#drider oc

“May I?” Halsin moved to removed the webbing to check on the wounds beneath. Zhah flinched away. “Careful. There might be leftover venom.” Halsin shook his head with a gentle smile. “Thanks to Silvanus' blessing, poison and venom have not bothered me in a long time,” he said, then proceeded to remove the silk with gentle and practiced movements. “Do you use these webs on your partner as well?” “I do.” When Halsin saw what remained of the injuries, he gave a nod of approval. “It healed very well and fast. You might have soothing powers that you are not aware of.” “That can't be.” Zhah shook his head with vigor. “My kind's only purpose is hate, violence, and destruction.” “And yet you love, heal, and create.” Halsin pulled a salve from his bag and applied it to the scabs. Zhah wanted to argue further, but he couldn't find it within him to do so. He did love Imrae. Denying that was out of the question. He had never stopped creating. He preferred it to fighting. He refused to let what brought him the most joy to be taken from him. And yet healing seemed so unlikely. But a master of the craft like Halsin would know, wouldn't he? “Thank you, Halsin,” Zhah brought forth after what had to have been minutes. “Think nothing of it. This old bear is glad to give perspective where it's needed.” One word. One word was all it took, and Zhah was gripped by a memory he'd pay money to forget. The smell of ulaver wine and roast meat. The revealing garment on his body, its silken texture his only comfort. The women's voices shrill in his ears as they screeched with their poisoned version of joy. “And he turned into a bear on command,” the matron's aunt said. “Can you believe it?” The matron's sharp nails pricked his skin when she caressed his jaw. “Yes, yes, you have told this story before. It is not that shocking.” “No one since had someone quite like that boy, believe me. So eager, as if he was raised for it. What was his name again? Halsin, I believe.” “She let the pet keep its name? How quaint.” The matron gripped his shoulder for emphasis, her nails digging into his flesh. He would have liked to keep his family name. But her word was law. “Zhah? Are you well?” Halsin's voice cut through the memory, reminding the drider that he was many years and miles away from that place. The smell of the herbal salve. The soft silk beneath his legs. The lively chatter of Shadowheart and the Blade of Frontiers by the water further into the cavern. Zhah hugged himself, his still sensitive shoulder adding another sensation. “Yes. No,” he brought forth when he had found his way back to the present. He breathed in deep, his side stinging as he did, then forced himself to face Halsin, worried that he might have scared the druid. He found the large wood elf looking up at him with a gentle smile. “I have heard your name before,” Zhah blurted out. “In a tale of the past. In Menzoberranzan.” Halsin's face fell. So it really was him. Zhah had held onto that last bit of doubt, and now cursed himself for his loose tongue. In an attempt to salvage the situation, he added, “We do not have to speak of it.” “It was a... youthful misadventure.” Halsin's smile returned, though it was wry and almost embarrassed this time.

It's like a drug! A fertile female scent. Unclaimed by any other Driders.

By any other males.

Completely for him.

Blessed be Lolth! Her rewards and favors are sparse but worth everything!

He hunted you down.

Killed his rivals

Killed his own kin.

And here you are, at last.

Bare for him. Limbs limp and body vulnerable to his advances. You stopped complaining a while back when you fainted at the horrific realization of what he had in store for you.

Baring his eggs and giving birth to his offspring.

You pleaded for the sweet release of death, and he pulled it under your feet. You do not get to escape your fate, little human.

You will suffer, as he suffered.

You will be his new kin, but not his equal. No matter your protests and begging. He owns you completely for any foreseeable future, for better and mostly for worse, for you. It brings a deviant smile to his face, a remnant of the Drow he once was. Of his past grandeur and greater disgrace. Of his deep hatred for those god-forsaken dark-elves.

He growls at the memory of his worst enemies, invigorating him in his thrusts. You mewl faintly in your unconscious state, responding to his… actions. He has difficulties knowing if they are moans of pleasure or of pain, and frankly, he does not care to know.

Caring is for lovers. And you are none of the sort.

He hates you. He loathes you. For what you are, for what you represent.

He loathes you, yet your bodies call for each other irrepressibly; your form and scent are a torment for him. The sweetest tortures. A delectable agony.

It is not called the 'little death' just to please aesthetes. But it pleases him, he decides. He can revel in your pleasure while hating you; it is more fun like that.

He feels himself close again, but he doesn't rush it. You're not really here to pester him, so he can enjoy himself a bit more. He circles his hips, grazing his length on all your fluffy inner walls, varying the sensations for a bit more thrill.

He grabs your buttocks to lift you up and down at varying speeds and angles on his erection, playing with his own flesh.

But in the end, he is more impatient to cum inside than to take the proper time for a mind-blowing orgasm. He has priorities, and they take no precedent.

With final rolls of his hips, he rides himself to completion and paints your inside in white again. He slams you down on his girth, pushing his knot in again, sealing your intoxicating pussy up. He exhales longly as he feels his cock finishing, spurting his thick semen, appreciating the swirling sensation in his shaft and how nice it feels to be nudged cozily into a cunt again.

He kind of missed that.

He takes his breath back, pressing himself to you as you are glued to his web, firmly imprisoned in his grip. He takes his time and doesn't rush. He lets his heartbeat slow down, face pressed into the crook of your neck.

Just a little longer.

Once you wake up, he won't be able to press his nose to your sweaty skin as much as he wants to, or you'll be asking questions he doesn't feel like answering.

Just a second more. You are so warm. So inviting. Your feminine body is so comfortable to hold.

He waits around to let his knot deflate just a tad and free himself from you without the risk of spilling the precious semen out of your cunt.

There are already so few eggs in the semen, he can't afford to lose some by being careless. He'll lose enough eggs in the process as is, no need to add to that.

While it deflates gradually, he snaps a handful of silk out of his web and presses it into a malleable but almost solid tube. He slips out of you and pushes it in in one swift move.

There. Painless and easy.

Too painless to his taste, in truth... But he doesn't entertain the juvenile ideas of slashing your skin here and there just to watch you writhing in pain.

No, he can't allow himself.

For he has a visitor.

A fellow of his former hunting group.

Not an old friend, and certainly not a welcome presence now that he had looted the prize just under their noses.

He sighs to himself, already annoyed by the problem you will keep on giving him, but it was predictable.

You are the only female around for miles and miles. Your scent traveled far and deep into the neighboring forests and mountains, gathering predators of all forms and species.

He killed to claim you rightfully. He'll have to kill to keep you.

You're a headache.

You are pissing him off tremendously.

But he knows himself as well as he knows the ideas in the heads of those predators, and he knows he will kill again for you.

Each day.

Every day.

Without hesitation.

Until the eggs hatch and all of this masquerade comes to an end.

Eh, maybe he was right. If you survive this ordeal for him, you may be able to survive them all.

So go on.

Fight him and survive. Infuse your rage and hate into his eggs. Feed his offspring with your life force.

And you will walk away free of them all, little human.

__________________________

You look around, head spinning like you drank too much… What happened again? You were lost in the forest, getting scared by a squirrel and…?

And you hear a disgusting cracking sound behind you, like bones getting crushed under some teeth. Or a carapace.

You dare not move.

You remember where you are. You know who's behind you and what he did. You know what he wants you to do for him, and you want to puke on the spot.

"I know you are awake, human." The deep voice, which you learned to fear and loath at the same time, mocks you, audibly munching on something, "Come eat."

Come?

You lower your gaze on yourself and realize you are not stuck on the web anymore, but lying on the wet ground of the den. Your torn-apart dress daintily covers you.

It dawns on you that he took the time to retrieve your garment to mimic modesty around you. Just to mock you after his offense to your honor and to your whole life. You take the time to note that he is a petty, psychotic monster that enjoys playing with you.

"Do not make me repeat myself." He warns.

You grouse, but you obey and turn to him.

And you immediately feel your heart jump into your throat, ready to spill on the ground.

He is eating…

Another… Drider.

He's insane. You are stuck with an insane monster. You actually won't survive this at all.

He growls a last warning, telling you that you either come by yourself, or he will drag you.

You painfully stand on your feet, your groin region excruciatingly sore and… sticky.

Do not think about why, (Y/n).

You actually took time to put on the rags that were formerly your dress and walk closer to the Drider. Closer. Not close. Not sitting next to him. You sit on the ground, on the other side of the fire, knees pressed to your chest, eyes fixated on him, in case of a potential attack.

He throws you a bit of flesh carelessly.

"You can roast it, if you feel fancy." He jabs.

You look at the piece of… 'Meat,' he threw at you, opening your eyes wide.

This is a body part, indeed.

"You eat it, or you go hungry, human. Your choice." He just notes in passing, biting down into another part of the carcass.

You sniff. You grab the piece with a tremor of revulsion and throw it right back at his many feet.

"Roast it yourself."

His gaze travels to the flesh to you, unimpressed.

"Suit yourself."

"Why are you eating another Drider?" You inquire, suspicious.

"He invited himself onto my territory." He doesn't even look at you as he answers, too focused on his dinner.

"You are revolting." You tell him without missing a beat.

"And you are stuck with me. Get used to it."

"I'd rather die."

"You can die later." He hisses.

"I want to die now, creature."

"I know what you are trying to do, human. You are wasting your time. You being alive is way more important than my ego you try to bruise."

We'll see about that.

"Why did he enter your territory?"

"You speak too much."

"He managed to hurt you, I see." You note with a hint of disdain.

He looks down at the large, bloody slashes coursing his arms and chest. And just shrug, returning to the meat.

"I won."

"It was close, though." You add, hoping to keep irritating him.

"You do not know battles, little female. You do not know what 'close' looks like in front of an opponent." He mocks, irritating you in turn, "I won by a wide margin, and he is now my dinner, as it fits him."

"Why did he enter you-" You don't get to finish your sentence, you are pushed to the ground by a powerful mass so quick you couldn't see it.

And here you are, lying under the Drider once more, his large hand circling your throat, squeezing it to block your airways.

"Keep going with that attitude, female, and I swear on the Spider Queen's name…"

Come on, you know he wants to. He wants to snap your neck clean.

He lowers himself slowly, hovering above your face, all fangs out.

"I will have you choke on my cock so hard you will lose consciousness enough times to turn into a brain-dead meat sack for me to use freely, as an incubator and cum recipient. And I will. Make. Sure. You. Stay. Alive. Through. It. All." He lets you know.

… That's not exactly the plan you hoped he would go for.

"Do you understand me, little human? Or do I need to use simpler words for your brain?" He squeezes ever so slightly, making you wince, "If yes, I allow you to moan 'Yes, Master' for me."

You try to gather enough air to formulate the words, inviting him to lower himself again.

"Fuck… You… Trash…" You gasp out in his ear.

And you earn a laugh in return. A laugh so deranged you feel your blood run cold in an instant.

"I admire your commitment to the bit, female. You have more balls than most males I come across, I will give you that." He smiles at you.

He actually, genuinely, smiles at you.

And this is the creepiest sight you've seen yet.

"Evidently, you have no clue what suffocating until unconscious feels like yet. Allow me an educational demonstration." And he squeezes.

He squeezes hard. You thought he was squeezing before, but he was just resting his hand around your throat.

Now…now he wants you to suffer.

Endure it, girl.

Suffer through it; it is a one-way ticket straight to the Great Mind and all your ancestors.

"You actually have no clue how long it takes to fall unconscious by suffocation. It is long, very long. It is painful, excruciatingly so. Let's see if you have it in you to go all the way."

And he squeezes harder again.

Oh…!

Oh God…!

It's unbearable. You feel the whistle of air escaping your lips but unable to enter your lungs, starting to burn, scorching the inside of your flesh the more your breath becomes erratic.

This long, so long….

Fu… Fuck.

You open your mouth wide, feeling your tongue getting limp and swollen inside your mouth, drooling down your jaw.

"You should see your expression. Those bulging eyes. Those swollen lips. This furry tongue. The airways slowly getting crushed…" He muses, "How long do you think you can still hold?"

You don't know, but he was right.

It is long.

It is painful. Too painful…

You… You can't…

You try to push him off with all that you have, but it is merely a brush on his shoulder.

"I think you learned your lesson." And he drops you.

You writhe in pain on the ground, gasping for air desperately, coughing up an invisible mass obstructing your throat. Fuck…

He's insane. Terminally insane.

You crawl away from him as you pant like a dog, limbs weak and brain definitely shaken by the experience.

He looks at you sternly. Before returning to his former place.

And he throws the piece of flesh back at you, with a tone inviting no more disobedience of any sort.

"Eat. You do not have the privilege to starve."

_______________________________________________

You cried yourself to sleep.

He ties your ankles and hands with a ribbon of silk, and observes you sleeping. Your breath is still whistling after the ordeal.

This should teach you.

He stands up from his crouching position and heads toward the exit, welcomed by the freshness of the night.

The more distance he puts between himself and you, the more egregious his own state becomes. His sweaty hands start trembling as his heart does not slow down for a second since he swooped on you, rumbling in his ears, making him deaf to anything else.

His breathing worsens. Getting worryingly quick yet not deep enough.

He accelerates gradually until he is fully running, bursting out of his cave under the carefree moonlight. Rushing aimlessly through the forest, his multiple feet galloping quicker than any horse ever could.

He feels like roaring, yet he does not. He forces himself not to. To not betray his den.

To not betray your position.

This should teach you.

This should teach him.

This has been taught to him… From a young age.

Eat or be eaten.

Dominate or suffer defeat.

He needs those eggs to hatch. He needs you to stay alive for fucks sake.

Why did you push so far?

Why tempt the devil so far?

Don't you have any survival instincts? This primal urge, ordering you to stay alive no matter what?

Are you actually insane?

You were starting to smell like freshly slain prey, watering his mouth. He hasn't bitten into a human in such a long time, not even your other suitors.

What stopped him was…

The flash of a face. Someone else's, in the same circumstances.

This has been taught to him before. He suffered through it. He taught it to someone else.

Long, long ago. Way before his spider curse.

He feels like he knows them, perhaps.

He reaches the east river of his territory, making him slow down, then stop. He splashes his face with cold water, digging his claws in his own skin, to snap himself out of it. However, the ghost of the face remains on his retina.

He growls.

They are dead. Part of the past of his own dead self. They matter not.

He dominated, and they suffered defeat.

It's the same song and dance since the First Age, and it is the same for you.

You will learn to respect and fear him, and you will obey in all matters of things.

He calms down, finding his peace of mind. The clouds over his judgment have cleared, and his head is now light of prior disturbances. He combs his white hair back with his fingers, and a sigh of contempt.

You are a headache, but he can't have you disappear on him.

Nor die of hunger.

Driders have little flesh on their bones, and it spoils incredibly quickly. He needs to hunt something.

_______________________________

He lets the deer fall from his shoulders as he passes the threshold of his den. His senses are on high alert.

Something is not right.

He enters, carefully, but quickl realizes what is wrong. He rushes to your spot and hisses an insult.

You little fool, you bit through the silk of your binds? He was gone for less than an hour and your smell is still strong, you can't have gone far with only two legs.

He roars and spins on his eight feet, ready to hunt you down once again, when pebbles from the cavern wall fall right next to his head. He doesn't have time to look up to confirm what he already understands. You land heavily on his back, hurting his spine. He tries to throw you off, but you circle his neck with a tightly woven rope of silk and lose no time making him pay for his educational performance earlier.

"Fucker!" You shout in his sensitive ear as you pull on the string with all your might. He tries to grab it, to claw at it to loosen it up, to free himself.

He rears and shakes with all his strength, but you hold on. You keep pulling on the rope, and he feels his forces starting to evade him.

Hs feels his own breath escaping. His own trachea collapsing in his throat painfully.

So he changes strategy. He rears again and propels himself back into the walls, slamming you into it. You yelp in pain and release some of the pressure, but you do not let him go. He rears and slams again, harder.

And this time, you let go, falling to the ground. He falls with you, gasping for air, holding his throat, coughing violently, eyes blurry with tears.

He stares at you, frowning, massaging his throat. You wince in pain but stand back on your trembling, wounded legs. You did not have enough, it seems.

You really want that final blow to be dealt. On him, or on you.

Before you are stable enough to try anything else, he grabs you by your throat and simply lifts you from the ground, leaving your feet dangling desperately.

He looks at you with fury, but also a cold… new form of curiosity.

It was close…

Closer than anyone else before you.

Too close for his taste.

You were mere(seconds away from winning, but it ended up in a stalemate. Sorry, human.

He wants to grind you into the stone wall.

Or he feels this is what he should want…

The cold curiosity mutates into something else as he tilts his head at you, trying to escape his iron grip.

This sentiment… A strange newfound form of respect.

Not for humans. For you specifically.

For the first time since he turned, he found the only person worth asking that question to.

"What is your name, human?" He asks calmly, studying you in a totally new angle.

You freeze in surprise before groaning.

"What..?" You spit, trying to breathe.

"Your name, Human. I want to know your name."

You wince in his hand, and he is sure you will just spit in his face.

"I'm… I'm (Y/n)… (L/n)! And I fucked… Your father… Drow trash…!" You taunt again.

But this time, this does not work at all. He is not in the least annoyed or irritated, but rather genuinely amused. For the first time in years, he has more fun studying someone instead of crushing their bones.

He snickers.

"And I am sure my father would have been honored to be fucked by such a female, (Y/n) of the house (L/n)." He reveals with a lopsided grin.

He observes you intently. Your hair length, the line of your nose, the color of your human skin, the highs and lows of your feminine voice.

He was enjoying you for hours, yet he was blind to all your treasures. He feels like he really enjoys what he is discovering, albeit late.

Really liking what he was discovering at last.

A fiery woman who chose to go head-to-head against a powerful Drider, armed with only her bravery and cunning intelligence, and nearly managed to take him out for good. In his very own territory.

He feels his pupils dilate wildly when he truly looks into your eyes for what feels like the first time.

They are gorgeous and full of ire for him. He likes that. He likes that very much.

Now he feels his desire to claim you even more warranted. And so his grip softens around your throat.

You.

You are a woman worthy of him.

"Do you intend to… Keep me dangling… like… this… til I die of old age?" You pester.

He muses, looking at you up and down with a satisfied grin.

"I have an offer, (Y/n) of house (L/n)."

Again, you freeze, looking worried.

And now he thinks that look doesn't suit you at all anymore, even if it still does something for him down there.

"You." He trails the word longingly as he brings you closer to his face, "Help me through my rut and carry my eggs up till hatching."

"You're… insane if you think I'll… accept such a thing."

But he ignores you.

"In exchange, I teach you everything I know about combat, to protect yourself."

You frown harder.

"Against you and the… others?"

"Against anyone and everyone. I will escort you back to the trail you lost, as your bodyguard. I will reveal to you where I hid all the coins of all my victims, and then…"

You suddenly seem more interested. And he doesn't fault you for being venal; coins still reign supreme in your world, while they lost all their meaning to him.

"You will get…"

And now, he is sure of himself.

You will survive him, you will survive them all.

He will personally make sure of that.

"… To kill me."