I'll send this one twice so we actually know if mine are being eaten still. Also, this is phrased weird and I'm so sorry. Also, fluff incoming!
So you know how there's a species of tarantulas that use a tiny frog to protect their eggs, feed them, and use pheromones to tell which frog is theirs?
Okay now make them drider and humanoid frog.
Now make them married and in love but refusing to accept that they're in love despite having already like three clutches (?) together and another on the way.
And they're ✨ lesbians ✨ (the male drider is just there for children, not a wife)
The fucking ask box making this appear and disappear makes me so mad, like irrationally mad.
Your relationship is best summed up to people as 'Me, my wife (with longing), and the boytoy that lives with us.'
After all, most people assume it's simply transactional between yourself as a frog hybrid and her as a drider.
Coming home you find your wife, for tax benefits of course, rattling off requirements to the other drider you live with as she places around the living room. Your wife is quick to come over to you, the bag of take out in your hands is quickly scooped up and dumped on the table, a quick kiss placed on your cheek before going back to the conversation she was in, reminding the other drider that he needs to remember to book his appointment soon if he wanted something done now rather than later.
The male Drider is folded up on your almost ridiculously large couch, nodding along absent mindedly, already you know you're going to have to remind him or just book whatever this is for him.
Looking at the fluffy haired man you're glad he's at least pretty, as there's not much else going on in that head of his...
Dinner is a simple affair, seeing as you, your wife, and her boytoy have very similar diets you tend to order from drider or amphibian hybrid owned restaurants to feed everyone. Despite what people might think, and how many clutches of little driders you have helped bring into this world, your face still heats when she shows you affection, croaking softly and looking to the side as she holds up some of her food to you to try, she chitters with laughter as you reluctantly take the offered food.
You know why she's doing it, and you both love it/her for doing it, but you can't help how warm your cheeks feel as you wrap your lips around her fork, she chitters and looks away as you pull back, her own cheeks feeling flush for a moment.
It's time for her next clutching season and she's feeling the need to make sure you're fed and well, nevermind the fact that the two of you will spend the next few days wrapped around each other after the boytoy has his appointment to extract his part in this whole process.
