, approaching him. “You’re doing great. It’s just... maybe a learning curve, you know?”

Rae could see the tension in Amandi’s eyes, and she wanted to ease his worry. “You know,” she said softly, “street dance is all about expressing yourself and having fun. It’s not just about perfect movements. It’s about feeling the music and letting it guide you. You’re doing great, really.”

Amandi’s lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Rae. That means a lot.”

She nodded, encouraged by his positive response. “Let’s head back to the class and try again.”

They rejoined the rest of the group, and Rae resumed the lesson. She demonstrated a basic move, breaking it down into simple steps: a bounce, a slide, and a quick step to the side. The students followed along, their movements tentative.

Amandi tried his best to keep up, but his numerous legs seemed to have a mind of their own. He bounced too high, slid too far, and his steps were more like stumbles. The other students couldn’t help but steal glances at him, their concentration wavering.

“Alright, let’s put it all together,” Rae called out, her voice bright and encouraging. She started the music, a lively hip-hop beat that filled the studio. “Five, six, seven, eight!”

The class moved as one, their bodies finding the rhythm. Kamaria’s gnollish laugh rang out as she nailed the slide, and Andromeda’s wings fluttered slightly as she spun with ease. Amandi’s movements were still uncoordinated, his legs tangling beneath him.

“Focus on the beat,” Rae encouraged. “Feel the music.”

The distraction Amandi caused was painfully obvious. Students glanced his way, their own steps faltering. Amandi, determined but struggling, misstepped and stumbled forward, all eight legs skidding on the polished floor. He crashed into the mirrors with a loud thud, and the music came to an abrupt halt.

Rae rushed over, her heart in her throat. “Amandi, are you alright?”

He looked up, embarrassment and frustration etched on his face. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice strained.

The rest of the class had gathered in a concerned circle, their earlier amusement replaced by sympathy. Rae helped Amandi to his feet, her touch gentle but firm.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said softly, meeting his eyes. “We’ll find a way to make this work for you.”

Amandi nodded, though his expression was still clouded with doubt. The rest of the class murmured their support.

Rae felt a surge of determination. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but she was committed to helping Amandi find his place in the dance.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Rae announced to the group. “We’ll come back and try again next week.”

The students began to file out, murmuring amongst themselves. Rae could hear snippets of their conversations. Kamaria, always the most outspoken, paused by Amandi on her way out.

“You know,” Kamaria said, her gnollish voice soft and encouraging, “I was just the same when I started. Couldn’t get my legs to cooperate at all. I got the hang of it, and so will you.”

Amandi managed a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Kamaria.”

With Kamaria’s encouragement, the rest of the students offered nods and murmurs of support before heading out. The studio gradually emptied until it was just Rae and Amandi left. 

Rae approached him, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the lingering embarrassment in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry,” Amandi said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. “I didn’t mean to disrupt the class.”

Rae shook her head, stepping closer. “You have nothing to apologise for, Amandi. This is new for both of us, and it’s going to take some time to figure out what works. I’m just glad you’re here and willing to give it your all.”

She reached out and touched his arm, her fingers brushing against his smooth, dark skin. She couldn’t help but notice how lean and slender he was, his human half exuding a quiet strength. Her eyes drifted to his spider half, which seemed almost delicate despite its size. The sleek black legs shimmered in the low light.

Amandi looked at her, grey eyes sparkling. “Thank you for being so understanding. I know I’m not exactly built for this.”

Rae’s heart warmed at his words, and she found herself drawn to his sincerity. “You’re determined and passionate, Amandi. That’s what matters most. The rest will come along on its own.”

She smiled at him, feeling an unexpected flutter in her chest. There was something incredibly endearing about his shy smile. She admired his willingness to step out of his comfort zone and try something new, despite the obvious challenges.

“You really think I can do this?” Amandi asked, his voice soft and uncertain.

“I know you can,” Rae replied firmly. With a final, reassuring smile, Rae squeezed Amandi’s hand gently. “See you next class?”

Amandi nodded, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I’ll be here.”

***

The following week, Rae arrived at the dance studio earlier than usual, wanting to prepare for the evening class. To her surprise, Amandi was already there, standing near the entrance with a bashful yet determined expression on his face.

“Hey, Amandi,” she greeted him warmly. “You’re here early.”

He nodded, his grey eyes reflecting a quiet resolve. “I wanted to get some extra practice in before class. I’ve been working on the steps over the weekend.”

Rae’s heart swelled with admiration. “That’s great! Let’s get started then.”

They moved to the center of the studio, and Rae began demonstrating the steps they had worked on last time. Amandi followed her lead, his movements still a bit awkward but much improved. His upper body moved with more fluidity, and his spider legs seemed more coordinated, albeit still with the occasional stumble.

As the rest of the students trickled in, Rae couldn’t help but watch Amandi from the corner of her eye. His lean muscles flexed with each movement, his concentration etched onto his features. He really was striking, dark skin glistening with sweat.

“Alright, everyone, let’s start with the basics again,” Rae announced once the class was assembled.

A few students groaned, particularly Andromeda, who rolled her eyes. “Do we have to? It’s so easy.”

Rae smiled, her tone firm but kind. “Yes, we do. It’s important to master the basics. Trust me, it will make everything else easier in the long run.”

She glanced at Amandi, who gave her a grateful smile. He was clearly more comfortable and confident than he had been the previous week. They began the routine, Rae leading them through the steps slowly at first.

As the music played, Rae found herself continually drawn to Amandi. His determination was evident in every move he made. The lines of his lean muscles were pronounced under his smooth, dark skin, and his spider half moved with a fluidity that hinted at countless hours of practice. There was a grace to him now, a confidence that was beginning to shine through.

“Great job, everyone,” Rae called out, watching as the students repeated the steps in sync. “Let’s try it a bit faster.”

The class picked up the pace, and Rae’s heart swelled with pride as she watched Amandi keep up. He still had moments of clumsiness, but they were fewer and farther between. His improvement was undeniable.

She moved around the room, offering pointers and encouragement. When she reached Amandi, she placed a hand on his arm to correct his posture. His skin was warm under her touch, and she felt a slight shiver run through her.

“You’re doing really well, Amandi,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “Just remember to keep your shoulders relaxed. You have six extra legs to contend with; try to move them in sync.”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “Thank you, Rae. I’ve been practicing a lot. I really want to get this right.”

As the class continued, Rae found it increasingly difficult to focus solely on the routine. Her thoughts kept drifting to Amandi, to the way he moved, the way his determination shone in his eyes. There was something incredibly attractive about his dedication and the quiet strength he exuded.

When the class finally came to an end, Rae gathered everyone for a quick debrief. “Great work today, everyone. I know it can be frustrating to go over the basics, but it’s essential for building a strong foundation. I’m really proud of the progress you’ve all made.”

As the students began to disperse, Rae lingered, her gaze once again finding Amandi. He was talking to Kamaria, who gave him a friendly pat on the back before heading out. Rae approached him, her heart racing slightly.

“Amandi, you were fantastic today. I can see how much effort you’ve put in, and it’s really paying off.”

He smiled, a hint of bashfulness returning. “Thanks, Rae. I’m just trying to keep up with everyone else.”

“You’re doing more than that,” she replied warmly. “You’re becoming a great dancer.”

He smiled; tentative, bashful. “I might have been practicing over the weekend,” he admitted. “By the way, how are you getting home?”

“I drive. I could give you a lift, though…” Rae trailed off, cheeks warming. “Though I don’t know if you’d fit in my little Nissan.”

“Oh, I only live around the corner anyway. Can I walk you to your car?”

Rae tried to ignore how her heart fluttered at the offer. As if she would say no.

They walked out of the studio together, the cool night air refreshing compared to the warmth of the studio. As they reached the parking lot, Rae approached her car and fumbled for her keys, only to find that the engine wouldn’t start. She tried a few more times, but the car remained stubbornly silent.

“Looks like I’m not going anywhere tonight,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat.

Amandi stepped closer, concern etched on his face. “Do you need help?”

Rae shook her head. “It’s too late to call a repair shop. I’ll just have to figure it out tomorrow.”

“Where do you live? I could walk you home,” Amandi offered, his voice gentle.

Rae hesitated for a moment, but the idea of walking home with Amandi was strangely appealing. “Are you sure? It’s a bit of a walk.”

“I don’t mind,” he replied, his tone sincere. “Besides, it’ll be good exercise.”

Rae smiled, grateful for his kindness. “Alright, I’ll take you up on that..”

They set off, the quiet streets bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. The city had an almost magical quality after dark, and Rae found herself enjoying the peacefulness. 

They walked in comfortable silence, their steps in sync,

After a while, Rae felt the urge to break the silence. “You know,” she began, her voice light and teasing, “I think you’re going to be the star of our class soon.”

Amandi chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I doubt that. I’m just trying to keep up.”

Rae felt a flutter in her chest at his humility. “Well, I think you’re amazing; and not just because of your dancing.”

He glanced at her, his grey eyes curious. “What do you mean?”

Rae hesitated, feeling her cheeks warm. “I mean... you’re determined, kind, and... well, you’re a great guy.”

Amandi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? But… why?.”

Rae stopped walking, turning to face him fully. She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing his arm. “You’re unique, Amandi. I find that incredibly attractive. Your strength, your grace, and the way you light up when you talk, it’s all so captivating.”

Amandi’s gaze softened, and he took a small step closer. Rae could feel the heat of his body, his hard muscle beneath his t-shirt. Her heart raced, and she felt a heady mix of excitement and nervousness.

“I... I never thought anyone would see me that way,” Amandi said quietly, his voice filled with wonder.

Rae smiled, her fingers tracing the lines of his lean muscles. “Well, I do.”

In the soft glow of the night, she could see the warmth in his eyes, the flicker of something deeper. She leaned in, her breath hitching as she closed the distance between them. Amandi’s lips met hers, tentative and soft at first, but growing bolder as the kiss deepened. She felt the gentle clink of his fangs against her own teeth, and shivered.

She pressed closer, her hands resting on his shoulders. She could feel the strength in his lean body, the delicate yet firm hold of his arms as he wrapped them around her.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together. Rae smiled, her heart pounding. “I think you’re amazing, Amandi,” she whispered.

Hand in hand, Rae and Amandi walked the remaining distance to her home. The night felt alive with possibilities, the air humming with promise. Rae’s heart raced, her thoughts a delightful jumble of excitement and anticipation.

As they reached her front door, she turned to face Amandi. His eyes, striking grey, held a softness that made her feel cherished. She soaked up his presence.

Then, with a bashful smile, Amandi leaned in. His lips brushed hers gently, a tender, almost hesitant kiss that spoke of his growing affection. Rae responded, deepening the kiss, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment. Her hands rested on his shoulders, feeling the lean strength of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

When they parted, he was beaming. “Rae,” he began, his voice soft and sincere, “would it be alright if I took you out sometime? Maybe for dinner, or a walk?”

Rae’s heart skipped a beat. “I’d love that, Amandi,” she replied, her smile matching his. “Although, you do realize the dance class will be talking about us. They love some romantic gossip.”

Amandi laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Yeah, I figured. Sorry.”

Rae shook her head, her smile widening. “I’m not sorry at all.” Then, “thank you for walking me home,” Deft fingers traced the underside of his jaw, along his clicking mandibles.

“It was my pleasure,” Amandi replied softly. “I’ll see you soon, Rae.”

“I can’t wait,” she replied, her heart full.

With a final, lingering smile, Amandi turned and walked away, leaving Rae standing at her door, her heart brimming with anticipation. She watched him until he disappeared into the night, the memory of his lips still lingering on her skin.

[darksfantasyworld]

Welcome to my blog!

I'm not new to Tumblr, my previous blog just got deleted, sadly. You can call me Dark, I go by any/all pronouns (he/him, she/her, they/them). But I was born a female.

On my previous blog I mainly wrote straight (male x female) smut but I can write gay or lesbian smut as well. I also write some trans smut ideas since my boyfriend (who I called Pup on my previous blog) is trans.

Kinks I'll write;

CNC/R•pe (including things like free use and fake safe words)

Bondage

Breeding

An•l

S&M

Forced detrans and forced trans

Misogynistic and patriarchy stuff

Non human anatomy (knots, penile spines, etc)

Watersports (pissplay)

Wax and/or ice play

Size difference

Fauxcest

Age gap/play (18 is as low as I'll go)

Pet play

Weapon (🔪/🔫) play

Multiple people (3some, gang b•ng/r•pe)

Intox

And so much more!!

Kinks I won't write;

Scat

Vomit

Rimming/An•lingus

Child (17 and younger) x adult (18+)

Actual/biological family x family

Creatures I'll use (I'll have to expand on some of them later on);

Werewolves (the largest [6'1-6'9] canine beastmen, extremely possessive over their mates but still able to sorta share, largest knots, only canine beastmen with different forms)

Wolfboys/wolfgirls (smaller than werewolves [5'10-6'0], the pack works together but can be possessive over mates)

Dogboys/doggirls (smaller than werewolves and wolfboys [5'4-5'9], a lot more fights over dominance)

Puppyboys/puppygirls (much smaller [4'8-5'3] and more submissive than other canine beastmen, higher libido, smallest knots for continuous intimacy)

Catboys/catgirls (many different types [Lions/lionesses, tigers, panthers, and more "domestic" cat breeds like siamese, tuxedo, and tabby] with penile spines and/or knots [can have both]. A few different sizes [5'6-7'3], height all depends on their breed/type)

Kittenboys/kittengirls (smaller feline beastmen [4'8-5'5] same types as regular catboys and catgirls, minus large breeds [Lions/lionesses, tigers, panthers, etc] penile spines or knots [can't have both])

Driders (6'0-12'0 spider-human hybrids, MtF driders can have a surgery so they can lay egg sacks inside of people rather than using semen to reproduce, FtM driders can have a surgery to remove their ability to lay egg sacks and instead are able to reproduce with semen)

Demons (many different demons including my own versions of the 7 deadly sins)

Wendigos

Cecaelia (octopus-human hybrids and squid-human hybrids)

Mermaids/mermen

Nagas (snake-human hybrids)

Elves

Centaurs/Minotaurs (and other variations of them)

Dragon-human hybrids

Bunnyboys/bunnygirls

Mouseboys/mousegirls

Witches/wizards/warlocks

Vampires

Ghosts

Harpies

Zombies

I'm also open to requests with other monsters/creatures as well!!

Extra information;

M!reader or Male reader is primarily referring to the reader's anatomy unless praise is involved.

F!reader or Female reader is primarily referring to the reader's anatomy unless praise is involved.

FtM!reader or Afab reader is specifically referring to non-binary or trans (FtM), this way is more of a way to affirm reader's gender while clarifying their anatomy.

MtF!reader or Amab reader is specifically referring to non-binary or trans (MtF), this way is more of a way to affirm reader's gender while clarifying their anatomy.

GN!reader, Gender-neutral reader, and intersex reader all refer to a reader with both types of anatomy, they could be described as slightly more feminine or masculine, with a larger or smaller chest, or even with a larger or smaller penis.

Femboy, tomboy, etc all refer to their real-life variants. Femboy reader would be a male that dresses in feminine clothes. Tomboy reader would be a female that dresses in more masculine clothes.

Reader can even be a monster/creature themselves.

I can write reader x characters/creatures from things like creepypasta/happypasta and different horror films (Halloween, Scream, Friday The 13th, The Nightmare On Elm Street, etc). I already have an anime related blog but I mainly write MHA/BNHA stuff on there. This is it.

[buildmeafairytale]

Rhavor Part 2: NSFW

A part two to my drider story for @acreepqueen​, 18+ to read (NSFW). Hope you guys like it! 

Part 1

You and Rhavor’s romance had been going on well, with more stolen moments and heated kisses taking place between the two of you. You’ve kept your relationship a secret, and while you would love nothing more than to hold his hand out in the open, you have to be tactful considering your positions. Your father is an understanding king and grants you many freedoms, but you are unsure how he would take this. 

 You had done little more than share kisses and sweet touches, the two of you trying to take things slowly. You wanted your relationship to not be a secret before things got more serious between the two of you, and this being your first experience with a man also played a part. He had also eluded that there were a few drider courting customs that he wished to take part in with you, and you could not contain your excitement. The romance of it all took your breath away. 

It was a training day for the guards, and usually on these days you and your sisters would busy yourselves inside, sticking together a bit while under watch from guards not in that rotation. It was a training day for Rhavor, though, and you had yet to see him train. You convinced your sisters to come watch the guards, Anna needing much less convincing than Priscilla, but they indulged you nonetheless. 

The air is crisp as winter is approaching, but when you get down to the training yards you spy Rhavor without clothing. He is using a staff and training with an orc, and you can not take your eyes off of his back, the muscles rippling with power. Anna leans over and whispers “you’re drooling” into your ear. She is probably correct. You sit and watch, Rhavor waving at you when he sees you. He spars with a few other guards, and trains some of the newer ones. You look across the courtyard and see maids whispering, their faces red and giggling with their eyes trained on your guard. You are not one to get angry or jealous, but you’ve never had someone worth getting jealous over. Or possessive, maybe, since Rhavor was absolutely yours. Realistically, the maids were your friends and would never knowingly make eyes at a man who was yours, but it wasn’t like they knew any better. 

You were sitting with your lips pursed and an annoyed look on your face when Rhavor came to greet you and your sisters. “Princesses, how nice to see you all,” he greeted with a bow, ever so polite. You all greeted him, your greeting more stiff than you planned. His brows furrow, and you felt bad at his confusion. He had done nothing wrong, after all. It wasn’t his fault he was so handsome. 

“Yes, well, lovely seeing you Rhavor, we must be off now! Please see that Vivie gets back to her room alright!” Anna said, giggling while leading Priscilla away. You tried to speak up and go with them, but they were too quick. 

“Well, Vivie, I suppose I will take you back to your room and then retire to my chambers for a bath, if that’s alright.” He asked, tilting his head at the peeved look on your face. You never knew that you harbored such a monster inside, all you wanted to do was stake your claim on your guard and keep all others away. He was beautiful, and he was yours, damn it. You just nodded at him, knowing he would ask you what was upsetting you once in private. 

Once you get through the door, you give him no time to ask. You pull him down towards you, and meet his lips with your own. You are more frantic and needy than ever before, your hands running down the planes of his chest. He recovers from his shock quickly, pulling you towards him and invading your mouth with his tongue. You moan loudly, glad no one else can hear you in the tower. You part with his mouth, only to move on to kissing down his cheek, his jaw, and his neck, where you proceed to give most attention to. You suck and nip at the skin, excitement running through your veins as he lets out a breathy noise that sounds very much like your name. 

His lower set of hands come up to hold your backside, pulling you up and against him. You wrap your legs around his long waist, feeling positively tiny in his embrace. This only spurs you on, giving you more access to the expanse of skin at your disposal. Something primal has overtaken you, and you want to leave your marks on him, let everyone know he is taken. You pull back a bit to observe your marks, deep purple and running down his neck and shoulder, and a twinge of guilt comes with the massive satisfaction of seeing them. You go slower now, the urgency alleviated by the physical proof of your affection. You kiss and lick the discolored skin, gently now. 

One of Rhavors hands that is buried in your hair brings your mouth back to his, where he nips at your lip before sucking away the sting. All of the sudden there is a knock at your door, and the both of you are forced away from one another. You quickly adjust yourself and throw a blanket at Rhavor for him to cover the numerous love bites left on him. 

“Yes?” you call out in a cracking voice, hoping no one is going to barge in. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you Princess Vivian, however your father has requested that you and your sisters, as well as your personal guards, accompany your father to an early tea in the garden.” A voice calls, one of the older butlers. You thank him, and are grateful he only had a message and did not actually come in. You look at Rhavor and start to giggle at his disheveled state; anyone would have immediately known what you were up to, if not from the hickeys but from the bulge in his abdomen he is trying to hide. He lets out a breathy laugh and comes towards you. 

“I’m unsure what has come over you, my love, but I am not complaining,” he leans in to brush his smiling lips against your own. “I will be back as soon as I am... more decent, to escort you to your father.” One more kiss and he scuttles away, and you look in the mirror to see the damage. 

Your lips are swollen and slightly bruised, your cheeks are red and your hair is a mess, and you feel a bit floaty as well. You quickly ran a brush through your hair and put on some lipstick, hoping that would look somewhat presentable. Rhavor knocked on your door again, and you two started for the gardens. He was clad in his armor, which luckily covered the majority of the marks you left. He held out an elbow for you, and you graciously slipped your arm into the nook of it. He smiled at you, still tilting his head as if to figure you out. 

“What is the matter, lovely? You seem a bit wrapped up in thought.” He asks, and you look up at him. 

“Are you...angry? That I left all those marks, I mean?” You whisper to him. He grins back at you, a teasing smile you have grown so fond of. 

“Darling, I will proudly wear any mark you decide to bestow upon me. Any reminder of your affections is welcome.” He kisses your other hand, happy to be able to fluster you as he does. 

“I just,” you cut yourself off, not wanting to seem jealous, but he asks you to continue. “All the maids were looking at you!” you blurt out quickly, nervous but not wanting to hide your feelings. “They were all looking at you, during training, and no one knows that we’re-whatever we are.” He looked at you a bit stunned, but his grin soon came back, wider and more devious than before. He looks around, making sure the two of you are alone. You were outside of the castle, not quite to the gardens, when he crowds you against a stone wall of the castle, looming over you.

“Oh, is my princess a bit possessive? I rather like that, Vivie,” he nuzzles at your neck, and your breath catches. “Nothing wrong with marking your territory princess. I would only hope you let me return the favor sometime, darling.” He places a gentle kiss behind your ear, and a squeak manages to escape you. He pulls away, composing himself and holding out his arm as if nothing ever took place. Your head is spinning and you hold onto him, not expecting such an enthusiastic response. You cannot help but think of him returning the favor. Thoughts of Rhavor, his dangerous looking mouthparts and teeth around your neck, him biting and sucking at your skin that would bloom so brightly under his ministrations. What would he be like, jealous of another? Would he react like you, staking his claim and seeing to it that you knew you were his? Your thighs clench together at this thought, and you feel a quaking in your lower abdomen. 

You lose these thoughts for now, seeing your family and the guards waiting for your arrival. You are seated, and the captain of the guard stands by your father. He starts to speak and is informing you all about rumors of a plot against your father, involving you all. Your guards were originally appointed due to threats of royal kidnappings, and it seems that this was becoming more and more of a threat. They did not want to scare you, but were only concerned for your safety. More guards were to be stationed around the castle, and you tried to take it more seriously. It was hard, though. You had always known your father to be invincible, and the castle walls always felt so safe. Not only did that assuage your fears, but you knew anyone who wanted to get to you would first have to get through your drider, which would be no easy feat. You listened attentively anyway, and willed this to go on faster. The guards asked questions, and looked at castle blueprints while your father assured you all he would do everything in his power to keep you safe. 

The meeting goes by slowly and Rhavor is solely focused on the task at hand. After the meeting, you all eat dinner there as well, which is less intense than the prior proceedings. Rhavor is still discussing new precautions with the guards, and you’re afraid you’re going to end up locked away in your tower at this rate. 

It is decided that a second guard will be placed outside of your chambers at night, as well as a curfew instilled until the threat passes. You weren’t upset, considered you went to bed early most nights anyway. Your sisters were not as easy going about this but your father had assured them things should be back to normal soon enough. 

Rhavor escorts you back to your room, and finally has the bath he has needed since training. When he comes back to your room, you are hoping for a continuation of the earlier events, but he seems genuinely worried about the rumored threat. You settle for reading a romance curled up in bed while he looks over castle blueprints some more at your table. The few times you tried to get his attention, you were met with a smirk. “Tease” you call him, muttering under your breath. 

 “Say something darling?” He asks, and you shake your head, giggling at him. 

You fall asleep with him like that, his presence soothing you. 

Days pass and precautions are taken, but not nearly enough. 

You shoot up from your bed as you hear a loud noise outside your door. You hear a yell, and you quickly realize there is no other way out of your tower without going towards the yell. You are still half asleep, but your heart is racing and the adrenaline is taking hold. You take a deep breath and scream as loud as you can. Rhavor will come running if he hears you, you hope. At the sound of your scream, though, three men break down your door. 

“Shut up!” one yells, lunging for you. You are not deterred, and you keep screaming, trying to run out of his grasp. He misses, but one of the others does not, grabbing you and pointing a knife at your throat. 

“If you’re trying to call you spider, he’s barricaded in his room. We aren’t stupid, little bitch, now stop screaming before I cut out your tongue.” He hisses this at you, spit flying in your face. You think you’re going to vomit, and now that you’ve quieted you hear it. Rhavor, downstairs, is barreling against his door. The man with the knife grins at you, his teeth yellow and rotting. “Don’t get your hopes up, he ain’t gettin out.” He twirls the tip of the knife along your collarbones, and you hear glass breaking downstairs. 

“Sounds like her little guard is getting angry.” One of the other men comment in a sing-song voice, laughing at your obvious state of distress. 

“How about we make him even angrier?” he asks, dipping the knife towards your cleavage. A scared noise comes out of you, and at that moment your tower window is thrown open. You can feel that it's Rhavor, and if you hadn’t the stiffening from the man in front of you would have been answer enough. You knee him and wrench away, running for Rhavor’s form. 

In one fluid motion, he places you so that you are sitting on his thorax. He charges towards the men, throwing one into the wall, knocking him out cold. The next takes a hit from the butt of his scythe, crumpling to the ground. He has saved the one with the knife for last, and you don't want to watch what comes next. You bury your face in between his shoulder blades, and you hear Rhavor swing his scythe through the air. You gasp, but do not look. You hear footsteps going up the stairs, the sounds of more of the men coming for you. 

“Hold on Vivian, we are going out the window.” He gives you no chance to respond, only climbs out of the tower window and descends, making a point to stay away from the window to his room as well, where you suspect the barricade has been removed and men will soon be entering. You have never been scared of heights, but this is a scenario that surpasses just a fear of heights. You are holding onto your guards back as he is free climbing a tower. You hear a whimpering noise, and it takes you much too long to realize that it’s coming from you. “Shhh my love, I would never let you fall, that is a promise. We are almost down, I am going to jump now and we are headed to the barracks to rouse the rest of the guard.”

“Jump?” you whimper, but before he can respond there is air rushing past you, and you feel him land, taking the impact of the fall but seeming fine. He takes off in a sprint, towards the barracks you presume, your face still hidden in his back. He rips the doors open, and is throwing out orders and briefing guards before you even process where you are. Everyone is moving quickly, and you realize you have now opened your eyes. Several orcs are already dressed in their armor, and running to the castle. You hope that they are finding your sisters, surely you would be the least important target to these people. You feel Rhavor’s hands on yours, before he is peeling you off of him and setting you on a bed on the barracks, wrapping you in one of the sheets there. 

“Oh, I’m still in my nightdress,” you mumble, not really looking at anything in particular. Rhavor is looking at you and you see his mouth moving, but all you hear is blood rushing in your ears. You reach up and go to smooth the crease in his brow, humming to yourself. He is crouching before you, and you are unsure how long this goes on. There are other guards milling about, some being sent to other barracks and others checking for more intruders and reporting back. 

You start to feel less like you’re underwater, and Rhavor’s words start to make more sense. It’s mostly nonsense, but comforting nonsense. “You are such a brave little princess, holding onto me so tightly. So glad you have such strong lungs darling, so glad you yelled for me. I will always protect you, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there faster. I should have killed him for laying his hands on you, I will do everything in my power to make sure that never happens again,” He goes on and on, and you feel your heart rate slow down. You have no idea how long you have been here, but suddenly your father, sister, and their personal guards file into the barracks, your father taking you in his arms. This is when the dam breaks and tears start to fall. He shushes you and rocks you back and forth, while your sisters hug you as well. Your father releases you, and you sit with your sisters. You hear him thank Rhavor for keeping you safe, and inform him that the men are being held in the dungeon, along with the several others that were coming into your room when you fled. They will be questioned and everyone involved will be taken in, that you have faith in. 

Your sisters were not targeted, which you are glad to hear. You are unsure why they picked you, but your father told you they thought you would be less guarded due to being the youngest. Everyone is awake now, and unlikely to go back to sleep, so you all head back to the castle. Rhavor is still by your side, and if anyone notices you holding onto his hand, they don’t say anything. The maids fuss over you, making you your favorite foods and trying to comfort you while some of the butlers are cleaning your bedroom, erasing all traces of what happened. People also start to clear Rhavor’s room, but it is in much worse condition. 

“Although some may think it indecent, there is plenty of room for another cot in Vivian’s room. After the events that took place tonight, I think it best for you to stay there with her, at least until your quarters are fixed.” Your father tells Rhavor, and he agrees, still frustrated with himself he was not there to protect you. You agree with your father, it is a good idea. You also know that once you are a bit recovered from the night's events, you will be enthused about sharing a room for very different reasons. 

The hours go on and night makes way for day. You are exhausted, and your sisters pull you into Priscilla's room, where they tuck you in and sleep next to you. Four guards are stationed outside the door, and even though it is almost midday, you finally manage to get some sleep. 

The days recovering from the attack, you and Rhavor cling to one another. He sleeps in your bed, the two of you rumpling up the extra cot every night to avoid suspicion. You feel so sneaky, but having him in your bed holding you is worth it. Both of you are still flustered, him more overprotective and shadow like than ever before. He never outright doesn’t let you do something, but he is very good at directing your attention to an activity he finds to be safer. If you want to walk the grounds or spend the day in the garden, he will often find a way to get you to stay in the library or walk with you inside of the castle instead, or setting up a picnic on the roof. It’s endearing and you know he is worried, but you’re starting to get a bit stir crazy. It comes to a head when you start getting a bit snippy at him. You don’t try to be, really, but you need space being nice about it hasn’t been working. After being a bit of a brat all morning, you pull Rhavor aside in the library. 

You hold his hand and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I know this is stressful for you, but I’m safe! And I’m going to go crazy stuck inside all day, so I’m going to the gardens, and you should take some time for yourself too. I’ll have another guard stick close if that makes you feel better, love, and I will see you before dinner.” You leave no room for an argument, and while he is sputtering a bit, you kiss him on the cheek and walk off. You are hoping he won’t be too peeved later, but odds are he will follow you at a distance anyway. 

The time alone was nice and much needed, but after a few hours you were wishing for Rhavor’s presence once again. The ideal situation would be him enjoying the outdoors with you, but he was busy trying and failing to remain unseen by you while doing rounds in the garden and peeking at you intermittently. You sighed and closed your book, wondering if starting an impromptu game of hide and seek would be too cruel when your love was already so wound up. You were feeling playful, though, and figured it wouldn’t hurt too much. You simply moved to be behind one of the pillars in the gazebo, and waited, stifling your giggles. It didn’t take long before he came barreling in, his back to you. You snuck up behind him, yelled out “gotcha” and jumped on his back. He jumped and turned to bare his teeth at you.

“Not funny Vivian,” he growls out, moving to hold you in front of him. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, pouting up at him. 

“I thought it was funny, plus, you’re making the gardeners anxious with all of your pacing.” He kept up his grumbling, but finally decided to sit with you. By the time you were ready to go inside, the both of you were in a much better mood. You retire to your chambers, and Rhavor seems to grow anxious once again. 

“I have something for you, Vivie,” Rhavor says, and he proceeds to hand you a blanket made out of his silk. It is unlike the one he used to teach you, in that it is much larger, thicker, and the design seems much more complex. It is beautiful and soft, and you are sure he spent a lot of time on it. You take it from him, your face split into a wide smile. 

“This is so beautiful, thank you! No one has ever given me something so nice before.” you admit, pulling him down for a kiss. He kisses you back, so sweetly, and pulls away. 

“It is part of courting, for driders. It symbolizes our desire and ability to keep you warm and provide for you. I’ve been wanting to make you one ever since I taught you how to knit all those months ago.” He admits, a hand coming up to run through his hair. The sweet intent behind the gift does not go unnoticed, and it makes you love it all the more. 

“I have something for you too!” you say, full of excitement. You spread the blanket out on your bed, before going into a trunk to pull out the one you knitted for him. “I was going to wait until the Giving Days, but now seems like a much better time for this.” You hold out the deep purple blanket that reminds you so much of the color his cheeks turn on the rare occasions he is shy, and his reaction is very enthused. He lets out a gasp, and takes the blanket from your hand. He takes his time admiring it, and tells you how much you’ve improved. 

“My princess, come here,” he beacons, and pulls you close. He bends down, laying kisses all over your face, wrapping his arms around you when you giggle and twist away. His lips then meet yours, and what started out as a chaste kiss turns into something carnal rather quickly. You feel his shirt slip to the side, his marks from you still there, and you feel hungry for him. You press yourself to him, and let the noises building in your chest escape you, him eagerly swallowing them. You aren’t sure how to convey how much you need him, but you try, pulling him towards your bed. He lays you down on the blanket he made for you, and pulls back a bit. His eyes run over you on the bed, and he lets out a deep noise that makes your thighs clench together. 

“It looks as though you are in my web Vivie, it makes such a pretty picture,” he says while one hand is caressing your face and one of the lower ones is running up your calf. You do not have enough wit left to respond to this, you only open your thighs and arch up, hoping he continues to touch you. “Say the word and I will stop, princess, all you have to do is ask.” he tells you. 

Your hands go to his arms, and you plead with him to continue. “Don’t stop, Rhavor. I want you, all of you.” The teasing look he often wears melts away, and he plasters himself against you once again. 

“You honor me, my love,” he whispers into your ear, his mouthparts and fangs brushing against your cheek. You pull at his shirt, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers over his skin. He quickly obliges you, and throws it off and away. Rhavor pulls you towards the edge of the bed, and his lower two hands get higher and higher on your thighs while another is moving from your shoulder to your breast, a light brush that has you keening. His hands that are under your dress move and grab your ass, bringing the apex of your thighs to meet the growing bulge in his abdomen. You cant up your hips, gasping when you find the friction you so desperately seek. 

“Rhavor, please, more,” you plead with him, not knowing what you want but knowing you need it like you need air. 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you,” He says, not so frantic anymore. He leans down to softly kiss you, and helps you take off your dress. Once it is off, you feel like you can breath again, and Rhavor’s many eyes are trained on the rise and fall of your chest. He leans down, swirling his tongue around your nipple, and you tilt your hips up to grind against him once again, causing the both of you to let out a gasp. A large hand of his comes between your legs, rubbing your wetness through your smallclothes. You’ve never felt something so pleasurable, and you mewl and rub against his hand as if you were a cat. You feel in the back of your mind you should be embarrassed by your actions, but all you feel is pleasure. 

You kiss and lick at the skin of his chest, nipping across a nipple, an action that causes him to make a teasing growl back at you. He pushes aside the cloth covering your core, and explores you with one of his deft fingers. He pumps it into your core, coaxing more moans from you. A thumb comes up to trace your lips, and you take it into your mouth, flicking your tongue on the end. Your eyes are wide as you stare into his, this eye contact only broken when he adds another thick finger to your core, stretching you for him. His hand leaves your mouth as you reach down towards his bulge and trace your fingers around it, delighting in the way he shivers at this touch. You feel him grow and his phallus unfolds from within. It is a deep and vibrant purple with black veins spider webbing across it. You trace it with your fingertips, your hand looking so small in comparison. His hips jerk when you get near the end, and you wrap your fingers around it. You move your hand up and down over the length, enjoying the feel of it and delighting in the way Rhavor is following the movements. He has not stopped pumping his fingers into you, and when he curls the long, angled digits your legs snap tight around him. You arch up and bring his length to your wetness, looking at him as you do. He pulls his fingers out of you, hushing you with a kiss at the sound you make once you’re empty. 

“Do you want me to continue, princess?” he asks you, and you nod eagerly, adding on a strangled out “Yes” for good measure. 

At this he takes himself in hand, coating himself in your wetness. You grip onto his shoulders as he breaches you, mouth falling open at the feeling of being so full. He goes slow, and the stretch is significant. He does not move yet, only bends down to kiss you, whispering praises about how good you feel and how lucky he is to have you. It feels like his hands are everywhere, the four of them caressing and rubbing at your skin. A strangled noise escapes you as you try to move your hips, and fireworks are taking off behind your eyelids at the feel of him. You feel as if you are floating away, but his touch grounds you. A hand is on the side of your face and Rhavor turns you to look at him. He pulls back and then thrusts forward, a shaky breath leaving him and a pleasured “oh” is punched out of your lungs. He keeps the pace slow and deep, neither of you wanting any more of him to leave your body than necessary. A set of hands were on your breasts, rolling and tugging on your nipples as another were propping your thighs open for him. You shared a kiss that was filthy, biting and full of tongue, and as Rhavors abdomen brushes above your entrance your entire body goes rigid. A deep moan escapes you as you screw your eyes shut, and it feels as though lightning is running through your entire body. You gasp for air and try to keep moving with Rhavor. He holds you tight, dragging out your pleasure before his hips stutter and he buries himself within your heat, your name on his tongue as you ripple around him.

You feel tingly everywhere, and your blissed out expression is mirrored by Rhavor. He shifts his weight to the side, and keeps his face buried in your neck. He kisses you as you come down, wrapping you in his blanket. You really do look as though you are caught in his web, and you have never been happier. You would formally announce your relationship in the morning. 

[cozycryptidcorner]

Chapter One

Notes: Hey hey hey hey! For those who don’t know, this is a celebration of ya girl hitting 1.5k followers! You all spoke, and I listened, so buckle up, pals, and come get ya’ll’s juice. 

The air of the ship is remarkably sterile, every breath of it almost flushes your lungs free of living cells, and a bleach-like taste has long settled on the back of your tongue, one you haven’t been able to wash out. A water bottle sits on the polished table in front of you, one that boasts its source is an underground spring on a relatively untouched planet, definitely something far out of your price range and would never accept unless given for free. The ship rattles briefly as the inertial dampeners compensate for a sudden source of gravity, though so subtle that the water in the biodegradable plastic trembles only slightly.

“That means we’ve hit Lolth’s atmosphere.” A Starward Matchmakers™ representative smiles, her teeth too white and her mouth too wide. Her tone somehow converges on every single nerve you have in your body.

“Oh, of course, how could I forget.” She waves her hand dismissively. “But you should maybe put a damper on that attitude of yours, the royal family isn’t known for putting up with sass.”

Oh, you want to punch her in that perfectly crafted nose. Biting your lip down, you try to focus on the shift of gravity, the artificial pull slowly dying as a planet’s natural force takes hold. The slow descent feels like forever, the lack of windows in your cabin only torturing you further. You wish you could be up in the cockpit, strapped into the captain’s chair, completely in control, but no. It wouldn’t be proper. Finally, another attendant pokes their head through the open door, announcing the finished landing.

Before you stand, the representative grabs your hand in an ironlike grip. “Remember; grace, poise, elegance. Not someone of your reputation.” She is far stronger than someone of her skinny frame can manage without modifications. Even when you nod, she doesn’t immediately let go, most likely in the hopes that prolonging this threat might actually put some fear into your soul.

You pull away, eyeing her in a challenge, and after a moment too long, she relents. Calmly, you pick up the personal bag you were allowed to bring and leave the cabin, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative on your heels. The unmistakable scent of ‘natural’ air hits your nostrils, like a balming relief against a day-old burn, and you try to pick up your pace down the thin row of cabins and out into the open. It’s hot, far hotter than you are used to, a dry breeze doing nothing to relieve your already sweating skin. A dull hum permeates the cavernous space, the engines of your ship still in the process of a complete shut-down. At the very foot of the stairway is a tall humanoid, gray in complexion, silky white hair blowing out like thin spider webs.

“Mistress,” he says, bowing first to you, then to the representative. “Allow me to welcome you and your entourage to our lovely planet. The keias is beside himself with excitement to finally meet his soulmate.”

“Thank you!” Manners matter, you think, eyes flickering overhead to where two slabs of metal slowly shut a dangerous atmosphere away from the underground’s inhabitants. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pinches your arm in a location no one beneath you would see in the way of a prompt. “And- it will be my honor to meet them, sir.”

“Of course, please, follow me. Your things will be taken to an apartment while a more, er, permanent solution will be found.”

“I understand, thank you.” You take one step down on the polished, faux marble steps of the ship, then take a pause. Perhaps it goes unnoticeable by others since it only lasts a fraction of a moment. Am I really doing this, you wonder in that second, looking at the hard stone floor of the hangar, is this who I am, really? It passes, and you continue downwards, the question left unanswered. You fold your hands, nails digging against knuckles, and follow the Drow escort through the unbearably warm cavern.

There’s a warbling pattern in the stone, one that holds your attention for a minute too long and has the Starward Matchmaker™ representative gently kick at your heel. Head up, you can almost hear her voice in your head, and so you do, obediently, and try focusing on some other things noticeable at this position. For example, while there are other ships in the hangar, not too many, but the quality of each is unquestionable. All of them are sleek, shining, and shaped in the typical ornamental fashion that Abraxas Corporations has long since patented, each number that you see painted on the sides showing that the oldest model is only a single year out of the factory. A fantastical waste of money, in your humble opinion, but you don’t dare verbalize it right now.

The drow attendant leads you to a tunnel, one dimly lit by hazy blue lights lining the floor, and the temperature becomes just slightly more bearable. While the stone you walk on is smoother than those fancy ships outside, the walls and ceiling are rawer, bumps and crevices creating a sort of texture that at least gives you something fascinating to look at until the drow attendant opens a metallic door embedded into the rock. It’s a station, you think, with a train or trolley of some kind waiting against the wall. The doors part the moment you are within range, and finally- finally, a blast of cooler air soothes your skin, your entire body relaxing under the blissful relief of air conditioning.

“Have a seat wherever you’d like, my lady.”

Oh! The attendant is talking to you. With a small mutter of thanks, you take one of the cushioned benches by the window, staring at the glass, trying to see past your reflection and back into the tunnel. The ride isn’t that long, at least, in comparison to the time it took to get from a deep-space station to planetside, but the nervous anticipation makes it seem like another eternity. You are already standing up to get out, though you step to the side for your guide to go first.

You wouldn’t call this place bustling, unlike some of the previous stops your ‘entourage’ has ended up at. The people who do occupy the area aren’t in any kind of hurry, either, but are merely wandering to their destination at a leisurely pace. And, unfortunately, the moment you are seen, all eyes seem to fall on you like a bug beneath a microscope. Which, you suppose, is a funny kind of metaphor to use given the species and circumstances, but even so, you walk through the hub with your head held high and your posture perfectly straight, just as practiced only a few days before. A far cry from the slinking and prowling that you are used to, that’s for sure.

The three of you walk all the way to the other side of this terminal, towards a gilded set of elevators, all of which are guarded by another drow. Your own drow attendant slips a key card from his pocket, sliding it through a reader, and the machine beeps in confirmation. The ground rises rapidly, as the tube you stand in lowers, going down, deep into the depths of the planet, rocks surrounding the glass until the tunnel empties into a cavern more massive than the city you hail from, buildings built into what is left of a long-extinct forest from the planet’s distant past. Flickering lights of homes and offices could almost fool you into thinking them to be stars, but you know better. Still, it might be nice to look at something and pretend you aren’t buried under a couple of kilometers of rock.

The elevator zooms past and beneath the central part of the city, moving further down into the natural lava tunnels of a long-inactive violent core. The royalty of the world lives deeper from the surface, probably for the better air conditioning, you’d gander, or some sort of reigning mythology about how they’re closer to their planet/god(s) this way. You hadn’t really had the time to pour over every little detail of this world’s history and lore, since literally four days ago, the royalty of Lolth was the last thing on your mind.

Eventually, the flawless glass doors open, and you are let out into a garden of sorts. There is grass, at least, you think it’s grass, lining either side of the stone pathway, flowers sprouting in areas that are easy to listlessly meander around. Bioluminescent mushrooms and moss grow along the cavern walls and pathway, though rustic-looking lampposts help to light your way every couple of meters. There, up ahead, you realize as you try to document just how far the lanterns go, someone is already walking towards you. Could it be him? Your body fills with anxiety, your fight instincts gearing up to, you don’t know, pretend to cower?

“Is this it?” A voice asks, and you are already confident that you hate this person. ‘Overbearing’Condescending would be a nice way to describe their tone, but you would take it a step further and maybe say it’s condescending and maybe even bastardly for good flavor.

“Yes, Vice Martial,” the drow attendant bows deeply. “As much as I am certain the two of you would appreciate introductions, I’m afraid the keias was very specific about the immediate transportation she would take to his presence. I’m afraid we are already running short on time.”

“Be silent, I gave you no permission to speak.” The Vice Martial’s eight legs click, click, click against the ground as he approaches, eyes narrowing. “I was against this ridiculous farse from the start, and to have something so small, so pitiful, dare enter our home and live off of our land like a parasite?” He leans in closer, so close you can smell alcohol on his breath. “Unacceptable.”

Show no fear, have no weakness.

“Of course, you have your apprehensions!” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pulls a glossy brochure out of seemingly nowhere, her grin vast and terrifying, her voice the epitome of perfectly perky customer service. “Anyone daring to make such a big decision should be terrified! But at Starward Matchmakers™, our focus is to bring a harmonious connection between two destined souls is something we take so very seriously. If our experts have matched the two together, then our girl here is perfect for your prince, excuse me, keias, in every way!”

“I don’t care about what welp that little bastard sleeps with,” the vice marshal snaps, at least now directing his drunken anger to the Starward Matchmaker™ representative, “I care about whether it’s right for Lolth.”

“And those are some very valid fears!” She somehow smiles even wider. “But allow me to put everything to ease. Our satisfaction rate is one-hundred percent, which is nothing less of perfect. The people I represent have no intention of sullying our records now, with this. Do you understand? Of course, you do! Now if you would be so kind as to _excuse us,” _ she grips your arm and shoves her way forward, _ “we have some magic to make!™” _

The vice marshal doesn’t even have a chance to say anything else, because you are suddenly shoved into the entrance of an… apartment? House? The drow attendant and the Starward Matchmaker™ representative stand in front of the closed doors, either to block anyone’s entry or deter you from exiting, you don’t know. Probably both.

“Remember,” the Starward Matchmaker™ representative says, smoothing one of your sleeves of nonexistent wrinkles, “no attitude. No spunky quips. I don’t care how funny you think whatever joke you’re making is, you will be quiet as a dandelion. Show him not the respect you think he deserves, but the respect he thinks he deserves.”

This is all a reiteration of things you have been told over and over and over again, so you resist rolling your eyes. Though, whatever exasperation you feel is quickly gone the moment you see someone beginning to descend from the long, marble stairway. His appearance is the same as the photographs you were shown when they first sat you down, hangover pounding in your bloodstream. His hair is so dark it looks almost black, skin a deep gray with touches of blue. You immediately stand taller, mouth squeezed shut, eyes watching his every move as if he will burst forward and rip you to pieces.

He has a reputation for doing worse.

The clicking of his steps stop as he stands, full height, right in front of you, and you have to tilt your chin upwards just to meet his gaze head-on. Even with the Starward Matchmaker™ representative right in the room, she can’t see your face, so she can’t police your reaction. You don’t give him anything demure, nor submissive. There is no shyness in your eyes, you don’t allow yourself to feel small, and you most certainly refuse to show a smidgen of fear.

“Hello,” you say, and you can practically hear the Starward Matchmaker™ representative’s face hit her palm for speaking out of turn.

“Hello,” he responds, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side, his pure black seeing-eyes blinking only once, his motion sensors staying blank and still as though dead. “It is an honor to finally meet you.”

“I- it is an honor to finally meet you as well.” You wince at the formality of this meeting, wishing that the Starward Matchmaker™ representative and drow attendant would just leave the two of you alone, but you know that you will not receive that… how did the Starward Matchmaker™ representative put it… privilege, at least until she can see the relationship is blossoming the way it needs to.

The way they need it to.

“Your planet is beautiful,” compliments always work, and you genuinely mean this one, “I mean, well, I haven’t seen a whole lot of it, but just from the little that I’ve been through, it’s... “you shrug, “really nice.”

“Oh.” He cocks his head the other way, now, a lock of hair the color of the blue-gray stones falling into his face. “I remember, your profile says that you weren’t born on a planet.”

“No,” you shake your head, “but I’ve been planetside a- um, a few times. Humans need real gravity every now and then.”

“Real gravity is good for any ground-species.”

The conversation is going nowhere, clearly, so the Starward Matchmaker™ representative decides that this moment where she cuts in. “If I may, _keias?” _

His face looks over at her in an instant, the movement of his neck so quick it would have cracked if he was human. The prince’s gaze hardens, perhaps unnoticeable by someone of his own species, but easy to note by both you and the Starward Matchmaker™ representative. After a lone, nerve-wracking moment where he observes her like a bug beneath his feet, he offers single, clipped, nod.

“It’s been a very long journey, very much worth it, I am sure, but,” she lays a hand on your arm, and you immediately tense up, “she’s quite tired, and I’m afraid I have to get her squared away for the night. I hope you understand! I’m just here for her wellbeing in such a foreign situation.”

The prince looks at you.

You don’t say anything.

“Of course,” he says, squaring his shoulders. “Elias will bring you to your suite. May I expect you over for an evening meal?”

“We’ll see how she feels.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative pets your arm. “This is all so overwhelming for her, I’m sure you understand.”

The prince places both hands behind his back and looks over you, not with the same chilling observation he gave the Starward Matchmaker™, but something... else. Something softer. “I’m sure I will.”

“What in god’s name was _that?” _

“I don’t understand.”

“Yes, you do.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative folds her hands together, looking at you over them with narrowed eyes. “You went off script.”

You offer a listless shrug, looking her in the eye. The lights here, at least, are bright enough for you to see comfortably without needing to strain your eyes. “I just don’t think you can make a decent connection with someone when every permutation has been desperately thought out.”

The Starward Matchmaker™ representative huffs, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “You aren’t here to be yourself, you’re here to do a gosh-darn job. This isn’t all rainbows and puppies, I thought you understood how serious this business is.”

“I do.”

“It doesn’t look like it, honey! What made you think that acting like some bland little twat was a good idea?”

You sit down on one of the plush, oddly misshapen chair, glaring at the wall while the Starward Matchmaker™ representative goes on a tirade. The room is large, the ceiling far higher than most places you’ve ended up in, and this isn’t even the full extent of your suite. You get a room, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative gets a room, a personal servant the royal family is providing gets a room, and for whatever reason, a whole extra bedroom, wholly unused, just down the hall from yours. For any guests, the drow attendant had said, but there is no one you can think of hosting at the moment.

Oh, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative looks like she’s tiring herself out. Better start nodding in agreement to whatever else she says.

“Good,” she, at least, seems satisfied. “I’m glad we’ve had this little chat, then. Hurry and wash up, then, we want you to look presentable tonight.”

So you are going to dinner. You sit up a little straighter, then bounce off the chair and into your room. There’s an adjacent bathroom, with a dress already hanging up by the mirror, a gray, fluttery thing that will ripple easily with movement. Color doesn’t really matter down here, you remember, poking at all the dull jewelry and makeup, driders and drows can’t process the light spectrum as well as humans. What they can sense, though, is movement, so clothes that shift and float with the slightest gesture are the ones that are worn to show off. Still, putting something on that’s basically the equivalent of neon orange feels like putting a target on your back.

Shower first. Think later. It’s real water, too, and not those sonic frequencies that knock dirt from pores or those sanisaunas ™ that disinfect the day’s grit away with nothing more than hazy steam. Today, though, you can’t take your time, and you are too hyped up to stay under the water’s stream for too long, no matter how blissful it feels. The soap has some kind of deep earthy scent, not one that you might select for yourself, but one you aren’t abhorrent towards. It works a nice lather against your skin, though the bar slips from your clumsy fingers since you aren’t exactly used to scrubbing the good old fashioned way.

There’s a towel waiting for you, hanging up against the rack. It’s the first thing in this place you’ve seen that’s white, even the glossy marble and metalwork of the whole suite, including the bathroom, are various shades of gray and black. Which isn’t to say that it looks terrible, because this is sincerely the most beautiful place you’ve ever managed to score, it’s just… odd, you think, that the towels are white, as though they were purchased and placed here with you in mind. You wrap it around your body, stepping out, and taking a moment to stand in front of a mirror. There are dark circles beneath your eyes, crescents of exhaustion that beg you to take a moment or two just to sleep.

You get dressed, instead. The gown is at least designed to look more complicated than it really is, and you manage to get it on by yourself. The zipper slides up your back with a bit of ease, then you smooth down the tight bodice, noticing only now how badly your hands are shaking. Your mouth tastes dry, and perhaps the unnatural ashy paleness of your skin truly brings out the grayness around your eyes. The wall is cool against your back as you lean back, sliding down to sit on the hard floor, placing your forehead against your knees.

Breathe.

It’s hard, thinking about having to eat dinner with him later. It’s hard to think about him in general, and to have him matched as your soulmate? You’ve always known these things are farces, of political or corporate gain, and now you dig your heels into the ground of that belief and hold it closer.

The door knocks with a volume and efficiency only the last person you wish to see at the moment possesses. “Time to go, sugar! We can’t have the prince waiting, can we?”

It takes a wobbling moment for you to stand, hand braced up against the wall, but you somehow manage it. Throwing up a facade of calmness that you haven’t felt since you were hauled into that interrogation room five days ago, you open the door. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative holds out a box, the lid already off to reveal a glittering pair of shoes. Not high heels, thank the gods, you don’t know how you would pull together the energy to fight her on that. It’s pair of flats, a pattern of shattered glass decorating the outside, the inside surprisingly comfortable to what anyone would assume by looking them over.

You put them on, holding on one of the chairs for balance, and take a few experimental steps. It’s decent enough, but even with thousands of years to perfect the art of shoes, it still takes a couple of good hours to break even the best of pairs in. With a small sigh, you shift the weight between your toes and heels, already feeling where those blisters are going to end up forming, but there isn’t really anything you can do about it. The Starward Matchmaker™ representative isn’t going to let you wear your old but comfy combat boots if she can help it, you’ve had to smuggle them in the very bottom of your luggage and bribe an inspector to keep quiet about it.

After a moment of watching your movements with a fixated grace that you’ve long since gotten used to, the Starward Matchmaker™ representative sighs, tucking a piece of perfectly blond hair behind her hair. “Not what we all wanted, I’m sure, but it will do.”

Pressing your lips together, you don’t risk rolling your eyes lest she suddenly decides that you are far too tired to dine with the prince tonight. You don’t wish to be stuck in the suite with her for another night, you’ll go crazy, and you can’t have the prince catching wind of any violence on your part.

“Now, remember; healthy appetite.” The Starward Matchmaker™ representative comes up behind you, playing with your still-damp hair, twisting it into something you’re sure is attractive to the driders. “There is no such thing as ‘ladylike’ here, but you must prove that you’ll be able to produce good and healthy heirs.”

You wrinkle your nose, but don’t respond.

The Starward Matchmaker™ representative tugs at your roots, causing your eyes to tear up. “And whatever you do,” her voice is low, threatening, “I will be watching. Every movement, every breath, every bite of food you dare to take. If you so much as twitch in a way I don’t like,” she pushes a pin through whatever she sculpted, taking no care to be wary of your scalp, “you will be terminated. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Her voice turns back to that sickening cheerfulness that makes you want to wring her neck. “Turn around.”

You obey, hands flat at your sides.

“Oh,” Starward Matchmaker™ representative holds a hand over her mouth, “you look beautiful, honey! Just so,” she fans herself with her fingers, “marvelous. You’ve come such a long way in such a short time!”

You say nothing.

Read Chapter Two Here