#driders have heats because I said so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

politemenacephd · 4 months

Text

Arachnophilia (Part Fourteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Word Count: 5040 Notes: Voyeurism build up is here, will be dropping that next chapter. For now here's some tension/proper argument w HQ!Miguel and some fluff w Mig

‘You’re sure you wish to return today?’

You paused midway through the very unflattering motion of hoisting your suit over your hips, rolling on the bed like a flipped beach turtle, and turned to find Mig watching you from across the room.

His big red eyes already betrayed his concern as they darted from your face to your body, as did his slowly tapping paws.

You shot him a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure, Mig! Don’t worry, I have a plan.’

Mig made that same adorable face he always did when he was disgruntled, as his nose wrinkled up and his brows folded in over his big puppy-dog eyes. Your reassurance would never be enough, sadly.

‘You could- stay, another hour’ he offered. ‘They can’t fault you for being a little late.’

You sighed through the nose and finally did up the last hidden button on your suit, snapping it into place.

It’d been a few days since Mig’s confession. You’d managed to snag the extra time away from the society by calling up Jess and going through some early talking points online, but all the time you’d gained had been devoted solely to working through Mig’s worries.

His possessive nature had certain gotten worse since he’d acknowledged his past to you. He startled at every minor noise, he rustled against you constantly to keep you saturated in his scent. He panicked when you weren’t in his line of sight, and he was patrolling his territory more and more.

The worst one though was at night, when he’d hide behind his giant legs and you had to gently coax him out.

It wasn’t easy, but you weren’t opposed to comforting your monster partner. You knew it was going to be hard on him. Today he’d made enough progress to at least let you return for a bit, and that was great, but you knew to expect relapses.

With a slight hop you stumbled to your feet and crossed the nest, carefully taking his hands into yours.

‘Uhuh, I could stay an extra hour. And then you would say, please stay another hour, then another, then another, and then I’m called in for insubordination and I get my watch taken away’ you said, firm but soft.

‘Mi arañita, it’s in my blood to keep you here’ he insisted.

‘Nope, can’t use that excuse anymore. I’m not in heat, am I?’ you said. You tried to keep it light by booping his nose with your finger, but Mig remained tense.

‘It’s in my human blood, to keep you here, is what I meant’ he said, his voice dipping. ‘I just want to know you’re safe. I can’t, know, if you’re not here with me.’

Sensing that he was spiralling you put his hand over your chest. He could sense your heart thumping beneath your ribs, small but strong. It seemed to have an instant calming effect.

‘I’m okay. See? I’m okay. And I’m gonna set something up’ you reminded him gently. ‘Right? I’m gonna go get some stuff while I’m at the HQ, like we discussed. You’ll be able to see my vitals on a screen here so you know I’m safe, and we will- test, you being able to call me, because I know if I give you unlimited reign you will call me every second of every hour. But, you know, I’m bringing stuff back to make this easier.’

Mig grumbled and rolled his tongue against his fangs at your reminder. ‘You… are you, sure, they won’t try to keep you away from me?’ he asked.

‘I’m as sure as I can be, Miggy. I mean Jess clearly got annoyed with Miguel for trying to separate us, remember? I don’t think the elite’s care, so long as we’re not endangering anyone. We’re two consenting adults after all.’

‘A monster and his pet’ Miguel grumbled. You couldn’t help but giggle at his sour tone.

‘A consenting adult monster and his consenting adult pet’ you added. Mig didn’t smile with you but you saw him tap his spider legs a few times, which you knew now meant he was happy. It was like a silent laugh for when he was too worried to laugh openly.

‘Hey. Come here’ you whispered.

You gestured for his foreleg and he stretched it out. You took it between both your hands and raised it your lips, pressing a single kiss to the fluffy little paw, showing no sign of fear or disgust. You then gestured for his human hands.

‘Here. Here, babe.’

Mig outstretched his hands, and with his fingers in your grip you kissed each of his claws one after the other. You could sense his body deflating, slowly losing all of that pent up tension as you showed his body the same love you always did.

‘Pretty spider’ you whispered after the final claw was crowned with your lips. When you looked up he was smiling at last.

‘Pretty spider’ he repeated back. You craned your neck and noticed his abdomen was rustling, the fur on his back gently bristling as his middle legs tapped at the floor. You beamed.

‘Mmm. Happy dance’ you noted.

Mig closed his eyes as he smiled, his old, chiselled face growing soft as he made the dance more overt. He tapped his feet back and forth, gently rustling his fluffy body up against your face. You nestled right back. There was nothing better than seeing that little display.

‘Okay, okay. There we go.’ You gently leaned back after giving him a quick squeeze, your hand flying to your watch. You knew you had to make the portal now or you’d never leave.

‘Guess I better get going.’

With a few clicks a portal to the HQ exploded into the centre of the nest, covering your face in that ethereal orange light. You glanced back over your shoulder and saw that Mig had stopped dancing. It hurt your heart, but it had to be done.

‘Can I have a goodbye kiss, please?’ you offered with your hand outstretched on the precipice of the portal. Mig was eager to take it.

‘Ah- yes, of course mi arañita.’

You should have been wise enough to know that this was a double play on his part. The moment your lips connected his hands were on your waist, digging in deep to the soft flesh beneath your suit.

His lips moved slowly, parting before rejoining as they smothered your own. They were so soft compared to the rest of his ruggedness, soft and full and warm. As his tongue teased your mouth they grew wet.

‘Mm—’

His low moan made your knees weak. It vibrated through your lips and into your soul. His lips parted right as you usually would have left, and soon you were entranced by his tongue.

‘Mm- mmm—’

You forgot the portal at your back as Mig gently rumbled against you, his fluffy body vibrating in a way that made your insides tingle. He dug his claws in deeper, a small dose of shock to widen your mouth, allowing his tongue to go right down your throat.

When he pulled back there was a long and heavy trail of spit between you, one that he licked into his mouth without ever breaking eye contact. You felt that pleasurable tension in your gut triple over.

‘Ah—Mig, I know what you’re doing’ you panted.

He’d held you for so long that the portal had closed behind you. You let out a mildly exasperated huff while he tilted his head, his face sickeningly innocent.

‘Doing what? I just wanted to kiss mi arañita goodbye.’

‘You told me you were incapable of lying, Mr.’

‘I am, yes. It’s not a lie’ he said. The earnest affection in his eyes broke you, and a smile crept back onto your face.

‘Mhm. It’s just- leaving out the full truth, right?’

He coyly darted his eyes to the side, forcing you to grab his thickset jaw and turn his head back. You were on your tip toes to reach him.

‘The full truth, is… I don’t want you to go, but, I know you have to. So I will do what I can to keep you here, because I am selfish. And… I will miss you, when you are gone. Because you make me happy. And, I like having you close’ Mig murmured.

‘I know’ you sighed. ‘I know. I’ll miss you too. And I will be back soon. I promise.’

You bumped foreheads once more before pulling back, and this time Mig let you go.

…

As you flew through the dizzying portal you were surprisingly optimistic.

You were going back to the society, and this time you were no longer alone. No matter what you had someone to go home to, someone to talk to, someone to hold you.

Your perspective on the society had also certainly shifted since meeting Mig, and that was something you had to contend with. Knowing that they were hiding things, these cosmic mistakes they didn’t want to deal with, it bothered you to no end. You’d previously viewed the elites as these unfathomable being, who just had to know best because of where they were, but not anymore. Especially in the case of Miguel.

You felt a little bad, but you hadn’t been fully honest with Mig about your intentions. Yes, you were going back to grab some items for him and to show you were available. Yes, you were returning to ensure your relationship was sanctioned.

But you also had something else in mind. Something a bit more personal. Something for the boss to deal with.

You skipped a few steps as your body was thrown from the depths of time and space, your shoes clacking as you hit the HQ floor. You stepped out into the lobby, into a bustling sea of spiders, and you breathed in the familiar smell of Nueva York. It smelled like spandex, like cleaning fluid and cold park air.

You felt the portal close at your back, leaving you standing alone in this great gathering of your peers.

And then you froze.

Almost half the spiders around you were still, their head craned in your direction. You felt the eyes on every inch of your body. You met their gazes through their masks, and despite you clearly looking at them they didn’t turn or look away.

You frowned. What was going on?’

A new sound filled the quiet buzz of conversation, the worst possible sound you could hear. Muffled laughter.

You spun around only for the laughter to stop, and by the time you’d turned back all the spiders were pretending not to have looked at all. They were deep in meaningless conversation, their heads down, and soon you were once again lost in the crowd.

You could feel your face burning, your cheeks hot and clammy.

Oh, fuck. Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit, fuck. Did they know? How did they know? Who could have told them?

For a moment your blood ran cold. Wait. Had, Miguel, told everyone? To punish you?

In a brewing panic you started to make your way through the HQ.

All the way out of the lobby and up through the dizzying web of beams you felt eyes on you. You occasionally heard laughter but now you couldn’t tell whether it was aimed at you or not, which only spurred your paranoia, and you only continued to spiral further as you went about your objectives.

You stopped by the lab and grabbed the tech you needed for Mig: a watch for him to programme, a monitor for your vitals, and a few old or nearly scrapped holographic screens that you figured he could fix up. All eyes on you, staring at you through screens and over desks. You hurried out.

From there you made a stop at HR, a pretty run-down and disorganised area compared to the rest of the society, where you grabbed some paperwork Jess had ordered you to fill out. You felt eyes peering over piles of paperwork, soft whispers and curious mumbles hidden behind walls as you piled up the work.

By the time you made it to your last stop you could feel the sweat on your lower back from stressing so hard. Around Mig you felt safe, emboldened, but you were realizing quickly that you were still alone here.

You crept into the open research base and dropped into one of the empty desks. You were here, right back where you started, the day you first met Mig.

You thought of him, back in the nest, and your heart twisted. You missed him.

‘You’re the one, right?’

You jumped as an unfamiliar voice sounded off against your ear. Somehow you’d been snuck up on, and three spider-people you’d never met before were crowding around the back of your desk. Their faces immediately put you on edge; they looked far too familiar with you, far too excited.

‘I- the one, what?’ you stammered.

‘You’re the one who- you know—’

You felt your stomach drop as the spiders broke into playful smiles. You tried to push the chair back and run, abandoning the PC while it was still on, but to your horror the other spiders held you in place. You slumped back into the chair as they offered an overlap of fake coos and soothing words.

‘No, no, hey! Please we’re so curious.’

‘Curious about- what? Don’t- grab me!’ you said, inadvertently snapping as you pulled from their grasp. You could feel other people in the room starting to glance over at the commotion, and it was driving your anxiety way up.

‘You had sex with Miguel’s variant, right? The spider one?’ one of them whispered. The spiders holding you in place were practically giddy as they spoke over themselves.

‘We… they’re, all spiders’ you stammered.

‘No, no! You know what we mean. There’s one that’s like fully half spider, right? And you had sex with him?’

‘I—That’s, nobodies business’ you said defensively. Sadly, your tone only spurred them on harder.

'No come on please, oh my god- does he look like Miguel? Is he that big?'

'Does he have the teeth?'

'Oh god, ew, what's the spider part like? Was it like an actual spider?'

'Did you--'

‘¡OYE!’

You went rigid in your seat, as did the spiders hounding you. Heavy footsteps filled the room as a huge, foreboding shadow slowly covered your body from behind.

‘What’s going on?’

You turned to see Miguel standing over you, his hands on his hips. The spiders almost fell over each other trying to placate him.

‘Hi! Sir, we were just—’

‘It’s fine Miguel we were—’

‘No gossiping. We’re not a rag newspaper, we’re a serious organisation, that does serious work’ Miguel said, his voice slow and cold. ‘Work that I assume you’re currently procrastinating on, since you’re here, and not somewhere else.’

The spiders quickly abandoned your desk, leaving you spinning awkwardly on the spot in your little chair. Miguel had to grab the back to make it stop.

‘Ah, hey, you—’

‘Come with me.’

Miguel didn’t wait for you to respond after cutting you off. He turned and walked in the opposite direction, his presumptuous, authoritative aura gleaming off him like musk.

You thought about saying no, just on principle, but it wouldn’t help. You’d been planning to talk to him anyway. With a slightly reluctant shrug you obeyed.

Miguel led you in silence up through the heart of the HQ building to his office. The whole way you continued to avoid the curious eyes on your back, focusing instead on what you wanted to say to him.

Up the beams, through the corridor filled with anomalies, down the messy side hall and into his office, where at last you were both alone. You shuddered in the gloom, where the only light was a thin lay of blue from above that tinted your skin. It was only here that Miguel finally addressed you directly.

‘I’m sorry they’re bothering you’ Miguel called over his shoulder.

‘Uhuh. Yeah, me too. Strange how they knew’ you said, making no effort to sugarcoat your accusatory tone. Miguel grunted a chuckle as he picked up on the implication.

‘It’s not strange. HR receives filings whenever a relationship needs to be sanctioned, such as- Peter’s and Mary’s receiving crisis training or therapy, or any spiders entering into inter-dimensional relationships. It doesn’t happen often, so when one comes up featuring a Miguel variant and a random spider, and some intern copying it notices the names, they talk. They talk to their friends at lunch, and then they talk to their friends on missions. Suddenly, everyone knows.’

You felt your face burning as he spun this elaborate story. You wanted to believe he was lying, but, it was one thing he and Mig shared in common: they didn’t lie.

‘I didn’t tell anyone’ Miguel grunted as he jumped onto his desk. ‘I understand how- frustrating hormones can be. I don’t blame you for what you had to do.’

‘Uhuh’ you said, your voice wary.

‘I just don’t understand why you’ve still choosing to remain around my counterpart now you’re free’ Miguel continued as he booted up his set, more to himself than to you.

‘Because he’s my friend’ you said sharply.

Miguel glanced over his shoulder, his one visible eye glowing brightly against the dull blue hue. He looked you up and down.

‘I don’t get it’ he repeated in a low murmur. You hated it but his presence still made you slightly weak, and that soft voice was painfully close to how Mig usually spoke.

‘If you were in pain I would have helped’ he said as he turned back around. ‘It’s not like you had no options. Was I really that cold to you?’

You balked at his unexpected confession, especially when said in such a nonchalant way. It was a pretty heavy thing to drop, surely, to admit that he’d sensed your heat and been willing to sleep with you too?

‘You- are you serious?’ you whisper shouted. Your outrage made Miguel chuckle again, something that only made your face warmer.

‘I’m serious, yes. I would have helped.’

‘Oh, oh of course you would have. Just, out of the kindness of your own heart?’

‘More or less.’

You scoffed openly. ‘My god- Do you have no shame? At all?’

Miguel turned again, craning his neck a little further this time to eye you up fully. You saw the thick curve of his back as he arched it.

‘I’d advise you not to be combative’ he murmured. ‘I’m still your superior, and I’m also well aware of what you’ve done. I don’t think you should be the one to tell me about shame.’

‘Why should I be ashamed?! Because I had sex with a nice person I was friends with, because we shared a mutual attraction? Oh my god, how could I!’

‘You let a monster mate with you and almost get you pregnant’ Miguel snapped back, his voice rising ever so slightly.

‘He’s not- a monster’ you said. ‘Not- I mean, physically he is, unusual, but he’s a good person.’

‘You have no idea who that man is’ Miguel impatiently snapped.

‘Yes, I do. Damn it-- He told me! About Dana!’ you blurted.

A brief silence fell as Miguel’s hands went still. Up until this point he’d been typing, casually micro-tasking while you argued at his back, but now he was totally focused on you.

‘He did?’ Miguel repeated back. He sounded shocked, confused, perhaps even impressed?

‘Yes. He- it sounded, horrible. That poor man.’

‘That poor man’ Miguel sneered, his shock quickly turning back to disgust. ‘You didn’t see what I saw. And that’s not your fault, but I’m telling you now, I saw it. The blood on his hands, the blood on his fur, the—face, of—’

Miguel paused and shook his head. ‘He may not have intended to hurt her, but he did. He couldn’t de-escalate, couldn’t control his own strength. He could have ripped the gun out of her hands, or pointed it upwards. His panic killed her.’

‘He was- he was scared, Miguel!’ you argued. ‘He’d just undergone a painful attempt on his life, he was turned into something new, something scary, and then his life was threatened again by someone who was meant to love him!’

‘Yeah, and you know what? I want through the same exact thing’ Miguel spat. ‘I didn’t kill anyo-- … I didn’t, kill, Dana, Did I?’

Internally you were seething. Part of you wanted to just rip into him for what he’d said, for so cruelly bullying Mig for something that wasn’t his fault while making overt passes at you in the same sentence, but you held your tongue.

At least now you didn’t feel at all bad for what you were about to do.

‘I want to- make a proposal’ you said, your voice echoing through the office.

Miguel blinked. His brows went up, slowly, as his eyes darted across your face. He looked surprised. ‘You do, do you?’

You stiffened your resolve as his shadow covered your body. Before you’d have never thought of standing up to your boss like this, and yet, here you were.

‘Yes. I want you to retract the clause that Mig remain isolated from other spiders and people. He’s not a threat and you know that. He deserves the chance to reintegrate, to see that he’s safe to be around other people and to connect with people like him who won’t be afraid. I want you to let him into the society.’

Miguel grunted, his nose wrinkling with disgust. ‘No’ he barked, and immediately he turned.

He thought that would be the end of it, the stubborn fool, but you weren’t interested in begging for permission. If he wanted to play dirty, you would too.

‘Fine’ you said sharply, ‘fine. Let me guess, his genes make him too dangerous?’

‘Wow, newbie, that’s a great point. You’re right. I’ll keep that on record next time someone brings up the idea of letting him join’ Miguel sarcastically drawled. You sneered.

‘Okay. Well, if he has to stay away because his genes make him dangerous, genes that you SHARE, may I remind you, then I suggest for the safety of the society we make it public knowledge.’

You saw Miguel freeze up. He was clearly frightened, as his back muscles popped to indicate he was tensing them tightly, and his biceps were clearly getting more prominent as he clenched his fists.

You had to steel yourself to approach that terrifying visage.

‘What are you talking about?’ he hissed over his shoulder.

‘You know what I’m talking about’ you said, getting closer with each word. ‘You know that you go into ruts, the same as he does. You know that for all the pressure you put on him to stay away from people, you happily engage in that exact behaviour.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Miguel repeated, this time in a far gravellier voice.

‘I know, you sanctimonious asshole, that you’ve also been sleeping with people during your ruts!’ you whisper shouted, your voice slipping through gritted teeth.

Miguel immediately scoffed, trying to play it off. ‘You don’t have proof of that. I didn’t sleep with you.’

‘No, not- me, Miguel, I have proof. I have proof you’ve done this before.’

‘Oh, do you?’ he asked in that same sarcastic, defensive tone.

‘You decided to threaten me with my own medical records, so clearly that’s allowed, right? So, I can bring up that there are definitely files within the society bay detailing god knows how many other members or workers, filled with the same genetic material, covered in webbing?’

The moment you said ‘webbing’ he tensed up. You’d got him.

‘Perhaps a few, anti-venom prescriptions? Emergency birth control?’

He tensed up further, his head going forward as his shoulders rolled. You continued to push.

‘I don’t think the wider society would be too kind if they knew their boss was going into little, horny breakdowns, and then secretly taking out his frustrations on its members—’

At that Miguel spun around, his clawed hand slamming itself into the desk at your back. In barely a second you went from standing to trapped, your back bent against the desk with his enormous arms on either side of your torso.

‘Do you think you’re better than me?!’ he spat, his fangs dangerously close to your face.

‘Do you think you’re better than me, huh?’

You felt all of your previous convictions slip in his presence. God he was terrifying. He wasn’t nearly as big as Mig but he was huge compared to you, easily pinning your body to the desk. You felt the cold metal press into your spine as he bent you back, and your eyes instinctively drifted to his fangs.

You swallowed, hard, and were met with the strangest look in his eyes. He seemed ashamed, almost, as he realized you were scared of him, and yet there was something else there. Something more complicated.

You struggled to claw back a semblance of your previous anger.

‘You know what? No. Not in that sense. But that’s my point. We’re the same, you’re just a—’

‘Don’t say it’ he hissed.

‘Hypocrite’ you spat back in his face. With a frustrated grunt he pulled away.

‘I don’t put anyone at risk of spreading my genes!’ he said, his voice rising with his annoyance. ‘And I don’t touch anyone who I could hurt!’

‘How can you know that?’

‘Because they’re all men!’ Miguel blurted. He had to pause to breathe, his hands now gripped tight to his hips. ‘Or- at the very least they’ve had their reproductive organs taken care of. And they’re my friends, I never- I never approach anyone I don’t know and trust. I just… sometimes, I have to—have, something. Just one. But I’ve never- slipped and, indulged in anyone the way your sweet, innocent Mig has.’

‘You- but you JUST said you would have helped me out too’ you argued back. Miguel scoffed again.

‘I didn’t mean sex. I would have- offered something, for relief, because I know how much it hurts. I can control myself, but I’d rather not smell someone else going through the same agony, that’s all.’

‘Look, my— my point is, you do the same thing you accused Mig of doing. You don’t get to keep him out of the society if you’re allowed to be its head’ you said, trying to bring the subject back around.

‘He killed someone’ Miguel hissed.

‘And you exonerated him, because he was acting in self defence!’ you spat. This time your rage drove you forward, and you slammed your hand down on the desk beside Miguel, caging his tiny waist between your arms.

‘We are dangerous’ Miguel said, his voice even colder than usual. ‘We are not, safe. We are not supposed to be in relationships. I tried to tell you this, but if you won’t listen, I can’t help you.’

‘Oh, I’m the one who needs help?’

To your horror, Miguel suddenly let out a deeply sardonic chuckle. He bent so that his lips brushed your ear, and you froze as he spoke.

‘You fucked a spider’ he whispered slowly. ‘You found a version of your boss, who was half arachnid, and you let it fuck you. Furry legs and all. You nearly let it impregnate you. Yes, you need help.’

‘He.’

Miguel’s eyes darted, barely an inch from yours. You met them. You were shaking, yes, but you still stared him down.

‘He. Not it. I let him, fuck me’ you repeated.

You relished, secretly, in the deep resentment that crossed Miguel’s face. He looked jealous.

‘Why… Why, him?’

You blinked, taken aback by Miguel’s veiled question. You were expecting more vitriol, but instead his face sank as he pulled away from you.

‘What do you mean, why him?’ you asked.

‘You were in heat. I smelled it. You should have been drawn to my scent, but you turned and you ran. You ran back to him.’

You decided to let Miguel hang there for a moment, just to ponder how you should approach this.

‘If you ask that question honestly, I’ll answer’ you said slowly.

Miguel stiffened his jaw and stepped forward again. He was too curious to not take the bait. ‘Why? Why would you pick him over me?’

There it was. The most overt thing he’d ever admit. It wasn’t even really about you, was it? It was about his ego. It was about the fact that in that moment, when he’d grabbed you after your hospital trip, you’d been able to turn him down. You’d stayed loyal to Mig, and not just given in to your animal need so Miguel could satisfy himself with your body.

You could have given him a full lecture on why. His coldness, his mean streak, his little bursts of empathy that were never enough compared to Mig’s constant kindness. The way Mig gave you multiple chances to leave while Miguel grabbed you by the wrist, the way Mig praised you and thanked you and wished to acknowledge your relationship openly without shame while Miguel offered only a shameful coupling he would sooner forget.

You could have said so much. In the end, though, you just shrugged. ‘He’s hotter than you’ you said.

Silence filled Miguel’s office. At first his face was unreadable, but slowly, a smile crept onto his lips. It was an unnerving smile, the ghost of something cruel and cold.

‘Oh. Okay. Okay.’

You took a step back as Miguel turned back to his desk. The orange glow was eerie around the contours of his figure, highlighting his terrifying back muscles one by one as he rolled them.

‘Alright. You can have him here. And I won’t keep people off your back anymore. If you want to know, why I keep what I do quiet, why I keep my partners quiet, you can find out your way.’

You snorted. ‘Deal. Done. That’s all I needed from you.’

You left him there, alone on the desk, and you hurried back to the wider HQ, unaware of the new war you’d started for yourself. Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #drider #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #arachnophilia #smut #smut with plot #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara au

196 notes · View notes

flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

If you want lighter stuff maybe drider boyfreind scrambling to make sure everything is perfect for his new pet human and heavily researching human diet

I adored this idea so it ended up being a long one ^_^ how cute <3

Drider (Vass) x Gender neutral reader

Word Count: 1Kish

W: sfw monster fluff

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Request , Request, Request

The drider flipped another tab open on his phone. Toys for your human. After he’d taken you to the pet shop, he’d realized he hadn’t really prepared to adopt you. He’d found you sleeping in the forest separated from your tribe and you were just so cute, he’d picked you up and taken you home without a thought.

You were hanging in a cocoon of silk, napping as he rocked you with his foot.

At the pet shop they’d had clothes, leashes, packets of human treats, and a whole lot of other supplies. He had no idea what he really needed, so he’d scrambled home to research before he bought anything.

What do humans eat? He typed into the browser. He’d seen a bunch of bags of human food at the store, but it all looked dry and brown. He was sure that couldn't be good for you. A bunch of links popped up. Mostly advertisements for human kibble. He had to adjust his search to What do humans eat in the wild?

That turned up more promising results. Fruit, cooked meat, nuts, cooked tubers…it turned out you had a pretty varied diet. His food mostly consisted of raw meat he bought at the market. Most driders didn’t cook their food so he worried over what he should do.

According to the article humans should have lots of protein to be healthy. He couldn’t feed you fruit alone as he had been. He’d only assumed that’s what you ate because of your flat teeth and you hadn’t spat it out. He needed to learn how to cook if he was going to care for you properly.

Of course, since driders didn’t cook there weren’t a lot of articles on the subject on the web. The most recipes they had were chopped raw meat seasoned with herbs on festival days. All he knew about cooking was that he needed fire and seasonings.

He surmised you would need some sort of container to hold the food in, since it would be hot, so he ordered a metal bowl with a wooden handle. Then he picked out a gas flame used for chemistry, and some rods and tongues from the same scientific supplier.

According to his research cooking was achieved by bringing the meat or starch to a certain temperature to kill bacteria and parasites the delicate human stomach couldn’t fight. That sounded simple enough, so he added a thermometer to his order.

Then the food could be further flavored with herbs. He frowned. The only herbs he had were for the festival and those were kind of sacred. He wasn’t hyper religious but he followed traditions. Researching some herbs that were human safe as we went, he strapped you to his back to go find them in the forest.

You woke up bouncing in a sling over his shoulders a little confused and tapped him to get his attention.

“Are you awake, Dumpling?” he asked, pulling your sling to his front so he could look at you, “we’re hunting for herbs. Do you know what herbs humans like look like?”

You wracked your brain, but you’d never been a cook in your tribe. You were a trapper and that’s all you knew about. Shaking your head you looked at him with a frown.

He pinched your cheek.

“That’s okay,” he assured you, “we’ll find something good. I’ve got an app to identify them.”

You all poked around for a while until Vass found some kind of red fruit. He plucked one and examined it, checking it on his phone.

“I think this is called a tomato,” he said, handing it to you, “do you want to try it? The web says it's good for humans.”

You nodded and took a big bite, chewing enthusiastically.

Only it was not a tomato! Your mouth exploded with heat and you coughed violently, drooling from the spicy pepper. Vass watched in horror as his precious human appeared to be dying from some kind of horrible poisoning. Your face was red, you were frothing at the mouth, and wracking.

“What’s wrong?!” he shrieked louder than you’ve ever heard him speak, grabbing your cheeks and examining you, looking for some way to fix it.

He shook you as you tried to slow your coughing.

“Speak Dumpling! Speak! What’s wrong?! How do I fix it?” he rattled, panicked.

You looked up at him with tears running down your face and uttered one word.

“Hot,” you gasped before dissolving back into a coughing fit.

He pulled you to him, your face clamped between his palms, and pressed his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue between your lips. You were dazed by the pepper and confused by his kiss. It took you a moment to realize your mouth was cooling down as Vass spread a tiny amount of the numbing agent he used to kill his prey mixed with his saliva over the burning flesh.

Your coughing slowed and you panted against his lips. He finally pulled away and rubbed your back, breathing deeply as if he had been the one under siege by spice.

“No more spice hunting today,” he wheezed, “I’ll just use the festival spices until I can order something else.”

A few days later you sat happily in a swing Vass had made for you while you waited to sample his first attempt at cooked food. It smelled good, so you were optimistic. You’d watched him craft it with precision, carefully slicing the cut of meat into chunks to be small enough for your mouth and marinating it in something he kept calling festival spices and fruit juice.

Then he’d put it in a metal bowl and heated it until it smelled good, poking it with a little prod until he was happy with the reading on the small screen attached to it.

You held out your hands greedily, eager to try it. You hadn’t had cooked food since before Vass had kidnapped you from your tribe.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, swatting your hands away, “it has to cool back down to at least 90 degrees.”

You pouted until he finally speared a piece on his claw and fed you. You chewed, considering the flavor. The festival spices were actually some kind of curry, though you had no idea what curry was. Giving him an approving smile, you opened your mouth ready for more. It was delicious!

He fed you peacefully for a while, looking at you thoughtfully.

“You know, you got me curious, Dumpling,” he said, “I almost heard it a little bit, but…what does your voice sound like?”

You stopped mid chew, embarrassed. You hadn’t spoken in a long time it seemed and you weren't really sure it was allowed.

“Go ahead,” he said, waving a claw at you and withholding your next bite, “say something…quietly.”

You swallowed and wondered what you should say.

“Hi,” you murmured softly and he smiled.

“It’s pretty,” he said, then paused for a moment, “maybe…if you’re quiet...you can talk to me sometimes.”

“Okay,” you said just as softly and decided that was enough conversation for the night, opening your mouth again for food.

Vass chuckled and fed you until you were full and sleepy, curling you up on his chest to go to bed like he usually did.

“Goodnight Dumpling,” he whispered to the darkness.

“Goodnight, Vass,” you whispered back.

#drider boyfriend #drider x reader #drider x human #monster fluff #monster romance #monster x human #monster boyfriend #yandere fluff #male yandere #yandere headcanons

473 notes · View notes

yanphobia · 1 year

Text

Cleithrophobia - Chapter 6

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 5 Index Chapter 7

Author's Note: yall remember when i said i wanted to have a new chapter out every week? lmao

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

The meat began to sizzle the moment it hit the grill. Well, “grill” ... that was a generous term for it. It was really only an empty terracotta flowerpot, with a bit of coal inside and a grate on top of it. But the important thing was that it worked. You had woken up early to complete your daily tasks on the farm and headed out towards yours and Mars’ new meeting spot before dusk. You quickly set up your grill and allowed the fire to heat it thoroughly before removing the skewers and marinated cubes of beef from the freezer bag you had prepared the night before. Afterwards, you prepared them and the vegetarian shish kebabs that you had made for yourself to enjoy.

Mars arrived as he always did. Although he tried to act disinterested in your setup, the curiosity in his eyes betrayed him.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever eaten human food before, but I thought that you might like this,” you admitted sheepishly. The aroma coming from the seared meat may have been tempting, but you would never be able to eat it. You removed it, the doneness quite rare, and offered the kebab to him. “It’s very hot, though, so wait for a moment first!”

“What the hell is this...?” he asked as he waited for the heat to subside. He sniffed it and flinched. Then he glanced at you, and hesitantly took a bite. Almost immediately, his face contorted into one of pure disgust and he spat the cube of meat out. “Ugh, what the hell is this?!”

“Uhm, it’s... uh...” You didn’t know how to justify it. His eating had always disgusted you, but sometimes he seemed so human that you had thought that he may enjoy some of the things that humans did. Eating cooked meat, for instance. But did you want to share a human experience with him, or did you want him to stop doing something that bothered you? Suddenly unsure of your true intentions, and feeling embarrassed at the awkward situation, you cleared your throat.

“I- I don’t know. I just thought...”

He noticed your discomfort. “It’s... you know, it’s very...” He suddenly looked just uncomfortable as you felt. “Here,” he said as he offered you the kebab, “why don’t you have the rest?”

“Thank you,” you said, “But I can’t eat meat.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t...”

“Humans do it all the time-”

“-I just can’t bear to watch it anymore!”

You didn’t mean to admit it, but it was the truth. From the moment you first saw him devour the slabs of beef that you brought him, the whole idea of consuming meat churned your stomach. Unfortunately, he understood the meaning behind your words. Hurt briefly flashed in his eyes before it was replaced with disdain. Without any way to further explain yourself, you dejectedly fished out a raw steak from your bag and handed it towards him.

“Well then,” he scoffed as he grabbed it from your hand and turned to leave, “eat your little leaves like the livestock you are.”

---

You tried to ignore the burning in your legs as you awkwardly stood behind a seated Mars, stretched awkwardly over his cephalothorax. You had noticed that his hair was always disheveled, and the heavy mats looked painful. After your previous meeting, you thought that brushing them out would be a nice way to make it up to him.

“Ow! Ugh, how much longer is this going to take?”

“Hold. Still. I’m not going to say it again.”

“This is taking forever!”

“We would’ve been done an hour ago if you just held still. God, you complain more than any child I’ve ever met!”

At least that earned a laugh.

---

It was so cold tonight. Giant, soft snowflakes were gently floating through the air as you waited for Mars to appear. He did, and you greeted each other amicably. You sat and talked while he ate, with you keeping your focus on the beautiful sky above you. Your eyes scanned it intensely until you found what you were looking for.

“Right there!” you exclaimed, pointing at a particularly bright star. “That’s Mars!”

“Seriously?”

“Yep!”

“Is that where my name came from?”

“Yes. Every spring, there’s this phenomenon- well, I mean, it’s a theory- where the carbon dioxide under the surface rises out and forms cracks in the ground. The cracks look like giant spiders.”

His face brightened up. “That’s pretty cool! How did you know that?”

“I used to love astronomy.” You looked down at your clasped hands bashfully. “Actually, I thought it was my calling in life.”

He moved a bit closer to you. “What changed?”

Your eyes met his. His bizarre facial features had long stopped bothering you, and looking into his many eyes, there was such a kindness in them that you found yourself telling him about your life. Where you grew up, the people that you loved, and... you told him about your mental breakdown. About running away. About Stan and Laura saving your life. He listened quietly for the whole story, and when you were finished, he remained quiet for a while after that.

“...I’m sorry that happened to you.”

His voice was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it. By this point in time, you had been laying down and watching the stars, and had begun to doze off.

“It’s... it’s alright. It is... something that happened, and I can’t change it now. I just have to keep moving forward.”

“Hmm.”

Again, you two fell into silence, and the drowsiness was creeping back in. You don’t know how long you were sleeping, but when you woke up, Mars was still there, sitting and staring at you intently. You sat up and began stretching your stiff joints.

“Sorry! I didn’t realize how late it was,” you said, “I should get going.”

You began to walk past him, but a rough hand on your arm stopped you.

“You should stay.”

“I can’t. I have work to do in the morning.”

“You should sleep in my den, then.”

From what he’s told you, his den is a glorified hole in the ground. Quite frankly, you had no interest in ever going to it.

“I really can’t. I- please let go- I'm exhausted and freezing, and I need to get home.”

“Well, if you’re cold, then come here.” He said as he harshly pulled you closer to him. You stumbled forward and awkwardly fell into his arms. He began to reposition you so that your back was flush against his chest, but you kept trying to pull yourself free.

“Mars, I’m serious! Please stop!” Both of his hands grasping your forearms, he stopped and stared at you with his irritation visible on his face.

“Mars, I-” you didn’t know how to begin this conversation. It was unpleasant and long overdue. But sometimes he did or said things that you found uncomfortable, and you needed to set a boundary. “Please, if we’re going to be friends, then you need to stop disrespecting me so much.”

He stared at you for a moment longer before his expression changed to one of incredulity. He looked equal parts surprised, frustrated, and hurt. Then it changed, again, into one of rage, and he laughed mockingly.

“Friends?! Is that what we are? Why the fuck would I want to be friends with someone like you?!” He shoved you away from him and rose to his full height. You scrambled to get up from the ground and took a few steps back from him. You hadn’t seen him angry, truly angry, in a while, and had forgotten how scary he could be. You thought that he might storm off, as he usually does, but he wasn’t finished.

“How pathetic. Try to imagine me, me, of anyone, befriending some dumbass bitch who gives up and runs away the second she feels uncomfortable. How funny is that?! Let me tell you, bitch, that I don’t care about your stupid human friendship, especially not with someone as crazy as you are!”

You stood there in shock. He kept rambling, seemingly to himself.

“Ha, ha, ha! This bitch, this mental case, thinks I want to be her friend! What’s even the point, anyway? You’re just gonna snap and run off again like you did to your other friends! Why would I ever want to be friends with someone so unreliable?!”

There were no words to describe how hurt you were. The fact that you had confided something so personal, something so painful, to him, and he was so quick to throw it back in your face... it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you. You began to shake and your eyes were starting to burn.

“Fine then,” you said at last. You had to speak very carefully, knowing that if your voice broke he would only mock you more. “Forget that I said anything.”

There were so many more things that you wanted to say to him, but you quickly made your way out the clearing and back to your cabin without waiting for his reaction. You had to get back home as soon as possible. You knew that Shadow was waiting for you in your cabin, and you had to wait until you were able to hold him close before you could let your bitter tears fall.

#yandere writing #tw yandere #yandere stories #yandere male #yandere #yandere fiction #drider oc x reader #yandere drider #drider x reader #drider #terato x reader #terato #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #cleithrophobia

109 notes · View notes

frickfrackiwastakingabath · 2 years

Text

Anyway sorry for the death my school just finished a play lol

Anyway take Curses Corrupt

...

Caught Up

Tw spiders, threats, fear of death, fearplay, vore mentions, mouthplay, swearing

Nsfw do NOT interact

...

Tommy's face was wet. He was sweating from the heat of the summer night. And the hour long fight or flight mode he couldn't act upon. And the crying.

The drider was sleeping most likely. It was hard to tell since her glowing eyes shown through her eyelids, but from the web Tommy could see Eret's eyes were at least closed.

Craning his neck around, Tommy could see that the rest of the party had their eyes closed. Asleep? Probably not with how much they were squirming in the web, but at least trying to.

Tommy bent awkwardly, seeing if his mouth could reach his cocoon thing, thankfully the answer was yes. Tubbo was more of the books person, but Tommy would have sworn he read spiders wrap up their prey before they eat them.

The web's were dusty from the dirt and sand if the cave, but eventually Tommy had enough wiggle room to reach his sword and cut away the webbing. He looked down, noticing he was only about ten feet away from the ground, one of the lower ones.

Tommy thought for a moment. The web was too stick for him to climb without getting stuck again, but there was no way Tommy could leave the rest of his party.

The town was miles away, so going there and back would get him back to the cave as the sun rises. Plus time to organise an army to take down this shapeshifting bitch, Tommy would be back around ten in the morning. That should be enough time to sav e the others.

Assuming Eret doesn't decide to just eat them as soon as she sees Tommy is gone.

Tommy dropped to the ground before he could dwell on that any longer. The gravel shifted under him as he landed, crouching to the ground to minimise the shock of falling.

Dim white eyes started glowing, no longer behind a muffler. Even without pupils, Tommy could tell Eret was staring directly at him.

"Well well," Eret rose from their sleeping spot. Tommy froze, not realising how sensitive their hearing must be for a forest monster. "You certainly don't look it, but you are clever."

Before Tommy could think of moving, Eret plucked him off the ground, holding him in one hand and using their other hand to poke and prod at him.

Their nails were sharp, Tommy was sure he was being bruised from the tight grip and scraped from the scratching.

"I'm feeling rather famished..." Eret brought Tommy closer up to their face. "And I have five others to play with-"

"No no nO NO NO-" Tommy squirmed, desperately pushing at Eret's hands to no avail.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy saw the other stuck on the web, leaning forward, eyes wide, not being able to make a sound. Their mouths were covered, but their eyes were screaming, pleading for the gods to have mercy on their friend.

Eret's mouth was open wide, their warm breath brushing Tommy. Their tongue pressed against him, savoring the taste. He supposed not many adventurers came by because of the giant shapeshifter, and in turn Eret didn't get much food. A terrible cause and effect Tommy and the rest of the party were outliers in.

"PLEASE!" Tommy grabbed onto Eret's fangs, sharp enough that his hands were bleeding by holding onto them. Eret surprisingly stopped, but continued his ratified humming.

"I'll tell you what," Eret brought Tommy out of his mouth. He wasn't too covered in saliva since driders didn't produce a lot, but he still felt sticky and gross. "I'm keeping you all around to play with, so let's play a game."

Tommy was placed back onto the ground, still stumbling in his shock. He looked up at the glowing white eyes, squinting at him in amusement.

"I'll even give you a head start," Eret said, like he was a reasonable person. "Have you ever played tag, Tommy? Or hide and seek?"

Chills went down his spine as the monster used his name. He gave that to a human Eret out of trust, not for a giant spider to use in taunts.

"Just like those old games," Eret said. Tommy hated how casual he sounded, so nonchalant. "I'll see how fun you are, how long you last, and see if it's worth keeping you around. Ready-"

Tommy sprinted off, not waiting for Eret to count down. No. Nope. No way in FUCK was that happening.

The forest was vast, thick in foliage. It was hard to navigate or to sprint through. Tommy tripped over roots, got caught on bushes, but nothing would stop him with the quick calculated scuttle he could hear behind him.

Blood rushed to his ears, ringing. His heart was beating against his dry throat, his sweat freezing him as it cooled in the night wind. Tommy barely felt himself breathing, or hear his feet on the leafy forest floor as he ignores all the running techniques his knight had shown him. He was blind on adrenaline.

Blind enough to fall down a hill, apparently.

Tommy tripped, rolling down the hill unfashonably. His legs were bruised on the roots and trees he hit, and his ankle swelled up. As he tried to stand again, Tommy fell forward. He couldn't run anymore.

"Tommy..." He

Tommy's heart leaped as he scrambled on all fours to a caved in tree, dead and hallow on the inside so Tommy could squeeze into it. He held his breath, even though he was sure Eret would've been able to hear his thundering heart beat.

"I've got to say, I'm impressed with how fast you went," Eret shrugged. He loomed over the tree Tommy was in. "But that fall down this hill can't have been fun for you."

Eret stretched out, their legs retracting back into their twisting body. They transformed into a naga, winding around TOMMY'S tree to get a better veiw of the forest, like they needed it.

The end of their tale blocked the entrance. FUCK shit fuck fuck fuck...

Tommy covered his mouth, taking shallow breaths so Eret wouldn t hear his runny nose. Tommy was shaking like a leaf as Eret stayed in her spot. There was no way she didn't know he was there, she was toying with him.

Proving his point, Eret squeezed her tail around the tree, Tommy hearing the bark snap. And it was getting tighter and tighter and the tree was eventually uprooted, crackling and breaking as Eret crushed it. Tommy felt suffocated.

Eret's tail by the door tensed up, the walls shrinking in to crush the part of the tree Tommy was in. He let go of his mouth, desperately going to the entrance and screaming. No no no no no..."

But Eret's game was done. They let go of the tree, all dust and wood chips now, smiling down at their bug to crush.

"I will admit," Eret nodded. "That was fun."

Tommy, limp, made no struggle as he was wrapped again and placed on the web back at the cave. The rest of the party was relieved to see him alive and back, but suspicious of how torn up he looked. His leather armour was ripped, there were leaves and twigs on his hair. He was exhausted.

Against his will and caution, Tommy gave into exhaustion and drifted to unconsciousness. In his nightmares, he was chased with weights on his legs.

#mcyt g/t #curses corrupt au #giant!eret #tiny!tommy #drider!eret

27 notes · View notes

yanderecandystore · 3 years

Note

Yandere dog man in heat, please.

At first I got really confused, and I came up with three different scenarios of how this could play out:

Medieval Monster Dog Man: Kinda like a werewolf, really feral but maybe he can't transform into a human (making it a different type of monster). In this setting I imagined monsters and humans being kinda against one another.

Modern Anthro Dog Man: Beastars basically, a world where either everyone is an anthro animal (furry lol-), or a world where humans and anthro/monster animals coexist in a modernized setting.

Anime Neko Style: A dog man with more human features than dog-like, leaving his tail and his ears and a couple of mannerisms.

Let me see what I can do for you, boo.

TW/Tags: basic horniness (nsfw stuff: mentions of pillow grinding, vague biting kink, sexual frustration, implied sex after ending, slight mentions of breeding kink, etc) // gender neutral/nonspecific reader // I decided to go with a semi fantasy setting, although vaguely described so you can imagine this universe the way you like // I consider him to be from some kind of monster species-

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Partners through tough and thin [Yandere!DogMan/Monster?? x GN!Reader - Headcanons]:

Let's start with a bit of an off-topic: Did you read my mind boo? Did you know that I was planning on adding a section to the Masterlist dedicated to humanoid/animalistic monsters? I was thinking more about driders/insectoid monsters actually- But I don't really mind this.

Regardless, let's set up the context!

🎇 Let me set the stage for a quick sec!🎇

So, I won't talk for too long this time, just a quick basic talk about your relationship with Flint (don't @ me, I'm terrible at picking names out of the blue-).

You two meet each other pretty much by coincidence, both of you were looking for people to form an adventuring party with- But ultimately finding almost no luck.

To be fair, you weren't really looking for an adventure with strangers, as mostly you just wanted to gain more knowledge by exploring your vast world with someone you would at least want to be near with. You were a couple of ranks above him, yet you found him to be such great company that you two formed some sort of bond over the time you guys spent together.

Expedition after expedition, and it started to feel like you two were more than random colleagues being together just for the sake of finishing a task, it felt like you two were mutual friends that were so accustomed to working together that it felt weird being separated or near strangers.

You were surprised to find someone so easy to rely on, so sweet and kind and extremely gullible. After seeing so many narcissistic jerks who only wanted someone to carry their stuff and do all the hard work while you stood by and watched them take all the glory of completing their quest- It felt like a breeze of fresh air to find Flint looking for someone as well.

Which was weird considering how easily any of them would have taken him to be their personal walking inventory.

You two didn't get along right away, but you guys did warm up to each other as the time passed on. You thought Flint was too childish and Flint thought you were too stern, and even after five years of working with each other, nothing seems to have changed.

Nothing except a better understanding between you two. Even with your differences, it was as if you two were inseparable at this point.

Flint is a lovely guy, you can't tell if it's because of his dog side, but he radiates Good Boy Energy™. He is loyal to you as an adventuring partner, and he is the best friend someone can have, yet you would be lying if you said you knew everything about him.

Flint is not the best at hiding things, especially his own emotions and even he knows about that! Throughout these five years you two spent together, Flint would always try to keep his distance from you in certain times of the year.

At first you didn't understand why did he act so weird and be so distant from you- Until you realized what was happening and you started to feel stupid for not getting it sooner- Fling goes through a heat cycle every six months and that has proven to be quite the interesting change to your routine- Considering you never knew (and still doesn't know-) what to do about it.

Flint always told you it was fine- It was a normal thing to him at this point and you didn't need to worry about it- You just needed to keep a reasonable distance from him and… Close your ears every night through these cycles.

It was fine, you know? I mean- To you it's a bit of an awkward situation as you aren't the same species or him/or don't go through these heat cycles as him- But to him it was absolutely normal. Inconvenient, but normal.

You have no idea what he does to himself to stop it from getting in the way of your partnerships- But one can't help but be curious, especially since he could just stay home if he wasn't feeling alright, he didn't need to continue this journey.

For some reason he always preferred to ignore it and keep going, to focus on his task to be able to give in to the carnal instincts brewing inside him. That was before he met you, however.

He always had dealt with his heat by occupying his mind, and it worked for the most part- But why does it feel so strong now? Why does it feel so unbearable?

It's been a couple of days that he can't find peace anymore, even if he tries to ease his pain each night, it nevers seems to get better. Whatever medication/potion or spell he could use to stop it, it wasn't working anymore, he somehow felt just as if not more sensitive than he was before he took those.

It wasn't just his body that was struggling to find some rest, his mind was also being haunted by mockeries of his own fantasies- To be fair, he hasn't been in peace with himself for a long time now, probably longer than he thinks, but you know how it is- You don't know you have fallen in love with someone until it's too late, and he has just recently discovered the seed of affection towards you growing into something more and more.

He had a crush on you, he doesn't know for how long yet it feels like it has been an eternity- It doesn't really help that you two spend more time with each other than with other adventurers and explorers, and it doesn't help that while you're sleeping in your tent, approximately 15 meters away from his own, as his mind is filled with worse and worse thoughts about you-

It's way too late at night for him to be feeling so needy- He's been trying to relieve himself for maybe 3 hours already, yet he still hasn't been able to calm down his mind and body. He has been carefully listening to each sound that came from outside, more specifically from inside your tent. Every snore, every breath, every whine you give in your sleep is making him mad with feelings he shouldn't have let it grow to this extent. He was supposed to be listening carefully to make sure you're safe, but instead he is having lewd ideas about your sleeping noises.

The feelings and thoughts that are suddenly coming to his mind are nothing short of disgusting to him, he knows he shouldn't be thinking I'll of an friend he loves so much, he shouldn't be craving someone to this degrading extent- Yet he can't stop biting his pillow and imagining it to be you, constantly breathing out your name while crying pathetically as he continues to indulge in this act while his mind is in a half sleep state.

So sleepy in fact that he hasn't heard you coming inside his tent- He wasn't even sure if your soft caressing was real or just a figment of his own twisted mind. He feels so grossed out by his own mind, he would rather believe this is all a dream then to realize he was being so loud you decided to come inside and see if he was okay-

Please, he is already the worst being alive just for fantasizing about you- Don't tell him he woke you up with his whining, it makes him feel more pathetic.

It's such a bittersweet situation, you came here genuinely deciding to help him out however you could- Not because of pity, but for something more than just wanting to help him ease his urges- But even if he is earning for this with all his heart, he feels too bad about himself to stop crying and apologizing for what he was about to do. You two seemed to have your hearts in the same direction, but can he control his instinct to take you for himself and breed you?

It doesn't really matter if he can or not breed you, his mind is already lost to countless nights without sleeping and constant thoughts about loving you and making love with you- Whatever sense of logic has been thrown out of the window.

However, maybe he isn't completely lost! Maybe he'll try his best to be more romantic about this, as it wasn't really how he expected it to happen. Even if he is currently acting like a lovesick lust beast, you don't need to worry because the good boy as your partner is commonly known for will be back in the morning, just a bit more clingy and overly protective of you.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere monster #yandere mosnter x reader #yandere monster headcanon #yandere heat #yandere headcanon #yandere monster x f!reader #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

258 notes · View notes

what-big-teeth · 4 years

Text

Protect (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

And the fic is completed! As per the request of @teacupfullofstars, this story features a plus-sized reader and a male naga. I had loads of fun writing this (the proof being the 9 and 1/4 pages saved to my Word processor)! So I hope you guys enjoy this one as well! Female Reader (POV) x Male Monster If there was one job perk you adored, it was traveling.

Since your employment, your career took you across vast oceans and past numerous borders. And with every site you visited, you experienced various cultures, met interesting people, and saw amazing creatures—mythical and common—up close. All while diligently ensuring the wildlife you worked with would no longer be at risk.

Not too shabby for an endangered species biologist, all things considered.

But this go around? Probably your most difficult assignment as of yet. Not because of the dwindling number of sun eagles you’re attempting to save. Or the stifling, scorching humidity coming in from the Bay of Bengal.

No, it’s all due to one of the wildlife sanctuary’s guards: Karan.

Which is why you’re preoccupied with hoping he isn’t assigned to the main expedition today.

“Really?” your tentmate drawls. “You know you can’t keep doing this, right?”

You sniff and finish applying anti-chafing balm to your plump thighs, all while Maura gathers the silk spilling from her gland for the expedition.

“Considering how this awkwardness isn’t my fault, I can and will keep avoiding him.”

Maura sighs, stopping the flow of silk once she’s braided it into a long thick rope. She tucks a white strand of hair behind a pointed, deep gray ear.

“Considering how he and the other guards are sharing a campground with us and he’s their leader, good luck with that.”

Part of you knows she’s right, which is why you bite your bottom lip…then quickly apply a layer of lip salve. Best to not get chapped lips during your stay in the jungle. You pull up your pair of breathable pants and tuck your socked feet into your hiking boots.

“We’re close to finding the source behind the sun eagles’ dwindling numbers. So I can, seeing as we’ll be done here in a few days.”

“Sure thing,” Maura says, heading over to the tent flap with her arms full of thick silk. “As long as you’re not asked to help boost the population with a breeding program.”

Maura’s comment makes you pause in the middle of pulling on your neutral-colored, long-sleeved shirt. You know there’s a good chance you and your colleagues will be asked to help multiply the sun eagle population. And even though you’ll be paid handsomely by the government, is it really worth the naga-shaped headache?

“Missy?” It takes a moment to identify the deep, male voice outside your tent. “You and Maura ready to go?”

The tension winding up in your body rushes out like a flood. It’s only Bashnog, one of the guards.

“Give us a few minutes and we will be!”

Someone else “tsks”. The sound has just a bit of susurrus to it.

“We cannot afford to waste any more time,” Karan says, matter-of-fact. “Please meet us by the campground’s southern edge.”

“Speak of the devil,” you mutter.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing!” You scoop up the bottle of sunscreen at your feet. “We’ll be out soon!”

With a final huff of air, Karan slithers away, rustling the leaves and sticks on the ground outside.

Maura glances your way, smirking as she opens the tent’s entrance.

“What was that about avoiding him again?”

You groan. Loudly.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The humid, summer air engulfs you as you tighten the straps on your daypack. With the way sweat gathers in your sports bra, you already know that personal, manual laundering will be a must tonight. Not only for you, but for your human peers and non-human colleagues that don’t handle heat so well.

Bashnog spots you from the campground’s edge and waves a deep green hand in greeting. He smiles, one of his chipped tucks gleaming in the dimmed sunlight.

“Sleep well, Missy?”

“As well as I could, Bash.”

Ever since you met the muscular, jovial orc three weeks ago, Bashnog took to calling you “Missy”. You didn’t mind as long as you could give him a nickname. Hence, Bash.

“You’ll be back inside a properly air-conditioned hotel when this is all over,” he says, chuckling.

“It’s not the summer heat that’s really bothering me...”

You covertly lean to the left, looking past him.

Karan stands near the front of the group, surrounded by the other sanctuary guards. He doles on instructions, his rich brown face as impassive as ever. You can’t recall ever seeing him smile during the time you’ve known him. Which, honestly, is a shame.

With his tidy, yet short jet-black hair, high-bridged nose, and muscular body, you know he’s caught an eye or two. Especially since any guy in a sharp uniform tends to draw appreciation. And the yellow and brown scale pattern of an Indian rock python on his serpentine half compliments his skin tone.

Hell, you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive. But that spark was snuffed out the moment he stiffened then slithered away after first seeing you. Honestly...

“Missy?”

You turn your attention back to Bash.

“You’re Karan’s closest friend. Are you sure I didn’t do anything to offend him?”

Learning the cultural norms and expectations of both humans and non-humans came with the job description. And yet, no matter how hard you wracked your brain and sifted through your memories, you couldn’t think of how you could’ve upset him.

“Swear on my stronghold, Missy,” he says grinning. “You haven’t. Come on, we should join the others.”

Well, that was totally unhelpful. You settle on taking Bash’s words to heart, doing your best to ignore the shred the doubt growing in your mind.

He takes his place besides Karan while you head over towards Maura, who’s a few feet away, her arm threaded through her long coil of rope. As you walk past one of your male colleagues, Jamison, he lets out an insufferable groan that catches your ear.

“…bad enough we have to deal with the black widow drider,” he mutters, “but we have to deal with having her in the front? She’ll only slow us down.”

‘The black widow drider’ being Maura and ‘her’ being you. You stop where you stand and whirl to face him, ready to unleash a few choice words. But someone else beats you to it.

“I didn’t know demeaning your co-workers was a particular talent of your, Jamison. Perhaps I should let your employer know.”

Jamison jolts backwards only to land on his ass. Karan stares down at him through pinpoint slits surrounded by a warm gold. He crosses his arms, unknowingly showcasing the dark patches of scales dotting his skin.

“T-that…” Jamison swallows loudly. “That isn’t—”

“Enough. Discrimination of any sort has no place on this reserve. Fall in line where you’re meant to go. And stay silent.”

Karan hisses out the last of his command, showing a hint of fang. Jamison clambers to his feet and darts away, kicking up leaves and dirt a hurried rush. That leaves you standing before Karan, your mouth awkwardly parted. You close it with a soft click and clear your throat.

“Uh, thank you,” you say. Because that’s only thing your stunned mind can manage right now.

Karan nods then says your name. You wonder if you’ve both made some sort of breakthrough…

“You’ll be positioned up front behind me and in front of Maura during the expedition.”

…and wished you hadn’t.

“B-but,” you begin, almost floundering, “Bash is your second-in-command! Isn’t that his usual spot?”

“It is. But one of my men, Arnolds, hasn’t been seen since the start of this week. We’ll have to make due with what guards we have.”

Your mind recalls the tall, American expatriate with the charming crew-cut and even more charming personality. Unlike present company.

“If you think that’s best,” you say, sighing.

Karan nods, a resolute light in his eyes. There’s no point in disagreeing now, so you dip your head in reply.

He calls out to Maura and calmly gestures for you to follow along. You do, taking part of the rope Maura offers you after she gives a portion of it to Karan. As she doles out the rest to the others while they fall in line, Karan ties his part around his waist then faces the group.

“Everyone! We’re close to determining the cause behind the sun eagles’ endangerment. I believe this will be the first of many forays into their nesting grounds.”

His eyes scan the group with purpose then meet your gaze.

“As their territory veers off the public path, Bashnog and I have determined the best way to link the group together is through the use of rope made of drider silk. Please quickly tie your portion around your waist so we can move out.”

No need to tell you twice. Once you’ve tied a secure, tight knot about your thick waist, you adjust your daypack and wait. After one of the guards taking up the rear gives the word, Karan instructs the group to follow.

The trek down the public pathway is familiar as you’ve taken it quite a few times. But this is the first time you and your colleagues will head into the jungle. After about a fifteen-minute hike, Karan slowly comes to a halt before a gap in the dense tangle of tall trees. He holds up a clenched fist, a signal towards his men.

“From this point on,” he yells above the teeming noise, “you biologists will be in uncharted territory. Working together with us will guarantee our quick arrival at the nesting site and future success. Remember this.”

After a small pause, he pushes onward and you follow before the silk rope pulls taut. You have to take larger than usual steps to avoid tripping over the thick underbrush. But this isn’t your first go around with having to hike across cluttered terrain, albeit in a different climate.

Talk about foresight; no wonder Karan enlisted Maura’s help yesterday. You turn back and look at her, hoping to start a conversation to pass the time. But she shakes her head, then juts her chin forward. Towards Karan.

“Seriously?!” you hiss at her.

Karan clears his throat. You bottle up the sharp annoyance bubbling up inside you.

“Is there a problem?”

And feel it dissipate. Instead of his usual no-nonsense tone, his voice is calm. Almost gentle, even. Strange…

“No,” you say, licking away the beads of sweat gathering on your upper lip. But that’s a lie and you know it. “Actually, there is.”

Karan turns his head slightly in your direction to indicate he’s listening. You flex your damp hands a few times and take a soothing breath.

“I know you don’t like me,” you say with a bit more edge than planned; screw it. “But it’s hard to apologize for an offense when I don’t even know what I did.”

You brace yourself when Karan looks at you over his shoulder. Instead of the anger you expected, his features are twisted with confusion.

“I never said anything about disliking you.” He glances away with a frown then sighs. “If anything, I—!”

His clawed hand closes around your wrist in a vice.

“Get down!”

You fall onto your front, pulled down by his sudden movement. The rope tied around your waist goes taut then slack. Everyone else must be following Karan’s lead.

Shots ring out. Your pulse hammers inside of your skull and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. Quick footfalls burst out from the thick foliage around you, overtaking the sounds of wildlife. Then a series of sharp clicks; your blood runs cold.

“Never thought I’d see the day when the great Karan was down on his face,” a familiar voice says. “Will wonders never cease.”

Karan shifts his head up. He lets out a low, angry hiss.

“Arnolds?!”

Your eyes flit up in spite of your fear. Stomach dropping, you realize it is him. He adjusts the strap of the massive, loaded gun he holds in his hands with a smirk. “The one and only, boss.”

Then, as if to twist the knife further, he snaps his fingers. One of the unfamiliar men steps towards him and holds up a bloody sack. He reaches inside and partially pulls out a mangled, black wing. You swallow the bile and anger building in your throat.

This is the cause of the sun eagles’ endangerment. Karan’s sharp claws gouge deep rows into the ground.

“Why throw in your lot with poachers?”

“Money, obviously. It’s one thing to have a nice little stipend from the government.” Arnolds smirks cruelly. “But it’s another to find a growing need among the Black Market. You and I both know how valuable sun eagle feathers are for their incendiary properties. And the bodies of their deceased elders have been used to make tonics for ages. But as of late, there are high spenders who’d pay top dollar for a dead, stuffed bird.”

Arnolds steps closer to Karan and kneels in front of him.

“So I thought, ‘why not meet the needs of the important few while lining my pockets as well’?”

“You bas—”

You hear a sharp click and glimpse a thin, black barrel being pressed against Karan’s temple.

“Now, now,” Arnolds says. “There’s no need to be rude.”

His cold blue eyes dart over and meet yours.

“Especially when the cute little biologist you’ve been carrying a torch for can have a little accident.”

You freeze, but a breath still escapes you.

“What?”

A sharp bout of laughter pierces your ears.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Arnolds says. “Tell me what you think of this headline, Karan. ‘Top sanctuary guard found deceased on site; endangered species biologist goes missing’.” You press your body closer to the ground as Arnolds pins you in place with his sharp gaze.

“Gotta keep the supply of sun eagles happy, healthy, and viable, right?” Arnolds stands. “Take her. Kill the rest.”

Everything happens in a blur. There a knife against the silk rope. Foreign, clammy hands dig into your arms. Maura bears her fangs. You peer up into the barrel of a gun. An enraged hiss, an injured scream. A shot rings out. Darkness envelops your vision and you know no more.

------------------------------------------------------------------

You come to thanks to an insistent beeping… and something cool rubbing the inside of your forearm. You shift and the coolness gentle grasps your wrist. Someone whispers your name.

“…Karan?” you mutter.

“I’m right here,” he says gently.

Squinting against the fluorescent light hurts more than it should. Doesn’t help that your head is pounding, too. But it slowly subsides and you come face to face with Karan. His red-rimmed golden eyes peer down at you and he smiles.

“Hey there,” he whispers with a croak. The corners of your lips lift just a bit.

“Hey yourself. What…what happened?”

Karan strokes your skin and explains. In the ensuing chaos, the sanctuary guards were able to fight back against Arnolds and his men. Maura was quick to down the more dangerous of the armed poachers with her venom, while Bashnog was able to disarm the majority.

Panicking, Arnolds fired his gun and shot you. Thankfully, the bullet ended up passing through a non-vital area. But the shock of being injured made your mind shut down temporarily.

“After that,” Karan says, “I saw red. When I came back to myself, Arnolds was downed with bloody claw marks across his stomach. I carried you back to the camp while Maura tended to your wound. Bashnog informed law enforcement of Arnolds’ plot. He and his remaining men were taken into government custody. And you…”

His voice quivers. You gently pull your arm out of his grip then lace your fingers with his, being careful of his claws. He squeezes your hand.

“I’m still here,” you say.

“But you may not have been,” he whispers.

Tears trail down his cheek, catching on the smaller scales dotting his face as he says your name.

“I have never hated you. The reason for my off-standish behavior during the first day…that wasn’t the first time I saw you.”

Karan inhales a silent breath then releases it.

“A week prior to your arrival, I was made aware of the biologists who would come to sanctuary. Files, including photographs, were sent my way.”

His eyes find your and hold your gaze.

“Seeing your photo took my breath away.”

Heat surges into your cheeks as you try to speak. But Karan gently presses the pad of index finger against your lips.

“Please, let me finish.” You nod as your pulse speeds up. He pulls his hand away from your face and you shiver.

“I did all I could to deny my attraction to you. After all, such a thing in a professional setting wouldn’t be conducive to our work. But when I saw you in person that first day, my interest in you grew tenfold. If I hadn’t turn and left at that moment, I feared I would’ve said something horribly foolish.”

“Karan…”

“So. To answer your question, I have never once hated you. If anything, you have been a constant thought in the back of my mind. And when at the forefront, you made the worst of days much more bearable. That is the truth.”

You swallow at the lump building in your throat and smile.

“That explains a lot,” you whisper as if sharing a secret with him. “Mind if I say something?”

“What is it?”

“The feeling is mutual.”

He smiles, and it’s as warm as you knew it would be. Backlit by the lights above, he slowly leans down towards you. You close your eyes, consenting and waiting.

A sharp beeping interrupts the moment, making your cringe.

Karan hisses against the noise. The door to your hospital room opens and a male nurse rushes in. All while Maura and Bashnog peep inside from opposite sides of the doorjamb. The nurse begins chastising Karan, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him startled. You can’t help but laugh as the nurse starts pushing him towards the entrance, saying he can visit later, after you have calmed down. But there’s no way you’re letting this chance pass by.

“Hey Karan!”

He looks at you over his shoulder.

“How does a date sound?”

He grins. “Perfect.”

And you can’t help but silently agree.

#monster boyfriend #monster/human #monster romance #exophilia #naga #terato #100 follower raffle #hope you all enjoy!#female reader #fem reader

287 notes · View notes

death-himself · 4 years

Text

Four Human-Eating Monsters and An Apathetic Florist

I got this idea late last night and now have a new AU. This time in DLAMP flavor!

Summary: Virgil finished up a busy day at the flower shop and just wants to go home and chill with his four monster boyfriends (aka Virgil saying monster fucker rights) This is a soulmate AU but that doesn’t get mentioned at all in this

Warnings: Severed limb, food mention, Talk of hunting/eating humans, Slight Suffocation (in like a cuddling way if that’s better?), Drider!Roman, Naga!Janus, Vampire!Patton, Ghoul!Logan (this story is fluff i swear)

Word Count: 1,557

It was five o’clock, which meant it was time for Virgil to close up the flower shop. He went around locking the doors and drawing the blinds over the windows, double and triple-checking as he went. He flipped the sign to Closed on the door as he walked out, walking briskly to his car, slamming the door closed and just sitting there for a moment.

It had been a long day; he was more than ready to just curl up in bed with his soulmates and watch some Netflix for the rest of the night. He smiled at the thought, turning his key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot. First he’d have to pick Logan up from the university, though.

He mumbled along to Panic! At the Disco songs as he waited in the university parking lot, staring out the window blankly. After only a few seconds of waiting, out from around a corner came a tall man with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, with unnaturally blue eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses.

He saw Virgil waiting and gave him a small smile and nod, opening the passenger’s side door and taking a seat, closing the door and buckling his seat belt. “Good afternoon, Virgil.”

“Hey, L. How’d it go today?” His sigh said it all.

“It’s almost as if they aren’t even interested in biology. I’ve tried everything, and I’m still unsure of how to teach them.” Virgil started driving again, holding back a smirk.

“You know, my candy idea’s still on the table.”

“They are students of an extremely prestigious university. You truly think that they would pay more attention if candy were on the line?”

“I mean I probably would’ve paid more attention in college if it meant free candy. Patton bought some a while ago, you could try with that.” Logan hummed in thought. “Alright, I suppose it’s worth a try.”

They pulled into their driveway, the two entering the house. Virgil was immediately hit with the smell of Patton’s chicken adobo, as well as the sound of the man in question singing cheerily as he cooked.

Virgil took off his shoes, placing them next to the welcome mat before turning around. And all of a sudden Patton was there, welcoming him and Logan home and giving us both a kiss on the lips. The first time he had just appeared behind him it gave Virgil a heart attack, but now it was just expected. It was when Patton didn’t appear there to welcome him home that he became concerned.

Patton pulled Virgil into the kitchen to try out his food, his slit pupils dilating and making almost his entire red iris pure black with excitement. Since Virgil was the only one in the house who actually needed food like this to live, he was always the taste-tester. As always, the food tasted incredible, and Patton soon ran through the house to grab everyone for dinner.

Virgil opened the fridge to pull out some drinks for them, before stopping to stare at the top shelf of the fridge. There staring back at him was a severed arm, wrapped in plastic and still covered in blood. He blinked at it for a moment, before sighing and turning around.

“Roman, did you do this?” He shouted through the house.

“Did I do what?” The sound of eight claws clicking across the wood floor drew closer. The drider peeked into the kitchen, looking into the fridge confused. Then realization seemed to strike him. “Oh...”

“Yeah, these go in the basement fridge, dumbass.” Roman grimaced.

“Welcome home, my love?” He spoke delicately. Virgil was tempted to take the arm and smack him with it, but that was a line that even he wasn’t comfortable crossing.

Roman came over, pulling the arm carefully out of the fridge, before quickly pecking a kiss on Virgil’s cheek and skittering out before the human could come up with a snarky response.

Virgil grabbed the drinks and headed to the dining table, seeing that Logan was calmly standing next to the table, with Janus’s tail wrapped around him up to his chest, just enough so that Logan could still use his arms. Logan had already begun reading a book, one arm rested on Janus’s tail as the naga grumbled to himself about misplacing his bowler hat.

By the looks of it, Logan had already shed his more human disguise, his eyes turning a glowing blue like lightning, black veins showing prominently through his paper-white skin.

Janus noticed Virgil come in and unwrapped himself from around Logan, seeming to consider wrapping around Virgil before choosing to do that later, instead curling his tail up and taking a seat at the table. Logan and Virgil followed soon after, with Patton coming in with the food and Roman coming up from the basement.

They talked about their usual: the shitty people Virgil had to talk to, the gossip around the classroom that Roman and Janus begged to hear from Logan, the kind old lady that came to Patton’s bakery every week, and of course, the hunt they were planning to do tomorrow night.

Virgil typically stayed out of that conversation, mostly because it freaked the other four out when he talked about their hunts so casually. When he had first met them it was disturbing to overhear them talk about killing humans, but at this point he had almost grown apathetic towards it. They generally kept the results of their hunts out of Virgil’s life—aside from the occasional body part—so the only thing that concerned him at this point was them coming back alive from them.

Soon dinner was over, the dishes had been washed, and the five had gone to watch Netflix on the couch. Janus was curled around Virgil—as he was the warmest out of all of them—with his arms draped over his shoulders playing with his hair, and the rest of his tail draped over the rest of their boyfriends. Virgil’s legs were on Patton’s lap, Patton’s head was on Logan’s shoulder, and Roman’s head and arms were draped over Logan’s lap, a hand brushing through Roman’s hair.

To anyone looking in on them, it would look like Virgil was currently being squeezed to death while a vampire, ghoul, and drider watched and waited for their prey to die. So it was a good thing they had closed the blinds. Virgil had chosen a horror movie, and was currently taking note of any time the tail around him constricted suddenly. It was a lot more than he expected.

“I thought you liked horror movies.” He spoke smugly as he felt the grip around him tighten and loosen for the tenth time in two minutes. Janus huffed.

“Well of course I do. It’s just that...this serial killer isn’t realistic at all!” Virgil could tell he was lying, but Logan seemed to take it in stride.

“He is only human, that blow to the head would have snapped his neck back, or at the very least fractured his skull. And why haven’t any of them called the police yet? Quite irresponsible and irrational of them.”

“Isn’t it obvious? That serial killer’s a dark mage in disguise!” Roman spoke as if he had just solved a century-long murder mystery.

“Ooh, that sounds cool!” Patton chirped.

“Were dark mages established in this universe?”

“Of course they were, sweetheart, where have you been?” Janus spoke with a small, confident smirk on his face, turning back to the movie before yelping at a jumpscare and breaking the whole smooth guy facade.

Roman proceeded to spin an entire backstory for the murderer, something the movie had been sorely missing. Did it involve mages and a desire for power? Yes it did, which made it all the more interesting.

By the time he and the movie were finished, they had all begun growing tired. Patton had already fallen asleep cuddling Logan’s arm, and Virgil had begun drifting off a moment before the credits started rolling. Roman flicked off the TV, stretching with a yawn. Logan gently picked up Janus’s tail and moved it off of their laps.

“Virgil, could you move your legs?” Virgil mumbled a bit, but otherwise didn’t move. Whether or not he even could move with Janus wrapped around him was still debatable. Roman smirked, inching closer as quietly as possible, before gently lifting Janus from under his arms. Janus hissed in response, annoyed that his heat source had been taken away. Roman simply pulled his torso up, wrapping his tail around his stomach before carefully picking Virgil up and draping him over his abdomen.

Logan picked Patton up and followed Roman to the bedroom, placing Patton down before taking Virgil off of Roman and laying him next to Patton, then getting in bed himself. Roman got comfortable in his blanket nest next to the bed, kissing Janus goodnight before letting him get comfortable under the blankets. He gently took Logan’s hand and kissed him goodnight as well, laying his head on a pillow and closing his eyes.

Virgil slept, surrounded by four creatures that survived by feeding off of humans like himself, and had a peaceful night’s sleep, knowing that no matter what they did to other humans, they would never harm him. And he was grateful to have them.

#sanders sides #tw severed limb #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #human!virgil #drider!roman #ghoul!logan #vampire!patton #naga!deceit #naga!janus

135 notes · View notes

itsomgitsgreenblogging · 4 years

Text

Tangled (In Complexity)

So I've been very interested in a lot of the psychological features of Essek's character, and one of them is his canonical low-empathy. Essek seems to have a really hard time with empathy as a rule, which makes social interactions extremely fraught for him. I am also a Verin Theylss stan, so of course, I had to write a whole fic exploring these issues. No, I do not believe having low-empathy makes a person evil by any means, but as this story is from Verin's flawed perspective we only get his insights into Essek's behaviors so just keep that in mind when reading.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Triggers: emotionally abusive/distant parenting, estrangement, grief, and mentions of canonical minor character death (Essek and Verin’s father)

Preview:

"Don't leave me," Verin begged, fingers pressed to the wood of the door, and yanking the knob to no avail. "Please, it'll get me, Mama!"

"Verin, you will stay in your room until you overcome this idiotic fear," his mother shouted, and Verin flinched back from the door. "We are drow , what kind of drow is afraid of the dark?"

"Mama, Mama no!" Verin sobbed curling tight into himself. He could hear her footsteps as they echoes down the hallway and disappeared. He screwed his eyes shut. The room seemed to shrink in his panic. The shadows at his closet seemed to grow. The panic that had been gnawing at Verin's gut since his history lesson that day seemed to grow stronger. There was only his desperate heartbeat in his ears, the scent of snuffed candles, and thick shadows. In the dark there were the monsters that he had been told about. He didn't understand why his mother couldn't understand. If he was alone in the dark, then the driders and beholders and the other creeping crawling monster would be able to find him and hurt him!

There was no choice then. If his mother wouldn't help him than Verin knew that he would have to save himself.

Verin looked about, seeing his window and realizing it was his golden opportunity. He jumped up on his chair, onto his desk, and then attempted to open the window. It didn't budge. Seeing the lock at the top, Verin climbed down to his bookshelf and began bringing books over to his desk. Using them to boost himself up and using all his strength, he heard the lock creak and pop, the window opening out to the courtyard. He nearly fell out right there but managed to catch his balance with a startled yelp.

Verin ducked, his heart in his throat. He had been so desperate to escape that he hadn’t thought of any of the consequences. Mother would come, she would know and the punishment would be worse. But would that punishment be worse than the creatures that were surely waiting for him to trance? It was a risk he was willing to take. A minute passed, and then two. No one crossed the courtyard. In fact, no one appeared at all. However, from one of the rooms he saw the light of a candle. Verin, gathering all of his courage, lowered himself out of the window and then sprinted across the yard as quickly as his legs would take him. He grabbed a stick, and began to rap at the window. Mid-hit, the window opened and Verin heard Essek swear as he swatted the branch away.

"Stop!" Essek snapped and Verin dropped the stick. Essek was sticking his head out of the window now, glaring down at Verin with a heat that made Verin shrink with a leaf now stuck in his hair. "What are you doing ?"

"Mother locked me in my room," Verin said, gripping the edge of the window and desperately scrabbling for a foothold so he could boost himself up. "And she took all the lights away! Essek, please, the driders are going to get me!"

"You are being ridiculous! Hey! Stop, you are going to hurt yourself!" Essek said, and to Verin's relief Essek grabbed his shirt and pulled him up through the window. Verin was sprawled on Essek's desk, looking at Essek's glower from an interesting angle. A book had fallen, and he had scattered papers all over the place. Despair came thick and shameful. Now Essek definitely wouldn’t help him, he would carve him up and serve him to their mama on a golden platter.

"Don't make me go back, Essek, she'll lock me away again," Verin sniffed, eyes burning. Essek's face twisted for a moment, he looked out the window and closed it, moved to the door and stuck his head out and closed it in turn. He planted his hands on his hips, and then groaned after finding whatever answer he was looking for on the ceiling.

"Oh fine, very well," Essek sighed, helping Verin off the desk and straightening out his things. "I'll put you to work then."

Verin nodded eagerly, his heart full of a crippling relief. Being put to work was far better than dealing with the dark, cold, lonely bedroom before. Essek had never assigned Verin chores or punishment before, but whatever he wanted couldn't have been as bad as the quiet room. Essek was distant and quiet and mean on occasions that suited him, but at least he always kept his promises.

"Hold this for me," Essek said, taking the blanket spread out over his legs and draping it over Verin's shoulders. "I'm getting too hot."

Verin nodded and curled it around his shoulders.

"Now I'm going to read, you stay quiet," Essek told him, standing up and pulling a book from the shelf. It was cracked along the backbone, well-used and annotated with his brother's scrawl. He settled it at the center of the desk, pushing away the massive tome he had been using after marking the page he had been on.

"I will!"

" Quiet , Verin."

"Oh! Right, sorry!" Verin whispered, curling the blanket more firmly around himself. He felt tiny in the huge chair, and didn't quite know what to do with his legs and arms. He settled for tucking them underneath himself and leaning against the arm. Essek began reading aloud.

"Dunamists have long held that gravity is the force by which a planet or other celestial body draws objects towards their center. The force of gravity keeps the celestial bodies in orbit around the sun," Essek read, voice quietly. "The manipulation of this force is called Dunamancy, and this concept of drawing towards the center is the most basic principle of the practice."

"Mm," Verin sighed, head heavy.

"The existence of gravity was first proven by which scholar, Verin?"

"Narcelia of Den Gallaer," Verin grumbled, remembering the list and his tutor who smelled like old parchment and smoke. He remembered because he had gotten his knuckles hit for doodling during that lesson, and his mother hadn’t been pleased.

"Correct, and she discovered gravity by completing a sequence of tests that started…"

Essek read, and occasionally asked Verin questions. He never once looked at Verin, and yet Verin could sense he had Essek's attention. And that was enough. After all, a drider couldn't get the jump on him if someone was paying attention. He tried to stay awake, to listen so that he could help Essek. He wasn't sure exactly what he had wanted help with, but he knew he could. He could be of use somehow. Essek would see that, and then Essek would see him . He couldn’t imagine something better than that, after all, everyone knew that Essek was a genius. If Essek saw him, maybe Verin could be special one day and not just a bother.

Just one moment, Verin thought to himself as his heavy eyes closed. I'll just rest for a moment. Essek won't be mad if it's just for a moment and it was so difficult to keep his eyes open and…

Verin drifted into a trance, and even deeper into sleep . When he awoke he was in his own bed, and the only proof it hadn't been a dream was the unlocked door and the closed window.

_____________________________

Verin was in the midst of a well needed rest when he was startled out of his trance by a Message. This was his least favorite way to wake up for multiple reasons, but it was especially unwelcome as his foggy brain began to put together the pieces of the words as they filtered in.

“Taskhand, your presence is being requested by your Denmother and the Shadowhand. You will be expected at the residence tomorrow evening.”

“Very well, I’ll leave Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Verin said, before waiting for the spell to fizzle out. He sighed and collapsed back down in his bed, once he was safe.

“ What ?” Samezi groaned from where she was laying on the bed next to him. Her head popped out from under the covers, and she blinked at him slowly.

“My presence has been requested at the Theylss Residence tomorrow evening,” Verin said, adopting an exaggerated Rosohna accent.

“You aren’t going are you?” Samezi asked, concerned, sitting up straight. Verin wished they could just go back to sleeping, with his arms around her and soaking in her warmth and her scent and burying his face in her braids. When Verin didn’t answer she swore under her breath in orcish. “You can’t be serious Verin.”

“I can’t refuse a summons from my Denmother,” Verin explained, pulling himself up and resting against the rickety backboard of his bed. He had gutted most of the belongings of the previous Taskhand, the velvet curtains and the feather down, when he got there and salvaged them for extra coin. One of his first orders of business was putting every spare coin back into the barracks where it belonged. He had no access to the vast fortune his family commanded, after all, he was the youngest son.

“You mean your mother,” Samezi said, not sounding impressed. “That woman .”

“Yes, my mother, the Denmother, Deirta there is no difference,” Verin said noncommittal though just mentioning her made something curdle in his gut. “I have to go, no matter how much I wish not to. The Shadowhand will be there, which means it’s something important.”

“Please, consider just...just refusing,” Samezi said, the worry settling like a weight between her brows. “You know how you get after seeing them.”

“You mean, feeling like I’m making nothing of my life? Please, elaborate.”

“Really Verin,” Samezi said quietly, touching his arm with a softness that gentled the sharp edges of his heart. “They are incapable of seeing what we all see. You are the only Taskhand we’ve liked probably in the history of the outpost. There’ll be chaos if that woman skins you and eats your organs or whatever she’s planning.”

“You don’t think she just wants to see me perhaps? I’ve heard I’m decent company,” Verin said, fluttering his eyelashes. He leaned to give Samezi a kiss and she batted him away half-heartedly.

“I’m being serious,” Samezi warned him, her fingers combing through Verin’s hair.

“At ease, sergeant,” Verin said with a salute before sighing and leaning back against the pillows. “I know, you’re right. But I’m sure it’s just something about politics now that the war is over. I’ll go there, have dinner, and come back. If something else happens, I give you permission to send a search party. Make to avenge me, also, burn all those letters I sent you. They are in a lockbox in my desk.”

“You are horrible ,” Samezi said. “But fine, but only if they kill you before I do.”

“Good, give me something to look forward to when I get home,” Verin said with a smile of his own.

He arrived the next evening back to his hometown through the use of their teleportation circle. Rosohna was dark and beautiful as always, after arriving he spent a little bit of time stretching his legs and getting a feel for the city that he had grown up in once more. The mood was much improved since his last visit, owed in part to the return of the beacons and to the end of the war. In general though, it felt like the city was teetering on another edge. Though it had little to do with him, he was sure that the direction Rosohna would blow would be decided soon enough.

Verin arrived in the Lucid Bastion on time, moving to the Den Theylss ancestral home. Servants acknowledged his presence and he was directed to one of the sitting rooms to await the presence of the Umavi. Verin was let in, and as he crossed the threshold he was immediately aware of another presence. Turning around, he saw Essek perched in a seat with a tome across his lap. He finished his page, not looking up, and once he did he put in a bookmark. Essek curled his fingers in the air and then slipped his book into a pocket dimension, before meeting his gaze. As always, his elder brother was dressed in a mantle and long robes that obscured his figure and he floated off the ground as he was buoyed in his own gravitational field.

"Hello Verin," Essek said pleasantly, head nodding towards him in acknowledgement.

"Essek," Verin said cordially in return, echoing his nod. "How have you been?"

"Busy," Essek answered, his tone non-committal. His attention slid to Verin now for the first time, though Verin wasn't looking at his brother but was instead looking ahead. The weight of his gaze skittered up Verin's neck like a spider and made him want to swat at his own skin. Essek had always had such an effect on everyone they knew. Unnerving , would be the term though it has its limits. Verin had known Essek all of his life...until recently there had been no life without Essek being factored in like some kind of twisted arithmetic, but Verin had no clue what was simmering under the surface of Essek's facade.

"The Denmother's last appointment is running late, it will be a few moments longer," a servant said, bowing deep in apology. Essek waved off the servant who scurried away. Verin sighed through his nose. Of course, his mother would summon him all the way from Bazzoxan and then still find a reason to not speak with him. Typical .

"I hear you have been busy as well," Essek said, and Verin startled at his voice. He had assumed their non-conversation was over and that they would start pretending the other didn't exist again. Apparently Essek wanted something.

"Bazzoxan keeps me on my toes," Verin said suspiciously, feeling his own eyes narrow. "Why?"

"It hasn't escaped my attention that you are doing well there," Essek said, and Verin met his silver gaze. He couldn't say that Essek looked proud, or warm. But instead, the placid mask of his brother was gone and his expression was neutral. "I will admit that the assignment concerned me, but I was glad to be proven wrong."

"You thought I couldn't handle it?" Verin asked, a twinge of indignation pricking him.

"In over your head," Essek clarified, arms shifting beneath the mantle. "But I have heard nothing but good things about your leadership. I'm sure the Umavi is pleased."

"And what do you think?" Verin asked him.

"A Theylss, executing their job proficiently in high places is to be expected," Essek said, looking forward. "You are a Theylss, after all."

"Until you can actually speak about that like I am a Theylss and don't just have to prove myself one, it doesn't feel like you actually think of me as your brother," Verin pointed out.

"You are the only one of our siblings I view as a sibling," Essek said with a blink, looking at Verin more critically. "I thought you knew that."

"I'm pretty sure what you think constitutes loving sibling behavior and what I think constitutes loving sibling behavior are two very different things," Verin said, illustrating the point by holding up two fingers and pulling them apart.

"I don't deny that," Essek said with a shrug. “I am sorry if I made you feel otherwise though.”

Verin was now staring at Essek unabashedly. He wasn’t even sure that he had known that apologies were even part of Essek’s vocabulary (outside of the political niceties that Essek had always been well versed in). Their childhood was scattered with examples Verin could point too-bothered Essek, annoyed Essek, cold Essek. Cold Essek had always been Verin’s least favorite, the one that treated Verin like his existence was a chore he just had to get through. During their sibling arguments, Essek would just simply pretend Verin didn’t exist...the record being for a week straight. Never once had Essek ever apologized for instigating or his part in their disagreements. On occasion, Essek could be considerate, but never kind. There was always a point . Whether it was to curry his favor or to repay a favor, it could be assumed that Essek wanted something. Essek was never apologetic . Verin had half a mind to slap himself, just to make sure he was well.

“Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a spider,” Essek said with a roll of his eyes, and Verin’s mouth closed with a click of his teeth.

“Who are you and what have you done with Essek?” Verin asked suspiciously.

“Stop acting like a child,” Essek told him with a very distinctly Essek huff that relieved Verin slightly. At least he knew that this was indeed his brother and not just a person masquerading around in his flesh suit. Verin was about to say something in that spirit when the servant walked back into the sitting room.

“The Denmother is requesting your presence now,” the servant said with a bow of his head. Essek ghosted in behind him, and Verin followed close behind.

Their mother was sitting at the table, flipping through some papers as she took sips from a glass of wine. As they walked in their mother’s eyes didn’t even flit up from the papers for a moment, she simply waved them in like she was summoning them forward. Verin felt like a child being called in for a scolding again as he moved forward. Essek’s face was a picture of cool indifference. Finally she stopped, clearly having decided that she had made them wait long enough. She set down the papers, and another servant scrambled to take them away.

“Denmother,” Essek greeted, bowing his head in respect, and Verin echoed the movement immediately.

“Essek,” Deirta said, standing up. She seemingly inspected Essek thoroughly. Though they were the same height, Essek was currently floating about an inch or two higher. It was at such moments that Verin was always surprised about how much Essek took after their mother. From the shape of their eyes, to the bridge of their noses, to the sharp lines of their delicate faces. Verin had always been closer in face and continence to their father. He wondered, often, what their mother thought of that. She seemed pleased with whatever she saw there and turned her attention to him. “Verin.”

“Denmother,” Verin said as his mother curled her cold fingers under his chin, and turned his head this way and that. Verin let her manipulate his movements, and was relieved when she let go.

“Would it kill you to keep your hair in order?” Deirta sighed, the breath coming exasperated. “It looks like you took a knife to the edges.”

“I did,” Verin said flatly. Essek made a noise like he was stifling a chuckle, casting a glance towards him Verin could see there was a muscle twitching in his jaw...like he was fighting a grin.

“ Scissors , Verin, are there no scissors in Bazzoxan?” Deirta chastised before casting a scolding glance at Essek. “You don’t have a leg to stand on, considering your ridiculous haircut.”

“Forgive me, mother,” Essek said with a sweet, almost indulgent smile. “But the teachings of the Luxon do say that our bodies are merely transient vessels. Hair is of middling importance in the grand scheme of enlightenment.”

“Oh Luxon’s light protect me,” Deirta said, throwing up her hands. “Verin, promise me you’ll schedule an appointment to get the ends of your hair sorted out before you leave Rosohna.”

“Of course,” Verin said, hoping this would be enough to placate her.

“And don’t you give me attitude, young man,” Deirta said, focusing her energy now on Essek with narrowed eyes. “Out of everyone in this household, I am not the one who needs a lecture on the Luxon’s philosophy.”

Verin felt himself tense up, as a pit opened large and wide in his stomach. Oh dear Light, he had thought this argument was over . Was Essek still pursuing his ridiculously dangerous ideas? It was a poorly kept secret that Essek had funny ideas when it came to the Luxon. Treasonous ideas, if Verin was being honest. Essek could never leave well enough alone, and had historically never sucked up his pride enough to let things lay where they were. There had been plenty of nights where Verin had hidden in his room with his head under a pillow and trying not to listen to their parents argue with Essek for hours, going around and around like they were lost in a maze. How many times had Verin prayed for Essek just to drop it? He couldn’t even count.

“Yes, mother,” Essek said simply. Verin stared at him. He didn’t look particularly bothered by their mother’s annoyance. Essek had always had nerves of steel...or maybe deadened nerves would be more accurate. Verin wasn’t quite sure his brother was capable of the emotions that would be expected from a person.

“Umavi,” a servant said quietly. “The cook would like you to know that dinner is ready whenever you would like it.”

“Very well,” Deirta said, taking her seat back at the head of the table. Essek and Verin both sat at the table, Essek on the left side and Verin on the right. Verin focused solely on keeping his head down and shoveling food into his mouth. He knew rationally that this was all better than anything he would get from the barrack kitchens, but eating dinner late at night with the head cook Old Man Vuto as company was a far superior experience. He hadn’t realized how much so until just that moment. Essek and his mother spoke about the comings and goings of Rosohna, about people that Verin knew tangentially, and business that didn’t interest Verin at all. Essek grazed, picking at his plate but mostly just moving things around.

“-now that the war is over, I am hoping that perhaps Den Wenirila will realize that their insistence on the Northern Assault strategy has done them no favors in court and the Denmother will stop shouting every time she comes into the war room,” Essek sighed.

“Yes...now that the war is over in name, there are plenty of things that need to change,” Deirta said with a sip of her glass. “Now, we must think of the future.”

“Indeed,” Essek said, and Verin placed down his chopsticks. “Is this why you have called us?”

“Yes, to think of the future for Den Theylss and for the Kryn Dynasty as a whole,” Deirta said as she settled down her glass. She waved for the servants who took the plates away and then left them alone. “The Empire has returned the beacon they stole from us, and the lines of our territory remain the same. But if anything this conflict has raised our stature in the world. The Dwendalian Empire cannot pretend that the Dynasty are savage drow and monsters who live in some cursed hovel. They were forced to recognize us. This will send a message to those countries outside of the borders of Wildemount that we are a sovereign state with military power that cannot be discounted when it comes to global politics. According to some we have lost the battle, but I believe that we have won the war. You two are not the first I have called here to discuss this with me, but as Denmother I believe it is my duty to share with all of the den my vision.”

“ Global politics?” Verin asked.

“Who did the Tal’doreians beg for aid when the dragons nearly roasted their civilization into a well-done husk? It certainly wasn’t us. They begged the Dwendalians. And do you know why?” Deirta asked Verin. “Pretend that you paid attention during your history lessons, Verin. I paid good money for them.”

“Ever since the drow left the Underdark there has been limited contact between the drow and the denizens of Tal’dorei,” Verin said quietly, repeating a lesson he had been taught long ago, trying not to feel as scolded as he did. “The only drow who remain have long since been twisted by Lolth and the dark entities who whisper in their hearts. Neighbors slaughter neighbors in the streets of their subterranean cities and the Denmothers and Denfathers rule with an authoritarian grip. Those who attempt to escape are often killed by once they reach the surface or are forced to live in secret enclaves as refuges without homes."

“That’s right. We used to not exist in their world outside of the horror stories they told their children to keep them from the dark at night, now we do,” Deirta told him, chin raised. “We have a golden opportunity to influence the world in a way we haven’t before.”

“And what would Den Theylss’ role in that influence be?” Essek asked as he threaded his fingers together.

“The Kryn are the rulers, the Mirimm are the enforcers. Theylss has always been the diplomats . You both know as well as I do that Den Theylss has always filled in the gap with everything the Empress needs. We will even do what the Empress doesn’t know she needs, for her own good of course,” Deirta said. “Den Theylss can be that for many others as well, beyond the Ashkeeper Peaks. Perhaps in an official capacity.”

“How?” Verin asked, frowning. “What does the Dynasty have that would make it worthwhile for any other country to risk the ire of the Empire?”

“We have the greatest resource. Time itself,” Deirta said. “I see no reason why our magics cannot benefit the world. Our cousins live in squalor and terror, it is our duty to return to liberate those remaining and make the peoples of Tal'dorei see drow in a new light."

“You want to convert the other nations,” Essek said, his voice flat. Verin was staring at Deirta unabashedly.

“Of course they should all see the light of the Luxon,” Deirta explained. “It is doubtful they will reach true enlightenment, but why shouldn’t we aim to bring more souls under the protection of our lord? But just the promise of immortality is the most powerful promise there is, and Den Theylss can be the ambassadors for such a promise. Diplomacy is what we need in a post-war world in order to become a world power, not warmongering. If the Empress cannot see that, then we can make Quana see it. She has been the more reasonable one as of late.”

“What are you implying?” Essek asked, for the first time there was an edge in his voice, an eyebrow raised.

“You have only ever been in the war room, Essek. Not in war. Verin has more experience than you in that regard, but still you are both young and inexperienced and still haven’t died a death for your country,” Deirta sighed. “War is a horrible thing. Bloodshed is a horrible thing, and it tends to be unnecessary and gruesome. It tends to bring up all sorts of feelings and instincts.”

“Are you implying that the Empress isn’t well?” Essek pressed.

“If Leylas Kryn doesn’t see things our way, it is our duty to persuade her of the correct course of action no matter the cost,” Deirta said with a smile. “Our country’s motto is for our den, our country, our Empress, and our Light. There is a reason that den is first.”

What does the Luxon see in you? Verin wanted to demand. Deirta wasn’t righteous, she wasn’t good, she was a monster trying to use the Luxon’s light for her own gain. Of course it should be a good thing for the den to work for peace and prosperity for all drow, but somehow she had even managed to taint that goal with her poison. He didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand it. No matter what he did, how good he could be, somehow they were all just cogs in the machinations of her mind. She just had to have some kind of wisdom that Verin didn’t, some way of understanding that made it all make sense. And yet, Verin still felt sick to his stomach. What they were speaking on was nearly treason.

“I will do my duty to my countrymen,” Verin said as he stood up, gathering all of his courage in his spine. “I am the Taskhand of Bazzoxan. I am a son of Theylss and of you but I consider my obligation to the residents of that city to be my concern first and foremost. Denmother, I will respect your decisions, but I ask that you allow me to continue to prove myself in my own way by following my own path.”

“I see,” Deirta said with a disappointed sigh. “I’m sure I could work out a more profitable assignment here in Rosohna or even in Tal’dorei if the opportunity presents itself.”

“I shall endeavor to work to prove myself by my own merit, though the offer humbles me,” Verin said, bowing deeply.

“And you, Essek, what do you think?” Deirta asked, her gaze sliding over to Essek.

“Frankly, I don’t particularly care about politics,” Essek said bluntly. “Nor do I care about the conditions of the drow of Tal’dorei. Generations ago they made their bed, and should choose to lie in it. Of course you are right that honor to our den is first and foremost our concern, and should you choose to make moves towards Tal’dorei and beyond I will support you. But I also will advise that this gamble is high risk.”

“And should it fail, you will abandon the den to it’s fate?” Deirta asked.

“I am the Shadowhand, if it looks like your gamble shall fail I will stop it before it gets to that point,” Essek said.

“Is that a threat, Essek?” Deirta asked him, eyes cold.

“Yes,” Essek said with a smile. “The den is first, as you said. I would think you expect nothing less of me.”

“Essek!” Verin hissed, utterly horrified.

“There aren’t many who would have the audacity to scheme their way into being Denfather upon their first life, especially in a house of an Umavi,” Deirta scoffed.

“I have no interest in being Denfather,” Essek said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “But should the occasion arise I will find a suitable candidate to replace you.”

“Only one of us here is truly replaceable, think long and hard about your recent decisions before you come to the conclusion about who that is,” Deirta warned him, eyes flashing dangerously. Essek’s shoulders squared and his jaw tensed. “Especially considering the company you have been keeping nowadays.”

Verin wanted to laugh at that idea. Essek? Keeping company? It was ridiculous. But based off of Essek’s frigid demeanor it apparently wasn’t a joke considering that if he had looked frigid before he was now clocking in at below freezing.

“I think this conversation is over,” Essek said as he stood up abruptly, there was something dangerous in his gaze. It was something sharp enough that it could make a person bleed.

“Clearly,” Deirta said shortly.

“Verin,” Essek addressed him clearly for the second time that night. “Would you like to stay here, or would you rather stay in my home? I have a guest room prepared.”

Who are you? Verin wanted to ask.

“I’ll take you up on that then,” was what Verin said instead.

________________________________

Verin had never been to Essek’s home. He had received it after Verin’s assignment in Bazzoxan, and there was certainly no reason to come visit his brother. But Essek’s tower reminded Verin much of a graveyard, cold and impersonal. He could imagine clearly his brother haunting the hallways in the middle of the night, a phantom to his own dreams, walking about in patterns as he tried to work through some esoteric problem that didn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things. There were strange things though; there were books slightly out of place, extra papers, knickknacks, and things that told a story that Verin couldn’t quite piece together. The company Essek had been keeping? Their mother’s jab still echoed freshly in his ears. Had Essek been seeing someone their mother hadn’t approved of? Verin just couldn’t see that being the case. As far as Verin knew, Essek had never had any romantic entanglements nor shown an interest in such things.

“You look like you’ve been stewing on something for a while now,” Essek said as he sat down, discarding his mantle thoughtlessly. He was smaller than Verin remembered, thinner too. He looked worn down by whatever was eating at him, until he was nothing but edges and spite. “Go ahead, before your brain explodes.”

“What was mother talking about?” Verin asked directly, seeing no purpose in dancing around the point. “What company?”

“It won’t come as a shock to you,” Essek said with a sigh as he put out glasses and set out the wine. “But I lost the friends I made.”

“Friends?” Verin asked, seizing on that impossible fact.

“I should be insulted by your surprise at that part of my statement, but I know, I was surprised too,” Essek said quietly, looking off to the side as he poured a more than generous quantity of wine for himself. “But it doesn’t matter any more.”

“What did you do to lose them?” Verin asked as he sat down. Essek took a breath, and then another. He was clearly gathering his thoughts as he did so, finally he gave up whatever mental game he was playing.

“I think there’s something wrong with me, Verin,” Essek admitted, meeting Verin’s gaze openly. “I used to think...I didn’t understand you at all growing up. I thought I was better, but...I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Essek…” Verin said, feeling something in his gut shift at Essek’s expression that twisted like he was in pain.

“I made a mistake, I did something...well, I did something for my own gain and I don’t even feel bad about it though I should. I only felt bad that the people close to me...that it hurt them,” Essek said scrubbing at his face. “I can’t understand it. I am trying so hard, I put the pieces together rationally, but I just can't make myself feel as I should."

"How do you think you should feel?" Verin asked.

"Guilty? Awful? Sad ?" Essek offered. "I just feel nothing, and then get frustrated that I feel nothing!"

"I can't help but admit that I'm at a loss for why you want my advice," Verin said quietly.

"Verin…" Essek sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Stop acting slow. I don't have anyone else to ask for advice."

"You do realize how depressing that is, right?" Verin asked him. "Me? You want to ask me ? You don't even like me!"

"By the Light! You are so dense !" Essek snapped and discarded common and began hissing at him in their first language. "Fine, here's me being honest. Yes, Verin, you are my annoying little brother. I find your savior complex insulting to my intelligence, I never found your jokes about my height funny, and you snore so loud I considered smothering you with a pillow because Mother and Father forced us to sleep into the same room-!"

"When our cousin's room was being remodeled? If you are being serious about the constant threat to my life as a child I will actually kill you, what in the nine hells Essek-!"

"So yes, Verin. I don't like you. But you are my brother. You know me better than anyone else in the world, we have a shared history. And I also know you don't like me, so I can trust you to be honest. So please, Verin, help me ," Essek said, his voice desperate, and his chest heaving with his desperation. "You are normal and I'm not and I need to know what I'm doing wrong."

"I don't think you are doing anything wrong...actively," Verin tried to explain, holding out his arms in an attempt to placate him. "You have just...you know, always been like this?"

"Like what?"

".. evil?"

"Well great," Essek said sarcastically, throwing his hands up. "Thank you, that makes me feel so much better."

"What do you want me to say?" Verin asked defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "You didn't even cry at our father's funeral!"

"There wasn't a body!"

"Why does that matter?" Verin demanded, slamming his hand on the table. "You wouldn't have cried anyways! That’s the problem!"

"I can't fake it," Essek said, sounding honestly distressed. "How would faking it make anything better? If I don't feel it I don't feel it! I can't make myself be different, gods know I want to be."

"What do you want to be, Essek, honestly?" Verin asked his brother.

"I want to be the kind of person who the people I care about don't hate," Essek said quietly. "I'm just not sure it's possible."

"Essek, be serious, do you think the people who you became friends with would like you if you weren't acting like yourself?" Verin asked him, eyebrows shooting up.

"I don't know, it seems like it."

“Essek, really?”

Essek grimaced and downed his entire glass in one fell swoop. For a moment he seemed to truly consider the question, before just shaking his head and giving Verin a rueful smile. It was, perhaps, the most genuine expression that Verin had seen from his brother in years. For a moment he had to remember to breathe, because there he was. This was the Essek that Verin remembered between the pages of old textbooks and ducking between the pillars of their home. That Essek hadn’t been perfect, nor kind, but at least Essek was his brother. That had meant something in Verin’s life, a life that was full of starts and stops and highs and crushing lows all dictated by a woman who Verin was sure had never even seen them as people with lives outside of her. Verin wondered if it made her proud, how thoroughly she had destroyed them.

"I wonder if I loved them, or the Essek I thought I could be with them," Essek said mournfully, looking at his hands arranged in his lap. "I wonder if I'm grieving them or that Essek. Grief...it’s new to me, as many things are these days."

“If they only liked who you were pretending to be, they never liked you at all,” Verin told him, settling his hand on Essek’s shoulder after a long pause. Essek tensed, but didn’t fight the touch. Verin was sure that he felt as Verin did, like he was crawling out of his own damn skin. But Verin pushed through it, because he could at least give this to Essek.

“That Essek would have probably been a better brother, the brother you deserved,” Essek said with a heavy sigh, pointedly not answering the other question. Verin was positive that Essek didn’t want to verbalize the answer.

“You aren’t technically the only brother I have...but you are my only brother ,” Verin said with a shrug as he removed his hand. “It’s not a question about what I deserve. Frankly, I could have been a better brother to you many times. I let you face the brunt of everything alone, and I’m sorry for that.”

“There were many times I loathed you for that,” Essek said, eyes closed and leaning back against the sofa. “But I also knew that I could handle it...handle her. You were a child...so, it wasn’t your fault. Out of the two of us, I knew I would survive.”

“You were a child too,” Verin said and Essek’s eyelid cracked open.

“I wasn’t a child as you were,” Essek said gently. “I wasn’t like you.”

“You are different from me, that doesn’t mean you weren’t a child,” Verin argued.

“Did I ever tell you that I was there when you were born?” Essek asked, startling Verin with the sudden change of topic. A smile pulled at his teeth. “I haven’t, have I? I remember it because Mother had just pulled me out of the school for my special tutoring. I was so special, I was twelve, and when I arrived home Mother was pregnant with you . She hadn’t even told me, I just showed up and she was ready to pop.”

“She didn’t tell you?” Verin asked, befuddled.

“Of course not,” Essek said with a wave. “She never wrote to me when I was away, and I never came back. All of twenty-four hours after coming home there she was screaming bloody murder in labor, and then she was screaming at me because I wasn’t paying attention to my studies. When I informed her that was going to be impossible with her screeching like a dying roc she threatened to pop my eyeballs out with her nails.”

Verin couldn’t help the laughter that escaped his throat, Essek just rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, to make a long story short, I was bitchy because I finally thought that Mother was paying attention to me and then Mother had to go and push you out not even one day later. Father handed you to me, and said, this is Verin. And I remember thinking you were the ugliest thing I ever saw-”

“Hey!”

“But you were there. And that was enough,” Essek said simply, coming to a neat and concise conclusion. “You have always been enough, Verin. I know that one day...well...this truce of ours may not last, but I wanted you to know that. I never wished that you were anyone else...even if you made me want to kill you and often I didn’t like you. But you were the only one I ever felt close to. You are my brother and maybe the only person in this world that I can consider my friend and though I’m not sure the feeling was mutual...I...”

“Thank you, Essek,” Verin said, his throat feeling oddly sore. “I felt the same.”

For a moment Verin could feel the weight of a hundred years between them. A hundred and ten years should have meant nothing to them, they were children of a soul unbound by time itself. And yet, all of those memories were tangible and meaningful. He and Essek had never known anything else and Verin wondered if that made them who they were. For the first time in Verin’s life, he believed that maybe Essek saw them that way too. Perhaps that was one thing they could agree upon, in a life that was so tangled up in complexity.

“Well, it’s getting late. I’ll teleport you to Bazzoxan tomorrow,” Essek said, getting up slowly, clearly not addressing Verin’s emotions or his sentiment. “The guest bedroom is the first room on the right at the top of the stairs.”

“Wait...Essek,” Verin said and Essek paused, turned, and looked at him. “I’m sorry about your friends. I hope that things work out.”

“Good night, Verin,” Essek said, before floating away.

Verin wondered if he was trying to escape him, or if Essek couldn’t dare to dream.

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #verin thelyss #essek theylss

33 notes · View notes

doing-an-okay-job-miranda · 4 years

Text

Vampire Kisses

Part One: AO3 / Tumblr

AO3 link

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of Drider!Virgil, Vampire!Patton, Blood Puns/mention, A little insecurity but this fic is mostly just fluff

Summary:

"Patton!" Roman cried out as he bursts through the door of their inn's room "I'm in love!" The prince rushes forward and flings himself on the bed, causing his sweet vampire to laugh as they bounce.

"Again?" Patton's eyes are fond and crinkle up with his smile. "You haven't even been gone for a day."

"It's not my fault there are so many pretty boys!"

Or Roman goes to his Vampire boyfriend to gush about his Spider crush

----------

Patton!" Roman cried out as he bursts through the door of their inn's room "I'm in love!" The prince rushes forward and flings himself on the bed, causing his sweet vampire to laugh as they bounce.

"Again?" Patton's eyes are fond and crinkle up with his smile. "You haven't even been gone for a day." Still, Patton sits up and crosses his legs all too excited to hear who captured his partner's heart.

"It's not my fault there are so many pretty boys!" Roman drapes his arms over his eyes as he sighs loudly, only peeking up when Patton giggles and leans over him. "You should have seen him, I've never seen such purple eyes before. Oh, how all his eyes widened when I called him gorgeous! You'd think no one recognized his beauty before! It's a crime! It's illegal! I will make it illegal and I will-" The prince is cut off by a soft kiss to his lips, the angle is awkward and upside down as Patton leans him but Roman eagerly leans up and smiles against his lover's lips.

Sadly, Patton pulls back before Roman can get to into it but the prince can't find it in his heart to be upset when he looks up at Patton and sees an angel(despite the more 'unholy' nature of Patton's existence but when Patton smiles with his sharp teeth and soft lips how can Roman be anything but reverent?)

"When do you think I could meet this criminally gorgeous man?" Patton snickers and it takes a moment for Roman to even remember what he was talking about before, how on Earth was he supposed to think clearly with Patton being so cute above him?

But then his stomach drops. "Oh, uh-" Patton watches him, a little concern in sparking in his silver eyes as normally Roman wouldn't hesitate to drag the vampire to the next cute boy he found but this situation is a little different.

There are three things working against him.

Spiders. Roman is sure this is only a minor issue, as the cute Drider isn't an actual spider and while Patton may be a little unsettled at first, his darling would never judge anyone on what they were.

The main issues were that his amethyst lived underground. Patton would never be able to enter such an enclosed space without being reminded what the horror he went through, without reliving the feeling of having to dig himself out of his own grave.

"Should I-" Patton hesitates, hand raising to cover his mouth and hide half of his beautiful face. "Should I not meet him?" Roman knows that look in his eyes too well, the sadness of being reminded that Patton isn't human anymore and that such horrible idiots have the nerve to be scared of the purest ball of sunshine Roman has ever met.

Roman sits up quickly to face the vampire. "No, no, my love, that's not why I'm worried. You know that I would never even entertain the idea of someone who couldn't see what an incredible being you are." He rushes to assure, gently taking Patton's hands and pulling them to rest over his heart. "My heart beats for you, my sweet cloud." Roman finds himself smiling as Patton's face flushes up without fail. "I'm just worried because his home is in a burrow and I'm not sure of my ability to coax him out. I never want to risk your comfort."

There's a moment of quiet between them, Roman watches Patton smile return to him, although a bit sadder than before. "That would sure make my blood run cold."

Apparently watching Roman's expression suddenly drop between soft comfort and utter despair is funny because Patton's expression immediately lights up as Roman groans.

"I really appreciate it, your effort isn't in vein!"

"Patton!" The moment is ruined! The prince finds himself flopping back to lay down once more although the effect is lost a little as he lays his head on Patton's lap.

"Oh! Sorry, was that the final nail in the coffin?" Patton runs his fingers through Roman's hair, gently scratching his scalp and making it really hard to stay upset.

Roman lets out a long-suffering sigh before sealing his fate. "It's a bite too much." He mutters out grumpily but it's a hard battle trying to fight off a grin with how ecstatic Patton looks. He quickly loses said battle when Patton leans over to kiss him again, muffling giggles when Roman catches his bottom lip between his teeth.

They lay there for some time, exchanging kisses and filling the breaths in between with rambles of love, either for each other or for Roman's new crush. The prince couldn't be anything but content, only mildly wishing he had a lovely spider boy curled up beside them to share kisses with as well.

"So what is he?" Patton finally asks the fated question as Roman goes into the less human details of his newly beloved.

"Um, well... He's a Drider?" Roman says with a sheepish grin, carefully watching Patton's expression only to get a confused look as Roman figured that Patton has no idea what that is given the fact before his love died he lived in a very human-only town. "Ah, he's um- well, don't repeat this but he's a spider person. Like a centaur but a spider instead of a horse."

"Oh." Patton makes a cute little 'o' with his lips that Roman has to fight the urge to kiss. "No wonder he has you caught like a fly."

"Oh my lord, he could trap me in his web any day." Roman felt his face heat up with the idea but he quickly shoves those down, the Drider hadn't agreed to be courted yet and the prince sure as heck will respect that.

"Does he have a name or should I wait till I meet him to ask?" Many creatures didn't like they're names being given freely as both Patton and Roman have learned but the question makes the prince pause.

"Oh my fucking Lord." Roman's hands shoot to hide his face, ignoring Patton's small chastising for his language. "Patton!" He whines. "I forgot to ask his name!" The prince's ears heat up as he steals a glance through his fingers at Patton, the vampire with a hand over his mouth to hold back laughter. "Don't laugh at me! Patty, I have to wait a week to see him again! How will I survive?!"

Patton barely stifles his snickers but Roman couldn't truly be upset as the vampire twirls a lock of the prince's hair. "It'll be okay, honey. You just need to B positive."

Roman peeked through his fingers slightly, embarrassment fading a little as he was just more confused now. "I'm afraid I don't get that one, love." The way Patton said it made it obvious it was a joke but Roman is stupid and gay right now, thank you very much.

Patton doesn't take offense though, scratching dulled nails softly into Roman's scalp. "B positive is a blood type." He explains but it only adds to his prince's confusion.

"There are- there are types of blood?" When did that happen? Is this just a vampire thing? "What type am I?"

Patton's fingers paused their movement which is a crime in itself. "You're AB positive. Were you not taught this in your schooling? I've had a conversation about it with Remus before."

"Look," Roman's face immediately heats up again with embarrassment but Patton starts playing with his hair again so not all is lost. "I was taught a lot of things I didn't pay attention to." Schooling was so boring and half of it wasn't even useful, why would he even need to know about blood and stuff? He's not a doctor. "All I need to know is how much of a snack I am."

"I don't know if you'll ever compare to my midnight cookies but you're definitely a close second." Patton's giggles fill the air and Roman has to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him, except he doesn't resist at all and gladly bares his red flustered face to the world to steal Patton's lips for a moment.

"Your cookies are amazing, I don't accept second place but they are a respectable foe."

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #royality #prinxiety #Eventual Dlamp #A princes guide to seducing monsters

111 notes · View notes

politemenacephd · 3 months

Text

Arachnophilia: (Part Seventeen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Mostly relationship fluff + some worldbuilding. Also Peter content.

Word count: 4890

It was early morning once more, and today light was streaming in through every hole in the nest. The sun was bright and high over the canopy in a sea of pale blue, sitting in an sky barely touched by clouds. It was quiet, calm, even verging on warm, with the morning heat creating a low mist across the grass.

You liked to believe the weather was a reflection of your mood, because today you were finally taking Mig with you to the Society. You were elated, almost giddy, but him? Not so much.

‘Ogh. Look at you. So handsome!’

You grinned up at Mig as he paced about the nest, his eyes solely focused on his chest. His usually bare torso had been covered by a single, plain white shirt, and he seemed to be struggling with the sensation.

‘Mm… It has been, far too long since I had to put one of these on. How do you wear these all the time?’ he grumbled. He kept pulling on the shirt, awkwardly shifting it in and out of place. You were trying to not get distracted by how tight it was. You’d gotten the largest size you could, but it was still sticking quite close to his chest and shoulders, the smooth white fabric perfectly highlighting the rounded pounds of his pecs.

It was rather unfair, really, how you teased him for his constant ogling. You weren’t any better. He was just so damn pretty, with the plain white sitting on his warm skin, hugging his hefty chest.

‘You’ll get used to it’ you reassured him, ‘I did argue with them about the clothing but… they said, you know, society protocol. No shirtlessness. Not even for this most beautiful of men.’

Miguel shot you a smile to acknowledge your praise. ‘Yes. I should have suspected it would not be easy. Still, I appreciate you trying, mi tesoro.’

With those dreary words he crept forward to comfort himself with your touch. His forelegs pulled you in and clutched you to his abdomen, and you nestled back so tight that the fluff went up your nose and caused you to sneeze.

‘Aw—Mi arañita, qué menso eres’ he murmured affectionately.

‘Mean’ you retorted.

He was purring now, his abdomen vibrating and rustling with joy. ‘I will be grateful to have you with me’ he said as he brushed your suit down. It wasn’t dirty, he’d just gone so long without clothes that he assumed you brushing off his shirt was a sign of affection, and he wanted to return it. ‘I would never have gone alone, even if the offer was made again.’

‘I’ll be there the whole time, I promise’ you said. As Mig smiled you sealed that promise with a kiss to his claws. ‘And if Miguel tries anything, I’ll rip his claws out one by one. I promise that too.’

You saw Mig’s smile falter a little. ‘Ah. Yes. Him. He will, be there as well.’

Your smile dipped too. You were trying to joke about the situation but you both knew, deep down, how strange everything had gotten.

There was a tension between all three of you, one that was strange and multilayered in ways you couldn’t discern beyond a constant, simmering, anxiety inducing pressure.

Miguel had remained on watch at your nest after the first time you mated in front of him, and for two days while you prepped he’d stuck to his stubborn word and remained. He’d mostly stayed outside, only coming in occasionally to ensure you were being ‘safe’ as he put it, but he never spoke a single word to either of you.

The only thing you’d noticed is that his eyes, when they fell on you, were no longer cold; they were burning hot, simmering and seething, filled with something unspeakably strong.

You shuddered at the thought.

Luckily Miguel was gone today as you were visiting the HQ, so he could monitor you there, but it felt like his presence was always hanging over your head.

‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go’ you said, gently urging him to follow you with a tap to his belly. For a moment he hesitated, his little paws tapping back and forth on the nest floor, but it was only for a moment. With your face beaming and urging him on he reluctantly followed.

You’d been prepared for Mig to struggle with the portal. He’d never gone through one before and everyone struggled at first, so you were as patient as possible with the big guy.

You just hadn’t expected how badly he’d take it.

The moment you stepped through the lack of weight and gravity seemed to throw him totally off balance. You were used to keeping with the flow, to angling your body so that you flowed seamlessly through the void of space time and out the other end, but Mig didn’t have that.

He immediately crashed into you and sent you both hurtling through the portal at a speed you could not keep up with.

You both rolled out of the portal at max velocity, his enormous body crashing into the HQ floor with such force that it cracked. In the safe, fluffy grip of his legs you were thankfully unharmed, but it didn’t stop you from being dazed. As he tumbled to a stop you gasped.

‘AH—Fuck, oh Mig I am so sorry, I should have done a trial run of—oh god—’

You tried to scramble out of his grip to check on him but he refused to let go. He was terrifyingly strong, with his spider legs folded in tight to his belly, pinning you to his abdominal underbelly.

‘Mig? Mig?’ you panted.

‘Mmm.’

His low groan vibrated right down to your core, and you nearly cried with relief. ‘Oh, Miggy. Are you okay?’

‘I did not enjoy that’ he said bluntly. You managed another breathy laugh. ‘No, no, I can tell.’

As his legs slowly loosened you crawled out from his grip and stumbled to the floor on all fours. You glanced up.

To your horror, hundreds of spiders were perched on every surface available, all of them staring directly at you. It was a sea of suits, a sea of bodies and eyes, all staring with a mix of disgust and curiosity. You turned and immediately patted Mig, urging him to stand.

‘Mig—Babe, uh—’

‘Argh—my, legs—who designed these portals?’ Mig grunted. He was struggling to stand as he unfolded his long legs. ‘They are not safe, didn’t you say there were quite young spiders who—’

A wide-ranging, multi layered gasp of horror momentarily interrupted Mig’s grumbling, finally drawing him to look around. Everyone was in a defensive position, their eyes trained on his body. You instinctively sank against his side.

‘Hey, hey, it’s okay’ you whispered to him. You could see his eyes sinking already. He tried to step forward, his claws outstretched, but when every spider jolted in fear he froze up.

‘Hey! Sorry, guys, don’t um—he’s safe, he’s fine’ you cried. You impulsively stepped forward with your hands raised, hoping to de-escalate the situation. ‘This is—Miguel, or uh, Mig? If that’s easier, he’s a variant, he’s safe! He’s fine!’

To your continued discomfort, nobody said or did anything.

‘Hey! You two!’

You turned to see Jess making her way through the ogling crowd. She seemed to be trying her best to ignore them. ‘There you are, you—did you break the floor? My lord—never mind. So, obviously you guys know about the mandatory work you gotta do before you can be sent on missions?’

You awkwardly nodded in response, but Mig was too fixated on the crowd staring him down. You’d never seen him look so small.

‘Okay, good’ Jess said, ignoring Mig’s discomfort. She just ticked a few boxes on her hologram. ‘You have a few today, just—do your best, you’ll be fine. I just needed to give you this to fill out for HR and then you can get to work.’

She handed you a pile of papers before turning back into the crowd. She paused briefly to gage the amount of spiders and their curious eyes.

‘HEY! What are we, a circus? Do none of you have work to do?’ she yelled. The overtone of her voice quickly scattered the spiders as they flung themselves in all directions, and with a huff she followed after them. You and Mig were left alone.

‘A whole… new world.’

You looked up to see Mig murmuring to himself. His eyes were fixed on the building, on the view of the world beyond the big glass walls. He shone with a deep melancholia.

‘A whole, new world. And… everything is the same.’

Your heart sank. You shyly took his paw in yours.

‘Well, that was… a bad start, but, it’ll get better. It’ll be fine. We’ll be-- fine’ you said.

…

You were wrong. The rest of the day wasn’t much better.

You had certain activities you had to finish before you were cleared. The society wasn’t a workplace, but it functioned like one, and you were constantly in life-or-death situations. That meant all relationships needs to be safe.

You were expected to do three things: mandatory couples therapy, de-escalation and crisis training, and monthly reviews with an elite.

All of them went terribly.

You went to HR to hand in your forms and found only one person waiting at the desk. They were curt, almost rude, rushing through your paperwork, and after leaving you peered through the door only to find six other people had been hiding behind desks. You heard them gossiping and left in shame.

At your first de-escalation training for couples, you couldn’t even fit Mig through the front door, and you were forced to both sit in the hallway with the door half open to listen in. Every other couple there barely focused on the course; they just stared at you both, making little whispers and comments to each other.

You ended up failing that session due to Mig’s heightened anxiety. Any mention of a scenario where you were hurt caused him to panic and clutch you close, with his fangs overproducing venom as a protection tactic. They had to tape off the area as a hazardous spill zone. More mess, more eyes, more morbid curiosity.

Even your mandated therapy was unbearably awkward. The therapist assigned kept making suggestive questions regarding your safety, your wellbeing, questioning if Mig had some kind of fetishistic problem.

It wasn’t just Mig though, or at least, not just his body. People were clearly fixated on your closeness.

At the start of the day you were as physically affectionate as you usually were, since that’s what you were used to. You kissed his claws and he held you with his forelegs, he would scratch your head and you would hold his hand.

But you could see, now, the overt morbid curiosity in those around you. Even when you tried to find time alone, either in corridor corners or darker rooms, you kept spotting people staring.

As the day wound on you got more and more stingy with your affection. Mig kept dropping your hand to avoid people staring at you, and you had to hide your kisses when they happened.

With every activity you attended you felt a little isolated, a little less welcome. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, or even good, but you just hadn’t anticipated how bad it would feel. You began to feel guilty for doing this to Mig.

After your last therapy session, you began making your way through the lobby together. It was here, whilst making small talk and enjoying the brief moment of solitude, that you felt the hair on your nape stand up. You turned.

Miguel was up in the rafters above, his masked eyes following your every move. In the shadows you could only see the deep, sharp red lines of his suit as they shifted.

‘You—fuck.’

With a hiss you turned and sped forward. Mig rushed to catch up.

‘Ah—arañita?’

‘It’s all him’ you hissed angrily. ‘It’s all- him! He’s spread it everywhere, because he’s trying to embarrass us into giving up!’

‘Who? You mean—’ Mig paused midsentence. He didn’t need to say it; he knew who you meant. You hurried into a small, darkened corridor between two other meetings rooms, a space where you could avoid any prying eyes.

‘That—fucking, asshole’ you whisper shouted. Mig squished himself into the tight space and tried to grab you for comfort, but you were too busy pacing. ‘Fucking—Who does he think he is? Why won’t anyone say anything to him?!’

‘Mi tesoro’ Mig whispered back. ‘what is it? What do you mean?’

‘He—’ you paused to breath as you felt that guilty tug in your gut once more. ‘I’m so sorry, Mig, I—I knew this would happen. I knew it. Miguel knew I wanted you to join, and he said he—he said if he did let you in, he’d make sure we, quote, would learn why he keeps his relationships private. Obviously he wants you to feel unwelcome.’

‘Ah—yes, that—sounds like something he would do’ Mig said slowly.

‘I’m so sorry, I really—I wanted you to feel better’ you stammered. ‘I wanted you feel, just… I don’t know. I wanted something. I wanted the OPPOSITE of this!’

‘Hey, hey, arañita. It’s okay’ he said softly. As his foreleg gripped your arm you felt a wave of hopelessness wash over you.

‘Is it okay?’ you whispered back. ‘Is it? Are you okay? After what he’s done?’

Mig opened his mouth, but no words came out. You could see it in the dim light; the flash of his red eyes as they drooped and narrowed, the way he looked down and to the side out of shame.

Not one person besides you had even acted neutral to him. They’d all treated him like an animal, a monster, without shame.

You didn’t want to call this effort a failure. He deserved to be loved, to be valued, to be heard, but how did you do that?

Something had to change. Even just one thing. You closed your eyes and sighed.

‘HI!’

You and Mig both jumped in unison as someone’s cheery voice erupted right against your ears.

Mig launched himself into protection mode. With his fangs bared and his claws spread he pushed you to his back, but it was you who stepped in to call him off when you realized who the assailant was.

‘No, no, wait—I know him!’ you stammered.

Mig obediently stayed his hand when told, and after checking you were safe he turned to the speaker.

Peter B was standing on the ceiling, his head upside but more or less at the same height as Mig’s. He beamed at you both. ‘Shoot, sorry—did I scare you guys? Wow that feels weird, me scaring the big spider’ he blurted in his usual chatty tone. You stepped forward to greet him.

‘Ah, hi! You’re uh—Peter, right? I mean that’s half the people here but—’

‘My name is Peter, yes, and as you just pointed out that’s really a lucky guess, but I’m ASSUMING what you mean is I’m Peter Peter, the uh—’

‘The sad one’ you said, far blunter than you’d usually be. He beamed and snapped his fingers.

‘There it is! Yes, that’s me. Or I was.’

‘R-Right. Well, um-- Hi! Can we, help you, with anything?’ you asked. You could sense Mig was still a bit tense, so you decided to step in and speak in his place.

Peter dropped to the floor with an oomph before responding. ‘Ah—well, sort of. I’m not here on an errand though’ he cheerily explained as he stretched. You raised a brow.

‘You’re not?’

‘Nope! I’m here for—him!’ With a gleeful squeal Peter turned to Mig, his eyes eagerly running up every inch of the man’s body. You saw Mig tapping his paws in confusion.

‘Have I- done, something offensive?’ Mig murmured awkwardly.

‘Oh, he’s exactly like I thought he’d be’ Peter cooed. ‘He’s so awkward! No, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just wanted to see if I could uh, tag along with you guys for a bit.’

‘You did?’ you and Mig both said in unison.

‘Oh you’re adorable’ Peter said with a dramatic sigh. ‘You’re both so… well, whatever. You don’t need me fawning over you. But yes! Obviously! Who wouldn’t wanna learn more about the Miguel variant with the spider body? I wanna hear everything!’

‘You do?’ You and Mig repeated together.

‘Yeah! I—look, I feel bad at how strict the others are being on you two. I mean I don’t get it, the whole, spider thing, I mean he is very handsome but the spider is a bit of a deal breaker for me. But I’m just like, hey, good for you guys, you know? Good that it works for you!’

You blinked in surprise as Peter continued to ramble.

‘Plus, look, uh—my wife, Mary, she—well, she’s pregnant!’ he squealed, ‘like, right now! Ah! And I don’t have anyone but Jess to talk to about relationships and I mean she’s always so busy, and Miguel can’t hear about baby stuff, but YOU two! You guys, I can talk to! So, can I? Can I uh—hang around for a bit?’

You glanced at Mig, expecting to see the same hesitation on his face as you felt in yours, only to find him utterly elated. He looked so happy.

‘Ah—yes, of course’ he stammered, his enormous abdomen shifting and vibrating. ‘Of course, a-absolutely. Let us, talk.’

Peter clapped his hands with joy, and you realized you had no other option.

‘GREAT! You guys wanna see the canteen?’

…

‘And I swear, I begged for HOURS, but Mary just wouldn’t come around to it! I said come on, what’s the worst thing that’s ever happened at a gender reveal party?!'

You chuckled politely as Peter finished his dramatic story, a sharp contrast to Mig who was erupting with his sweet, gruff, awkward laughter.

You were sat at a booth in the HQ canteen, with Peter on one side and you on the other, while Mig was awkwardly folded on the floor at the tables head. You’d tried to make room but there just wasn’t space.

You knew everyone was staring at you. You knew they were keeping their heads down so you didn’t suspect them of listening in, even though it was obvious they were. Even the people serving in the kitchen were craning their necks over the counters to watch.

You sank a little deeper into your chair.

‘Your mate sounds very responsible’ Mig said. He shuffled a little as a couple of people had to hop over his body to get around the corridor. ‘Ah—and it is, wonderful to hear your attempts to have offspring were successful. I don’t blame you for being excited. I would be, inconsolable in your position, from joy that is.’

‘Right! I’m just excited, like come on’ Peter said loudly as he grabbed a fry from his plate. ‘Like I was scared, you know? Who knows what my weird spider genes will do! It’s nice to talk to someone who gets it.’

‘Yes. I worried about the same things’ Mig said softly. ‘With my biology being so… poorly constructred, I often lie awake wondering what I would create. But it is hard, to deny yourself something when it is so… close, to your heart. It is what I always wanted, and I know many like us feel that way.’

‘Oh—yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to be insensitive’ Peter whispered. Mig shook his head.

‘No, no. As mi tesoro says, we’re all strange on the inside.’ Mig turned to you with a smile as he spoke, and you returned it.

‘Right! Sorry, sorry, ah— enough about me though, I have so many questions for YOU. How DID you two meet?’ Peter asked as he folded his hands over the table.

‘Oh, that is an interesting story. Mi arañita, do you—’ Mig turned and gestured with his claws, politely offering you the chance to step in. You quickly swallowed the single fries serving you’d ordered and tried to respond.

‘Oh—oh! Right, um—I was sent to fix an anomaly in his universe, it was my first proper mission and I uh… I, botched it, pretty badly.’

‘Don’t say that arañita, you did well considering the circumstances’ Mig cooed. You waved him off.

‘Yeah, yeah. Well, I messed up and needed help, everyone was busy but I remembered Miguel saying he had a variant in that universe. He said not to reach out, but, I did. And I met Mig.’

‘Yes, I—found them cowering beneath a tree. Such a handsome creature, I thought. So pretty. Que chula, that’s all I could say. I was so attracted I momentarily forgot that they likely would try to kill me out of fear’ Mig dreamily reminisced. Despite your anxiety your smile widened.

‘Oh, you, you’re such a romantic. I could tell’ Peter added as he circled his finger at Mig.

‘Anyway, they—did not hurt me, which I was glad of. I helped heal them and fixed their web shooter, and, they offered to return. To, spend time with me. So we kept doing that and—became friends’ Mig said, finishing the brief and work-friendly version of the story.

‘Oh, that’s— nicer than I was expecting, honestly, considering how we first met you’ Peter teased.

Mig missed the teasing and responded bluntly. ‘Yes! Well, that is the first half. After that, one day they happened to visit while I was rutting, and when I pleaded to mate them, they agreed. We became a mated pair from then on, which is why they were hiding at my house, the poor thing went into quite a severe heat due to my presence.’ His soft, satisfied smile never wavered as he recalled that day.

You could hear a pin drop in the canteen; Mig was talking, but nobody else was.

You immediately sank so low you almost fell beneath the table. Oh god, you thought, why. Why. Why. Why did he have to be so blunt.

You’d shown off in front of Miguel in relative private, sure, but this was different. That was to humiliate him. It made you feel powerful to be in Mig’s arms, beneath his body, but the eyes on you were turning that power to shame.

Peter maintained his smile, but you could see he was a little surprised at the blunt swerve in conversational tone. ‘I—I mean I wasn’t gonna ask about it, you know, it’s rude’ he stammered. ‘You don’t seem like a man who’d kiss and tell—’

‘You mean the mating?’ Mig asked. You shrank into your seat as his words echoed.

‘Ah—yes, the—is that what you call it?’

‘Is that not what it is?’ Mig asked as he tilted his head. ‘I believe that is the proper term. Or, do you mean, here it’s called sex? Because that is also what I meant, and I see no reason to hide it. We’re all sexually mature.’

You noticed Peter stifling laughter as he listened to Mig. Instinctively your stomach clenched; was he just here to make fun of Mig? To make fun of you both? Had you been tricked?

Luckily, Peter spoke before you could spiral further. ‘Oh, you’re so delightful! Isn’t he delightful? I can see why you like him’ he said with his finger pointed at you. ‘I wish I had the guts to say half this stuff, my god, the confidence! I love it! And I can tell he clearly likes you.’

‘Oh, they are—wonderful’ Mig purred in response. His abdomen began to vibrate as he closed his eyes, his thoughts lingering in memories of you in his arms. You gripped the table and begged for the strength to not physically slam your hand over his mouth.

‘Isn’t the size difference a little difficult though?’ Peter whispered. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but—’

‘I was worried about the same thing, but, they take me remarkably well’ Mig said calmly. You thought your teeth would crack, and yet still Peter seemed utterly unphased. ‘I always ensure that they’re not in pain and that they’re enjoying it, and I’ve never had issues.’

‘Oh, well that’s good to hear! I know it’s tough, having issues, especially in those uh—very, intimate areas, and especially I imagine when you’re uh—well, you! So, different! And so early on in a relationship, I mean my god you’re doing better than I did at this stage. You guys must really get along.’

Peter turned to you as he spoke, as if prompting you to engage with the conversation a little more. He must have noticed your silence. Unfortunately, you were still too mortified to really say much more.

‘Y-Yeah. Yeah’ you stammered, unsure of what more to say. Peter seemed to notice your hesitation; Mig did not.

‘Yes. I—I like them, a lot’ Mig said wistfully. ‘It’s not been easy, even now, adjusting to this—body, but… In truth, I feel more wanted now than I did when human. When I was, considered attractive. When I fit into places. That means the world to me. They are, priceless. Mi tesoro.’

You felt your face start to glow as Mig looked down at you in the booth. For just a moment, in that silent space with your eyes locked on, you recontextualized your embarrassment. You felt, guilt.

You were struggling with all the attention. You couldn’t deny that. You knew this was Miguel’s plan to pry you apart, to leave you at the mercy of their constant ridicule. The eyes on you, the constant judgement, it was rough.

But, seeing how happy Mig was, it made you wonder: why did you care?

He looked so happy as he gazed at you. His soft, affectionately creased eyes, his upturned lips showing the thick fangs beneath. What a pretty man.

And Peter, despite your initial reservations, didn’t seem phased at all.

When you’d had everyone’s approval, when you’d been just another replaceable spider doing everything routine and by the books, you’d been ignored. They hadn’t wanted you then, so why did it matter if they didn’t want you now?

Now, you had someone who did. Who cares that you were infatuated with a monster? At least you were wanted.

You smiled. ‘Mig, is… Wonderful, at what he does’ you said softly. ‘I really couldn’t ask for more. He’s so attentive, he—knits me suits, the pillows, and blankets, he refurbished his entire nest for me, he’s always making sure I’m well taken care of. He never raises his voice, never avoids me. I am… very, very, happy.’

The emphasis and tone you put on ‘happy’ was more than enough indication of your sincerity, and was certainly enough to put plenty of unwanted images in the heads of those listening. You didn’t care. You let them imagine, and you beamed up at the real thing.

‘PETER!’

You, Mig and Peter all turned as that chilling voice echoed through the canteen.

Miguel was walking stiffly down the canteen corridor, his eyes roaming. He seemed to be looking for someone, most likely the man he’d just called for.

‘Peter, you’re supposed to be on mission with me. You—’ Miguel paused. He looked up to see you and Mig, sitting comfortably with his friend at the table. The two people he'd been viciously targetting. The two people who had humiliated him in the worst way possible.

‘What is this?’ he hissed.

‘OH! Hey big guy, big fella, big boss man’ Peter cried back, cheery as ever. He didn’t seem to notice the tension as he hopped the back of the booth. ‘I was just making friends! I can say that, right, uh—Mig, is that what people call you? Can I use that?’

Peter spun back to Mig who, under pressure, immediately nodded. ‘Ah—yes, of course. Friends. Yes.’

‘GREAT! Great! Oh, I got two Miguel friends! I’ll catch you two around, okay?’

‘You sure will’ you replied. Peter waved you off as he clapped Miguel on the back.

‘Man those two are great. You never told me your variant was so nice! He’s hilarious!’

You could see that hot, burning anger in Miguel’s eyes even from here as Peter rambled on at him. It was barely disguised beneath his usual calm, collected expression.

You saw him realizing that, even by a small amount, his plan was failing. Mig was being treated as normal, and not by just anyone, but by someone close to him, someone who he could never let find out about your voyeuristic escapades.

Miguel grit his teeth as he tried to find any words to say. ‘Peter, you—’

‘Come on, my god—you were so urgent a minute ago.’ Peter laughed as he dragged Miguel away by the shoulder, and while the man’s eyes lingered on you both he did not strain against Peter’s grip. He reluctantly followed.

Back at the booth, you made a choice. You crawled up onto the table, pushing the fries aside, and with both hands you grabbed Mig’s face. You turned him physically, as he’d been gazing after Peter.

You smiled up at him without a care.

‘My Mig’ you said softly, and then you kissed him. He eagerly kissed you back. In front of the whole canteen you nestled into his fluffy forelegs and let him kiss you from your forehead to your chin.

It wasn’t exactly a perfect first day, but it was good. It was enough for now. Mig had one more friend than he’d had at the start.

But you knew, deep down, Miguel wouldn’t just let this go.

Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #smut with plot #arachnophilia #drider #miguel o'hara smut #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship #forbidden romance

153 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 4 years

Text

Drider Husband

Sorry for the late update, I was at work training yesterday and it went longer than expected.

You’ve come down with a nasty cold, so your drider husband decides to take care of you for a day.

There was a scuttling, clicking noise and a slightly raspy voice spoke from the shadows. “Go back to bed.”

You cleared your throat, which was thick with phlegm. “I’m fine.”

“Mmhm,” the voice said, sounding a little amused. “You certainly sound fine.”

“I sound great,” you replied, your voice quivering with the effort of not dissolving into a fit of coughing. There was a sigh from the shade and your husband emerged. He was a drider, a slender drow torso attached to an oversized spider abdomen. His skin was pitch black and his hair was long and white, like spider silk. One of his long ears twitched and his red eyes glinted as his many legs clicked over the kitchen floor.

“And you always look lovely,” he said, reaching out his hands to rest on either side of your face. “But you are looking a little less healthy than usual.” He leaned over to press his lips to your forehead and hummed an ‘mmhm’ of confirmation. “You’re warm.”

“It’s a little fever. Like a degree over normal, maybe,” you said. “I’m fine.”

Your husband raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to get a thermometer,” he said. Without waiting for you to say anything, he skittered away down the halls of your house. You grimaced and slouched into a chair. He returned a moment later with an ear thermometer. “Turn your head,” he told you. You did so, wincing as he pressed the thermometer into your ear and held it.

“One hundred and one point seven,” he declared when the thermometer beeped. “You’re sick.”

“It’s a little fever. I don’t feel that bad,” you insisted. He lifted a white eyebrow.

“How bad is ‘not that bad?’” he said. You shrugged, trying to avoid his eyes while not looking like you were avoiding his eyes.

“Sore throat, runny nose, headache,” you said. “Look, we can still go. I’ll be-” You lapsed into thick, grating coughs that ground against your chest and made your head pound.

“Oh, love,” your husband said, tone sliding into gentle sympathy, “I know you were looking forward to the tour, but do you really think you’re going to be okay with walking around town when you’re not feeling well?”

You slumped back, rubbing at your eyes. The ghost tour had been scheduled months in advance and you had been looking forward to it for even longer, but of course, your immune system had to fail on you.

“I’m really sorry,” your husband said, tucking his legs under him so he could sit next to you. One of his hands rested on your back. “I can call them, see if they can fit us in another time.”

“You could still go,” you said. “You were excited for this too.”

“I’m not leaving you at home all by yourself when you’re not feeling well,” he said. “Go back to bed. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You sniffed miserably, but left him to crawl back into the nest of blankets that made up your bed. Driders didn’t do human-style mattresses and so your bed was more circular than rectangular. You worked your way into the lump of pillows that made up the middle of the bed and lay still.

A soft clicking noise preceded your husband’s arrival. He approached the edge of the bed and reached down, hand brushing against your head. “I left a message with them,” he said. “Hopefully they’ll call back soon.” You nodded absently and he carefully climbed into bed next to you. “Is there anything I can get for you? Water, or breakfast?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

His fingers trailed along your head, making your scalp tingle a little. “If you’re sure.” He rose slowly. “I’m going to clean up the kitchen. If you need anything, just yell.” You heard him leave the room and buried yourself further into the blankets.

Once you were alone, there was nothing to distract you from your abject misery. Everything from your chest up was thick with congestion that made it difficult to breathe and swallow. Your head pounded in perfect time with your heart. You alternated between being suffocatingly warm and hideously cold. Sleeping was almost impossible. You just had periods where you were slightly less aware of your surroundings.

You drifted awake again when your husband returned to the room. “How are you feeling?” he asked. The back of his hand pressed to your forehead. “You still feel warm.”

“Just thirsty,” you said. Your husband left the room for a moment, then returned with a glass of water and the thermometer.

“I’m going to take your temperature again,” he said. “Hold still.” You sipped water as he pressed the thermometer into your ear again. It beeped and he removed it. “One hundred and two,” he said. “Your fever’s going the wrong way.” He stroked your sweaty hair back from your face. “I’m going to get you some medicine.”

He went to the bathroom and returned with some pills that you swallowed. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I’m not really hungry.”

“You should still have something in your stomach. You need to keep up your strength.”

“I’m sick, not running a marathon,” you mumbled.

“You still need strength to fight it off,” your husband insisted. “I’ll make you some soup. Just eat a little, all right?”

He started to get up, but you grabbed his hand. “I don’t want you to leave me,” you said.

“You’re so clingy when you’re sick,” he said, but he was clearly touched. “Come here.”

He picked you up almost effortlessly and swung around to place you on his abdomen. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and rested your head on his back.

You’re sure you can hold on?” he asked. You nodded. “Okay. And try not to sneeze into my hair or anything.”

“I won’t,” you muttered. He reached up to squeeze one of your hands.

“You’re really not feeling well, huh?” he said gently. “Just hold on.” He started walking, slow enough that you weren’t jostled by the motion.

You clung to him as he walked around the kitchen. He was a steady ride, much more so than you imagined a trotting centaur would be. With your head pressed against his back and your arms looped loosely around his waist, you were secure enough that you could almost doze.

“Love.” Your husband shifted his position, turning his head to look at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to lie down?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

“Are you really sure? You’re practically falling asleep.” There was a little laughter in his voice, but you could hear a little worry under it.

“I’m not that tired,” you said, but you still slumped against him. He turned carefully and pulled you from his back, lifting you into his arms.

“Let’s try this,” he said. He carried you into the living room and placed you down on the small couch. A thick, red-and-white afghan sat on top of the couch and he tugged it over you, taking the time to smooth it around your shape.

When he started to move away, you reached out for him. He squeezed your hand, sharp nails ghosting against your skin. “I’ll be back in less than a minute. I promise.” His hand slipped away from your and he clicked off into the kitchen.

True to his word, he was back in only a few seconds. In one of his hands, he had a tall, frosty glass of water and in the other, he had a cool cloth. “Drink a little,” he said, handing you the glass, and you sipped from it. The water was freezing, especially in comparison to your burning skin, but it felt amazingly nice. When you had finished, your husband took the glass and rested the cool cloth on your forehead.

“That might help with the fever,” he said. You gave a little nod and the cloth slid sideways on your head. Your husband replaced it. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Stay here,” you said. He nodded, smiling enough to show off his sharp teeth, and settled in next to you again, long legs tucked under his body.

He stroked your hair, hand cool against your feverish brow. Your eyes drifted shut. It was still impossible to find sleep, as uncomfortable as you were, but the gentle motion of his hand grounded you. It gave you something to focus on rather than how miserable you felt.

A shrill beeping from the kitchen signaled that a timer had just gone off. Your husband left for a moment and returned with a small bowl of soup. You sat up, reaching for it, and your husband gave you a cheeky grin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to feed you?”

“Give me the bowl,” you said. He passed it to you and you ignored the spoon, just sipping the broth directly from the bowl. “Mm. It’s good.”

“Thank Campbells,” your husband said. “I just got it out of a can.”

“You’re so good at heating up soup,” you said. He rolled his ruby-red eyes and smiled at you.

“I’m glad you like it, anyway,” he said. Your husband leaned against the couch as you drained the bowl of soup and chewed on the soggy vegetables at the bottom.

When you finished the meal, your husband took the bowl back into the kitchen. You hard running water as he washed it out. He returned to the room and settled down next to the couch again. One of his hands brushed over your forehead.

“You feel a little cooler,” he said. “Are you feeling any better?”

You shrugged. Your chest still ached and you still felt hot with fever, but you didn’t feel quite as out-of-it as you had earlier. “Not awful, I guess.”

He folded his arms on the edge of the couch and rested his chin on them. “You’re still bummed about not being able to go on the ghost tour, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been looking forward to it for such a long time,” you sighed. “Of course my immune system had to shut down on the one day I’ve been looking forward to.”

“It’s because you’ve been working yourself so hard lately,” your husband said. There was a little note of scolding in his voice. You poked your tongue out at him. He lifted a white eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. “You can pout at me all you like, but you know that I’m right. You’ve been pushing yourself at work a lot lately, you’ve been staying up to all hours of the night. No wonder your immune system is shot. You must be exhausted.”

“There were just a lot of projects that we had to do. We had a lot on our plates,” you defended Your husband smiled gently.

“I know. And I’m very proud that your business is doing so well. But you’ve been working so hard and you’ve barely been resting at all. You were going to crash sooner or later.” You frowned and he stroked his fingers over your head. “I’m not saying I’m happy you’re not feeling well, of course, but I think it’s a good thing that you’re going to rest for a little while now.”

“I hope I don’t have to rest for a long time,” you groaned. “If I’m still sick on Monday, I’m going to be pissed. There’s still so much I have to do-”

“Okay, okay, I regret bringing it up now,” your husband said lightly. “I swear, if you’re not back to one hundred percent and you try to go into work on Monday, I’m going to pin you to the bed.”

You raised your eyebrows and dropped your voice into a sultry tone. “Pin me to the bed, you say? Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

His skin was dark enough that you couldn’t see him blush, but his expression told you that he probably was. “You know what I meant,” he said. “Though maybe that’s something we can work on when you’re feeling better.”

“We could work on it now,” you said, reaching feebly for him. He snorted, deftly dodging.

“Maybe when you aren’t burning up with fever. I don’t want to catch what you have.”

“Oh.” You sagged back onto the couch. “That’s probably a good point.”

“We can still spend time together, though,” he said, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead. “Hey, I have an idea. We can’t go on the ghost tour tonight, so why don’t we have a scary movie marathon? I have a few I’ve been saving. If you’re feeling up for it, of course.”

“I guess it’s the next best thing,” you said. “Netflix me, babe.”

You started making more of a blanket nest as your husband turned on the TV and set up the movie. He couldn’t sit on the couch because his spider lower half was too big, but you had come up with a system for it: you would lie on the couch above him and he would sit on the ground and you carefully draped blankets half-off the couch so they were over both of you.

“Comfortable?” he asked as he sat down next to you. You nodded, reaching down to hang onto him. Your cheek pressed to the top of his head.

The movie was something about a ghost haunting a family that had recently moved to a town for a new start- standard fare. It was middling in its scare content, but you kept fading in and out of consciousness and dreams were mixing with the movie. You would startle awake with visions of the ghost clawing its way out of the TV and reaching for your throat.

Your husband reached up and stroked your hair. “Doing okay?” he asked.

“I think I keep falling asleep,” you said. “What’s going on?”

“They’re researching the ghost with the priest to see what her unfinished business is. And the youngest kid is either possessed or just a strange kid. It’s kind of ambiguous.”

You gathered your blanket around your shoulders and carefully slid off the couch. Your husband opened his arms on reflex and you nestled yourself into them. He closed them around you, cocooning you in gentle warmth. A chill had started wracking your body, so the heat was welcome. Not only that, but being cuddled so close to your husband grounded you. The nightmares seemed distant and fake.

“You feel a little cooler,” your husband said. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” you said.

“That’s good.” He shuffled his legs, changing his position so he was holding you more securely, then he pulled one of the blankets on the couch around you. You dozed again, soothed and comforted as your husband cradled you against his body.

When you woke again, the movie had ended and a new one had started. Your husband was leaning against the couch, not really paying attention to the movie anymore. He was looking down at you, a peaceful expression on his face. You stirred and he glanced away, evidently a little embarrassed. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better,” you said. “Not great, but better.” You shifted your position to work some feeling back into the limbs that had fallen asleep.

“That’s good.” He moved his arms to let you settle into your new position before re-enveloping you. “Do you want to know what happened in the movie so far?”

“Sure,” you said, but before he could start talking, a piano rendition of ‘The Isty Bitsy Spider’ started playing from somewhere in the house. He looked over his shoulder, then back at you, a confused expression on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” you said. “That’s your phone.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and rolled his eyes. “Stop changing my ringtone! It’s the same song every time and it’s not even that funny!”

“It’s hilarious,” you insisted. Your husband rolled his eyes again, much more expressively this time, and put you on the couch before heading off to find his phone. He always insisted that he hated it, but given that he still hadn’t installed a passcode in his phone, you had a feeling he thought it was as fun a little game as you did.

The song had time to loop and get halfway through its second play before your husband located it and answered. You strained your ears, but the phone volume had been much louder than his voice was, so you could only hear a soft, indistinct murmuring.

After a few minutes, he returned, grinning widely. “Good news?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yes. They agreed to move our tour to another night. It’s in two week’s time.” He settled down next to the couch and carefully lifted you down to snuggled against him. “Now all we need to do is get you better.”

“You’ve been doing a good job so far,” you said. He smiled, smoothing his hand through your hair again.

“Thank you. I do try.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“What we really need to worry about is you getting sick,” you added. He grinned, then pulled a pained expression and lifted a hand to his throat.

“Well, my throat is kind of scratchy,” he teased. “Maybe you’ll have to take care of me next.”

“Anytime,” you said. “Want to finish the movie?”

He settled in and put his arms around you again. “Anything to spend more time with you, my love,” he said.

#exophilia #drider #monsterxreader #drider boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster husband

213 notes · View notes

cozycryptidcorner · 5 years

Photo

Chapter Three

Read Chapter Two Here

Two Days Prior to the Arrival

“This… was the person we were going send in before you matched up.” The admiral gestures their hand out to another human, a thin, lithe girl, her brown hair tied up in a puff on the top of her head. “I am well aware that you can hold yourself in a fight, but you haven’t dealt with driders before. You need to know how to handle them when things go to hell.”

“Alright,” you say, flexing your fingers, “but I doubt there’s anything you can teach me in the time we have.”

The girl looks at you, wholly unamused by your presence. “Don’t bet on it.”

“Well,” the admiral says, “I’ll leave you and Clementine alone, then.”

Now

You wake, on your own, which is strange unto itself. The Starward Matchmakers™ representative usually wakes you up in one way or another, so the fact that you are allowed to sleep in is rather… suspicious, on her part. She probably wants you to do something strange and specific, something that you would dig your heels into the ground over, so she’s trying to butter you up. Well, if she thinks she can just order you around like a little puppet, she’s got another thing coming her way, you think, swinging your legs over the side of your bed and stretching. The clock tells you that it’s not atrociously early in the morning, though not exactly the time you’d rather be up at, you might as well rip the bandaid off and see what that crazy rep wants.

Even more peculiar, the Starward Matchmakers™ representative isn’t in the common room area, waiting for you like a phantom in the dark. That only leaves you more concerned about your own safety, because that probably means that she’s planning something right at the moment. Biting your lip, you head over to the kitchen area, a tall, dully shined refrigerator fully stocked with all sorts of food. The drow servant that the prince had assigned is already busy cooking up some breakfast, her graying blue hair up in a tight ponytail. The moment she catches sight of your still-sleepy figure, she curtsies, stepping away from the hot cooktop, so her arm doesn’t brush against the metal.

“Your grace,” she says in greeting, her voice lowered with age.

“Oh,” you wave your hand, “you don’t have to do that.”

She seems confused. “Begging your pardon, your grace, but I don’t understand.”

“The bowing. I don’t need for you to bow to me every time we meet eyes,” you elaborate, “neither of us will get anything done, and besides, I’m not anyone important.”

“But you are!” Her crystalline blue eyes widen. “Begging your pardon, your grace, I didn’t mean to shout.”

“It’s fine, you’re fine.” You try to think of another way to explain that all the respect you’re suddenly getting started to get on your nerves without insulting her. Or the prince. “I’m just not used to it, and I suppose it makes me… feel a little uneasy. Like how far away from home I am… and how distant everyone I know is… and, um,” you try to think of something else inconspicuous, “I mean, I’m not exactly royalty, you know, so-”

“Would you rather I call you ‘my lady’ or ‘ma’am?’” The drow servant asks, her eyes suddenly gentle, her tenseness relaxed.

“I think I would deeply prefer that to ‘your grace,’” you respond. It sounds like you’re their savior, which is ironic, considering what you’re really here to do.

“Of course, my lady. If it pleases you, breakfast will be ready shortly.” She doesn’t curtsey again, much to your relief.

“It does, thanks,” you stand on the tips of your toes, peering into the pan to find some kind of egg, you think, bubbling against the heat of the metal. “Smells great. Did you by any chance see the matchmaker rep out and about before I got up?”

“Yes, ma’am. It was well before you woke up, she left in quite a hurry.”

Oh, that’s interesting.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Time to shower and wonder what else you plan on doing for the day. Wandering back into your room, you go over to your open suitcase and rummage around for something comfortable to wear. You’ve bent over backward wearing all sorts of fancy clothes the last couple of days; suits, dresses, the works, so now it’s time to get comfortable. Unfortunately, you weren’t wrong about the shoe situation the night before, as a decently sized blister has formed on the back of your heal, the other rubbed raw. You let out a hiss as you run your fingers over the sore, biting your lip. You hope the prince isn’t opposed to flip-flops, because that’s probably what you’re going to be wearing for a few days.

It’s been a little while since you’ve had some time to yourself without the oppressive presence of the Starward Matchmakers™ representative watching your movements from afar. While it can be nice to be pampered every now and then, the constant stream of people hired to turn you into some kind of plastic model soon became… vexing. When all is said and done, though, you’re glad to wash your own hair and scrub your own body than have someone get all up in your business to do it for you. But you guess that if there is one thing that you’re thankful for, it would be the free laser hair removal procedure, as painful as it was.

Breakfast is waiting for you once you wander out, still kind of damp from the shower. A single place is set at the table, though the drow servant is scrambling quickly to set up for a second person.

“Um,” you run your fingers through your wet hair, flipping it from one end to the other, “is the rep back, then? You know that she doesn’t actually eat food, right?”

The drow servant gives you a look that must mean something significant, then glances somewhere behind where you stand. You catch the drift, turning around to see the prince standing in the common room area, a book in hand.

“Oh,” you say, standing a little taller, “hi.”

“Hello,” he responds, placing the book back on the shelf, “I wanted to stop by and bid you good morning before I begin work.”

“Aw, I appreciate it,” you say. The gesture is… sweet, you think, but you don’t exactly have the experience to compare it to anything else. The drow servant gives a subtle gesture, and after a second of wondering, you get the gist. “Do you… want to join me for breakfast?”

The prince looks over your shoulder. “If you would be so inclined to have me, then I would appreciate being in your company.”

“I’ll see about helping the servant put everything together-”

“Why?” He asks, almost interrupting your train of thought.

“Why…. would I help put together an extra breakfast?” You don’t mean to sound so incredulous, but it still comes out that way, because is he seriously asking you why you should bother being a decent person? “Because she was expecting only me? And now has to put together a fancy whatever breakfast for you, as well? The least I can do to help is pull out another chair or something.”

He stares at you for a moment, and you aren’t exactly sure what he is thinking. Despite the Starward Matchmakers™ representative being uptight and all over your case, whenever the prince goes silent, you wish you could look over at her face to see whether or not you were doing a decent job at winning him over. Finally, he says, “why don’t I show you the gardens while the extra breakfast is being made?”

“Uh, sure?” You glance over at the maid once more, just to make sure she was fine. “I could go change, if you need me to look presentable for, um, anyone who might see us.”

His head cocks ever so slightly. “It does not matter to me what you wear.”

“Other people might talk, though. I don’t know if you care about that or not.”

“They will not dare.”

You wait for a beat, then say, “okay, then. I’ll follow you.”

Most anyone else would refer to the long, darkly lit hallways as tunnels, since a good percentage of people who aren’t used to living underground would find the architecture somewhat ‘rustic.’ You have noticed, though, that most of the lights closest to your room are lit just a smidgen brighter than most other places, which means that whoever was in charge of your environment has at least put some thought into your comfort. You don’t dare complain about any of the little things that have been bothering you, though, since you don’t wish ill of the staff the prince has assigned to serve you.

The prince walks much slower than his usual pace, and still, you have to keep your legs moving much faster than your own typical speed just to keep up with him. Which is fine, you guess, trying not to pant like a well-exercised dog, this will keep your heart pumping and your legs toned. It’s good, it’s fine. It only reminds you that you stand no chance to outrun most driders, and you need to remember how dangerous these apex predators are. The prince can almost make you forget that he can rip your spine out with how… not gentle, no… tame his words and gestures are. Just because he hasn’t shown you his violent side, though, doesn’t mean he lacks one.

Clementine made sure you understood that.

The fastest human runners in the Olympics can reach a speed of sixty-three kilometers per hour (about thirty-eight miles per hour for the barbarians still on the Imperial measurements) during a one hundred meter sprint, but a drider warrior has been clocked at going ninety kilometers (almost fifty-six miles) per hour at the San Ria massacre. She showed you the recovered footage, it’s certainly something to balk at. So yes, in a hypothetical situation where you try to run away, you’d be caught and quartered before you can even take in a second breath.

The gardens are just how you remembered from the day before, soft, bioluminescent flowers lighting the pathway in a delicate cold blue light. You try to draw your thoughts from things less pleasant, the prince is beginning to look at you strangely. Or, you think he’s looking at you strangely, you haven’t exactly had the experience to fully map out his facial expressions, but in any case, you uncurl your fist and try offering him a smile.

“Your mind is preoccupied,” he says in a passing observation.

“I’m… sorry, it’s just been a lot in the past few days.” When he says nothing, you try again, doing your best not to stumble over the words. “You know, I’ve gone from barely the rags on my back to… this,” you wave over the finery of the garden, “and it’s hard to pull myself out of having to think about how and when I’ll get my next transport contract from. Believe it or not, I keep panicking because I can’t remember where I parked my ship.”

That pulls the corner of his mouth up. “You didn’t bring a ship here.”

“I know, but humans are creatures of habit. It’s a hard mental check to stop.”

“I see.” After a long pause, he asks, “how did you end up being a pilot?”

“Oh,” you shrug, “I’m from a mining colony out in the Resynn Belt. We all could fly whatever the mine boss could get his hands on, and since the old bastard was a cheapskate, we all ended up able to adapt to whatever was thrown our way.” You pause, looking down at your fingers, silently cringing at saying bastard when you were told to keep the language mild. “There was a crew that needed a pilot for a quick run up the solar system, and I volunteered. I just wanted a break from the dust and the minerals and the monotony, you know? I planned on coming back once the run was over with… but…” you shrug.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“I… did, actually, even though it was hard at times. But it paid well, so long as you knew where to look for work.” That will probably be the closest you’ll come to admitting the smuggling gig for a long while. “Something is freeing about never having to stay in one place for long.”

He looks you over, then offers a single nod in agreement. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

A ping of annoyance runs through you, though you are relatively certain that the prince didn’t mean it in any kind of insulting way. But still, something about it rubs you the wrong way. "You do have siblings, right?"

Immediately, he looks away. "None that remain alive."

"Oh, shi- I mean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up or anything, I didn't know." You almost trip over yourself changing the subject, but you could almost swear that someone mentioned that he had a brother and a sister. “Why don't- um, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

That puts him off even more. “I’m sure you have read or heard everything you need to know.”

He stops walking, standing in front of a tree. The ends of its branches fall towards the ground like tears, and the leaves’ glow pulses gently, as though an unreliable core powers the light, you can see its reflection in the glassiness of his eyes. “People have plenty of things to say about me.”

“Yes,” you respond, not actually believing what you say, “but rumors often don’t hold much truth when it’s about a single person.”

It works though, since when he turns back to you, he seems marginally more relaxed.

You try again, “do you enjoy going for walks in the garden?”

“Sometimes.” He reaches out, touching one of the tree’s vines, “only if I wish to be interrupted, though. If I need to be alone, then I must lock myself in my private chambers.”

“Right,” you say, remembering how... hands-on he is with his people and the war, “your duties must keep you busy. I can’t imagine having that much attention on me all day every day with very little time for myself.”

“You might have to start.”

Again, with the assumptions. But, you suppose, a fair one, since you have been contracted to stay here for quite some time. You haven’t felt any waves of attention, yet, however, you suspect they will begin shortly.

The prince must have noticed your expressions darkening, because he is quick to add, “I could have someone keeping any news articles from circulating about you, if you wish to remain anonymous, but that won’t stop any word of mouth rumors from flying around.”

God, your reputation is going to be in tatters when you leave, but it doesn’t matter. You were promised a new one.

“It’s fine, I doubt it will do anything, anyway.” You fold your hands together. “I suppose I will eventually get used to it.”

His hand reaches over, and before you can even think about what he is doing, he cups your face, the golden claws gently pressing up against your skin. It’s a stupid observation, one you’ve made many times before, but the prince is… tall. Large. Exceptionally so, to the point where he has to bend over so that you don’t have to crane your neck merely to make eye contact. A few strands of hair fall over his shoulder, swaying with the prince’s slight movement as his thumb runs along your chin. He smells like cinnamon and cedarwood, you realize, and wonder if it’s some kind of imported aftershave or cologne.

“You will tell me if, by any chance, you begin to feel overwhelmed.” He says in a quiet demand.

“I- I will,” you stammer.

“I don’t like it when people lie to me.”

“I won’t,” you lie.

He pets some hair away from your face, then pulls away. “The Mandarian blossoms are in bloom, I believe you will enjoy them.”

You follow him again, sticking as close to his side as you can manage without being impaled by his legs. There is dew along the ground, which you think is strange since the plants don’t have a normal day cycle to collect it in. Maybe it’s from the atmospheric controllers? Do they have heating elements in the ground to help keep the soil at acceptable temperatures? The garden seems impossibly lush for being underground, and while you know that vegetation that needs minimal to no sunlight naturally exist, surely some of these plants are engineered in some way or another to get their nutrients from methods other than light.

You walk along the path, broken pieces of stones polished and cobbled together, the ground buffed to a dull gleam. The prince glances at you every now and then, probably trying to gauge your mood in the silence that has overtaken you as you think, brows furrowed.

“You look like you want to ask me something.”

Astute observation. He’s already begun to read your expressions in such a short time, you are kind of torn about how you feel about it. On one hand, it’s interesting how quickly he was able to gauge your emotional response, but also, you were never the most perfect liar to begin with, and now you have to get better. “I don’t want to bother you with mundane questions.”

He offers you a pair of arched brows. “Try me.”

You fold your fingers together, chewing on your lip. “Is there a single atmospheric unit that controls the climate throughout the entire palace? Or is it lots of little, separate systems that are operated by different people at different times?” When the prince looks a bit taken aback, you try to clarify why you want to know. “Well, a larger, single unit would be easier to manage, with one control panel to plug in the numbers with, but the energy loss between it and the far reaches of the palace would be considerable, whereas the smaller units would be preferable for certain spaces that need certain conditions without the worry of crossing any two opposite settings… but…” you tap one of your fingers against your lower lip as you try to strain your eyes towards the ceiling. “I don’t see any vents.”

The prince doesn’t seem to know how to respond, because it takes a moment for him to offer up any kind of reaction. He looks at you, then says, “I don’t know.”

You figured he wouldn’t, after all, how many people in metropolises know the model and efficiency of the AC or heating units of their houses and workplaces? But you were still curious, so you tried shooting in the dark. And missed. Maybe you’d bug the drow servant about it.

“Elias, do you know if our atmospheric control unit is a unified system or in separate sections?” The prince is speaking into his watch, much to your surprise, with a focused look on his face.

After just a moment, another voice answers. “Uh, it’s a unified system, keias.”

“That will be all.” the prince flips something on his watch and turns back to you, and says, as though you didn’t hear the entire exchange. “It’s a unified system.”

“Oh!” You try to babble on, even though your brain wants to immediately jump to strategizing, “that means that there are probably heating plates underneath the soil to keep everything within their acceptable temperatures. My apartment is a lot cooler than everywhere else I’ve been, which is great because I’m used to those almost unbearable temperatures we’d have to keep the mining pod units to save power.”

“I didn’t realize you wouldn’t handle the heat well.”

“Well, whoever was in charge of my accommodations did.” You have already decided to give whatever staff assigned to you as many compliments as possible.

And, on another note, you realize suddenly that you are starving. “You know what? I bet breakfast is ready. Maybe we should head back to my quarters?”

“If you wish,” he responds, offering a hand in your direction. “I could show you the blossoms some other time.”

“I would very much enjoy that,” you say, hesitating only briefly before taking his hand. His fingers are long, spindly, and thin, his razor-sharp nails could easily dig into your wrists and cut open your veins. The prince doesn’t, though, and is surprisingly gentle, cradling your hand as though it is a frail bird. That’s how you walk back to your apartment, as though the two of you are a honeymoon couple, unable to keep from touching each other for long. It’s… awkward, at least, for you, because of how much taller the prince is from you, but he doesn’t seem to find anything strange with the arrangement.

The drow servant had already finished setting the table, an extra drider-sized chair now placed where two humanoid ones had been. Before you sit down, you dodge out around the furniture to where she is putting the finishing garnishes on the plates, and whispers, “is there anything that you need me to do?”

She offers a confused look.

“I mean help with. Do you need me to get out a pitcher of water or anything?”

The drow servant’s brow furrows before she gives a simple shake of her head.

“Alright, just checking.” You step back over to your chair and take a seat, placing a napkin in your lap since you’re clearly not a savage, and give the prince a smile.

Breakfast is uneventful, which you believe is better than really eventful. You could definitely go without jumping through all those mental hoops of having to keep your guard up, and the prince doesn’t seem to be in a talkative mood anymore. Briefly, you wonder if you insulted him in some way, or maybe he’s just as drained as you and doesn’t feel like speaking. Or perhaps he’s planning a creative way to execute you. Either scenario is just as likely, you think. Once you and the prince are finished eating, he excuses himself from your presence.

“Before I leave,” he says, twisting his powerful body around to face you once more. “My family is holding an official dinner to welcome you into our family tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, how kind of them. What time is it?”

“I’ve already declined your invitation.”

It takes you a moment to fully understand what he said. “I’m… not going to the dinner being held in my honor?”

“No, you aren’t.”

You think for a moment, not looking him in the eye. “Alright,” you say, “I… I trust your judgment.”

Another lie.

His eyes soften, only briefly, and he places a hand on your shoulder. “I would not do this if I did not think it was necessary.”

You nod. “Of course.”

After he leaves, you go sit on the couch, staring straight at the wall, your brain simmering with the information you had collected during the day. So little things, you begin to feel frustrated with what you’ve scrambled together, and you want to leave now. It’s been two days, and you’re already over this shit.

“My lady, if I may?”

You spin around and see the understanding eyes of the drow servant, her old, wizened hands drying against her apron. Taking a deep, grounding breath, you say, “yes?”

“The keias means no insult to you or your person when he refused the invitation.” The drow servant tucks an escaped tuft of hair back behind her pointed ear. “His family is, as I’m sure you know, rather... Toxic. I believe he doesn’t wish to expose you to such drama so soon after your arrival, as it might overwhelm you. His cousin is especially known for stirring up trouble, and he is, apparently, just itching to see you.”

You sit up a little taller, offering up a weak smile. The drow servant had completely misunderstood your close miss to tears, but still, her concern is deeply appreciated. “And which cousin is this? I apologize, my memory is a bit out of sorts today.”

“It’s of no trouble at all, my lady. The cousin I speak of is the vice-marshal of the royal fleet, Thyone Iakhose.”

Oh, that asshole. “Thank you.” You pause, then realize something that you lack the knowledge of. “And, again, I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite catch your name.”

“Of course, my lady. I am called Semele.”

“Thank you, Semele. I appreciate your kindness.” You stand, gripping the side of the couch as you try to think of what you plan on doing. “I’m going to be in my room for a while. I need to be alone.”

She nods, “I understand.”

You make sure to shut the door and lock it behind you, even though you are reasonably certain that Semele would have the keys to it anyway. Though you doubt that she is the type to break it down to see just what you are up to, you can never be too careful now. You are, after all, deep in enemy territory, and everyone is suspect. This isn’t like neutral regions where whoever you meet has a 50/50 chance of turning you into some organization for some extra coin, anyone here would report odd behavior, and that’s it for you. It’s over.

There, up on the ceiling. A small square, one that you might barely fit through one you removed the finely cut grate covering it. If you scooted the bookshelf just so, you’d be able to climb up and into the atmosphere control vents. Maybe you should ask the Starward Matchmakers™ representative before you go do something reckless, but she’s not here, and you’re getting impatient. The bookshelf is heavy, but you manage to push it out from the wall, moving the one side so that it sits right under the grate, and then you climb. It’s latched on one side for easy-access maintenance, and it swings open as you press the release button.

Maybe you’ll end up going to that dinner, after all.

Just not as a guest.

Next Chapter

#exophilia #male drider #drider/human #drider/reader #monster lover #monster boyfriend #sfw

247 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 5 years

Text

Male drider x male naga (nsfw)

This is a commission for someone who asked me to hold off posting it til today because it’s their birthday. So, happy birthday! I hope you like this. I really enjoyed working with these two characters of yours, and I’m totally in love with Ambrose...

Contents: one naga with some colourful language, one shy and arachnophobic drider boy, some thievery, some fluff, and some smut. Length: 4847 words

___________________________

Aiden cursed as he ducked and wove through the dense pine trees as evening pressed on relentlessly into night and the baying of the hounds and shouting of guards faded behind him.

It had all been going so well until the duchess had returned early to her chambers and caught him red-handed with his sharp, taloned claws in her safe. She’d shrieked half the castle down, screaming about thieving snakes, leaving the naga no choice but to hurl himself out of the window and take a long dive into the freezing, filthy moat surrounding her castle. At least he still had her jewels in his satchel. He grinned wickedly to himself, canines flashing in the dying light of the day.

Honestly, he was exhausted.

His python-like lower half was built for stealth rather than for prolonged speed, and his muscles were screaming at him to stop. The warmth had faded from the day, and the cold-blooded naga was starting to feel the chill as his muscles tightened and began to burn. His underside bore scratches and scrapes from his long flight, first through the remote castle’s extensive grounds, and then out into the wilder woods beyond. Sharp rocks had scored along his thick, red-scaled hide, leaving him bruised and a bit bloody, and he ached all over.

Thirsty, weak, and with nowhere left to go, he eventually slowed his pace, breathing hard, and came to a halt in a quiet glade amid tall, silent pine trees. The wind hissed in the needled canopy above, but down here between the sentinel trunks, nothing moved. The baying of the duke’s hounds had long since faded into nothing, and as he swept his spiky, dark red hair back out of his eyes, he went utterly still, straining to hear any sounds at all. His head swam and his vision went double for a moment. He’d not eaten in days and while that wasn’t normally an issue for a naga, it was going to be problem for him soon after expending so much energy on escaping.

Lightheaded, weak, and shaky, he swayed on the spot.

Something darker than the surrounding shadows moved in the trees up ahead, and he swore softly, trying to get his eyes to focus.

He ground his teeth and drew his body up tall, hoping to look menacing, but the extra effort sapped the last vestiges of strength from him and before he knew what was happening, he had pitched forwards and was lying face down in the carpet of old pine needles. Woozy, on the edge of consciousness, he watched as the dusk-dark body of a drider emerged hesitantly from the trees. He couldn't see enough to make out any features, but the blue-black of the delicate limbs that speared down silently into the forest floor was enough to tell him it was a drider.

“Shit,” he hissed and his eyes rolled shut as he finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

When he next stirred, he was chilled and sluggish, and lying in the dark somewhere. Warmth; he needed to get warm. And where the hell was he? The last thing he recalled was the approach of a drider. He realised with a jolt of fear that he should be wrapped up in webbing, stored for some future meal, if even half of what was said about driders was true. But he was free, if sluggish and sore.

He blinked and tried to push himself upright on shaking arms, his cold muscles reluctant to obey him, and as he shifted, something squeaked at the back of whatever dank cave he was in. A rat?

Still fighting the lingering grogginess, he lifted his head and saw a drider shoot backwards, stumbling over its tangle of spindly limbs, only to sit down heavily and stare at him with wide, panicked, dark eyes. The drider looked young, but into his adult years, and his dark, messy, almost violet-purple hair fell into his eyes as he panted, clearly terrified, and stared at the naga. The skin of his human half was bear and almost pure white, in stark contrast to his dark spider’s body, and his torso was rather scrawny, skinny, and a little pathetic, but flawless as carved marble.

“Hello,” the drider croaked awkwardly. “You’re awake. You startled me.”

“No shit,” Aiden grunted. “Where the hell am I? And who are you?”

“My… My name is Ambrose,” he faltered, following it up with a frankly adorable smile, and Aiden was pleasantly surprised by the little dimples that formed in his cheeks at the gesture. “You’re… You’re in my -” he broke off with a screech and shot sideways, limbs scrabbling on the stony floor as he stared at the floor beside him.

“What the fuck?” Aiden muttered as he watched the drider panic at apparently nothing. “What is wrong with you?”

“Spider,” the drider whimpered pathetically, pointing a slender finger at the spot where he’d been sitting in a mess of dark limbs only a moment before.

Aiden found laughter bubbling up inside him and he roared with amusement, the whole cave echoing with the sound of it. “You’re shitting me!” he wheezed. “Oh that’s fucking precious! A drider that’s afraid of spiders!” He laughed until his sides hurt and his eyes watered, but when he eventually got himself together, he wiped the tears from his eyes and crooned in a patronising baby-voice, “You want me to put it outside for you?”

“Yes please…” the drider mumbled miserably, not meeting Aiden’s gaze.

Aiden snorted, still chuckling to himself, and scooped the tiny black spider up and chucked it out into the forest, feeling the drag of his cold tail and the ache of his muscles. He grunted and winced, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the cave. “So, this dump is your home then?”

Ambrose’s cheeks flushed scarlet, and he nodded. “Yes. It’s… It’s not much. And thank you for putting the spider outside,” he said. “Normally I just wait over here until they’ve gone away…”

“You have to be the worst spider boy ever,” he snickered, ignoring the way Ambrose’s face crumpled dejectedly.

The drider levered himself up off the ground, arranging his stick-like legs underneath him and, to Aiden’s surprise, the naga realised he was really quite tall. His legs were thin and fragile looking, and his pendulous, midnight black body was covered in silky-soft hair. The tactile naga was almost overwhelmed by the desire to touch it, and drew himself back before he could give in to the unexpected urge.

“Well,” Aiden said, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a fire pit in this hovel, have you? I’m fucking frozen, and I stink from my impromptu swim in that foul bitch’s moat. I need a bath, and I need to warm the fuck up.”

Ambrose looked frankly horrified at the naga’s crass language, and Aiden reminded himself to rein it in a bit. No need to offend the person who’d been kind enough to pick him up and bring him here. He mused on that for a while and then asked, “Hang on a second… How the fuck did you get me in here? You look like one stiff breeze would send you spinning away like a tumbleweed!” He laughed at the image of the poor little drider cartwheeling away on the wind, only to find Ambrose looking hurt and embarrassed. “Ah, shit,” the naga added. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Ambrose mumbled. “I’m stronger than I look though. I dragged you here. I made a litter out of web and pulled it like a sled. You’re heavy, but I managed alright.” He tucked a stray strand of his inky hair behind his delicate ear and added, “There’s a stream just a few hundred yards that way, if you wanted to wash. I’ll start a fire for you.”

Something about the quiet sadness in his voice made Aiden pause. He looked at the miserable looking drider and asked, “You live out here alone?”

He nodded mutely and turned away.

With a sigh, Aiden slithered painfully out of the cave and found the stream. It was freezing, but it washed off the muck from the moat, and with every icy wave that bit into his skin, he promised himself he’d be warming up beside a toasty fire before too long.

Aiden hauled himself back up the steep bank, panting and groaning, his head aching and his vision blurred from exhaustion and lack of food. He let out a string of vile curses when he had to force himself to stop and take a breather. “Damned, fucking cold-blooded snake,” he swore, cranking his tail up the last bit of the incline and beginning his slow drag back to the cave.

When he got there, he found that Ambrose was heating a pot of something over a now-roaring fire, and it smelled amazing. “What’s cooking?” he asked, nearly adding ‘good looking’ for good measure afterwards, but he decided against it.

“Rabbit stew,” he said. “I made it this morning. It’s good to be reheated once more though. Is that alright?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grinned, and Ambrose gave him a very shy little smile in return. Something about it made Aiden’s stomach flip over and he crushed the sensation immediately. It wouldn’t do to go falling for some cute little spider boy when he was out in the middle of nowhere and still had to turn his thieved goods into his guild’s boss.

The two shared their meal in relative silence, but Aiden couldn’t help noticing the way Ambrose always made sure he had enough, and how the drider watched him eat and then glanced away whenever he caught him staring.

“You really don’t get out much, do you?” he asked boldly when it happened for the third or fourth time. “How many other people have you seen lately?”

Tears formed suddenly in Ambrose’s eyes and he looked away. Guilt lanced through Aiden, and he lowered his empty bowl, setting it down on the ground.

“Hey, come on, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to be…” He broke off and turned away. “I know I can be a real dick sometimes. Maybe it comes from having two of them…” he interjected, and then cursed himself for saying something so crude. “Anyway, look, I just meant… you seem nice. You don’t deserve to be shut away up here in the mountains, living alone in a cave full of spiders that you’re absolutely terrified of.” He couldn't help the little giggle at the memory of Ambrose tripping over himself in his terror at the little spider, but his mirth was short-lived.

“I have nowhere else to go,” Ambrose said in a tiny voice.

The way he said it made something in Aiden’s chest crack. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “I’m scared to go out alone. So many people hate my kind. I’m scary to them, but really… I’m… I’m the one who’s afraid.”

“Come with me,” Aiden said before he’d even thought about what he was going to say. The sudden statement shocked him; Aiden was not known for random acts of kindness.

“Where? Where will you go? I saw what was in that bag,” he said, pointing to the satchel with the stolen diamond tiara and necklaces. “You’re a thief and a criminal. What kind of life are you trying to offer me?”

Aiden hissed out a sigh. “You’re right. But I mean… spider silk is really good for healing, and you could maybe work at a healers nearby if… you know… ah shit, what am I saying? I don’t know.” He scratched his head, feeling the rake of his sharp claws over his scalp. “You don’t even know me.” He sighed. “Forget I said anything.”

Ambrose looked at him steadily across the dancing flames of the fire pit. The light reflected in his big, dark eyes, and Aiden felt that strange coiling in his gut again that had nothing to do with the excellent food that the drider had prepared for him. He was strangely beautiful, in his skinny, slightly creepy looking way, but it was easy to see how some folk might be unnerved by the sight of him.

The warmth from the fire began to make his head nod and a drowsiness washed over him as he coiled himself up tightly beside the fire pit a few minutes later.

“You should rest,” Ambrose murmured quietly, coming over and stooping gracefully to pick up the wooden bowl that Aiden had abandoned beside him.

“Thankssssssss…” he hissed, forgetting not to lisp as his body tipped towards sleep before he could stop it. He must have been more exhausted than he’d realised as he slurred, “That wassssss reallygood.”

“I’m glad,” Ambrose said in a soft voice. “Do you want a blanket?”

“Mmm,” was all Aiden could get out before he slipped into sleep.

Inhaling deeply, he stirred and felt the warm weight of a huge woollen blanket over him, and he looked up to see Ambrose on the other side of the cave, curled with his legs stowed neatly beneath him on a wide hammock of web. The thought struck Aiden that he looked oddly sweet like that, and he smiled.

The gentle vibrations caused by the naga waking and stretching must have reached the slumbering drider because he twitched awake with a yelp of distress and scuttled back into the deepest corner of the cave, eyes wide and fearful and unfocused.

“Hey, it’s just me, dumbass,” Aiden chortled. “Remember, the criminal snake you adopted yesterday?”

Ambrose surprised him by beaming a wide smile at him that stopped his slow-beating heart for a few seconds and stalled his brain. Gods above; he was beautiful.

“What?” the drider asked. “Do I have drool on my face? Have I leaked webbing or something?”

“Is that like pissing yourself?” he snorted, shattering whatever moment had hung pendulously between them.

“No,” Ambrose replied, blushing prettily. “It’s still embarrassing though.”

When he looked around and saw that in fact everything was as it should be, with no drool or webbing out of place, he sighed and stretched. Aiden tried not to watch too closely as his torso flexed, but he found that he had to turn away all the same.

Ambrose went lax with a grunt and looked over at Aiden with his big dark eyes gleaming softly. “How are you feeling today?”

“Stiff, tired, achy…” Aiden complained. “But mostly alright, I guess.”

Ambrose’s previously relaxed posture tightened and he looked suddenly as though he were staving off tears.

Aiden moved closer, his smooth, hard scales barely whispering on the cold rock of Ambrose’ dank little home. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said, trying to hide his emotions behind a wavering little smile. “Nothing…”

Aiden cocked an eyebrow, and Ambrose caved.

“Fine,” the drider sniffed, turning away, legs moving like a clockwork automaton.

Not having legs himself, Aiden would have been lying if he had said that he didn't also find Ambrose’ eight, slender legs fascinating. Forcing himself to concentrate, he shifted a little closer to the drider, who paused when he sensed him getting near, and drew in another long breath before speaking.

“I suppose… I mean… it’s kind of lonely up here in the forest…”

“But this cave is full of spiders to keep you company,” Aiden jested, and Ambrose suppressed a shudder. “Ok, seriously though, if you hate it so much, why do you live here? There’s a town not fifty miles away, and for someone with legs like yours, that wouldn’t be a taxing journey… I don’t get the whole hermit act… Give people a chance… Trust me, there are way scarier looking beasties out there than you. You’re positively angelic in comparison to some of the folk in my guild, let me tell you…”

Ambrose looked over his slender shoulder at Aiden and gave a sad little smile. “You’re the first person who’s ever seen me and not run screaming.”

Aiden’s heart cracked at that. “What?” he breathed. “You’re shitting me! But… But you’re -” he cut off quickly before he embarrassed himself.

“I’m a drider, that’s what!” Ambrose said hotly, drawing himself up tall, and for the first time, Aiden saw him as perhaps others did: more than a little ‘otherworldly’, with his big dark eyes and ghostly pale skin, his long limbs and his rounded, downy arachnid body. “People hate driders. They think we’re creepy or scary, or that we eat their children, or wrap them up in web for later and suck them dry…”

“You don’t?” Aiden snorted. “Damn, I quite liked the idea of being able to say I’d survived a few nights with a monster…”

The hurt on Ambrose’ face cut Aiden to the quick once again.

“Ah, shit,” he said. “I’m sorry. I always run my mouth when I get uncomfortable.”

“See? I make even you uncomfortable!” he said, huge, crystal tears rolling down his pale cheeks. “And you’re a criminal and a thief!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffed defensively. “Just because I nick stuff for a living, doesn’t mean I hang around with creeps… Ok, maybe I do, but they’re alright. My crew is alright. We don’t steal from people who don’t deserve it, you know?”

He darted back to where his satchel still lay on the rock and scooped it up, drawing out the sparkling gems.

“The bitch who owned these has a whole vault beneath the castle. She just kept these ones in her room because they were her favourite. She also keeps a tiefling on a leash as some kind of sick pet, and she’s got a centaur whose coat she dyes baby pink and has her paraded around for her amusement. Trust me, I’ve seen monsters, and you, my friend, are not one.”

Ambrose was still crying silently, but he lowered his dark spider’s body close to the floor, legs moving seamlessly like the dwarven and goblin lifting mechanisms at the docks. “I guess I don’t want you to go yet,” he said in a small voice.

“Who said I was going anywhere?” he grinned, wondering what he was getting himself into. This wasn’t like him. Had Ambrose been anyone else, he’d have left him in the dust a long time ago, but there was something about his curious innocence, and the way he had instinctively helped the weakened naga, despite his obvious wariness of others…

Ambrose perked up visibly at that. “You… You mean you want to stay?”

“Maybe for a few more days,” he shrugged, putting the jewellery back in the sack. “Just until I feel myself again, you know?”

“This isn’t you at your best?” Ambrose joked, and he was met with an answering grin from Aiden.

“Ho boy,” Aiden beamed at him, sharp canines showing. “I’m unstoppable when I’m on top form. Just you wait.”

The exchange seemed to have cheered Ambrose up, but when Aiden asked the drider if he fancied showing him around the surrounding forest, Ambrose shrank away again, shaking his head. “I can’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I… I don’t go out much.”

Well, that much was actually obvious to the naga, but still… “Just a few yards from the cave?” he said. “I’m cold and I could use some sunshine on my scales, you know?” he said, flicking his red hair playfully. It was enough to draw a little smile from Ambrose, and he agreed to accompany Aiden to the mouth of the cave, and then just a bit further.

Aiden found himself drawing the drider out more and more, both literally, and metaphorically as they laughed together over meals, or, more accurately, as Aiden scandalised him with tales of his thieving crew’s antics and escapades. However, after another four days, Aiden was certain of two things. The first was that he had stayed too long and his crew would be wondering if he’d just run off with the profits of the heist, and the second was that he was falling for this sweet, intelligent, shy, under-socialised drider faster and harder than he ever would have thought possible.

“Come with me,” he murmured, on the evening when he had decided to announce that he absolutely had to return the next day.

The two were lying beside the fire, Ambrose with all his legs tucked up adorably beneath him so that he looked like a little black cat with its paws scrunched in close to its body. He was also leaning his upper body against Aiden’s, who was coiled around Ambrose’ entire form. He was just long enough to be able to encircle him completely, the very tip of his tail just coming to rest in front of Ambrose’ spider body. Occasionally, the dark tip of his tail would twitch involuntarily, and Ambrose’ eyes would always dart down to look at it, and he would twitch his pretty lips into a little smile every time. Naturally, Aiden did it deliberately sometimes, just to watch his new friend’s reaction.

“I can’t,” Ambrose whispered hoarsely.

“Do you want to?” Aiden asked. “I mean, don’t you want to see the world? Do you really want to live out your whole life in this one cave full of spiders which you’re terrified of? How long do driders even live anyway…?”

His face crumpled. “We can live a long time,” he mumbled. “And no. Of course I don’t want to stay here alone forever.”

Aiden reached his hand out and ran the back of his fingers up the smooth, slightly fuzzy surface of the leg nearest to him. Ambrose shuddered violently and let out a gasp of shock, eyes rolling closed. When Aiden repeated the gesture, a moan spilled from Ambrose’ lips, and it was the most seductive and delicious sound that Aiden had ever heard anyone make.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Ambrose, you… the sound you just made…”

“I’m sorry,” he panted, pink flushing his skin from collarbones all the way up to his ears. “That… That felt so good.”

“Has anyone ever touched you?”

Ambrose shook his head, his messy hair tumbling into his heavily lidded eyes.

The naga went very still and removed his fingers from the incredibly soft velvet at the ‘hip’ of Ambrose’ spider leg, where it joined his spider body. “Would you let me?” Aiden asked. “Would you let me make you feel good?”

Ambrose licked his lips and opened his glittering eyes. His pupils were huge in the dark, and he nodded slowly. “Please…”

“You want me to make you feel good?” Aiden asked again. “How far do you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” he said. His pulse beat rapidly at his throat, but he looked determined. “Will you stop if I ask you to?”

“Of course,” he said, and he couldn’t resist adding, “I know I’ve got two of them, but I’m not that much of a dick…”

Ambrose snorted, his lips hitching up on one side. “I barely have one, so…”

It was Aiden’s turn to be confused, and Ambrose’s turn to laugh.

Ambrose blushed and giggled his way through a rapid-fire lesson in drider anatomy, and Aiden was suddenly very interested. “Male driders don’t really have a… you know… I mean we do, but it only really comes all the way out when it’s mating season. Mostly it just stays inside. Even if… you know…”

“So wait, you’ve got a slit, or what?” he asked. “I mean, some male naga have both, so I’m cool with whatever you’ve got going on down there… but that’s… that’s kinda hot, you know?”

Ambrose’s answering blush was so pretty that Aiden felt his cocks stirring already, and the heat must have shown in his gaze because Ambrose’ blush only deepened when he realised. “You think…? I mean… You’re… You’re turned on by me?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “Very much so.”

“And it’s not just curiosity?”

He shook his head. “Part of it is - I do like the idea of something new - but mostly it’s just you. You’re sweet and bashful, and you deserve to be praised and told how beautiful you are. I want to give that to you.”

A single tear rolled down Ambrose’s cheek. “Alright,” he said. “How… How do you want to do this?”

A little while later, Ambrose was on his back, and Aiden was trailing his claws down his incredibly soft and wildly sensitive underbelly. Ambrose jerked and twitched and bucked, crying out and biting the back of his hand as Aiden worked him all over, just getting him used to the sensation of being touched and, quite honestly, worshipped. Aiden noticed almost immediately that Ambrose was getting wet in a very particular place on his lower body, and when he ran his fingertips over it, he discovered a slit that was slick and warm and wet.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked huskily.

Ambrose whimpered and nodded his assent. “Wait,” he gasped, and the naga halted. “Are you poisonous?” His words were slurred and weak, but he cracked one dark eye open and tried unsuccessfully to focus on Aiden through the pleasure of the touches he was still receiving from Aiden’s fingertips.

The naga snorted, amused. “ ‘Venomous’ is the term you’re looking for, and no. No juice in these,” he said, flashing his canines. “Some of us are, but I’m not. Don’t worry.”

And with that, Aiden leaned his weight against the curve of Ambrose’ body and cautiously lowered his mouth to taste him. Aiden’s long tongue lapped at him, finding him slightly sweet and a little salty, and he soon discovered Ambrose’s cock seated deep inside him. As he worked his tongue repeatedly along the length of it, sometimes managing to curl the long muscle almost all the way around Ambrose’s hidden cock, he felt the walls of the slit pulse almost rhythmically, and he knew that it would feel incredible to be inside him.

When Aiden paused and voiced this aloud, Ambrose, who was quickly becoming a whining, mewling mess of limbs and heaving body, groaned, “Yes! Please…”

Aiden looked down the length of his own, scarlet red body, and bit his lip. Not only was the larger of his two cocks fully erect and weeping profusely, but the second, which usually only became fully erect during the naga’s heats, was also hard and slick. “Well, well,” he said. “Look what the sight of you like this has done to me,” he chuckled.

Ambrose managed to open his eyes with a flutter of long, dark lashes, and he smiled. “Beautiful,” he rasped. “I want you…”

Aiden shifted, coiling himself up so that he could slide easily into the slick heat of Ambrose’ sheath. The moment their cocks touched, he felt a jolt run right through him, and he gasped, clinging to Ambrose’ body. “Fuck,” he snarled. “Fuck, you’re perfect…”

Ambrose was beyond words at the sensations coursing through him.

“I’ve never felt so full,” he managed to gasp a few minutes later after Aiden had begun to rock back and forth inside him. “I… I don’t think I’m… I’m going to…” he panted, his body convulsing and shaking with over stimulation beneath Aiden. “I -” and with a rush of heat beneath Aiden, the drider came.

Spurts of thick, hot come pulsed around Aiden’s two cocks, and the naga lost his rhythm and his control, coming with a gasp a second after Ambrose.

Ambrose’ uninhibited yell of pleasure echoed off the walls of his home as he came, his body twitching and rocking with pleasure, while Aiden rammed his eyes shut, cocks buried inside him, and ground his teeth, gasping at the intensity of it. He had never come like this.

It took a while for both of them to come back to their senses, and when they did, Aiden laughed nervously and slid free of Ambrose. “You alright?” he asked, voice hoarse.

Ambrose nodded and tightened his skinny torso, abs clenching as he looked down his body to where his lower half was frankly a mess. “I think I might need to bathe tonight,” he said. Then, with a wicked glint in his eyes that Aiden would never have suspected from him, he added, “Unless you want to go again?”

“What have I unleashed?” he laughed.

In fact, they did go again, twice more, before the dawn.

As they were both tired and spent, washing clean in the freezing stream, Ambrose said quietly, “I think I will come with you.”

“What, you only want me for the sex now?” Aiden joked.

Ambrose remained serious as he said, “No. I was thinking about it before. If you promise that you will help me… I’d like to come with you. I’d like to see something of the world.”

Aiden was not expecting his heart to react in the way it did, but he flashed Ambrose a wide grin. “Great,” he said. “I promise. You’re going to love it. I just know it.”

___________________________

#mlm #exophilia #naga #drider #arachnid #spider monster #monster x monster #male monster #writing commission

180 notes · View notes

politemenacephd · 2 months

Text

Arachnophilia (Part Twenty-Five)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Word count: 4770

Notes: Going into the Halloween arc now hehe <3

With Miguel gone, you were left to lounge away the last few days of the rut. There was no real time to ponder, no long moments to think. You didn’t get to consider what would happen in the world outside Mig’s embrace because in your mind it was all that existed.

You were left to your primal urges, fulfilling them over and over in the filthiest, most basal ways possible, until at long last your body had decided it’d gotten its fill. You took ungodly amounts of Mig inside you. More thick ropes than some men could create in a lifetime, more rutting thrusts than most humans could take.

He shaped you to him in that earthen nest. Bit by bit, you were settling into him. Bit by bit you were falling into each other.

But eventually, just like the first heat, it ended. You were free, and you slept in, blissfully and wilfully pushing to the back of your mind that you’d have to go back to the HQ now it was over, and you’d have to face Miguel again.

Autumn was on its way. It was time to wake up.

…

‘Mi tesoro?’

You stirred awake slowly, snuffling and stretching beneath the sheets. You were wrapped like a baby in a cocoon, surrounding by lavish silk, and by god you were sore. Even the slightest movement of your limbs felt like you were swimming through concrete. You could feel the little pinpricks on your thighs where you’d been held, similar to the bite marks on your neck and shoulders.

That delicious ache, it was painful but enjoyable. You squirmed in the sheets and yawned.

‘Mi tesoro?’

‘Mm… Mm?’

Something warm nudged your cheek, and at last you opened your eyes.

Your body was being nested on by Mig, with his spider half carefully cradling your body against his abdomen while his human half bent forward to plank over your head. His hands were on either side of your shoulders, and his nose was tenderly nuzzling your cheek.

As he watched your eyes open, his own eyes wrinkled up with joy. ‘Mi tesoro’ he whispered, for the third and final time. You gave him a sleepy smile.

‘Oh, Miggy—g’morning handsome.’

You leaned up and awkwardly nuzzled back. His response was endlessly sweet. The way his eyes instinctively closed upon feeling your touch, the way that huge, gruff man purred and vibrated with joy to feel you close. He pressed a few stray kisses to your cheek and nose before pulling back.

‘I, apologize for waking you’ he said gently. ‘But we are expected back at the HQ today, and I didn’t want you to get in trouble.’

You grumbled a little as you rubbed sleep from your eyes. Even that mundane activity seemed to have Mig fixated, as his wide red eyes darted over every little moment you made. He continued to rustle with joy.

‘Ah—shit, sorry, I forgot about that. Thanks for waking me up.’

‘No need to thank me, arañita. It’s the least I can do. It, does make me sad though. You look so content.’

‘You’re not watching me while I sleep, are you?’ you mumbled midway through wiping the left side of your face, fixing him with a one-eyed stare. Mig just rustled harder.

‘When, I am not sleeping? Yes. I watch you. Should I not?’

‘You just sit in bed and watch me sleep?’

‘Mhm.’ He nodded hard and bent closer, leaning his folded arms across your chest so he could address you properly. ‘Of course. You always look so peaceful, it is—nice, to see. Also, I want to be there when you wake. I, like when you do that little smile, when you see me.’

You unintentionally did just that, offering him a soft half smile in mild exasperation over his soppy romantic talk. He rustled harder in response. ‘Mm. Yes. Like that’ he murmured affectionately.

‘My god—you big, beautiful idiot—’ You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his upper torso, awkwardly hugging what you could grab. He quietly closed his eyes and relished in the touch.

‘Mmm… I will miss you today, mi am—mi tesoro’ he whispered, almost slipping out a ‘mi amor’ before catching himself. You chuckled.

‘I’ll miss you too, Mig. Mm—so, do we have time for anything? Breakfast, maybe, or—’

Mig pulled back from the hug to nod. ‘I’ll bring you something to eat before you leave, arañita. I have the fire going already.’

‘My god, so organised!’ As you slowly shifted up in the sheets Mig carefully withdrew his spider form, allowing you space to move. He noticed the way you were stretching out your sore limbs, his eyes fixed on the little bite marks covering your naked body. He felt the hair beginning to stand up on his abdomen and quickly tried to brush it down.

‘Aha—well, I need to make sure you’re cared for. It’s my pleasure’ he said, obviously speaking quickly to cover for his own arousal. You noticed his garbled manner of speech but decided not to tease him on it. The poor man was smitten, and he knew it well. You knew he felt bad for just how sexually needy he was, and especially for how much he gawked at you.

‘You sure you don’t want me to go get it?’ you asked. He watched you swing your legs over the edge of the mattress as you stretched out your back and arms. ‘I can—’

‘No! No. You stay warm here, you—I can, see you’re still a bit sore’ Mig said, physically barrelling over to block your way off the bed. You giggled and fell back into the sheets, a sign of mercy.

‘Okay! Okay. I’ll stay here.’

He purred with approval as you sank into the white silk, admiring how it looked against your skin. ‘Mm. Thank you. I’ll be right back’ he promised, and with that he disappeared into the earthy tunnels.

He was quick, thankfully, as you’d barely pulled on your underwear by the time he returned. He lay down a clay wood fired mug and a plate of food twice the size of what you realistically needed to eat at your feet. It was your favourite breakfast, one that he’d tried his best to lay out neatly despite his huge hands and cumbersome claws. He must have noticed your eyes widening at the sight as he let out another soft chuckle.

‘You need to eat, mi tesoro’ he said as he sank into the mattress beside you.

‘This much?’

‘After what I put you through? Yes. That much. Eat, please.’

You felt a slight warmth in your face at the reminder of your state, covered in hand marks and claw marks and teeth marks with a body that was saturated with the scent of his rutting musk.

‘Okay’ you conceded as you grabbed the plate. ‘Okay, okay. Thanks, Mig.’

‘You’re most welcome’ he purred.

You settled down into a peaceful silence. He’d grabbed whatever dried venison was left as he peaceful tearing that to shreds while you ate against the comfort of his side, your head nestled into the soft, thick fur of his abdomen as you chewed.

He finished far quicker than you did and turned to blowing on your mug before handing it to you, ensuring you didn’t get burnt. It almost made you feel guilty, just how attentive he was. You ate through as much as you could until you physically couldn’t fit any more into your stomach.

‘Urgh—Miggy I’m trying to finish this but I don’t think I can’ you groaned. He glanced from your face to the plate.

‘Mm… You are, full?’

‘Mhm. Very much so.’

‘Mm… Okay. I trust you.’ He bent to kiss your forehead before moving the plate out of the way.

‘Is this like a special occasion?’ you asked. ‘Is that why you’re feeding me so much?’

He shook his head as he leant back into you, relishing the little time he had left before you had to get ready. ‘No, no special occasion.’

‘Not uh—celebrating the ending of the rut?’ you teased.

‘Mm, that would be funny, but—no. I just wanted to make sure you were well fed.’

‘Have you got like a… like a, fetish, for it, or something? Is it like the hormone smelling?’ you teased.

He pondered what was meant to be a lightheaded joke quite seriously, as he always did, lightly tapping his spider feet as he mulled over his thoughts. ‘I… Don’t think so’ he eventually replied. ‘I certainly have instinctual desires to keep you will cared for, but, not in a sexual way. The guarding, the feeding. I’ve always wanted to take care of you. It makes me content, if not aroused.’

You smiled as he went through his deadpan explanation, his soft eyes darting over your face as he spoke.

‘Ooh, okay. Your brain’s tryna fatten me up for babies, huh?’

He let out a gruff chuckle as you nestled into his side.

‘Yes. I suppose so. If we ever try to, successfully breed I promise I will keep you as full as possible. I’ll let you eat while I mate if I have to’ he teased.

‘I mean that could be fun’ you teased back. You saw him pondering the idea.

‘There is, I suppose, something arousing about the idea of watching you, indulge while I’m at your back’ he said, his eyes dreamy and distant. You caught his abdomen rustling again. ‘It feeds into that, part of me that feels gratification from distracting you so that I may, finish.’

‘Freaky spider’ you whispered playfully. He smiled back.

‘Mm. You will not get me with that, tesoro. You are just as sexually unusual as I am.’

‘W—excuse me?!’

Your fake, dramatic shock drew him to chuckle again, and this time he went further. He suddenly dove at you on the mattress, knocking the plate and half empty mug to the floor.

‘H-HEY!’

He easily pinning you beneath his enormous spider form, pressing you down into the sheets as his human hands grabbed your wrists and held them above your head.

‘M-Mig?’ you stammered.

‘Mmm, you want to tell me this does not excite you?’ he teased. You squirmed beneath him as the great weight of his furry abdomen pressed on your body, rendering it totally immobile. As you panted he purred.

‘This, arachnid monster does not stir something inside you, hm? You wish to tell me that?’ he murmured, his voice husky and deep. You felt a soft pulsing in your stomach as he held you down.

‘M-Mig—’

‘You do like that, don’t you?’ he whispered. He bent until his lips hit your ear, and he continued to assault you with sweet, husky words. ‘You like this.’

You felt his spider legs at his side, gently probing at your waist and hips. He felt the thick fur and the strange, unknowable body beneath it moving over your own, crushing and grinding into it with feverish intent. You felt him rustling, vibrating. You felt his hot breath on your neck, stirring the hairs on your nape and the slowly healing bite marks on your shoulder.

You let out a soft, involuntary whine. He felt it run through you.

‘Mmm… You like this’ he whispered again.

‘I-I do’ you panted.

He pulled back and gently extended his foreleg towards your face, letting the fuzz brush your lips. You obediently kissed it.

‘Mm…’ The sigh that rattled through his chest was endlessly content. That sight was like heaven to him, and as he leant back towards you, he returned the favour. He kissed your jaw, your cheek, then your lips, before whispering into your ear once more.

‘I am… far, from the, scared little creature you met’ he said. ‘The, insecure beast. And I have you, to thank for that.’

Despite your excitement you felt a flush of warmth in your chest as he spoke. It was a kind reminder that your sexual escapades, while fun, had a very real emotional weight behind them. This poor man he’d convinced himself he was unlovable, and your body had shown him the opposite was true. He was so lovable. He was so wanted.

For all the breeding talk and messy rooms, for all the soaked sheets, it was almost beautiful.

‘Beautiful man’ you whispered back. He released your hands so that you could hug him tight, and as you gripped him you felt his back muscles heaving beneath your palms. That sweet, gentle giant. He nestled into your neck with a moan.

‘Mi tesoro’ he purred into your neck. ‘Tú eres perfecta. Mi cosita perfecta. Quiero comerte, arañita. ¿Quieres comerme?’

‘You—oh, okay, I got it. Yes’ you whispered, half joking. ‘Yes, I’d absolutely love to eat you.’

You emphasised your point with a little clack of your teeth.

Mig pulled back and showed you his half-narrowed eyes. They were deep, bloody, almost dangerously passionate. He moved his hand and used it to draw your own up to his lips, and with the most tender care he licked your index finger. His tongue was warm.

‘Que rico’ he purred, his eyes fixed on your face. You felt a full body shudder rise up through your spine.

‘Mig—’ you barely got his name out before your lips were locked. All that could escape the ravenous approach of his tongue into your mouth was a desperate moan, one that he eagerly ate up.

‘Mm—Mm—!’

You parted hard only when his watch started vibrating. Mig fought to quiet its deafening beeps with a string of saliva still hanging between your lips.

‘Ah—my apologies, arañita, that—’

‘We gotta get going, right?’

He somberly nodded. ‘Yes. Apologizes, again, I—’ Mig went silent as you abruptly kissed him again, leaving one tender peck on his lips.

‘You’re all good. I’ll see you later, okay?’ you whispered. His sweet skin darkened into an auburn red beneath your affection gaze. He had to swallow hard before speaking.

‘Ah, yes. Please. I would, like that.’

Without another word you both began to get ready. You dragged on your suit while Mig struggled into a shirt, having still not quite got the hang of this whole clothing thing. You ended up having to finish his buttons for him when he grew agitated with the fickleness of slipping these tiny little nubs through such tiny little holes.

‘So, you uh—you’re, meeting with him today, right?’ you said halfway through finishing his final button.

Mig’s patient smile faltered a little, and you felt that familiar tension in the air.

It was the first time that he had been brought up since the day he’d come to your den, since his apology and attempted reconciliation through helping to define whether your genes were at odds with each other. It was clear that certain things still remained unsaid about the whole situation.

After everything that’d happened with Miguel, including his apology, you’d all been stuck in a kind of limbo regarding how you felt about each other. This also hadn’t been helped by the fact that you hadn’t seen him since the incident. You’d agreed to not let your paths cross while still rutting to avoid ruining the good will you’d briefly built, and now everything felt a little strange and precarious.

‘Yes’ Mig said slowly as he watched you work. ‘Yes, he—requested today that we go over the early plans for this experiment. He, sent a message about it while you were sleeping.’

You mindlessly found yourself fiddling with his shirt as you pondered how to respond. ‘Okay. So—how, are you feeling about that?’

Mig shrugged. ‘It is… strange. But, I don’t really know how to describe it. I suppose I am, tentative. But I am not angry. How about you, arañita?’

You shrugged back. It was hard to put all of your feelings into words. ‘Ah… I mean, I trust him. I do. It feels weird but, I trust that he is being honest, I trust that he can’t lie, and… you know.’

You saw Mig’s lip curl, but you couldn’t tell why. Your hands went to his flank for comfort.

‘We’re okay, right?’ you said quietly. To your surprise Mig nodded immediately.

‘Yes. Yes, of course. This has nothing to do with you, Arañita. Just—my relationship with you, it is… a comfort. My relationship with him, it is… a burden. I just don’t know how to trust him anymore, but, I can’t turn down this opportunity. It is, too important for us.’

You squeezed his hand as silence fell, letting you both stew in your thoughts. You hoped it would bring some clarity but as the minutes passed you could feel Mig getting restless, as his fur began to bristle and his feet began to tap. You decided it would probably be best if you both just got to work.

‘Well… You wanna get going then?’ you asked.

Mig nodded and slowly rose from the mattress, his leg outstretched to help you up. You stumbled to your feet with his fur clutched in your fists.

‘Okay. Well… let’s get to it’ you said, and swung open a portal back to the HQ.

…

Despite your reservations you decided to accompany Mig up to Miguel’s office and lab.

It was nice to be back in the HQ in this state. You were no longer hobbling about in that awkward, slightly stilted stance, and Mig was no longer utterly fixed to your side like a guard dog.

He was certainly guarding you, to be fair, just not as aggressively. You still smelled like him though.

Outside it was clear and bright. As you ascended to the top of the building you got to enjoy the warmth of the sun beating through the huge glass walls, a nice departure from the misty solitude of the forest, and you caught Miguel basking in the warmth in the elevator once or twice.

It was ever so sweet. He seemed to really enjoy vicariously being part of society, even from behind the walls of the HQ, safely separated from the people. You knew he liked to take breaks on the big pillars where the sun came through and lounge like a cat, basking in the warmth until his fur was hot to the touch.

Sadly though, today he’d be descending into the dark. You both made your way in silence through the upper tunnels into Miguel’s office.

In here it was eerie and dark. The light was dim in these winding corridors, with the walls jagged and mismatched, seemingly unfinished, and the floor covered in half-finished poorly constructed tech. You had to hop over half of it to get through, and Mig struggled to not get his fur stuck on the junk attached to the walls.

You could sense Mig getting nervous. His paws kept tapping in ways that belied a prey animal warning off its enemy, trying to sound bigger than it was, and every time you brushed him, he seemed to flinch. You ended up taking his hand in yours as you ventured further.

You made your way through into the enormous, cavern-like space of his interior office, and there he was.

Miguel was standing atop his floating desk, his back turned towards you and his hands outstretched. He appeared to be filing through a hundred tabs at once. In the darkness the screens were the only light, and their orange hue gave fine definition to his sculpted torso.

He looked tense, you thought. Not as tense as before, but still tense. He must be focusing hard.

Your echoing footsteps were the only thing to stir him. Yours were normal, but with Mig at your back it must have sounded like a whole group of people had just entered. Miguel glared over his shoulder. You caught him preparing what kind of tone he’d adopt, depending on who’d just entered his domain.

When he saw it was you, he panicked. You saw his eyes widen, his shoulders hunching hard as he struggled to clear his desk.

‘You—Ay, ¡chingado!’ he hissed under his breath.

You blinked. It was surprising, to say the least, to be greeted in such a way. His concern was immediately odd; usually he met you both with hostility or avoidance.

You and Mig came to a stop as he abruptly leapt from his floating office, not bothering to wait until it’d landed safely. The sound his body made when it hit the floor was terrifying.

‘You didn’t think to knock?’ he said as he approached. You eyed him up as he brushed himself down. You could feel the tension in the air like a chokehold; nobody knew how the other was supposed to act, how you were all supposed to talk.

You opted to just act as you usually would.

‘There’s no door, Miguel’ you drawled. He watched as you turned and gestured with both arms to the entrance of his office.

In silence he darted his eyes from the door to you. Slowly, his hands came down to rest on his sharp, small hips.

‘Mm. Yeah. I uh—I forgot, about that’ he said slowly.

Again, another surprising response.

Already you could feel the difference. He still had a bit of that edge, that tinted veil of short-tempered aggravation, but he seemed calmer. You could sense something beneath it now. A man who was trying to be stoic while secretly juggling a lot of feelings. An insecure, conflicted man. A man who cared about being good, about seeming kind, even with a short temper.

When he turned to you again his face was a little less stern. You could see the old, tired lines beneath his eyes and around his forehead, but his eyes seemed wider.

‘You, uh—you, okay?’ you asked awkwardly. Miguel seemed to notice your hesitancy, but you couldn’t tell how he felt about it. Was he upset? He did seem a little sad you were still being so quiet, so professional.

‘I’m as good as I can be’ he said, noting the absolute mess around his office. ‘Are uh- are you, okay?’

‘Ah, y-yeah. Yeah. I’m fine. I’m, good’ you replied. You saw him raise an eyebrow.

‘Ahuh. So, can we stop making small talk now, please? It’s unnerving. I feel like I’m going crazy. Please just insult me and get us back on track.’

You baulked a little at his abruptness, though you quickly began to appreciate him for it. You were acting weird, much too weird, and you didn’t want to do that. You were weirdly grateful to hear him be both forward and nonchalant.

It said everything you needed it to say right now, just, quietly.

‘Okay. Sure. Your office is disgusting, and your know-it-all attitude is unbearable’ you replied with a shrug.

To your surprise you saw him bite down a smile, almost like he was ashamed of it. ‘Mhm. There we go. Better.’

He turned from you to Mig and coughed, straightening himself out before addressing his variant. Mig was staring him down.

‘So. You… came’ he said slowly.

Mig just stared back. For one horrible, awkward moment he refused to speak.

‘In… I—what, are you referring to? Do you mean in the, slang tense, or—my physical arrival?’ Mig asked.

Almost instantly Miguel returned to his usual aggravated expression. ‘Showing up, the—the physical arrival, of course I meant the physical arrival, you—ay cabrón—’

‘I’ve learned that came is a word with multiple meanings’ Mig argued back. ‘I didn’t want to reply under an assumption—’

‘WHY WOULD I BRING IT UP IN THAT CONTEXT—No, no, calm, calm—’ Miguel turned and forced himself to face the wall, whispering in a mantra that you could only barely hear. ‘Tranquilo, tranquilo, todo bien, todo bien—’

When he turned back around, he was pinching the space between his brows.

‘Okay. Okay.’ He lowered his hand and held it out in front of him, stiff and sharp. ‘I was saying, I am surprised you showed up here, but I am… glad.’

Mig let out a low clicking noise as his eyes darted across Miguel’s body. The tension was still there, yes, but it seemed to be slowly dissipating in the face of pure awkwardness. You watched as Mig then clumsily held out his own stiff hand in front of his variants, almost as if about to shake hands, though without any contact.

‘Yes. I am, here to help’ Mig proudly proclaimed.

You thought you saw a physical vein pop in Miguel’s head. He quickly retracted his hand.

‘Dios mio—Okay, well, I guess I should just, get right to it.’

Miguel turned and clicked his fingers. In response, a wide, holographic board materialized before you, one that already displayed numerous overlapping theoretical equations and multi-verse diagrams. Just the sight of it made your head spin, but Mig approached it without a shred of fear.

‘Mm. Is this your, current work?’ Mig asked.

‘Yes, well—it’s my old multiverse work’ Miguel noted. He waved his hand on the corner of the board, allowing the holographic notes to be smudged away. ‘I’ve added a few notes over the past few days, when they came to me, but its incredibly underdeveloped.’

‘Yes. I can see that’ Mig replied.

Again, you saw Miguel’s eye twitch with irritation. He wiped it aside and continued.

‘So.. I may, give input on this, to you?’ Mig asked, his claws gesturing to the work. Mig nodded again. He looked strained, clearly he wasn’t looking forward to receiving any kind of criticism or input, but he allowed it.

Mig nodded in response, and after a few minutes gawking at the board, they began their discussion.

As the two men began debating logistics you waddled awkwardly in the back. You didn’t exactly feel helpful here. This was all far above your paygrade, these two genetic engineers at the top of their respective field waving their enormous brains around like it was nothing.

You tended to forget Mig’s backstory when it was just you and him at home. You forgot that he was a scientist once, and that at heart he still was.

You could see it now though, and despite feeling a little left out, it was comforting. It was nice to see Mig looking so comfortable and at home, back in his element as he followed Miguel’s ramblings without delay or pause.

Miguel, too, looked a little more comfortable. It seemed that talking work was a bridge that eased all of his social awkwardness. If he could just talk business, especially with someone who understood, he could just about pass as normal for a bit.

After all, Mig didn’t demand jokes or take breaks to make snide comments. He was flat, calm, to the point. For the first time you saw why they were variants of each other. They were both massive, very attractive nerds.

You slowly began to back up as the two started raising their voices in tandem.

‘Hey, I uh—I, best get going, it—’

‘Oh, Arañita!’

Mig turned as you spoke, though he seemed to have not noticed that you were leaving. He rushed over and gently lay a foreleg against your chest.

‘Mi tesoro, I think we will be quite busy in here today. I know I promised to leave and visit for lunch, but, would you be okay coming here?’

You blinked in surprise. ‘Ah—ah, yeah, of course. I mean I can leave you two to just work on it if—’

‘No, please, come by later’ Miguel called over his shoulder. ‘Otherwise I won’t stop, and I don’t need Jess on my ass all over again about eating healthy or skipping meals.’

‘Oh! That is a good idea. Arañita, you could bring some food from the cafeteria? And we can eat here together. I’ll wire you the cost through your watch, I’ll make sure it’s enough that you can get your favourite’ Mig suggested.

You felt your chest flutter a little beneath his sincere expression. He was smiling at you without a care, his fluffy foreleg placed right over your heart so he could feel it thudding.

‘Aha, well—sure. Sure. I’ll, bring food up and make sure you guys get a break. Just ah—don’t kill each other in the mean time’ you said, and though you whispered the last part as a joke Miguel snorted in response.

‘I can’t kill him, unfortunately. If I want to do this atom test I’ll need his legs to hold it steady. Until then he’s collateral equipment’ he called back. You rolled your eyes.

‘My god, what a charmer. Okay, well, in that case… I’ll, see you soon, okay Mig?’

Mig purred and bent down to kiss your forehead. ‘Yes. I will see you soon, mi Arañita. Stay safe.’

‘You too big guy. Get out there and ah, well… I guess, figure out how we can combine our genetics. So romantic.’

You took one final moment with your foreheads pressed together, breathing in the moment, before reluctantly parting. You returned to the HQ to work on being a lower rank superhero, and the two Miguel’s convened over the plan to continue their work.

Perhaps this would work out. Perhaps, this would be okay.

Link to next part

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #miguel x reader #smut #arachnophilia #drider #miguel o'hara smut #drider miguel o'hara

89 notes · View notes