#drider story

[namarikonda]

The Drider of Araisodar 🕸️

NPC from my DnD campaign, the Dexial Degenerates.

[nightmarist]

*cries in monsterfucker*

[colddelusionsheep]

Driders are just perfect yanderes, and they deserve just as much love as nagas. It is always naga that and naga this, but what about our lovely eight legged friends/lovers?

I am just thinking about having a Drider tracking you through the woods. It would first be planning on making you a little snack, but once it smells you. It would decide that you would make the perfect mate.

As you continued your nightly stroll, going much deeper then what you normally do. You would start to notice how spider webs were starting become more prominent and...bigger.

Stopping, you decided that it would be the smart move to return to your home and never step foot into these woods again. As you turned around, a scream ripped through your throat at the monster behind you.

Ice cold over took your body, freezing it in place. Cruel fangs peaked through smile. As you were about to scream again. You were knocked to the ground. Your breath being stolen in the process.

"Why don't we save your pretty little voice for later, Butterfly."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[karniss-bg3]

Worthy

"Kar'niss!" He snapped out of his trance, the echoing sound of his Matron bellowing his name quick to motivate him to rise. He scrambled out of his cobbled together bedding, nearly tripping over himself as he climbed the staircase so quickly he did so on all fours. His body ached, exhaustion his constant companion under the demanding nature of his keeper.

He rushed through the door of his Matron's chambers coming to the side of her lavish bed dripping in opulent dressing. Kar'niss dropped to his knees and bowed until the tip of his nose kissed the marble floor beneath him. "M-Matron, tell me your desire." Lounging in a sea of red and gold trimmed silk sheets was the lady of their noble house, Kyrzhal. Her white locks spilled over dark shoulders, scantly garbed in a sheer black night dress that did little to conceal her feminine form. Red eyes darted to peer at the cowering creature at her beside, her upper lip curling into a less than impressed sneer. "My desire? For you to be useful, just once." Her voice was melodic and alluring yet the deadly venom behind every syllable was baked in, permanent. She sat up and turned herself so her legs dangled over the bed's edge, leaning back on the palms of her hands. Despite her lithe build she towered over him upon her luxurious perch, her shadow cast over him like the looming threat she was. "I-I don't understand, mistress. I live to serve, live for you. My only purpose is to satisfy your every whim." Kar'niss's muscles tensed as he spoke, seeking to bow even lower though such was hardly possible. Kyrzhal tipped her chin upward indignantly, her thin fingers curling into the thick nest of bedding surrounding her. Her leg snapped forward in order to step on the back of his neck, applying a great deal of pressure which forced his face harder into the floor. He cried out from the sudden assault able to sense the threat of his nose breaking against the surface of the floor. "But my whims aren't satisfied!" She snarled. "Do you not understand? You continue to draw breath because of my mercy, my protection."

She applied more pressure to the back of the drow's neck causing him to claw at the floor in pain, trying to move out of instinct but finding himself held in place. "P-P--hrk! Please!" "You'll have to beg better than that if you desire my forgiveness. You'd still be shoveling rothe shit if I didn't pull you from the dung pits. Here I thought I had found a reasonable consort but instead I ended up with a sniveling child." She rolled her eyes and gave her fingers a curl until the knuckles popped one by one. "I'm ss--sorry! You're right mistress, I am l-lower than filth, unworthy!" His voice muffled against the floor, his lips now coated in the blood oozing from his impacted nose. The Matron exhaled a slow, frustrated sigh as the man begged for his life, a common occurrence in this household. Her foot soon relented the battery, lifting her leg to relinquish her hold. He jolted upright and clapped his hands over his nose, lines of crimson smeared across his lips and chin. She watched the display with a blank stare, as if annoyed by the reaction of her punishment. "The next time I tell you to make my bed properly, no lumps, no creases, no sheet out of place, I trust it'll be performed correctly the first time." Kar'niss nodded quickly while continuing to wipe the blood away now limited to breathing through his mouth, resulting in a nasally reply.

"Yes mistress, the first time. No mistakes, no creases, it will be perfect for my Matron. I promise!" "Good. Because next time you anger me, I'll remove your cock. It's likely the most useless feature you have. There are many drow men who are far superior fucks." Her eyes narrowed. "Now piss off. The mere sight of you disgusts me." Kar'niss grimaced at the threat but knew better than to argue. He'd bow to her once more and then slink free of her presence, crawling out of the room. He returned to his chamber rattled and on edge. His legs were still healing from the last time he displeased her, bound in bandages caked in dried blood. There was never a moment of reprieve, never a time he could so much as breathe without attracting her ire. He grabbed a rag to press to his nose which was now tender to the touch. He felt the biting sting of moisture collecting in his eyes threatening to escape. He bit them back despite the pain, despite the anguish, determined to be stronger than his Matron believed him to be. Retreating to a corner in his room he tucked himself away as far as he could manage, hoping the sparse darkness in the space would be enough to protect him. His luck would change one day he was certain of it. This was merely a test by Lolth, a rite of passage for him to become more than a plaything for a sadist. He had to do one thing first, the only thing that could ensure his freedom, his ascension. "Worthy. I. Will. Be. Worthy!"

[colderdrafts]

1: In the darkness

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. Next

It is not unusual to hear odd noises in the forest during dark nights.

Neither is it unusual to see shapes moving about in the silhouettes of the trees – your eyes adjusting, the shadow of a squirrel, the dark canopy above rustling in the cold wind. You’ve traversed this area before, yet not at this time, and the contrast is striking. Otherly.

After all, a dark forest is just that, something otherly to a daywalker such as yourself. People get lost in these forests, they say. Sometimes they don’t come back.

Superstitions and rumors, of course. The first thing you were warned of since moving to this area was its vast collection of make-believe.

The matted ground beneath your feet is full of shapes that you can’t make out, all blending together as your eyes desperately try to make sense of everything suddenly being colorless. If ‘dark’ can be classified as a color.

You jump in surprise when something snaps to your right, and you look only to find nothing. The branches of the trees are one blurry silhouette, and whatever is hiding in their shapes remain unknown to you.

You keep walking.

The path is muddied and slippery, a gentle rain caressing your face when a stray droplet finds its way under the hood of your jacket. Gentle you remind yourself, the rain is not here to hurt you or purposely slow you down. As many other things in this forest tonight, it’s simply there, with you.

You find your path home divides in two, and suddenly you have to make a choice – however you do not remember that your path home used to have such a choice. Have you taken a wrong turn somewhere?

You glance around the dark colors that dance around your vision, denying you clarity. Are you lost?

Left or right?

Or turn back?

You turn around, trying to trace back your steps, but the darkness closes around you and you don’t know where you are anymore.

The rain hits heavier now, your path still unclear. A rumbling in the sky above serves as a warning of something to come. You pull out your phone, trying to spare it as much of the pouring water as possible as you swipe to find a flashlight and navigation app, wet fingers uselessly sliding across the screen.

Finally, a small white light pierces the dark from your phone, but still offers no answers of your whereabouts as the navigation app seems to have trouble locating your position.

You keep walking. There must be a way out somewhere.

You can feel your pulse increasing now, you're straining to keep a steady pace and simultaneously keeping on your feet in the slippery path below. The rumblings in the sky above turns to glinting, the rain starts drumming heavier, and you’re slowly realizing this is a losing battle. The dark is total now, and, despite your phone providing a meager shine, you can barely see a hand in front of you, let alone the path you’re on. It’s dizzying, suffocating, and you fumble ahead blindly.

Your hand finds the bark of a tree. You rest your palm against it momentarily, grounding yourself. The world is still here.

Lightning strikes across the sky, and you yelp in surprise, the purplish tint momentarily blinding you and lighting up everything around you. The phone slips from your wet hands and vanishes somewhere in the underbrush.

In the fleeting moments of clear vision, you spot something new. Were those tall rocky formations there before? You must have gotten further off track than you thought.

You curse, leaning down to try and feel around for your phone - your hands brush against the branches of a bush, and the light is gone. It's no use. You can't find it.

You feel around and find another tree to steady yourself on, and head toward where you saw the rocks. If you can find some sort of alcove in between the wall of stone you might just be able to find a secure spot to wait out the storm. Your phone can wait until this passes. Hope reignited, you steady on, careful not to slip.

You palm soon finds the smooth surface of a boulder, and you start to feel around for some sort of opening.

Surely enough, a surprisingly large entrance deeper into the rock formation presents itself only moments later, and you sigh in relief, hauling yourself inside and out of the onslaught of rain.

You still can’t see a thing, but you shake off the worst of the water and stand there for a bit. There's an earthy scent hanging in the air, hinting at whatever entrance you've found goes deeper yet. You decide not to venture further for now, staring out in the murky darkness outside.

A few minutes pass. The rain thunders across the forest, and another blast of lightning divides the skies in blinding flash. You catch your breath, thankful for the small reprieve the rocky shelter has provided you.

But the noise deafens everything else, and you notice far too late that you’re not alone when you sense movement above you.

Something drops down in front of you and a rough push sends you to the floor.

“Not on my watch,” a harsh growling voice sounds, and you feel something heavy forcing you into the ground.

You immediately start struggling, luckily having landed on your back you kick up blindly into the air. You manage to hit whoever is bearing down on you, and they recoil with a hiss and you swear you hear something scuttling. There’s movement all around you, one, to, three, four – you lose count at the rapid sounds of clacking footsteps. You fumble around, palm closing around a stray rock and you hurl it at whatever is above you in a panic. It collides with a sharp clink, and something above you chitters angrily.

In the confusion you manage to turn over on your stomach, and get to your feet. You don’t waste a second before you start sprinting back out into the storm in favor of whatever you just encountered back in that cave.

The now howling winds are accompanied by the sound of rapid footsteps. You pray it’s the heavy rainfall playing a trick on your senses, though you’re severely disappointed mere seconds later as something narrowly strikes past the side of your head, and you know for sure that the thing has given chase.

You turn, and you’re sprinting blindly through the underbrush in an effort to shake them off.

“You think I’d let you get away with this?!” your pursuer roars through the storm, booming voice full of rage. “Get back here.”

You're not inclined to follow that order and grit your teeth, keeping up the pace.

Things change however, as you sense the hunter suddenly leave the ground behind you, and you hear its movement instead above you, using the trees to move about. You try and look up though the canopy conceals most of it. You do however catch a glimpse of an unusually large amount of long limbs moving about in the dark.

You stop dead in your tracks as it suddenly drops from above to land right in front of you, the large figure forcing you to make another turn to avoid getting snatched.

It returns to the canopy above.

Something crashes against the bark of a tree to your right, and you rapidly spin left.

It drops yet again, making you turn on your heels and dash the opposite direction.

After two more forced turns, you realize it’s not just hunting you anymore.

It’s herding you.

You don’t have time to think about where, because suddenly you fall face first into something soft and sticky, and immediately your limbs are immobilized. You flail around, but you only manage to entangle yourself further.

You let out a pitiful whine as the horror of the situation settles within you.

You're stuck.

The rain falls heavy, and for a moment you can only hear your own haggard breathing, adrenaline coursing through your body. The there’s another dull thud, and the sound of multiple footsteps coming closer. Right in front of you is a silhouette of something big coming out from the darkness. Multiple limbs protrudes from a crude lower body like that of a giant spider, though instead of a head you can just barely make out the shape of a humanoid torso.

You stare from under your hood, mouth agape.

This is a nightmare. It has to be.

“Got you,” it snarls, stepping closer.

You struggle against your bindings, realizing now that it must be web, and that you have been herded right into a trap.

It watches you for a moment. “Don’t bother, filthy thief. You’re not going anywhere.”

Thief? You ponder, daring to glance up. One of its limbs heaves into the air, as if preparing to strike.

“W-wait!” you call out, squirming. “I didn’t -”

The limb halt slightly.

“It talks? First time I’ve heard that. Well good,” it steps closer, far too close, and leans down. A hand roughly grabs around your throat. You feel it glaring holes into the top of your head. “Maybe then the thief can tell me where it's hiding my eggs?”

“Eggs.?” you gag, straining. You feel tears prickling in the corner of your eyes. “I don’t – what eggs? Please-”

The hand around your neck tightens, efficiently cutting off your air flow. “Do not play games with me, you little - hm.”

There’s a pause where the grip suddenly lessens. You greedily heave in a shuddering breath and cough.

It shifts, crude legs stepping around you as it settles further down at your eye level, and another hand comes up against your neck, causing you to whimper. You feel its thumbs brushing against your throat.

“Warm.. no scales,” it ponders quietly. You shudder as you feel one of its hands slowly taking the hood of your jacket and lifting it back, revealing your face.

You can make out two sets of eyes gleaming in the dark, taking in your appearance. The other hand somewhat gently grabs your chin and moves you face side to side, as its eyes widen in surprise.

“A sentry?” it – he? blurts, hands immediately recoiling. “Blue moons – I am so, so sorry!”

His entire demeanor changes. He keeps low to the ground, legs folded back and humanoid arms awkwardly fidgeting in front of him.

“Silhouettes are so similar, trespassing my abode during a storm – I thought for sure-” he frantically waves his arms as he speaks, and then settles for crossing them as if he’s unsure where to put them.

You cough, just blearily staring at him while struggling to find words for a few seconds.

“I’m – what?” you stumble, relieved he apparently isn’t set on murdering you anymore, but this stark contrast to the vengeful predator you saw merely seconds ago has effectively thrown you off any sort of loop you could get on.

He starts pacing a bit, nervous. “Four limbs, nimble running styles, covered in fabric from head to toe-” he lists off, as if that should explain anything.

Lightning cracks the sky once again, and you get a glimpse of the being in front of you – the uncanny mixture where his humanoid torso meets the spider lower body is baffling your mind. Something about how he’s put together screams of something wrong, the chittering lower body somehow incomplete and yet completed by the torso above it. It doesn't make sense.

It shouldn’t be possible, yet here it is.

And currently he’s pacing back and forth on spindly legs as if he has a bunch of pent up energy he doesn't know where to utilize. “Chased down and trapped a sentry. Of all the asinine things-!”

You stare at him for a while as he berates himself. He rubs his face in frustration and finally returns his attention to you. He takes a deep breath, and when the spider leans down close again you recoil per reflex.

“Are you alright?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

“Let – let me go? Please?” you manage, straining against the webbing to put some distance between you and him.

He blinks. “Oh! Right, yes, of course! Hold still.”

It takes all of your mental fortitude not to scream when the legs of his lower body suddenly get way too close for comfort as he gets to work undoing your bindings, pedipalps keeping you balanced while the upper legs works to easily cut through the webbing, releasing you. He carefully lifts you out of the trap, and sets you on the ground before respectfully moving a few steps back.

You feel like a deer in headlights staring at this thing straight out of a nightmare just awkwardly standing in the pouring rain. Adrenaline is still kicking through your system. Thunder rumbles above.

You weigh your options. Is now a good time to run for it?

When he speaks again you flinch. “You must believe me, if I’d known I would never have – I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

If?

You genuinely thought you were going to die. He was mere seconds from gutting you like a fish. You just keep staring at him.

He fidgets uncomfortably. “I did, didn’t I?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just nod an affirmative.

He cringes, and distracts himself by observing the harsh surroundings, hands in front of his face presumably to keep hair out of it from the wind. “Storm will get worse. If you promise me you’ll assure your custodian I mean no quarrel, I can offer you a safe place to stay dry in my abode if you want?” he looks back at you. “As a way of apologizing.”

You blink. What the hell does that mean? Is he serious? After all that?

“Unless they’re somewhere nearby and you have somewhere else to go,” he continues. “But – seeing as you probably came looking for shelter in the first place, I’ll allow myself to assume that you don’t.”

This can't be real. This might just be a fever dream before death. You're still not sure a tree hasn't just fallen on you and you're currently bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.

“I don’t know where I am,” you croak. “I don’t – how did I get here?”

The spider gives you a somewhat pitying look, and slowly turns to the side. The way his legs move is oddly fascinating. “The middle of a storm is not a good place to find that out. Will you come along? I’ll help you answer that if I can.”

You don’t trust any of that for a second. Notwithstanding he could have killed you, you probably shouldn’t go with a complete stranger in any case at all, nightmarish creature or not.

You look at him wary. He’s started fidgeting a bit again, patiently waiting for your decision. He crouched a bit down, like he’s trying to make himself appear smaller. Nonthreatening.

It's not very efficient.

Though if he’d wanted you dead, you would be. You’re lacking options, you’re drenched to the bone and while the darkness is no longer as suffocating as before, you still have a hard time making out anything. Not to mention the storm getting stronger, for what you know, something even more sinister than the thing currently in front of you could be hiding out in the gloom, and you’d have no way to defend yourself.

This is a terrible idea.

But do you really have anything else you can do?

“I don’t trust you,” you say, and his form slightly falters. “But – you’re right. I’ll.. come along.”

It’s hard to tell in the dark, but his eyes somewhat widen and then scrunch up a bit. You think he’s smiling.

[yanphobia]

Cleithrophobia - Chapter 10

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 9 Index Chapter 11

Author's Note: I am so, so sorry that it took this long for the chapter to come out! I've been struggling with my mental health and I've been avoiding darker topics like yandere until I was feeling better. But anyway... We're finally reaching the end of our tale! There's one more chapter + an epilogue after this, which I've already began writing. As always, thank you for your support and enjoy!

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

If coming here earlier in the night was difficult, then returning was tortuous. You had to focus on whatever self-soothing methods you had learned as you made your way to the clearing. To face him, you would need to be brave, resourceful, clever, and calm. I don’t have to actually make a deal with him, you reminded yourself. I just have to let him think that I will until we can take him down. 

You glanced over at Laura, diligently holding onto your arm like you ordered her to. She had a righteous sort of fury in her eyes, but you doubted that she would stay this brave once she saw what Mars looked like. You had to hope that she wouldn’t panic and make things worse. 

You glanced up at the night sky and sighed. You had left your lantern at the spot in your haste to get away, but ironically the night sky was so beautiful and clear tonight that you didn’t even need it. 

Each step resounded in your head as the clearing came into view. Your throat was so tight that unfortunately your voice cracked when you announced your arrival. 

“Mars? It’s me! It’s [Y/N]!” You called out. 

No response. But by now you were aware of his ability to stay hidden, and you swore that you could feel him nearby. Taking a step closer to the entrance of the clearing, you tried again. 

“Mars, I know you’re here!” You wouldn’t fall for his trap. You wouldn’t enter the clearing and leave yourself vulnerable. But, as you soon found out, you didn’t have to. 

Right as you finished speaking, you felt something wet drip onto your forehead. Looking up, you saw Stan’s body suspended high in the trees, his lifeless face illuminated by the moon. His eyes, frozen in shock, stared past you and into eternity. Blood was dripping from the massive gash in his torso, down his twisted neck, past his face and down to the forest floor below. The webs holding him up were stained a dark crimson and reality hit you like a train.  

There was never any deal to be made. Mars had decided, once and for all, to act upon the threats that he had been making from the day he met you. He was out for blood, both yours and your loved ones, and you had mistakenly offered yourself and Laura up to him. 

Your scream was drowned out by Laura’s cry of anguish. Recklessly, she ran out into the clearing and began shooting blindly into the darkness. 

“Get out here, you son of a bitch!” She cried out. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!” 

“Laura!” you screamed. “Don’t go out there!” You darted into the clearing and grabbed her roughly, dragging her with you as you ran away to what you believed would be safety. You went back to your original plan from earlier – hide in the house until help arrives. You rushed down the familiar path, heart pounding in your ears, until your feet suddenly stopped beneath you. The momentum caused you to lurch forward, slamming your chest against the ground painfully. You groaned in pain and forced yourself to get up, but without looking you could feel his trap webs holding your calves down. What was worse was realizing that you couldn’t hear Laura anymore, and when you looked behind your shoulder, you saw that you were entirely alone. 

You screamed again, in frustration, and tried to pull yourself free.  

“Mars! Don’t you dare hurt her!” 

You looked forward just in time to see the large form of Mars materializing from the darkness, Laura’s body pressed against his. His pedipalps held her legs, one arm was stretched across her shoulders, and his other hand was gripping her scalp tightly, leaving her neck open and vulnerable. She was crying uncontrollably and her shotgun was nowhere to be found. 

He was quiet as he approached, all of his red eyes staring at you with a thinly veiled fury. 

“Mars,” you groveled, “please. Let her go... I’ll do anything you want, just let her go!” 

“What I want,” he said, with a voice more emotionless than you had ever heard from anyone, “is to ruin your life like how you ruined mine.” 

He snapped Laura’s head back further and within seconds he had sunk his fangs deep into the delicate muscles of her throat. She struggled, for an instant, with a wet gurgling sound that you knew would never be able to leave your mind, before Mars threw his head back, taking with him a mouthful of flesh and cartilage. Laura choked out as her blood sprayed out of her gash, coating both of them with it, and Mars maintained eye contact with you as he tossed her corpse to the side. 

Then he began to approach you. You screamed, again, and thrashed in your spot, desperate to get as far away from him as humanly possible. When he reached you, he crawled straight over your body, forcing your back against the forest floor.  

That was when he kissed you. His tongue forced its way into your mouth where you tasted Laura’s warm blood. His bloody hands snaked their way into your hair as his eyes fluttered closed in bliss. You had no other choice but to stay in place as he manhandled you, openly sobbing as you waited for it to be over. The worst part, you think, was that it didn’t feel like he was actively trying to hurt you. 

Eventually, he ran out of breath. He stopped kissing you and simply rested his forehead against yours, just like your first meeting a lifetime ago. Your crying had subsided a bit as well, with you being too exhausted to continue. He breathed out your name, so quiet that you barely heard it, and you forced yourself to open your eyes. His remained closed, and there was a sort of peace over his features that shocked you. How could he possibly be content with himself after everything he had done?! 

The two of you stayed there for a moment before he spoke again. 

“[Y/N]… I lo-” 

He was interrupted by the sounds of police sirens in the cruelest joke that nature could’ve ever played. His eyes snapped open as he looked to the source of the sound. You watched in abject terror as the realization of what you had planned to do dawned on his face, and immediately his rage returned. His hands grabbed your shoulders as he stood up, taking you with him. No matter how hard to struggled, you could not break free of his grasp. 

“We’re going home.” 

You cried out and struggled harder as he threw you over his shoulder and took off through the dark woods. He moved so quickly and so silently that you had to keep screaming in the vain hopes that the police would be able to track your location.  

He continued to run, past your clearing and past his den, and you realized that he was taking you to the older one. No, that’s... that’s too far away! No one will ever find me there! 

All of your pleas fell on deaf ears, and soon enough you were in the area where Mars had threatened to kill you before. The immense regret that you felt that all he had predicted had come to pass was the thing to truly break you. He stood before the entrance to his den and hoisted you up over his head. You looked up above to the stars, knowing that this will be the last time you ever saw them, before he unceremoniously threw you into the darkness below. 

[shady-tavern]

If you're down for it, I'd love for you to continue A Symphony of Song and Music! I'm so incredibly curious towards how the other people in the village react to such a lovely drider and how he becomes a part of the community, or maybe more on what led to his music sounding so sad at first.

Ask and ye shall receive! I hope it turned out well and that you'll like it =)

.

"Are you certain they will like me?" your drider asked, looking quite concerned and nervous. "Humans generally, um, really don't like anything about me or my kind."

You smiled reassuringly up at him, at this wonderful, sweet monster that made so much beautiful music that you had found yourself dancing through the day more than once.

"They weren't quite as ignorant as I had thought at first," you admitted, recalling the way your neighbor Boris had leaned across the fence a couple of days ago, asking you to bring your lover around.

"We know it ain't human, whatever it is," Boris had said with a shrug and a small smile. "But it's real nice to you, we can tell and it's been seeing you for a while now. Nearly a year, right? So bring it around, yeah?"

Looking up at your drider, you could tell that he was genuinely worried. It showed in the way he tried to make himself smaller, legs tucked in in a way he hadn't done since first meeting you. You got to your tiptoes to reach up and he obligingly leaned down so you could cup his cheek.

"You will be alright," you promised firmly. "I told them about you and we're having a festival tonight. They want you to come join us." 

You smiled. "Besides, it was easy for them to notice how you kept the territory around our village free from most other monsters. People don't get scared anymore when their children slip away or someone gets lost berry picking. It has become so much safer for us."

"Alright," he agreed softly, head tipping into your palm, his eyes going half lidded as he looked down at you. His raised one hand to brush his fingertips up along your neck, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I love you."

"And I you." You felt his fingertips trace along your jaw, mapping out the side of your face and tracing the shell of your ear, while his other hand settled on your waist, warm and big. "Thank you, for trusting me."

He smiled and it was nervous and a little sad. "I tried to befriend humans before." His gaze turned distant. "But even other monsters think I'm scary and avoid my territory the second they notice the webs."

"Then it's high time you made some friends," you said firmly. "And if you don't like them or you don't like the festival, we can come back here to your caves and I'll spend the night."

You didn't get to stay the night often with your job of guarding the village against supernatural and monstrous forces as much as possible, so he perked up at that.

He was still visibly nervous when he got ready, putting on the clothes he had woven especially for this day, made of shimmering gray and silver, embroidered with some kind of pale gold thread that was as light as the spidersilk he used. The fabric was beautifully soft and smooth.

He put on the jewelry you had gifted him, along with two heirlooms from his mother and helped you onto his back. He was tense and kept fiddling with his clothes, smoothing down his tunic and the curiously designed overthrow for his lower half, a sort of skirty apron covering his front, embroidered with twisting and twirling patterns.

"You'll do great," you promised as your village came into view and his swift, fast gait slowed into a near hesitant crawl.

"Maybe you should go ahead," he said after a moment, stopping and offering you a hand. "Announce me or something?"

You let him pick you up and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek as he set you down. He softened a little, though his anxiety remained. You let go after a last squeeze to his hand, stepping out between the trees and approaching your home.

People were already busily bustling about, setting up tables laden with food and others fixing some decorations that had become a bit crooked, while others again wrangled the children into looking presentable.

"Is he here?" your neighbors asked, peering past you with curious faces, before disappointment started to set in. "He didn't come, did he? You told him we don't mind that he's a monster, right?"

"He's here," you reassured them and the previously pouting and disappointed faces lit up again. "He's just worried you won't like him."

Your next door neighbor Tiko scoffed. "What a silly lad." He raised his voice to shout. "Come on then! Food's not getting any fresher and we're ready for a night of mighty dancing!"

Hesitantly, your drider emerged, looking ready to run at the first bad reaction. You did catch some startled expressions that were quickly hidden and some people did shift uneasily, before they visibly straightened and squared their shoulders, putting smiles on their faces. You suddenly felt incredibly proud and touched and you grinned wide enough to probably look a bit loony.

You took a step towards your drider, holding out your hand. You noticed how measured he kept his steps, doing his best to avoid looking like a spider. It made you a bit sad, he enjoyed skittering quickly quite a bit and it was downright adorable to see him clamber around his cave as he excitedly showed you something.

"Welcome, lad," Boris said, chest puffed up and beard neatly groomed as your drider reached your side, gripping your hand. "Thank you for looking after our guardian here and all of us, really. It's been a right pleasure to go strolling through the woods these days."

Your drider offered a shy, tentative smile back, clearly trying to hide his fangs as much as possible. His hand held yours tightly, though never so tight as to hurt, shuffling over a little to stand behind you a bit.

"Thank you for having me," he said, polite and with a small bow that made brows around you raise.

"None of that shit, we ain't some purepred nobles," Kathy spoke up, then took a step forward to start ushering him towards the set up festival. "Come along now, we want to get started!"

Your drider looked startled and quietly hopeful and you smiled as he was swiftly made welcome by the villagers. Slowly, bit by bit, his shoulders lost their tension, his movements stopped being quite so carefully controlled and he smiled more openly.

And he was an absolute pushover for children. They were soon climbing all over him and racing around between his legs. The older ones that were too heavy to still be picked up by their parents delighted in getting gently and carefully tossed up and caught again.

People laughed and ate and his face lit up with every dish he tasted, never hesitating to voice his praise. The villagers downright glowed with pride and they had ever so many questions for him. He answered everything patiently and promised to perform if they let him weave a quick web between two houses.

As the sun set and he finished his temporary web, he got the honor to kick off the dancing by playing the first song. Within moments people were cheering and clapping and twirling around, matching his upbeat, quick melody. 

Young children hopped around with enthusiasm to copy the adults while the older ones were dancing with their parents and grandparents.

You were grinning so much your cheeks hurt and the entire village celebrated louder and happier than ever. Your drider even joined the dancing for a bit, which ended with him carefully turning in circles, a child clinging to each leg and screeching in joy when they were lifted and wriggled around a bit.

You just came back from dancing around the fire when you caught your drider speaking with some of your neighbors.

"We've heard your music too, in those early days" Kathy said. "It sounded awfully sad before our guardian started singing back at you. What was that about?"

Your drider was quiet for a long moment, the mirth fading from his face. "I had lost my home a year ago at that time and I was very lonely." Everyone around him grew more solemn as well, listening patiently. "No matter where I went, I just ended up scaring people. So I traveled until I found a cave and the, uh, previous residents were rather horrible to everyone, so I chased them out."

"And today you were scared we'd fear you too," Boris guessed with a nod, while brushing a hand over his beard. Then he smiled, clapping your drider on the lower arm, since he couldn't reach his shoulder. "Fret not, we're a more sensible lot than most. You're welcome here!"

"We're having monthly gatherings where the entire village comes together," Tika piped in. "Be sure to come around, yes?"

"Maybe you'll even move out of that cave and join us here," Kathy suggested with a smile. "You're practically family with all you've done and for how long you've been with our guardian. We'd help you build a house big enough if you agree to keep protecting us."

"And help us fell trees and pull the logs," Boris said. "I'd reckon our poor horses would be quite exhausted, hauling that much wood around."

Your drider looked stunned and you saw him quickly blink back tears. "I'd like that," he said and when he noticed you approach, smiled that lovely smile you loved so much. He opened his arms to welcome you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

Boris chuckled. "Lovebirds. Alright, we won't bug you any longer. Just think about it, yeah? You'd be welome."

They got up to rejoin the dancing and you let your drider hide his face against your neck for a moment, his arms wrapped around you.

"They're very nice," he said at last, words a bit muffled. You reached up to card your fingers through his hair.

"What do you say," you asked. "Want to come live with us? With me?"

His grip tightened for a moment and when he looked up, his smile was painfully relieved and touched, his eyes a tiny bit teary again. "Yes, of course." He chuckled, sounding helplessly fond and so very hopeful. "How could I not?"

[ceo-of-sloppy-men]

My dnd party got a baby drider a long time ago, per my begging of the GM. This adorable little spider baby was meant for my character (who misses her little one), but I have unintentionally unlocked the father side of another players character. This massive Goliath monk who loves fighting has now spent the last several sessions within close proximity of this baby. Whether it’s holding him as we walk, or sleeping with him on his chest, he is surprisingly fatherly. And it’s the absolute cutest thing I’ve ever witnessed

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Could you please do a gay centaur or drider couple that adopted a human? I just think it would be a cute story watching them try to learn and raise a human

December Christmas Monster stories

December 6.) Centaur + Drider dads, spider

Gosh I loved writing this one. Thank you so much for this request, I definitely plan on writing about these two dads again.

Warnings: child abandonment

Like always minors don't interact, I don't make content for you.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hominos and Zanru knew they were getting themselves in a world of trouble when they found that little wailing basket in the woods. 

They had gone out to go pick berries by the stream Bringing their woven basket made from pine needles that Hominos had made in his spare time. The two were chatting, holding hands as they walked as close as Zanru's spindly legs would let Hominos get before it became a little awkward for the drider to walk. That's when they heard the strange wailing from some bushes near the shore line of the stream. 

Hominos wanted to just walk away thinking it might be an animal mimicking the cry of a young child to draw in prey. It had happened in these woods before he wouldn't be surprised if such creatures had come back. Zanru on the other hand wanted to go check it out. He didn't want to chance it being an actual child and leave them there to die. Of course Hominos followed with his husband, he would follow him into the after world if Zanus led him there. 

Both being careful leaned down closer to the wailing bush and pulled the branches away from each other to get a look. Time seemed to freeze for a moment as Hominos and Zanru stared down at the bundle of blankets wrapped around a little face red from crying so loudly seeking out someone to comfort them. The baby was placed in a wooden basket, it was a little dirty but other than that it was keeping the baby safe and sound. 

Smiling a sharp toothy smile Zanru reached a hand down gently rubbing the knuckles of his hand against the baby's face, he had to be mindful of his long sharp claws. 

“Shhh darling everything is alright now.” He whispered in his silky smooth voice trying to calm the little babe. Hiccupping the baby slowed it's wails to a quiet sob. With a soft hum Zanru carefully picked the baby up and held the little baby in it's bundle close to his chest. “Where is your people little one? Why are you all alone?” Zanru asked in a soft voice, he knew he would get no answer from the baby of course. Looking around Hominos sighed shaking his head. “There's no sign of anyone nearby. I think the poor thing is out here all alone.” He said looking up to his taller husband. Hominos’ height was nothing to scoff at he was a tall centaur, his lower half a large bulky build, a work horse. He often dealt with heavy lifting, holding an intimidating aura about him but it paled in comparison to his drider husband who towered above him. His eight legs an inky black that seemed to absorb the light around him. Zanru's upper half was less frightening but only by a little. His mouth held large fangs often seeming too big for his mouth and he had more than one set of eyes on his face ever watchful of his surroundings. Black met gray at his waist with little white speckles. Zanru called them spots and Hominos called them freckles, he himself having freckles of his own. 

Though both were large and one was dreadfully frightening the little baby in Zanru's arms didn't seem to be scared. Sense being picked up the baby had stopped crying and was now giggling as they wiggled around wanting to be released from the confines of the blanket prison. “Oh Hominos we can't leave this little thing out here alone.” Zanru whispered as he gently touched the baby's cheek. Hominos sighed as he nodded his head in agreement. “Let's get them home. Who knows how long it's been out here. Must be starving.” He mumbled brows knitted together as he looked at the baby with concern. Leaning down he grabbed the basket the baby had been in. No use in leaving behind a perfectly good basket behind. The whole walk back Zanru was looking down at the tiny giggling face as he wiggled his clawed fingers in front of the baby's face. “Halfling maybe? So small. I don't think there's more than two legs in there.” Zanru said inspecting the bundle. “Satyr maybe?” Hominos chimed in. Neither really knew what species the baby was, both waiting to get home to take the blanket away and see.

Stepping through the large door Zanru made his way to the fireplace. The ashes long cold from the last fire. There was no need for the summer days were hot and the nights were spent cuddling each other stealing each other's warmth. Sitting down Zanru curled his long legs under himself, tucking his legs up safely as he gently set the baby down on the soft rug. Glancing to Hominos he waited watching his husband set the two baskets down on the table before making his way over to him with heavy clops of his hooves. Sitting down on his chair, which was just of large cushions on the floor, Hominos waited with bated breath.

“Love I think you might be more worried than I am.” Zanru said with a soft chuckle, ignoring or completely unaware that his own hands were lightly trembling as he hovered them above the smiling wiggling baby. Swallowing his nerves Zanru looked down to the baby as he started to unravel the blanket. 

The sight hidden under the blanket caused him to freeze as he let out a gasp. Hominos leaned forward trying to get a better look. His eyes widening seeing the baby. The human baby. Looking to Zanru Hominos let out a heavy breath. “What do you want to do?” He asked, speaking quietly, almost afraid to speak above a whisper. Hominos didn't speak as he watched his husband slowly wrapped his long fingers around the baby carefully picking them up. Smiling softly, Zanru held the baby to his chest. “We keep them.” Zanru whispered gently, rubbing the babys squishy cheek. Nodding his head Hominos smiled softly, he didn't mind following him down this road too. 

Humans weren't unheard of but they were rare in these parts so finding information about them was a struggle. Every time Hominos went into town for work he would ask around for any books on humans or things made by humans for humans. Lot of it was bullshit. Hominos wasn't an idiot he knew humans didn't breathe fire like one of the books he found said. He did find some real information about humans. Enough to make sure the two could properly take care of the baby they had adopted. 

One of the books talked about a human celebration of Christmas. Zanru liked the idea of it, he wanted the baby to be able to experience things from his culture along with his parents' cultures so it was decided to celebrate it once the summer had stretched into winter. Sure the baby was too young to remember it but new parents are eager parents and Zanru wanted to do his best. Doing as much research as he could Homnios would read the books out loud to Zanru while he held the baby feeding them while they both sat by the fireplace. Zanru agreed with Hominos that putting a tree inside was strange but at least they could use it for firewood once it died and use the pine needles to make more baskets so it wasn't a waste. Just messy and a bit sticky. It was rather fun decorating it as a family. The tree looked awful; they didn't really have anything proper to decorate it but seeing the baby happily giggling as they waved the trinkets meant to go on the trees was a memory they both were going to keep for years. 

One of the nights Hominos was holding the baby safely in one large arm as he held his other hand up letting the baby hold onto his hand chewing on it with his soft gums while Zanru knitted a little sweater for the baby. It was a pleasant night sitting by the fire as it snowed outside. A stew simmering filling the cabin with a delicious smell. Neither regretted taking in that baby. It was tricky and they had a lot to learn still but quiet nights like this was wonderful. Any struggle was worth it in both of their eyes. “We should probably name the little thing. Can't keep calling them baby and little thing all their life.” Hominos said after a few minutes of silence, the only sound was the faint crackle of the fire. “What do you suppose we name them my darling?” Zanru hummed not looking up from his knitting. Hominos looked back down to the baby who was attempting to eat his finger with furrowed brow. “What was the name of the man in red from the book?” He asked trying to remember it. “Santa?” His husband answered glancing his way. “I don't care much for naming out child that.” Zanru said shaking his head. “No no that that the other name.” Hominos said brows furrowing more as the tried to think harder about it. “Oh. You mean saint Nicholas?” Zanru said smiling as he set his needles down. “Mm yeah that. Nicolas. How about Nicolas?” He asked looking over to Zanru. His face growing softer as he watched his husband get up and stride over to him. “Our little Nicolas.” Zanru whispered sitting down next to Hominos. Leaning against the centaur he smiled as he gently rubbed Nicolas’ cheek drawing the attention from Hominos hand to his own. “Someone thinks hands are tasty.” Hominos joked seeing Nicolas try to put Zanru's finger into their mouth. To which Zanru didn't allow upsetting Nicolas making them cry. “Looks like someone needs a bottle.” Zanru said getting up to get a bottle ready. This night of domestic bliss was perfect. Neither wanted it to end.

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

oh btw (last ask for the night i promise!! im just really 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 abt these chapters) i would 100% read a padding-focused cg/l fic from you if that was something you wanted to explore; it seems to be a bit of a hole in the otherwise lovely wave of recent little sprout content i've been seeing

We've been thinking we might wanna do a secondary 'fic' thats essentially Dog of War omakes, and putting one there with Princess. We do have at least 3 other stories in the pipeline, but none currently have diaps. We would be very interested in writing something with forced regression, padding, and cg/l as the main focus one day!

[swordmaid]

I was reading up on stuff about eilistraee though and they mention that her way of guiding/blessing is very subtle. she wants them to ultimately be making their own decisions. but she is there to give them the support if they need it. and that aligns with shri’iia and her newfound oath tenets actually.

like accepting her role as an Oathbreaker means that she’s now accepting her new freedom. she doesn’t follow the tenets of lolth’s paladins nor does she follow the dogma of the spider queen anymore. but it is not an easy thing to denounce since she’s essentially choosing to leave behind her own culture and home. and when you’re raised to not know anything else besides the very thing you’re leaving, where else do you go? but she moves forward anyway, choosing to follow the freedom she’s now left with even though she doesn’t even know what she’ll get from it. but by choosing that freedom she’s also choosing to pursue her own free will. all her decisions, choices, and everything in between are now up to her. before, she used to rely on the approval of her matriarch and her spider queen but now she’s on her own and it’s terrifying …!!!! and uncomfortable…!!! but also strangely relieving….!! and she’s eventually learning how to make peace with it ��.

but I imagine her oath breaker oaths is very similar to the guidance that the Oathbreaker knight provides. her tenets are now based on pursuing freedom and free will not just hers but other people as well, but she’ll only give her help if they want to be helped. they have to make that decision first, she can’t make that choice for them. and that aligns well with how eilistraee functions and I do think eilistraee will give her some guidance especially before she accepted the Oathbreaker role since shri’iia WAS lost and alone in the surface. and I think shri’iia is aware of that divine guidance, she would’ve recognised it’s presence and she is thankful for it (though I’m unsure if she’ll voice that thanks anytime soon) but I don’t think she’ll convert to eilistraee… it is too soon … the taste of freedom is still very foreign to her and she has to follow her own path before she follow anyone else again. but in the far future, perhaps she could swear herself to another deity again, maybe….

[yanban-san]

Each option explained: - Yan Spiders: You get kidnapped by two driders living in the abandoned remnants of Gear Station- You want to escape, but how can you? The tunnels of their home is like a hellish maze to you- But they know every twist and turn. And they always seem to know how to calm you down... How to make you listen to them.

- Imprisoned Spiders: Darling is a Drider Researcher at an institute in Johto- Galvantula Driders are rare and poached frequently by hybrid hunters and others looking to profit off of their valuable materials. Two twin Galvantula driders are brought in after being captured alive by a hunter and ending up in your facility's care, but they're verrry distrustful of humans... Perhaps you can befriend them? - Secret Spiders: Your twin bosses at Gear Station are definitely not drider hybrids. Definitely not. Never mind that Subway Boss Ingo is, for some reason, really good at repairing any clothes that get torn, and tailoring them. Or that Subway Boss Emmet is constantly covered in Joltiks. It's just because he owns a Galvantula! ...Right? Definitely nothing suspicious going on here...

- Vanilla (Extract) Spiders: Fluff fic about a Baker!Darling getting stuck in a web of two twin driders, who've never met a human before. They're enamored by you, truly. How curious your legs are, how cute your face is- And how delicious the sweets you carry smell. Warning: Feeding driders sweets may result in acquiring two drider assistants in your cafe.

- Other: Don't like any of the ideas? Reply in the comments/reblog/send me an ask and I'll take a look~!

[townofcadence]

26. another active muse

Munday Topics

OH MAN, I have a bunch to pick from, but another one who's been really active for me is Caelan.

Caelan was born with magic more powerful than most. His specialty is darkness, and it shows on his body-- his blood is black, and his fingers and hands, his feet and his chest where his heart beats is a deep dark, like a stain on pale parchment. His eyes exhibit what he carries-- there is lines of dark around his eyes, and he is constantly weeping liquid dark magic. He is also blind because of this. He can see, a tiny bit like pinhole vision, but his magic came with what is both a blessing and a curse. Whatever he looks at will be unmade by his gaze, but he will gain something from it. Staring at a book will wither the pages to dust and rot the wood away to nothing, but he will gain through the sacrifice the knowledge impressed within the pages. If he were to look at a person, he would gain strength, but the other would lose years of life as his gaze sapped at their very life force.

Glasses magnify the effect and break anyways, so even if they could save his vision, they aren't worth the trouble. The only thing that protects from him is a magical band wrapped around his eyes, woven with magics to slow down the process of decay. It still will, eventually, but the time it takes gives him time to prepare for that moment. He never removes it, and navigates blind, or in spaces where there's enough darkness, by the shapes and layouts they reveal to him.

Because of his latent and potent magic, Caelan was not treated as a child. He was raised to be a weapon, with any semblance of emotion or wants or desires disciplined away. He was the perfect soldier for his family, a clan with influence on the old world he was born into, at war with another family of fae as well, who embodied light instead. When things broke into war, Caelan was their greatest creation. Caelan felt nothing, cold as he was made to be.

The other family also had a son, a prince of light, named Kiran. Kiran is very much Caelan's opposite, a flirtatious party-goer with a playful carefree demeanor and loose regulations from his family, but with a distaste for the war he was allowed to have. He was a master with the sword rather than magic, but capable of illusions and other tricks.

When Caelan saw him on the battlefield, he approached like a killer on the hunt. Kiran took one look at him and ran. Caelan followed, intent for his head.

They ended up in a field of flowers, a ring of them. It was a moonlit night, and tthey hardly paid attention as Kiran fought to live, and Caelan fought to cut the morale of their enemy with the death of their prince. Neither knew where they were, neither cared to pay attention. So when the ground gave way, neither was prepared.

And that's how they ended in the Spider's Lair. A lair woven with magic dealing with temporal abilities.

Caelan killed Kiran in those catacombs as soon as he recovered. And then he died. And then he woke up, the same moment he'd entered the lair with Kiran in a fall. Eventually, what was happening was clear, and they stopped fighting each other. But even their combined efforts weren't enough to defeat the monster that trapped them here, not in it's own home, when every time they died it grew stronger by eating their magic, and only using a portion of what it took to reset the loop and repeat the process. The spider was a glorified dungeon grinder lol. And after long enough, it knew them in every way, which made it hard to impossible to surprise it enough to overpower, to do more than survive as long as possible. Their cycle repeated so many times they lost track. Death lost meaning, when you met it so many times.

But, like all greedy things, the spider spelled it's own downfall. When it sensed another powerful magical aura in its field, the trapdoor fae stole another to the depths for more magic to feast on. And let's just say with Artair in the mix, his bag of tricks, the element of unknown and surprise he brought to the mix, and his determination to help Caelan and Kiran, are what finally severed the hellish loop they'd lived. A few more loops, a false sense of security, and then the spider breathed it's last, and finally, gratefully, Caelan and Kiran felt the sun again.

[karniss-bg3]

Hope's Shadow

Sequel to Planned Obsolescence

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

Kar’niss retreated to his quarters for the remainder of the day, hiding away from his mistress and the new addition to the manor. He dug through his meager belongings until he found his one source of comfort, a simple music box that had been brought from the surface. He wound up the silver key mechanism in the wooden base to bring it to life. A simple, enchanting melody filled the air which assisted in easing Kar’niss’s anxiety, a rare smile tugged at his lips. His eyes closed which allowed him to surrender to the tune and drift away from his current reality, his personal hell.

Visions flashed in his minds eye. The aroma of a night orchid, the magnificent glow of sussur trees, a fluttering sensation rolling in his chest like warm cider, and the vague memory of a face; Her face. She was delicate and wise, her hand in his leading him through a valley of torchstalks. Fire beetles flew all around them shedding sparks with every beat of their wings. This created a dazzling display akin to sparklers, a feast for the eyes and a wonderment for a boy as young as he was at the time.

“Noura, doesn’t the fire hurt them?” The boy asked. “No, Kar’niss. They are immune to fire for it is their element to control. Many creatures in nature are connected to the elements.” His face crinkled as he mulled the information over. No older than ten he was still learning about the world around him, or at least the world he was meant to know. “What about on the surface? Do they have fire beetles too?” The woman chuckled and turned to face the curious child. “The surface has many wonders of its own. However, it is not a place we are welcome. The surface dwellers do not like drow, they see us as vile beasts to mock and destroy. The Underdark is where we belong, watched over by our glorious goddess, Lolth.” Kar’niss worried his lower lip between his teeth, his fingers curled tighter to grasp Noura’s hand all the more. “That is sad. I was hoping to see it someday, just to know what it looks like. But I don’t want people to mock or hate me.” Kar’niss bowed his head while his feet shuffled against the ground. Noura moved to kneel in front of him, her hands reaching out to cup either side of his face. “That is why it is better to stay here where you know you’ll be valued. Lolth rewards her faithful and if your arcane talents improve, you are sure to rise high in her favor. If not, you’ll find a Matron to serve which honors Lolth just as well.” The boy nodded and leaned into the touch to his face. In Noura there was safety, there was understanding, a far cry from what he could expect from his parents. Noura sensed Kar’niss’s disappointment at being denied a trip to the surface. She reached into her bag and fished out the small music box, placing it within his hands. “Wh-What’s this?” He asked.

“A music box. I obtained it during my last excursion top side, I think you should have it.” “Really?” He looked the item over, turning it around in his hands to study the features. “Yes, really. Just make sure not to play with it while around the Matriarchs, or your family. This is for you and you alone. Consider it a little piece of the surface from me to you.” She smiled. His eyes lit up, quick to hug the mechanism to his chest as if it were a favored stuffed animal. He leaned into her and wrapped an arm around Nourna’s neck to hold fast. “Thank you...thank you...” *** A firm knock upon his chamber door snapped him out of his daze, throwing him back into reality. He scrambled to slam the music box shut silencing the device, spinning around in his chair with some annoyance. How long had he been daydreaming for? “Who is it?” He asked, his voice shaken. “Xaros. May I come in?” Kar’niss groaned, a hand clapping over his face before his palm ran down the length in a single motion. “Fine, enter.” Xaros opened the door and stepped into the room, closing it behind him. He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against a nearby wall, too apprehensive to approach. “I’m not sure what happened before. I know you don’t like me, the older servants never do,” Xaros said. “It’s not my business to like you, it is the Matron’s. We’re here to serve her, our interpersonal relationship means fuck all. Anything else?” Kar’niss turned to put the music box away, his hand swiping at his shoulder to dust it off. Xaros frowned. “I disagree. Our interpersonal relationship holds the greatest importance. After all, we’re merely tools for her entertainment. You and I are the only real souls here, the only ones with a sliver of decency. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” “Are you mad or do you just have a death wish?” Kar’niss spun around side eye him. “I could approach her right now and out your blasphemous tongue.” “You could. Then I’ll be flayed, put on display, and discarded like thousands before me. The Matron will find a new toy and the cycle repeats once more. Don’t think you’re safe just because you grovel. You are as much on the chopping block as I am.” “Bullshit,” Kar’niss scoffed, “I’ve served her for years. She may punish me but she knows few could withstand her cruelty as well as I can. I’m an asset, you are eye candy.” Xaros pushed away from the wall and marched over to Kar’niss. He planted one hand on the desk and leaned into his space, locking eye contact with his reluctant counterpart. “I’ve served four different households. I’ve watched fellow consorts castrated for the smallest infractions. Beaten, tortured, discarded like rotten meat, forgotten. I’m sick of the cycle, Kar’niss, and I won’t be played like a fiddle anymore.” Kar’niss clenched his teeth as his fingers curled to make two tense fists. His pending response was interrupted by Xaros grabbing his chin, forcing his head to turn so he could look up at the larger drow. “I saw it in your eyes the moment you appeared. The fear, the loneliness, hopelessness. We’re better than this. I hear on the surface it’s very different, that men are free.” Kar’niss jerked his head from Xaros’s grip. “They hate drow on the surface, man or woman. You’d be trading one slice of hell for a different one. At least down here drow have the chance to thrive, to become something great. You’re buying into human propaganda.” “It is not the humans that feed us propaganda, it comes from our own kind. Drow have an uneasy history with the surface, that is true. But Drizzt and Jarlaxle were not only accepted, they thrived.” “Oh please!” Kar’niss jumped out of his seat and gave Xaros a shove. “You don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t want to entertain this a moment longer. If you value your head then you won’t speak of this anymore, least of all with me. As a fellow consort, this is the only warning I’ll give you. As if you deserve that much to begin with.”

Xaros held up his hands in a defensive stance and took several steps back. “Alright, you win. If this is the life you prefer then I won’t disrupt the harmony.” Kar’niss’s face twisted. “I never said this is the life I prefer. It’s simply better than being dead. Things might change, plenty of consorts have risen above their station. If you spent more time serving and less dreaming about the surface then you could gain Lolth’s favor.” The other drow walked to the door. He paused with his hand on the knob, sparing a glance over his shoulder at Kar’niss. “I’m not the only one with dreams of the surface though, am I?” Kar’niss squinted in confusion, his mouth opening to speak yet the words never came. “Nice music box.” Xaros said as he stepped out of the room.

He felt the color drain from his face, his body feeling as if it had been shoved by phantom hands. He clutched the collar of his shirt, a lump forming in his throat. He opened the desk drawer to peer at his prized possession, admiring the intricate swirling designs carved in the lid. He slid his fingertips over the surface while he shook his head, that bubble of denial expanding in the depths of his gut. “He’s wrong, wrong! Filthy heathen is going to lose his head and he’ll deserve it,” he hissed. His eyes lingered on the trinket, caressing the lid with a gentle touch.

“H-He’ll...deserve it.”

[colderdrafts]

I was thinking about what the relationship between Morgan and the reader would be like and an idea came to me, but before I write my request I want to explain how I imagine the relationship between Morgan and the reader if the first person the reader met was Morgan and not Dren and how their relationship would be with each other:

the reader is a bit Tsundere, not the annoying or offensive type, it Just the way they respond to him most of the time but they're physically affectionate, sometimes they randomly go and hug Morgan, and Morgan just tries to Woo them in general.

My request: Morgan and the reader haveing another routine day, at night when Morgan sleeps they’re place get attacked and the reader wakes them up, Morgan gets hurt and the reader stays up all night to treat them (their wounds are really painful and the reader knows it) and stays by their side, Morgan is surprised by their sudden interest and that it’s not really part of their role but the reader do it anyway

have a great day <:

You have a galaxy brain and I thank you for it. A 'Morgan got ya first' oneshot under the cut <3

Tw for violence

It’s always a fun time figuring out how to fall asleep after a long day of traveling. One’s mind tend to keep going even after the body has settled, replaying the events, smells, sights and feelings in a never-ending loop. Decompressing. Filtering and sorting input in neat little boxes.

Perhaps the soreness in your legs and feet can serve as a distraction.

Your ventures with Morgan has this time brought you to a large span of mountainous landscapes. You’re spending the night on an outcropping of a cliff, with a view the stretches far over the horizon. Morgan has taken the liberty of webbing up an opening in the cliff-side for both of you to rest inside.

The view from here is nothing short of breathtaking. Underneath the silent night sky and illuminated by the moon, vast forests stretch far towards the curve of the world, completed by a faint spark of blue that hints to a great ocean.

You’ve been on the road with Morgan for a while now, gotten more or less used to their odd antics and, at times, pushy habits.

Sentry, they call you, a name and a title. They whisper it fondly, barely audible but enough for it to send shivers down your spine. That word carries a promise. A vow you have no choice but to keep.

They’re asleep now, nestled inside the alcove in the rock on a soft bedding of web they spun. The gentle sound of their steady breaths and occasional chittering soothes you, and you hate it.

It’s clear they want to get close to you, and you don’t really have much choice in the matter. The horrible pain in your chest that plagues you every single time you think of running off makes keeping this distance that much harder. And Morgan is well aware you’ve been trying to figure out how to get out of this, yet they don’t do anything to stop you from trying to leave. They simply don’t have to. They know you’ll remain close, even as they sleep.

Morgan is patient and gentle with you, and you can never tell if it’s a front to ease your mind, or if it’s simply the assurance that you’re in for the long haul, like it or not. The second they had you close enough you were connected, without fully understanding what happened.

Which is why you've firmly held on to your stubbornness, and do what you can to keep them at bay.

It doesn’t work very well, seeing as you’re currently sitting on a small mat of web outside their sleeping space, hoping the cool night air will calm your mind. Morgan recognizes your movements, but will awaken if anything but you disturbs it – an efficient alert system for your sleepless nights, and need for space without a glaring red focus watching your every move.

Morgan fell asleep pretty quick, calmed by your presence. The air is getting colder, and winter is getting closer. With it comes Morgan’s yearly period of lethargy – onset of exhaustion before they’re out of commission for hibernation. At this time, they may as well be dead to the world. You’ll be their only saving grace, in case someone dangerous takes advantage of that vulnerability.

You’ve been traveling the mountains to find a suitable spot for them to rest. You stare out on the forest, dreading the weeks of solitude you’ll be forced to endure once they do.

After all, Morgan is your only company in this world. Nobody wants to approach you with them around. Not that they actively prevent it, but their presence and unsettling demeanor simply makes common-folk anxious. It hasn’t exactly been easy to make friends.

Not that you would have an option of visiting them anyway, now that you’re bound to Morgan’s side.

You look at their sleeping face, crude mandibles twitching at times, breathing slowly. Like this, their face looks almost peaceful, inviting. When you move a little, trying to gain some space, a faint purr escapes them, and they reach a hand out to where you’re sitting. As if your stirring was because of a bad dream, and not your current stressful thoughts. As if trying to calm you, even in their sleep.

And much to your chagrin, it works. It always does. Whatever they did to you when you first met makes sure that their proximity and soothing behavior always, always makes your body relax. You have to restrain yourself from reaching back for their outstretched hand.

Sometimes you do so without thinking – brushing your fingers over their arm, chest, neck or hair before you can stop yourself. Morgan always leans back into you, reciprocating and looking for more. When you pull back, they follow. You constant shadow, you haven’t had a day on your own since you met them.

Even if it wouldn’t tear your heart apart to leave, you can’t. You’d be dead already, if they hadn’t stepped in to defend you at every turn. This world is extremely dangerous to creatures such as yourself. And creatures such as Morgan, for that matter.

As if called by your thought, you hear a faint snap of a branch somewhere in the woods next to you, and immediately you’re on high alert.

You rise to your feet, silently, and stare out toward the source of the sound.

It’s dark, and you’re at a disadvantage. It could just be deer. But it could also be something dangerous, and you've learned the necessity in making sure.

You take a cautious step forward to get a better view. Another snap catches your attention, and you look to your right.

Some leaves are rustling, and you surmise it must be deer, or some other harmless thing. Something that wanted to take you by surprise would never make so much noise.

At ease, you turn to go back – yet there’s a blur of movement, and suddenly something sharp sends a ping of pain through your neck.

“Gah-!” you gasp, and quickly reach up and pull out a small dart.

Seems the 'deer' was a distraction.

The dart is coated in a clear liquid that has a strong, bitter scent you recognize, and it would appear you’re in luck. If that had nicked an artery, you’d be completely immobilized already. But when a very strong dizziness follows still, you know you’ll have to act swiftly.

You stumble backwards, a tingling numbness haunting your limbs. You catch a glimpse of three figures stepping out of the woods, silently rushing towards you, and you turn and start sprinting towards your custodian.

You almost collapse upon their sleeping form, shaking their shoulder.

“M-Morgan,” you urge, already feeling faint. “We’re in danger, wake up!”

Their eyes snap open at your call, and suddenly your world is turned around.

In a split second, they snatch you off the ground, on their feet, clutching you tightly to their chest and front legs raised high in a threat posture. A second passes where they’re still, quiet and contemplating, and you know they’re sensing for movement triggering their webs.

They nudge their face against the back of your neck, a warning clatter escaping them. You feel their comforting heat radiating off them, encompassing you, searching for injuries. They breathe in and hiss, and you wonder if they can sense the venom in your neck.

And that’s when a sudden whoosh sounds, followed by a thud. Morgan’s hold on you loosens as they squeal in pain.

You fall to the ground as Morgan let's go to step over you, multiple legs blocking you from whatever just attacked them. They skitter around, hissing and snarling. A fine spear hits the ground, coated in fresh blood.

You see them now, blocking any path away from the mountain and rapidly approaching. Three hunters, cloaked and carrying spears, barking orders of attack at each other.

“Circle around it!”

“Pin its legs!”

“Don’t get within range! It’s guarding the sentry!”

Another sound like a whip crack rings through the air, and Morgan hisses again. You look up to see a crude hook firmly locked into one of their legs and pulling from a rope, tearing the tough carapace and getting stuck in the joint. The hunters are attempting to restrict their freedom of movement.

Morgan ignores the pain and roughly pulls, an awful tearing sound accompanying the movement. They stubbornly tear themself free, before another hunter can throw another hook.

“What the-” is the only thing that escapes the hunter before Morgan is rapidly upon him, legs lifting him into the air like he weighs nothing but a dime.

The others scatter, realizing their plan foiled, and prepare other weapons.

Morgan hisses as they slam the hunter up against the rocky mountainside, head-first. There’s an uncanny crunching sound, as the inside of his skull gets closely acquainted with the rocky surface.

Yells of warning and another woosh as a spear soars through the air, and lands in Morgan’s shoulder.

They discard the mangled corpse, turn, and storm toward the hunter who threw it, movement almost a blur. Their legs stabs at where they’re standing, the hunter swiftly dodging their attacks in a deadly dance. The spear in Morgan’s should dislodges at the rapid movement.

Meanwhile you're struggling to open your satchel, searching for a specific concoction Morgan shoved you how to make. It’s difficult to pick out the correct antidote, scrambling around with your partially paralyzed body, fingers not responding to your brain’s commands of movement. You manage to find the correct one and quickly chug it, ignoring the gross bitterness. Now you have to wait for it to work.

While distracted, the third hunter is suddenly upon you, and you have to clumsily spin out of the way to avoid a spear just as it was jabbing at your chest. The move sent another wave of dizziness over you, you wobbly legs almost giving out from under you.

You grit your teeth and throw your satchel at the hunter to gain some breathing room.

She parries, knocking the satchel aside before it can connect. As you turn toward the alcove for cover she steps forward, and uses the advantage the range of a spear gives her to whack you over the side of the head. A white hot pain shoots through your skull, and combined with the venom you land heavily on the floor.

You feel something sharp prickling against your back. You glance over your shoulder to see the third hunter having a spear pointed pointed firmly at you, but staring at Morgan struggling against the second hunter.

Morgan swipes their feet, and when the hunter lands on the ground they immediately take advantage of the exposed position, slamming their sharp claws into their chest. The hunter screeches in pain as they tear through cleanly.

Morgan picks the impaled hunter off the ground, and hurls them over the side of the cliff with a disgusted growl. In you stupor, you can only hear the faint gurgling scream before it’s replaced by a wet thud.

Morgan turn their gleaming red eyes toward you, chittering and heaving for breath. Blood and a viscous clear liquid is pouring from open wounds in their shoulder, abdomen and legs.

Then their eyes settle on the one threatening you. Their face contorts in rage, mandibles flaring and teeth bared as they advance on her with rapid steps.

“No sudden moves,” the last hunter bellows. “Or I kill them!”

The spear presses into you slightly, and you whine as it pierces the skin.

Morgan halts, hissing, and rights themselves, eyes darting between you and the hunter.

You know that look. They’re analyzing, planning, searching for advantages.

The hunter shifts uncomfortably under their scrutinizing, their grip on the spear tightening. You can feel her hands shaking through the sharp tip as she clutches it. She’s afraid.

Morgan stares at her, unblinking, righting themselves so their gangly limbs slightly creak as they move.

“Will you?” they chitter mockingly, voice an odd mixture of speech and hissing. As if the lower and upper body are speaking all at once. “And what then?”

The hunter hesitates. “Then you’ll die.”

Morgan smiles then, a fanged grin with eyes full of viciousness. “No,” they snicker. “Then -”

They take a quick step towards her, testing, taunting, clicking claws echoing off the mountain walls. The spear doesn’t seep deeper into you. The hunter is wholly focused on them.

“I will paralyze you, and slowly tear you apart. I’ll take my time and devour you piece. By. Piece.”

The hunter grits her teeth, considering her options, keeping her grip on you like a lifeline.

“Then-” Morgan continues, still smiling, “you will feel every single agonizing moment of your muscle and bone being pulled apart. You won’t die before I let you. I’ll make sure of it.”

You gasp as the spear threatening you moves slightly as the hunter puts pressure on it in retaliation, regaining some composure. Morgan hisses at the sound, legs clawing at the ground.

“You won’t reach me before they’re dead,” the hunter counters, voice a little lower.

“Is that so? Would you like to bet?” Morgan asks nonchalantly, crouching down as if readying to pounce. Then their eye settle on you, gleaming with wicked amusement.

It seems they have a plan.

With a grunt of effort, you suddenly twist to the side, wincing as the spear cuts over your skin. The hunter startles at your sudden movement, and missteps to regain her balance. The second she does, any pressure on your body leaves abruptly. It is replaced by a large shadow looming over you.

Morgan is above you in a split second, and so is the hunter, trapped in their grip. The spear falls to the ground with a clatter.

“I win,” Morgan sneers.

The hunter flails in a panic, to which Morgan chuckles. From your angle you can just barely make out the hunter.

And catch a glimpse of shining steel from a knife they’ve just pulled out from under their cloak.

“Morgan, look out-!”

There’s another wet tearing sound, followed by Morgan squealing in pain as the hunter buries the weapon somewhere in their front.

Morgan jumps forward and away from you, and with the motion whacks the hunter onto the dirt. They wrap the claws of their front legs around her neck and start pulling as she screams. There’s a squelch, and the hunter starts gurgling horribly, uselessly heaving for breath through a torn throat.

Morgan stares down at the hunter for the few moments it takes before she goes quiet.

The silence that follows is heavy. Morgan wobbles, and slumps down, breathing hard as the adrenaline settles.

The antidote having somewhat dispelled your paralysis, you rise to your feet, and rush to their side to assess the damage.

Morgan turns toward you, and lean down to meet you halfway, grasping your shoulders and staring you in the face. Their hands ghost over your neck and jaw as they chitter quietly, making sure you’re still there. A knife is sticking out from beneath their collar bone, oozing blood.

Along their other injuries, they’re not looking too good.

You put your hands out towards them, unsure where to put them. What will help, and what will cause further damage? You settle for clutching their wrists.

“Fuck,” you breathe, staring at them. “Holy shit. Fuck!”

Morgen takes a deep breath at your voice, calming themself.

“Not the best time right now, unfortunately," Morgan teases and coughs, wincing as the movement disturbs the weapon buried inside them.

You groan at them in frustration. “Now’s not the time for jokes, idiot! Come on, we gotta get those sealed up. Can you walk?”

“Yes,” Morgan replies through gritted teeth, and stands back up, avoiding putting weight on their mangled leg.

They glance down at it, assessing it for a second, frowning like it’s an outlier that should not be counted. Then they rise up just a moment, placing two healthy legs on either side of the limb, claws grasping it tightly.

Oh. Oh no-

You grab at one of their free legs to stop them. “Woah, woah – Morgan, don’t you fucking dare-!”

There’s a disgusting crackling noise from tough chitin bending and giving way. Morgan pulls at their leg, cleanly severing it from their body with a bellow of strained effort, hissing and snarling in pain. They throw it aside like it has been a thorn in their side for a decade.

The appendage flops to the ground, discarded like yesterday’s newspaper, and a clear liquid starts pouring from the place where it used to be attached.

“Why?!” you bark at them, tearing off your shirt to wrap around the stump left behind and staunching the bleeding.

“Slowing me,” they hiss.

“Inside. Now,” you demand, grabbing their arm to lead them in the right direction, since you can’t do much in terms of supporting their weight.

Morgan’s fingers curl around your wrist affectionately as they let you. Their hands are shaking.

Once inside, and Morgan has been somewhat stabilized, you get to work mixing up herbs and grinding powder into a cleansing balm.

Just like they taught you. In case you are ever in need of it, and I’m not around.

“You’re getting very good at that,” Morgan praises, watching you work. Their speech comes a little slurry.

How they can keep a level head after all of that is beyond you, but maybe that’s the blood loss talking. Can you lose adrenaline from blood loss?

You ignore them, focusing on getting bandages ready. “Focus on keeping pressure on those wounds.”

“Yes, dear,” they purr. Then they hiss.

“What?” you ask hurriedly, turning toward them.

“Just some pain. I’ll live,” they smile, a little strained. “Hmm, never though I’d see you worry about me like that.”

“Shut it,” you huff, turning back to the task at hand. “I need to focus.”

“Oh, am I distracting you?”

“Shut. It. And keep the pressure.”

They hum, and you try to ignore the sensation of Morgan unabashedly staring at you as you work.

After treating the wound where their leg used to be, and the cut in their shoulder, you turn your attention the other obvious safety hazard sticking out of their chest, unsure how to approach it. The dagger is buried deep under the collar bone, but since Morgan is still breathing luckily it didn’t puncture anything. But you’ll have to be very careful removing it.

You turn to find something to seal wound with, though you hear Morgan grunt, and a wet slop follows. You spin on your heel and watch as Morgan deftly pulls out the knife from under their collar bone, and it goes from trickling to pouring blood.

“What the – NO!” you yell at them, hurrying over to put pressure on it with a piece of cloth. “Are you insane?!”

“It needed to get out sooner or later,” Morgan slurs, throwing the weapon aside.

“Not until I was ready to staunch it!” you protest, doing your best to keep your hands on the wound. You glare up into their exhausted red eyes calmly watching you scramble. “Keep pressure on this too, you moron.”

They comply, folding their hands over yours and chuckling. Seems they’re still coherent enough, as they have the audacity to find your fluster amusing. “I will. Go do your thing, sentry.”

You pull your hands out from under theirs, and get to work making a makeshift plug of bandages to seal the wound a little better, rushing back and forth to get everything in place and ready to staunch the bleeding.

If this keeps up, you have a long night ahead of you.

After two hours of managing blood loss, carefully sealing deeper wounds, re-wrapping up their legs, abdomen, shoulder and chest, you’re finally finished.

The procedure took at lot out of Morgan’s energy reserves, however. You’ll save the scolding of furthering their own injuries for when they’re coherent enough to hear them.

They look even paler than usual, their breathing coming ragged and fast. You’re worried a fever may set in, and you’ve done your best preparing herbs like they’ve shoved you to combat it.

They’re sluggish, yet still acting skittish and jumpy, which is an alarming change from their usual brash and confident attitude. They talk less – staring out over the edge of your hide, legs constantly in tune with the tripwire they’ve spun. Their lower body has seemingly taken hold of the situation, leaving their usual social etiquette on the back-burner in favor of active survival instincts. Perhaps a response to the current danger of lethargy and weakness.

“Morgan. Settle down and sleep. You need to rest,” you inform them.

They shake their head, staring out beyond the edge of your hide and into the dark. They’re shivering yet coated in sweat.

You slowly reach up and put your hands on either side of their face to regain their attention. It works immediately as their eyes dart to you with intense focus. You can feel their warmth underneath your palms, caressing the inside of your wrists.

“I’ll keep watch. You sleep,” you say gently.

And it seems that was the magic words. Morgan smiles at you, not the usual knowing or teasing smirk you’ve grown used to, but a genuine expression of contentment. The complete earnest look leaves you slightly flabbergasted.

You can feel the connection of the little strings between you pulling slightly, and you know you’ve just made them a promise.

“Okay,” they hum.

They finally settle down, carefully folding their legs in a comfortable position, and laying down.

Resigned to your fate, you settle down next to them, leaning on the front of their abdomen. A pedipalp curls around your stomach.

The second you’re there, they’re out like a light. You keep your word, and watch the surroundings as Morgan finally rests.

It’s one of the roughest nights of your life.

Morgan’s state worsens as the hours pass, shifting between consciousness and unconsciousness, bleeding through several bandages. When they’re awake, you have to almost physically restrain them from standing up back on guard. When they’re asleep, you have to keep an eye out on everything lurking in the forest that could be attracted by the smell of blood and weakness. Simultaneously, you keep your hand on their neck, intently feeling for their continued pulse and listening to their breathing. You fear the second their rhythm halts, and realize you’re afraid of losing them.

When they’re delirious and gasping from the pain, you try your best to soothe them, running your hands over their hair, neck, arms and legs. The tingling warmth beneath their skin reaches for you, more so than ever. For the first time, you feel yourself reaching back. You don’t know what it is you’re doing, but whatever it is, it works. You can feel a disturbance, faint sparks of static and knots in the usual gentle energy rolling off them. You smooth them out as you run your hands over them. Tension leaves their limbs, and they settle against you, more at ease. Perhaps you’re simply helping them carry the pain.

But they need another distraction from their lower body telling them to be prepared to fight.

So you talk to them. You tell them silly little stories of your home life, describe the way an old friend used to eat their favorite meal oddly, anything that comes to mind. Morgan responds with nothing more than small acknowledging grunts and hums, and eventually they’re asleep again. And you go back to keeping a hand on their pulse, stroking their hair, and keeping a lookout for any other disturbances.

“I never thought I’d see the day where you wanted to take care of me,” Morgan purrs, staring at you. “I could get used to this.”

You resist the urge to smack them, seeing as they’re already in a world of pain. You huff as you pick off some webbing from a bandage on their leg. It stubbornly sticks to your fingers.

It’s two days after the attack, and their teasing habits have returned with force. They’re still severely hurt, but some rest and intense care-taking has done wonders for them. Unfortunately.

“Do not make me do all of this ever again,” you scold them. “This whole thing was almost too much. You could have died.”

They brush a hand against you cheek. “My my, sentry, you don’t want me to get hurt?”

“Of course not,” you grunt. “If you die, I’m as good as dead. And vice versa. Remember?”

“Hmm, quite so. I love how you’ve finally taken to that,” Morgan says.

When you ignore them in favor of fidgeting with the bandage, they press their forehead against the top of your skull. You halt your movements.

“But are you sure it’s just the agreement?” they whisper gently.

You breathe out as their calming proximity washes over you again, soothing your limbs. “What do you mean?”

You can hear the smile in their voice. “Are you sure it’s not because you secretly care about me? Just a little bit?”

You shake off the spell, and tie the final knot on the bandage tightly. “No.”

Morgan laughs, but then winces again. You instinctively put your hands out to steady them. The knowing look they send you is nothing short of infuriating, so you turn to put the excess medical tools away.

They reach out then, wrapping their legs around your waist, and gently pulling you back to them.

Usually you’d pull away or scoff or tell them to knock it off. Usually you’d be reluctantly admitting how nice it feels to be in their arms to yourself, and distance from it as best as you can.

But right now they seem a little weak for the first time. Right now they’re severely hurt by fighting for both your lives. You came out of it more or less unscathed again, because Morgan brutally made sure you would.

The least you could do is try to revel a little in that connection that seemingly brings them a world of calm.

So when your back reaches their chest you just lean back into them with a sigh, half contended, half resigned. Morgan shifts their legs to rest on either side of you, and wraps their arms around you, resting their head on your shoulder. Their warmth follows quickly after, a soothing and soft blanket rolling off them in gentle waves. Even now, they’re trying to calm you down.

“You know, this isn’t part of the agreement,” Morgan says softly, leaning heavily on you.

“What isn’t?”

“Tending to my wounds. The deal is I defend us, at any cost, and you keep watch when I can't. You could have let me bleed out and perish.”

You pause. “Would I be free then?”

“Free,” Morgan repeats with a thoughtful hum. They gently pres their face against your neck as they speak. “Is that how you think of this? That you’re a captive?”

“You didn’t give me much choice in the matter," you mutter. "And now I can’t leave.”

“And yet you still fought hard for my survival. You stayed by my side through it all to keep me alive.”

“I did.”

“So are you a captive, or a very efficient sentry?” they praise, running a hand over your hair.

The affectionate motion makes you shiver.

“You know this isn’t good, Morgan. For either of us,” you rasp.

“If it’s so bad, why didn’t you just let me die?” they counter. “You must care at a certain level, even if you don’t want to admit it. But that’s okay, I understand. You don’t have to say anything.”

Good. You’re not inclined to.

Morgan hums at your silence, and squeezes you gently. “You must be exhausted, and it’s my turn to take care of you now. You’ve earned some rest after all this. Get some sleep.”

You stare out over the far horizon, ignoring the pools of crimson and traces of mangled innards still coating the surface of the cliff. Morgan holds you close, as they always do, and you fall asleep in their arms with a taste of blood in your mouth.

[yanphobia]

Cleithrophobia - Chapter 8

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 7  Index Chapter 9

Author’s Note: Merry Christmas! Kind of an odd gift, granted, but I wanted to get this one out because I will likely not have the next one out for about two weeks. Once again, thank you for reading and following the story! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, then I hope you have a lovely weekend!

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

Each step you took felt like you were marching to your death. Every breath you inhaled felt like your last. Every sound you heard, every shadow you saw in the corner of your eye... you thought it was him. 

You had to fight every instinct in your body screaming at you to run. But you had to speak to him. You had to understand the whole story. If you knew why he left, and why he came back, it would be easy to talk him out of doing any more damage. With your hand in your jacket, firmly gripping Stan’s revolver that you had stolen from his room before you left, you marched towards Mars’ den. 

The clearing. You had reached the spot where the two of you had made so many memories with each other, both good and bad. Making yourself step into it was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. You looked around with your lantern but he was not there. You listened intently but heard nothing. Had he moved his den to another part of the fore- 

“[Y/N].” 

You audibly gasped as his voice sounded from directly behind you. Without thinking, you dropped your lantern and ran to the other side of the clearing, where you stared at him in the dim evening light. 

He looked... horrible. He had lost so much weight, and his skin took on a deathlike pallor. All the work that you had taken to restore his hair had been undone, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“...Mars?” you spoke softly, both out of shock and the desire to prevent provoking any sudden movements. 

“[Y/N]…" he shambled forward. “You traitorous little whore.” 

“Mars, what’s wrong? You look... very sick.” You resisted the urge to take a step back but held your hands out to signal that you meant no harm. “Please, just- tell me what’s the matter.” 

“You’re leaving. You do all of this to me, and then you have the audacity to try to leave.”  

...What? He wasn’t making any sense. You haven’t even seen him for months; how could you possibly be responsible for his current state? 

“Mars, I- I don’t understand. I’ve been leaving food out for you- didn’t you see it? If you think I’ve been neglecting our arrangement, then I’m sorry, but that’s not the tru-” 

“Don’t play stupid with me, bitch!” He shouted as he lunged forward. You cried out as he got closer. Then he laughed humorlessly. “That’s right, we made a deal, heh, you agreed to it. You have to feed me every night. You said that you would... No, no... you’re not leaving. You’re not going anywhere.” 

You scrambled to think of a way to explain yourself. “Listen, please understand! I’m not leaving you, specifically, but I can’t stay here either. I’ve... look, I’ve hurt a lot of people, and I’ve been ruled by my fears for my whole life. There’s is... thing, inside of me, and I need to confront it. I need to come to peace, and to do that, I need to go back to my home!” 

He stared at you, unblinking, while you spoke. It didn’t seem like he had registered a single word that you said. If he were a human man, you would’ve thought that he was extremely drunk. So you tried another tactic to calm him down. 

“When it’s over, the exact second that it’s done, I will come back here-back to you. I swear to God, I will do it!” 

He smiled sardonically and shook his head, his many eyes still never leaving yours. “Liar. Liar, liar, [Y/N]!” He took a step forward as you whimpered. 

“Is... is it the food?! I can... I’ll explain it to Stan and Laura! I’ll convince them bring it to you!” 

“No.” 

“Please! They’ll never have to know about you, if that’s what you want! I’ll just tell them to leave it here. And then I’ll come back- and I will come back, I promise! - and I’ll start doing it again! I’ll stay and talk to you, all night long! Or I’ll leave you alone, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it!” You honestly had no idea what you were saying at this point. The crazed look on his face was worse than anything you’d ever seen before. Before, he was a predator playing with his prey. But now... he barely seemed aware of the world around him. 

“What I want... is you.” 

“Please, I-” 

“I don’t want anything else!” He shrieked, “I just want you!” 

His voice resounded through the woods with a startling clarity. It was as though his words ended the bout of insanity that he had been caught in. You watched as, very slowly, the realization of what he just said dawned on his face. He collapsed on the ground, his large body thudding heavily and his eight legs kicked up clumsily as he wrapped his arms around his torso. 

“I don’t understand...” he admitted after a long stretch of silence. “I was so happy, I had everything that I needed. These were my woods, and then...” he looked up at you, with such a deep-seated resentment in his eyes, “...and then, you came along. I can’t... I can’t do anything anymore! Hunting used to bring me joy. Building my den used to bring me joy. Watching the sunlight through the leaves, or the changing of the seasons – that used to bring me joy! And now none of it-” his fist pounded the ground as he yelled, “None of it! - brings me anything! It’s just you, now, I just think about you all day long. From the moment I wake up, to the moment I fall asleep! And even then... you’re in my dreams! You’re torturing me!” 

He ducked his head down as he calmed his breathing. When he at last looked back up at you, you saw that his eyes were filled with bitter, unshed tears. 

“You ruined my life... and for that I will never forgive you.” 

You felt your own tears begin to fall at his confession. Suddenly, it all became so clear.

Mars was violent, mean spirited, egotistical and oftentimes abusive. He had no right to be as cruel to you as he had been thus far. But he was also an intelligent, thinking creature. He had the ability to understand fear, and to feel it as well. And now, looking at him crumpled on the ground and struggling to maintain his composure, you understood that he was trapped in a cycle, a prisoner of his own mind, and he was afraid that he could never escape it. 

You reacted to your fear by running away from it, whereas he lashed out. 

“Mars...?” You took a tentative step forward. “Mars... I- there is no way that I could ever properly tell you how sorry I am.” Another step. “I... I had no idea that you were going through this.” Another step, and you offered him your hand. “But it’s going to be okay. You don’t have to live like this. You can be happy again.” 

He eyed your outstretched hand with suspicion. “You’ve made me weak.” 

“No!” You were quick to assure him. “No, not at all. Mars, I don’t think you’ve realized it, but there have been many big changes in your life since we met.” He didn’t even have a name, for God’s sake, so it was safe to assume that you’re the first sentient creature that he’s had any interaction with. Or at least the first in a very, very, long time. To go from being entirely alone, to having a friend that you depended on... you imagined that it would be a shock to the system. You crouched down to his level, hand still outstretched, but didn’t encroach on his personal space. 

“I understand that you’ve been hurt, and feel afraid-” 

“-Hurt?” he breathed to himself. “Afraid? ...So weak, you’ve made me so weak...” 

“...No, Mars, please listen to me. This is not a weakness! And you are not-” 

You yelped as he grabbed your hand and pulled you close to him, your forehead smacking against his shoulder. You stayed very still as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck and let out a shaky exhale. He was holding you so tightly, and the coarse hairs of his arachnid body were scratching your skin. The two of you sat like that for several awkward moments. 

Then you heard whispering. He was saying something, to himself, but it was too inaudible to make out. 

“...Mars?” you whispered gently, too nervous to break the silence that had fallen over you. He didn’t respond. You tried again as you lightly tried to pull away... 

Hot, searing pain coursed through your neck as you felt his fangs pierce your flesh. You screamed out in terror and tried to push him away, but his jaws had you locked in a vice grip. The more you struggled, the more you felt his fangs tear into the deeper muscles by your collarbone, so you had no choice but to go limp in his arms, all the while still screaming. 

“Mars! Stop it! Mars!” for the briefest of seconds he began to let go, and you hoped that he was listening to you, but those hopes were dashed when you realized that he was just moving to bite another spot. This series of events continued over, and over again, with him keeping you pinned against his chest, attacking your neck and shoulder with painful bites, and you, shrieking and begging for mercy. 

You had lost your breath from screaming and were beginning to feel light-headed, with the sensation of hot blood dripping down your chest and back and the sounds of Mars’s lips smacking against your skin being the only thing you could focus on. You had been reduced to weak cries at this point. It took you a moment to realize that Mars had also been reduced to leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses over the spots where he had bitten you in a very intimate way, almost like a lover would. 

His panting heavy in your ear, he began to move his hands up and down your back, trying to feel every inch of it as closely as he could, with his cold fingertips hard and digging into your skin. He hadn’t stopped kissing you, but now he was moving down from your neck. 

The implications of what was to come gave you an adrenaline boost.  You took advantage of Mars’ distracted state and threw yourself away from him with all your strength, managing to fall back onto your ass. He stared you in surprise, but you wasted no time, immediately hopping to your feet and socking him in the jaw as hard as you could. He cried out in shock and his face turned to the side, but by that point you were gone. You had already turned on your heel and ran away as fast as your little human legs could possibly go. 

It was so dark, the forest was so dark, and it was impossible to see when you were too busy screaming and crying like a banshee. You didn’t know where you were going, you just needed to get away. You ran blindly through the brush until, by some miracle, you ended up back at the farm. You kept going, legs and lungs burning up as you narrowly avoided the new rabbit hutch that you and Stan had built together only a few days ago.  

You bolted straight to the main house in your panic. You tripped up the stairs to the porch, landing on your knees with a grunt of pain, and crawled to the front door. When you began to pound on it with both of your fists, the blood – your blood, which had smeared off of Mars’ face and onto your knuckles when you punched him, stained the wood. 

“Help me! Please, for the love of God, someone help me...!”