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ms0milk · 1 year

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𝟖 | 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 (part one & two.)

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You do flinch though, when the prince parts your legs with his hips at the lip of the counter to be this much closer and tilts your face up with that same oddly soft hold from before, a thumb and forefinger balancing your chin where he wants you."

cw (I) bkg mom mode activate, reader attempts murder at a dinner party, super brief paranoia sequence. (II) accidentally suggestive wound-tending, a completely reasonable misunderstanding + bkg is momentarily horrified by what you think of him. 5.7k.

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It's akin to murder in Aldera, killing an ant or fly or caterpillar– to not move worms off the path after a rainstorm. Your home is love.

The Todoroki Prince is delicate like his mother and his kingdom, like his older brother and sister seated beside him, pale and silent, but as he sits down to eat he crushes a spider making home between the candles and sweeps its body off the table without thought.

It’s a nagging dread across your cheeks, it’s the prickle of a thousand invisible whiskers towards the danger in the corners of this bustling room of feast. Something is wrong with Takoba. The Todorokis are quiet and unpleasant, sure, but something else– someone– shouldn’t be here.

“Y/n?”

Your head tilts to Kirishima sitting at the table in front of you when his low voice cuts through the clamor.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm.”

He smiles as if to say just checking, and pours himself back into his meal and a conversation between friends.

Is Takoba truly so wealthy that they can hire pleasant crowds on demand? Where did all these happy feasters come from? Where do the wicked crows from the throne room roost? The sparkling white Hall where you’re stationed this evening bathes in dusk and endless candlelight, music, fine dancing, fine food and kind company. It is the warmest room in all the kingdom for one night only.

All day long you tried tracking down the simmering blond princling currently sitting with his back to your post, but he hid, like a whelp, until dinnertime.

“Where is Prince Bakugou’s chamber?” You attempted to interrogate the maid sent to deliver your change of clothes and show to your room last night, but she just shook her empty head.

A soldier was posted to your door at dawn and you scared him out of his polished boots in your own Takoban uniform well before the sun even crested the castle walls. As delicate as the kingdom and all its trinkets could be, the cotton padded tunic did an admirable job of keeping out seachill. Your halberd bled a red gash down the back of your white and blue uniform and you felt altogether ready for war.

“The feast has been planned for weeks– you must attend!”

“I mustn’t do a single thing.”

“I’ve been ordered to take down your preferences. The prince himself–”

“My prince?” You cocked your head to the nagging butler who had finally caught up to you outside of the soldier’s quarters. Aizawa and all his exhaustion had been no help in your search.

“No, M’lady the Tako–”

“– I am not your Lady.”

“Miss please,” he’d begged. He’d begged and begged until he grew too weary of your wandering.

The prince’s less than modest attitude soured your sleep, even after the shock of opening your chamber door to a room fit for a lord. Green ivy rugs, climbing their little fingers in a pattern across the floor to the sea-facing window beside your bed. Four wooden posts and white linen curtains. It would take two of you to touch the ceiling and ten more to reach from one wall to the next and by all means you should have slept like the dead.

But Bakugou’s smug canine grin burned into your eyelids like a flare. Marching alone down a hallway, you bared your teeth to the thought.

“I’m sorry Ma’am, I haven’t seen him.”

“I’m not important enough to know such things.”

“Who?”

“Weren’t the Alderans injured? Maybe the hospital?”

Through every level of the seashell castle, through every kitchen and office and workshop and training ground, you searched for the prince’s chambers. You marveled all the way through the grand entryway and combed empty jeweled halls and peeping windows. You wished a good morning to Lady Mina and Sero on their way to breakfast and stormed anxiously through the outdoor walkways built into castleside, trying your hardest not to peer over their railings into the sea.

Ahead of you now Prince Bakugou looks too polished and still all too natural at the head of the table while you stand guard behind him, close enough to pluck a golden hair off his head.

The Alderan guests and Takoban royalty perch on a platform at the front of the room and an expanse of feasting festivities stretch out before them. Thankfully this crowd is less oppressive, it is less hateful and more excited to eat the fine food and sing merry songs than to bother much at all with you. Even a place as callous as Takoba enjoys hot meals with friends.

Kirishima gives piggyback rides to children brave enough to approach and Mina watches on, picking petals off the set flowers and tossing them gleefully to the rowdy bunch. The crowd, all seated at their own long tables, giggles and cheers and soon the redhead is lost under a pile of little girls in their poofy ball gowns.

Whiskers twitch again and your gaze shoots across the room to a man milling with drink trays and the blindspot of a candle behind him where the wall stills in darkness. You’re brought back to the light when a voice hisses,

“Kami! Quit it–”

Sero admonishes his friend loudly as Denki gorges on roast vegetables and sliced meats that have wafted their warm autumn sweetness through the seashell castle all day long. The noisy eater is seated directly beside the fairy blue prince and his bellsong siblings who’ve hardly spoken a word all evening. The three of them dazzle even without their mother present, they wear it like the color blue was made for them and you know that behind her sick, the Takoban Queen must be the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

Mina squeals at something the fair princess has said and Sero, along with the youngest Todoroki clap and smile when Kaminari starts to hiccup from all his inhaling of food. More people who already know each other and more reason for you to feel a bit out of place.

When Prince Todoroki tilts his delicate face far enough towards you, you can almost catch a glimpse of the famous red framing his features. What does he sound like, you wonder? Out of all of them Bakugou is the only one whose face you can’t see, broad shoulders pressed flat back against his chair as he lounges.

“Quit starin’ Eyes, you’ll ruin my appetite.”

“Yes, sir.”

The fork squeaks as Bakugou tightens his fist around it. Where has he been hiding?

"..Little Alderan…"

Sweat prickles your temples when a ghost calls to you suddenly, traveling from shadow to shadow in the candlelit room, swimming through them strategically to be closer. Shadows cast by dancing men, or thrown behind full mugs of ale across the long feasting tables. The steaming scars of the flame mage still burn ripe across your mouth from where he grabbed you in the forest, like a muzzle. You stand with square shoulders and hands behind your back and wish Shinsou or Uraraka were here to share your paranoia but they’re stationed outside with their men where fire demons don’t dance across the walls.

The prince doesn’t seem bothered by the song or dance or laughter; he only wipes his mouth and looks out over the crowd. He peers behind his tall chair towards you every so often, never truly looking, and it rubs something in you wrong the way he can’t even trust you through one meal.

You’re far enough away from the joyful crowds that they can’t swallow you whole. Harps and horns do not make your heart race and you only need worry about the six royals in front of you and the gaggle of incompetent Takoban guards standing similarly around them. Prince Bakugou’s head bobs as he eats. Tens of candles burn so hot across his table that their melted wax pools around his plates and bowls and he reminds you of his father the way food will just steal his attention away. How is this the same cruel man from last night? It is hard not to remember his family while you watch him.

A clatter of silver across the floor startles the table’s attention from friends to the feasters and you jerk your dagger in its scabbard, but a child has just tripped on his too-big shoes and into the side of a serving tray.

It is too eerie for words, this happy bustling hall, and too threatening to explain. Gods, it’s hot in here. Blue lords and blue ladies create the sea beneath you and fires, even the smallest candles, threaten to set their world alight. Sometimes when you blink, the cream calm world goes horribly blue.

“Cool it.”

A creaking wooden chair pulls your focus and in his seat your prince shifts while Mina makes a show of declining a great many offers to dance from beautiful suitors. He watches on like always, peering into the depths of the room and through the idle chatter. Without his red cape Bakugou appears broader, less contained, tucks his chin into the crease of his shoulder and submits to boredom. He rasps across the high lilt of a fiddle, “Calm down.”

The prince has tilted his ale warmed cheeks far enough again for you to see an expression clearly, empty but present, and you make a point to only glance. To just watch a little. To linger on a few pieces of golden hair that stick to his face with sweat. Oh how angry it makes you, how beautiful he is and how easy it would be for him to get away with anything. What a wonderful distraction from the imperceptible threat you can’t quite shake.

He shuffles his tongue across his teeth and tilts a little further– far enough that you realize he’s peering directly at you from the corner of his eye. An accusatory jewel. The candles in front of him flicker suddenly a hot, hot purple.

“You hear me?”

You did not.

Those candles set on the table jump for a moment, quivering in the windless Hall all while two figures slip across the edges of the room: one a man cloaked and the other his shadow. Your hands can hardly stay still within each other while the tiny flames all around your company flicker white then red, then purple again– they are fighting to be blue.

Kirishima is the first to see you advance. He is the second to try and stop you.

You know that, had you given the Champion time he would have taken your hands and asked again, are you alright? But he saves his worry at the sight of your hand on your dagger. Between the redhead and the prince you approach their table and bend calmly at the hip, quietly blowing out the candles that surround their food and faces.

Prince Bakugou barely has time to register your presence or come up with some horrible quip before you’re at his side and drawing your weapon.

“Do not–”

“– Y/n!”

For all their showy training these two are not faster than you. Kirishima lurches for your dagger from his seat in shock, so you drop it to keep all his fingers attached and plant a steadying foot behind you.

Joy dies when your halberd launches across the room.

Through the familiar stretch of your bicep, relief pours when you fetch it from your back, through the strain and still of aiming well trained eyes and finally through the flex of your ribs and stomach when your back arches and whips itself forward to create the deadly momentum you need. Release. Thumb, index, middle and ring, the bloodred weapon sails from your fingers. A star begging to explode.

You unsettle something in him, Prince Bakugou, and as a rule he does not like to watch you. But his mother’s favoritism starts making sense tonight, that crazy fucking woman.

Thunk, the hollow sound of pierced wood followed by a flat squeak of musicians trailing off midsong and the immediate hush of dancers and feasters. You must look as smug as you feel because your aim is, as always, perfect. The tip of your halberd spears a cloak to the wall, trapping but still sparing the man wearing it and necks crane to the front of the room. Your royal table stares. One head behind the next, mouths open, eyes bulging, those might be tears in Kaminari’s eyes– and even in a kingdom as incompetent as this one, you suppose only one thing can happen next.

Almost immediately the Takoban guards seize you. The room erupts.

“–Y/n!”

“Stop!”

“Don’t– wait, wait!”

Your body is snatched up by armored men and thrown flat onto the wooden table with all of its webs and candlewax. “Don’t dawdle!” You shout into the hard surface you’re pressed against, “He’ll get away!”

But you are the spider now and no one is listening.

To their credit, the Todoroki siblings gather themselves quickly enough to stand. One of them, the little prince, waves an arm and shouts to his men– maybe ordering them to release you, maybe ordering to kill. It’s so, so loud now.

The Alderan company and their thunder can’t help you, the Champion is held back by Sero and Mina whose eyes dart to every face in the room to try and find reason in your attack. Denki clutches the arm of the guard who takes a bit too much pleasure pressing your face hard against wood grain with a hand on the back of your head.

It’s a different sort of chaos from the prince’s smoking of the throne room. No one swarms, in fact no feasters yet have the courage to walk past the spot where your weapon has sunk deep into the elven doors, and flee into the safety of the hallway. A little talisman to ward off the flies. A talisman no longer containing the shadowed man, only his cloak and a shred of shirt cloth.

“He’s–!” You grunt, struggling against heavy hands holding your body down and moreso than that, to be heard. He’s escaping! You want to scream but fingers have threaded their way through the hair at the base of your head and gods it hurts when you’re yanked back up by a braid. Momentarily lightheaded by the rise, you consider all the ways to get this guard on his back without having to cut his hands from your hair.

“Oi,” a firesoft voice breathes, soot ash and matches, “Let her go.”

It’s quick, faster than that– in fact, it takes the same amount of time for Prince Bakugou to separate you from the soldier as it did for him to give the order. Before you’re even pulled back up to standing, a heavy hand wraps around your bicep and he plants his other over the soldier’s headpiece to let loose a few tempered sparks. As you're yanked into his chest the guard goes flying.

Others replace the first, soldiers alerted to danger by the haunting sound of an explosion rush from the floor where they watch over stunned guests, and to the platform where their own Takoban Royals are once again under threat from Aldera. It’s never ending. Even as you plan to attack them it isn’t lost on you, what a headache you have been to these royal guards.

It’s easier to focus on one thing.

You have to plan your defense and you certainly have to find an escape route, but you can’t see over the swell of his shoulders. His warmth, his caramel, it’s distracting, it’s all too distracting– it’s all moving in slow motion. Broad but not all that tall, soft, Bakugou’s body surrounds you momentarily as he steadies you both from the recoil of his shot.

“Enough!” A low voice like bells is heard suddenly so clearly that the rest of the voices in the Hall become mud. They all become racket in comparison to, “Leave them.”

They all become cut glass played against, “We’re fine.”

Around the room soldiers freeze mid stride in shock presumably and folded inside of each other, you and Bakugou must look exactly like them because the Todoroki siblings are standing as calm and bored as napping babies. The eldest even reaches into his quilted jacket breast to check the time on a pocket watch.

“Go on then, leave them alone,” the princess reiterates, little flecks of red warming white hair. Her crystal glasses glint so bright in the candlelight one could hardly see her eyes but her stance is strong and her blue dress whips about her calves from the sudden quiet of the room. The silence of the forgotten partygoers is comical, a collection of a hundred wide eyes blinking from one action to the next like bats in a cave.

Bakugou seems to realize how closely he’s holding you and pushes you away with his hand still around your bicep.

“She needs to be punished!” Your blown-away guard insists, “She fired into a royal crowd!” He’s collecting himself as best he can from where the prince shot him backwards, disgruntled, armor crooked, and generally singed. He rushes you in the grip of your prince, and before you can brace yourself, before the youngest Todoroki can cooly object or your Champion can finally hit someone, Bakugou snarls and jerks you forward.

“You think I can’t punish my own fucking staff?”

You teeter on the lip of the platform step and the prince practically throws you to the floor from how close behind he’s pulling you, caramel vicegrip still firm on your arm. Bakugou tears into the thick hush of the Hall, heavy footsteps, nagging growls, indignant muttering. You just try to make sure you don’t roll an ankle from how quickly you’re expected to move, down off the platform and into the petrified crowd.

Kirishima cups his hands around his mouth and tries to call after you, which gets him exactly zero response. In fact the prince grips your arm bruisingly harder at the request as he marches you both through the parting sea of partygoers. They stumble over each other to both watch and hide from you in their fancy clothes.

“Highness–” you grunt, but you’re cut off immediately with another tug. Your cheeks sting from being dragged across the table. He doesn’t seem to be marching you to the entryway, but past it, to a door at the back of the room. “See?” You grumble and reach out for your halberd with your free had as the pair of you pass it, “My aim–”

“Do not!” Bakugou spins around and seethes. He swats your hand and jerks you forward yet again to leave the red weapon exactly where you’ve sunken it, “You’re not helping ya little fuck.”

If last night was a short fuse, what you’ve made for yourself tonight is a lit explosive. Oh how the prince rumbles. He holds you somewhere between ferocity and urgency and you hate to remember– you curse yourself for your timing– just how deeply you embarrass him. How many different ways you could have detained the suspicious figure– even if he was a mage, the mage, even if fires did beg to turn blue.

Past the long wooden tables, past frightened guests and musicians tuning on the orders of their exhausted princess, Bakugou tows you to the back of the room. He kicks a modest door in and blinding candlelight pours wet warm over your shadows. Veins throttle the back of his hand. The hand that grips your arm so tightly– his hand that relaxes and slips as he storms inside behind you, to cup your elbow.

‏‏‎ ‎

The silver kitchens are alive. Handmaids and bakers and strongmen heft vats and soups and bread every which way as the door to the Hall closes behind you, and you have to duck or dodge every few steps to keep out of their bustling paths.

“Clear out! I need the flouring tables,” your prince barks into the kitchen carnage and in his new oddly gentle hold you’re only reminded of his presence because of that voice. The one that splinters wood and drops plum pits to your gut no matter how many times you hear it or how many times it’s barking directly at you.

Punishment. Dragged from your post, from your entire company, to be punished by him with the full roster of kitchen staff here to watch. Shame boils every stream of blood in your body so violently you have to cup your chest to believe the rate your heart is beating.

The man crude enough– you suppose, the only man who even ranks highly enough– to treat you like a toy after saving his life. After growing up beside one another. Chewing you up, spitting you out, nothing but ridicule for an entire week punctuated by last night’s wretched performance of submission.

The prince must feel your heartbeat in his fingertips because he seethes and begins marching faster the second it picks up from your embarrassment, “Hurry up.”

While Bakugou guides you deeper into the organized chaos, maids and bakers and butlers shift slowly under his orders like watching ants change course in a rainstorm. Great big balls of dough are heft from the counter islands in the center of the room, silverware clatters, fires blaze around you from cold new stoves starting, and most impressive of all, every worker buzzing through the bedlam keeps up their pace without faltering.

Muscle plump bakers trot past and behind you every which way, narrating their movements with cupped hands to teammates.

“Behind!”

“This isn’t sugar.”

The prince’s odd orders add to their symphony, “Cold water and boning tweezers– need ‘em yesterday!”

“Someone light this for me?”

“Hey will you– and this—”

“Here Kats, tweezers.” A butler in a highcollar frock pulls the metal from her pocket and drops them cold into your prince’s hand on her way out the door with an ale tray.

Kats? You dare a glance as the butler makes her way back into the Hall. Just one, a look not a stare, up the curve of your collarbone to his clenched jaw and even just a little higher than that. The prince’s brandfire pupils glow behind lids half shut with exasperation. Hooded, heavy eyes watch yours. He’s looking.

He’s looking at you and your mouth has gone dry.

You don’t know how to prepare yourself because you aren’t sure what to expect, least of all Bakugou lifting you up under the arms like you aren’t fully suited and plopping your butt on the closest countertop. Partially stunned and partially professional, you make sure to sit up straight suddenly at his eye level, legs dangling, to receive your punishment. The bluefire mage is as far as he’s ever been from your mind.

“Been telling you to calm down all night,” he rasps– to himself if volume is indicative of anything. Even his inflection goes menacingly quiet now that kitchen chaos can’t slip between the pair of you. He keeps the tumult behind him and boxes you between his shoulders, grumbling before closing in, “My fault for thinking you had a brain in that thick skull.”

You have to keep yourself from clutching his wrist when the prince abruptly cups your jaw and begins rocking your face slowly side to side, and you hope beyond all hope that whatever he’s going to do to you ends quickly enough for you to return to your post unbruised; he looks like a man that likes to leave marks.

If he takes this much pleasure in your pain, why does he still wear your earrings? Your golden suns hang in mismatched holes from his many missing piercings but they still scream with Aldera pride. He knows that they’re yours. He knows this as he thumbs your stinging cheeks, as he turns and barks requests into a half-listening crowd, and as you try your best not to pull away from him. He refuses help, companionship, and protection– it must only be to torture you.

“Give me your hand.”

The way he speaks is not dissimilar from last night. Mean. When Bakugou finishes warming your face like putty in his fingers, he arms himself with his tweezers and waits for you to execute his orders. “Hand,” he repeats and you don’t hesitate this time to give him what he wants.

You do flinch though, when the prince parts your legs with his hips at the lip of the counter to be this much closer and tilts your face up to meet his with that same oddly soft hold from before, a thumb and forefinger balancing your chin where he wants you. Like a cat who kneads suddenly with its claws, your skin prickles at every agonizingly delicate touch of the prince’s fingers as you wait for sparks.

He presses his face so close to yours that for a second you think he might kiss you. Force himself onto you. Closer than two swordsmen crashing at their hilts, your faces mirror each other in the prince’s concentration. Whiskers sear. This is the only kind of punishment you won’t tolerate. You can’t– you know that you’ll strike him. Wine and honey roll from his tongue in puffs of sweet air as he leans in further– as you struggle with the sudden proximity and try not to let your thighs cradle his.

Bakugou doesn’t seem to care about your wide eyes this time, doesn’t really seem to be paying them all that much mind in his focus. What is it? What is he focusing on? A week without looking at you and now the bridge of your nose is the most interesting thing in the world?

“You’re a fucking headache.”

“Sir, I–”

“Told you not to call me that.” He plucks what feels like a hair from your cheek and your eyes flood immediately and involuntarily with sensitivity, “Well, Eyes? Or– hah, should I call you captain?” One sharp exhale like a laugh and his head cocks a bit to the side, “Since you’re obviously so qualified to be my fucking keeper.”

Prince Bakugou crowds you between bread proofing bakers, a confinement that should make your skin itch, and stands tall in the chaos of the bustling kitchen, a room that would otherwise fill you with dread. He pinches your cheeks again with his tweezers and drops something from them into the hand that you’ve given him, and somehow even in the overheating swell you don’t bubble over with panic. Even as you picture all the ways to disarm him, he is the one still thing you focus on to stay calm.

“Fuck are you so tense for? I don’t bite.”

“I’ve seen you bite many times,” you breathe into his shoulder, monotone and confusion.

What is he waiting for? When is he going to strike you? Burn you? Take you? The anticipation and confusion is worse than whatever punishment he could dream up. The violence always in his eyes and the way you can’t even find a hint of threat right now in his concentration, chills you. His borrowed white formalwear radiates cold from all its twinkling silver baubles but the warmth of his body obliterates the chill. Chest against chest, it shocks your overstimulated nerves and sends you ever closer to the sensation of being trapped in your skin.

He continues his gentle pinching as you continue gauging how much stronger than you he might be. Lifting you like you weigh nothing, throwing men through the air, even if you tried to fight back you might not be able to stop him.

A bowl of ice water appears beside you on the counter and the woman who delivered it tosses a rag your way, casually, as if Bakugou’s already dragged a thousand disobedient guards into the kitchen to disrupt her soup stirring. It only reminds you though, that no one here seems to be all that interested in Bakugou’s royal status and subsequently even less interested in coming to your aid if he decides your body is the only penance he’ll accept.

He waves his thanks to the kitchen and pulls away from you for a moment, never making eye contact but still taking something in. A part of you. Like admiring a painting, or more likely– with those furrowed brows– wincing at a carriage wreckage. He wets the rag and rings it out in a fist without looking away.

Prince Bakugou Katsuki looks so much like his mother it’s going to break your heart.

You flinch when he brings the wet cloth to your lips and a lump swells in your throat when it makes him smirk. How could someone this cruel come from the woman who raises the sun? His golden hair, shoulders thick from training his magic, soft leather hands and beautiful eyes– the sun did create him. And she asked you to keep him safe.

The prince drops the rag in its bowl and takes your jaw up in his hold again, presses his hips back to yours to be closer, still just as eerily gentle. You must be biting your tongue hard to taste all this blood.

Even as a sparkworn palm steadies itself on your thigh instead of the countertop beside you, all you can think of is your queen’s request– your orders. You won’t resist him. You fired into the crowd in a foreign castle. Your prince spared you a public humiliation and you won’t deny him your punishment.

“Highness,” you can barely hold dignity in your voice as you speak into his tunic from how closely he keeps you, and something about the pitiful sound makes him pause his little strokes at your cheeks. You muster the courage to continue, “Please just– just make it quick.”

“What, so you can go back out there and assault another waiter?” He growls back, distant with focus, “All that got you this time was a face full of splinters.”

Before you can process his words the prince claps your cheek to agitate the last few flecks of wood still embedded there under the skin.

“Leave it to a Takoban carpenter to serve their guests on fucking driftwood.”

What?

Your angry prince, shoulders hunched, jaw set, frowning– always frowning– is plucking your…splinters? What splinters? Cradling your face instead of attending his own feast? Instead of punishing you? Instead of screaming, striking, exploding– instead of pulling your tunic apart by the buttons and eating you.

“What are you doing?” You breathe again, unsure of if you’ve even said the words out loud.

“You got the short term memory of a goldfish.”

Prince Bakugou drops the tweezers in the water dish after dusting clean his now-wood-free canvas and tilts your face up a bit higher to match his gaze. Your hips connect. Cold blooms at your mouth where the prince presses the icy wet rag again and this time you realize he’s wiping blood from your nose.

Does he not remember marching you through the Hall five minutes ago? Last night’s raised hackles and voices flash so vividly in your mind that you still feel his arrogant breath down the back of your neck. The furious canines that kept you up all night. Who is this?

“Titania almighty you’re jumpy, what happened to my Alderan Captain huh?” But his eyes stop half way through their rolling before he finishes speaking again. His hand freezes where it steadies your jaw, fingers and thumbs cupping you there and a warm pinky stilled at your throat with his words, “Like you think I’m–” knotted brows fall as he realizes, “– that I–”

Slowly, your prince’s face lowers to the shadow your body casts in candlelight and for the third time in your life, you watch each other. Wide red eyes, too near to see clearly, burn into your own and you can’t quite decipher all that they’re saying. His fingers twitch like he’s only just realized who it is he’s touching and how he’s touching her and for a moment you can feel his thighs tense inside of yours. Like he’s going to run away. Blond hair sticky with kitchen sweat brushes your temples from how close you’re kept.

“Did you think–”

“Let go of me.”

At the same time Bakugou realizes your fear, violence finally returns to you. How long has it been?

Heat soars from your heart to every tip of your body in humiliation. From the top of your head to the points of your fingers, you reel forward off the counter to disrupt his hold and he similarly jerks away from you, chest and hips parting, fists clenching.

Heads turn at the sudden disruption. The rhythm of these kitchens never stops, but maneuvering around Alderans has become tonight’s full time precaution and at the very least you could be considered entertainment.

You and your prince stand facing each other. You, chillingly still and bleeding so slightly, and Bakugou at a safe distance.

Growling, taunting, threats and blows, spitting, sneering– why now of all times to be kind? Your mouth forms the question. Hours of patience, a lifetime of service, admiration, devil’s advocation, self sacrifice, pride. But your voice can’t quite push it out.

Is it fun? Toying with me?

Prince Bakugou stares across the floured floor at you, cheeks and neck so flushed it makes his white tunic glow. Your posture curves inward like a stalking cat as you stare back.

For the first time in his life, Bakugou can’t find words. You won’t know what he’s trying to say for a long time and for now it’s a coincidence and a blessing that you’re too grieved to speak.

When you push silently past him back into the Hall hardly a soul notices you. Music swells and children dance. Blood drips from your nose as you march, your cheeks sting, and slowly blue lords and blue ladies at the edge of their tables catch chilling sight of you. You consider all the ways you should apologize to the waiter you speared in your delirium.

Slowly, forks are lowered and necks crane. Slowly mother’s pull their daughters closer, drunkards stop singing, eyes fall on your stride. The music tapers out as you approach the front entrance.

A genuine laugh is so close to escaping you when the entire room winces in unison– you plant your heel to the polished white wall and rip your halberd from where it’s still wedged, pretty and red, in the elven door and with a flourish the polearm is back in its holster between your shoulders. Your company is gone; no one sits at the royal table. Bakugou doesn’t follow from the kitchens.

As you slip from the Hall and back into the seashell castle, you’re sure you’ll be punished for this too, whatever the fuck that means.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @jctaro @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @km7474 @arayoflia @annoyingleftpinky @noomaisdone @cr33pycrawler @iced-chai-tea-latte @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tragicallygray @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @kiwifujin @mmmaackerel @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @dududubebo @falling4fandoms @katanaski @babitchsuki @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @madmayo @bakugouswh0r3 @heart-of-haunt @zukowantshishonourback @420mitskilover @ultracrii @nochuonii @carrobrumbrum @bkgthinker

couldn't tag for some reason :,( and please let me know if you'd like to be removed from the taglist at any point!

#remember when i said last chapter was my favorite?#well i hadnt written this one yet!#i am also in love with this header image #big thanks to q.lizzy 1st #a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fic #mha fic #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au

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oletus-writer · 10 months

Text

Hastur, Yihdra x god reader

Warnings: none

Hastur

He seems to be a serious, cold man, but when you get to know him he’s quite goofy. Have you seen mini Hastur’s animations?

There’s a chance he would have heard of you before you came to the manor, but he doesn’t interact with many other gods. He didn’t expect another god, since Ithaqua didn’t turn out to be his son, but he didn’t make any effort to talk to you.

‘I am Hastur, The Feaster from Afar, The King in Yellow, The Lord of Interstellar Spaces. You are?’

The two of you grew close by your effort, and you began to see a different, goofier side to him. Sometimes, he’d like to dance to a song in his head, or talk smack about the other residents in the manor.

‘It feels like the Baron is laughing at me - Gillman worships my father, then some mortal with my son’s name enters, not to mention the never-ending nightmare that is Yidhra… I may as well become a recluse and not speak to anyone.’

Yidhra

She’s heard of you, and you’ve heard of her before either of you came into the manor. So when the two of you found yourselves face-to-face, she was quite impressed. To risk yourself and your powers to be in a little game the seemed to fuck with time and space.

‘So, why are you here? It’s pretty interesting to watch these foolish mortals compete for something they’ll never have, but why are you here?’’

Cue annoying Hastur and screwing with chasing shadows. Yidhra needs her fun, and Hastur isn’t enough of a companion nor a friend. He’s too much of a recluse and is over with her antics.

She isn’t the kind of person to avoid talking to mortals, yet the two of you shared a connection you otherwise wouldn’t have if you weren’t a god. Sometimes, the two of you would lie together, and she’d start talking about whatever’s on her mind.

‘The manor allowed myself and Hastur to invent a game mode - he chose dodgeball, isn’t that amusing? - so I wonder if they’ll do the same with you. Pray tell, darling, what will go decide?’

#identity v #identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv hastur #idv hastur x reader #idv yidhra #idv yidhra x reader #idv

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otakusparkle · 9 months

Text

Identity V x Sweet Paradise Winter Cafe

Food and Dessert

- Adventurer Kurt's Adventure Fish And Chips

- The Feaster Hastur's Slow Cooked Minestrone

- Forward William's "Lazy Mr. Bunny" Goodnight Omurice

- Mind's Eye Helena's Hat Cake

- Mechanic Tracy's "Red Riding Hood" Pancakes

- Axeboy Robbie's Hide-and-seek Marshmallow Gratin

Drink

- Hot cocoa/cafe au lait with edible printed foam

- Victor's Iced Tea with Encouragement Honey

- Luca's Electric charge! Bursting Lemon Soda

- Andrew's Relieving Jelly Soda

- Margaretha's "Kroto's Secret" Blood Orange Juice

- Galatea's "Checkmate" Celebratory Iced Milk Coffee

- Violetta's "Light Guardian" Mysterious Spider White Chocolate Drink

Novelty

- For each item that you ordered, you will receive 1 random collectible card

Take out menu

- Edible printed icing cookie

- Hot cocoa/cafe au lait with edible printed foam

Novelty

- For each item that you ordered, you will receive 1 random coaster

Merchandises

- Mini Acrylics stand

- Mini Badge

- Clearfile

- Chibi ver. Acrylic Stand

- Cup sleeve

- Human ver. Badge

- Human ver. Acrylic Stand

- Stickers

- Blanket

- Ecobag

- Mochikororin Winter Cafe

For more information :

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callimaria · 1 year

Note

hastur x reader fluff jwleneloew

ancient…. cephalopod…….. in parking lot…. he stole my parking spot

warnings: none

characters: hastur

how on earth did you ever manage to catch the eye of an all-knowing god?

through your “intriguing” decisions in life, of course.

it all started, perhaps, about a week ago—you had crawled out of bed and your room into the kitchen, slinking around as silently as you could—where you accidentally burnt your toast. you shrugged it off, barely awake at the time, and then mistook marmite for a different spread.

you ate a half-blackened piece of toast with marmite slathered onto it, and you ate it all happily; though, you had no clue you were being watched.

the feaster had been nearby the entire time, choosing to not spend and bide his time inside his given room, and he had watched the whole thing.

and then came the second night, where your subconscious willed you awake, and you managed to walk into a lounging room instead of the kitchen. you shrugged that off too, and sat on a rug, staring straight into a potted plant as if it held the secrets of the universe.

the one that did hold the secrets of the universe was conveniently sitting in an armchair, however, intrigued by how dazed you were. he chose to leave his room once more, having predicted you’d go somewhere during the night.

that doctor seemed to know about your night walks—she just happened to not notice the shadow in the corner after all.

his hand reached out, transforming into a tentacle as it neared your face, simply hanging there. your head slowly turned, and still very much in a daze, you bit it.

hmm.

💗

you woke up a bit early, gaining a little bit of free time before you’d have to go down for breakfast. as you sat on your bed, you vaguely remembered wandering off last night, and then the feeling of biting something squishy.

it was really weird if you thought about it—you had to contemplate the possibilities of it being a fever dream, but then you realized you were not sick at all.

huh.

you then pondered telling emily, before you heard the gardener knock on your door, asking if you’d accompany her to breakfast.

💗

the moment a teammate—ah, what was her name? ver.. something—was knocked down, you were at 3 ciphers left.

it was fine, quite decent, except you were worried; your last match with this hunter hadn’t gone too well, as you bit him several times in retaliation when you were caught, and the match ended sourly.

the hunter? hastur, the feaster, the one you personally didn’t like going against—and the one you were now going against.

💗

one down, and then another, and then the mercenary had to tell you to give up on him; now, it was just you left, left in a panic because just as you found the dungeon, it switched locations.

and right as it disappeared, hastur turned around the corner.

despite what you thought was your end, he simply stood there.

right, you forgot. you didn’t like going against the hunter at all, and you were very prone to biting him, but there was an odd dynamic between the two of you.

it all started with small offerings of things you thought you were nice—funnily shaped pebbles and stones you found, whatever you collected outside, they were simply in a pile in front of his door (did you ever really venture into the hunter’s side of the manor? no, but you managed to bribe that little axe boy with candy. he enjoyed candy, and you just let him be.)

you thought nothing of those offerings, and kept sending them to his door. the only reason you disregarded them was because you figured, as an almighty ancient being he was, he’d have had much larger and more important offerings and sacrifices.

who would care about a four leaf clover you had painstakingly found? apparently hastur, as he gave his thanks one day as you were chaired and half-conscious.

you felt embarrassed thinking about it now, feeling like some weird person; you didn’t even notice a hand ruffling your hair and a gravelly voice speaking to you.

“what you recognize as ‘right’ is interesting to a servant of god,” he said, leaving you confused as his hand lingered for just a second, an unmistakable warmth spreading from your head to the rest of your body.

the hunter then turned a blind eye, purposely leaving the other way for you to find the dungeon once more.

“am i.. supposed to keep giving you things?” you mumbled, squinting as you placed your hand on your head, feeling the warmth before beginning to walk.

you always thought that, because he was an octopus-man, and because of his hood, that hastur would be really cold to the touch.

LISTEN LISTEN IF YOU SQUINT YOU CAN SEE THE FLUFF, YOU CAN SENSE IT, IT’S HIDDEN BETWEEN THE LINES

i’m also sorry it couldn’t be more obvious i snooped thru his wiki and even took notes and i was like “🧍🏻‍♀️how am i gonna make this believable”

i think i did ok tho, i like this; also shame on thee for bribing robbie w candy (no this is a joke)

#identity v #identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv #fluff #idv fluff #if u squint #ITS THERE IF U SQUINT #idv hastur #idv the feaster #idv feaster #identity v hastur #identity v the feaster #identity v feaster #idv hastur x reader #identity v hastur x reader

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euryd-ce · 2 years

Text

IDENTITY V [第五人格] Masterlist

Last Updated: 08/21/22

➴ SURVIVORS ༻¨*:·.

"False words are better left asleep, on thy lips, than spoken."

◇ Anne Lester - THE TOY MERCHANT - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Once Upon a Dream [Yandere! Hidden! Anne x GN! Reader]

◇ Demi Bourbon - THE BARMAID - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ How Endearing [Demi x GN! Reader]

◇ Emily Dyer - THE DOCTOR ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Lovesick [Yandere! Emily x GN! Reader]

⇴ La Vie en Rose [Firefly! Emily x GN! Reader]

◇ Fiona Gilman - THE PRIESTESS - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Dornröschen [Yandere! Fiona x GN! Reader]

◇ Martha Behamfil - THE COORDINATOR - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Abaddon [Yandere! Sway! Martha x GN! Reader]

⇴ Yandere Sway [Headcanons]

◇ Melly Plinius - THE ENTOMOLOGIST - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Cryophobia [Yandere! Sophia! Melly x GN! Reader]

⇴ La Mort [Yandere! Datura! Melly x GN! Servant! Reader] soon

◇ Orpheus - THE NOVELIST - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Letters From No One [Orpheus x GN! Reader]

➴ HUNTERS ༻¨*:·.

"Lamentation and woe, peace never shall I know"

◇ Ann - THE DISCIPLE - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Uncanny Resemblance [Yandere! Ann x GN! Reader]

◇ Bane Perez - THE GAMEKEEPER - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Until We Meet Again [Bane x GN! Gardener! Reader]

⇴ Bane Perez w/ a Gardener from the Manor S/O [Headcanons]

◇ Galatea Claude - THE SCULPTOR - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Captivate [Yandere! Galatea x GN! Nurse! Reader]

◇ Grace - THE NAIAD - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Heavy Rain [Yandere! Rosemary! Grace! x GN! Reader]

◇ Hastur - THE FEASTER - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Follow You [Yandere! Hastur x GN! Reader]

◇ "Mary" Antoinette - THE BLOODY QUEEN - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Yandere Lady Bella [Headcanons]

◇ Michiko - THE GEISHA - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Monster [Yandere! Lady Thirteen! Michiko x GN! Assassin! Reader]

◇ YIDHRA - THE DREAM WITCH - ✧˖*°࿐

⇴ Yandere Dream Witch [Headcanons]

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #yandere idv #yandere identity v #identity v

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magiccueball · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can you please do hastur/ the feaster with a kuudere, cold emotionless reader who is very distant towards the hunters and survivors pls

Hastur/Feaster x GN! Kuudere Reader Headcanons

[SFW]

Note: My hunter main? In a story? Dreams do come true! I’m not entirely familiar with writing kuudere characters but I hope you still enjoy! ^^”

]|I{•------»♡«------•}I|[

-Each day, same as the last. Run, run, hide. Perhaps fly away if you weren’t careful enough. It was never ending.

-But you didn’t care. Whatever it took, you supposed.

-Nothing changed. As long as everyone kept away from you, you would be okay.

-It was basic survival.

-You kept away from everyone, hunters and survivors alike. Not because you despised them but merely because you saw no reason to bother yourself with their goings on. But yet, you didn’t mind watching them from a distance.

-One in particular being Hastur, such an odd being he was but intriguing nonetheless.

-On the occasions that your paths cross, he would greet you by name and yet you felt yourself compelled to greet him the same. Short, yet there was something you felt from him the moment you reacted.

-A kinship, perhaps?

-You clear you mind of the thought. How foolish.

-You usually ran off to your hiding spot in the manor, away from the noise and chaos of it all. A place of peace. An emptiness that echoed your own. The only thing giving the room any sign of life was the window with which you watched the world below from and your very existence.

-You hadn’t been there long before you realized something or someone was watching you.

-With no change to your expression, you turned around to find the source of this watchful presence only to be greeted by Hastur lingering in the doorway.

-He doesn’t say a word but doesn’t leave either. He just stands there watching you.

-You turn back away from him, looking out the window once more. You could hear him slither to your side and stand beside you, the both of you now partaking in the sights below.

-There were no words exchanged but yet a mutual understanding lingered between you two.

-This occurrence soon became a routine. The two of you watching through the window with not a word spoken. Honestly, you ignored his presence half the time but he was always there whether you wanted to be or not.

-It became oddly comforting to have someone to share these moments with but you never made it apparent to him. You weren’t sure you even could.

-But one day, you asked Hastur why. Why did he choose to spend his moments of free time here? Why did he enjoy it so much?

-You could hear a faint chuckle echo from underneath his hood.

-He explained that as a being of great power, he was not beholden to anyone in these trivial games. But what initially drove him to participate was to see survivors run like rats in a trap. To see their insanity growing by the day. But even an old one such as himself can tire of seeing dread.

-Then he saw you. A clean slate. No fake facade or fear about you. You were you. Something he highly respected you for.

-You two were one in the same. Expressionless yet filled to the brim with emotions you kept deep inside. Observers. Watchers.

-For the first time in your life, you felt a smile slightly curling upon your lips. He understood.

-He became your new normal now. It was a quiet normal but one you both treasured. You found calm in one another and didn’t dare to have it any other way. Perhaps surviving day to day wasn’t so bad as long as you had Hastur to be by your side.

#identity v x gn reader #identity v x gn!reader #identity v x gnreader #idv #idv headcanons #idv x gn reader #idv x gn!reader #idv x gnreader #idv x reader #Hastur #idv hastur #identity v hastur #IDV Feaster #identity v Feaster #Feaster x reader #Hastur x reader #identity v

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a-mossball-with-a-pen · 2 years

Text

“Lonesome Foreigner”

Characters: Phoenix/Fenix(Aesop)x Kitsune!Reader, ft.grand oracle(feaster)

Genre: honestly don’t know

Pronouns used: he/him(aesop), they/them(reader), it/its(feaster)

Warnings: none(?)

Notes: in this I’ve decided to make the reader a kitsune! being brought out of their shrine all because of a wonky offering.

They sat atop their shrine after all the people had left, gingerly picking up a book. It looked quite pretty having small symbols and inscriptions on the leather covering. They flip opened the book skimming over the word written in a different language, although they couldn’t lie the writing style was beautiful. As they continued to skim over the work the book had started to lightly glow in their hands, and before you could close it or throw it away from themselves although they were consumed by a light.

They stumbled and fell their tails cushioning their fall, rubbing their eyes as they looked around taking in their new predicament. People surrounded them and they seemed to be inside a church, the head of the people being this being made of tentacles. Their ears flattened and their tails wrapped around themself “Where am and what do you want?!”

The one they call the “grand oracle” calmed them down and explained what it needed exactly. Their ear twitched in frustration “why need me? It’s not like I’m able to do anything” the oracle simply looked at the kitsune before saying “we only need you to witness what happens this night.” a short fine left them as they turned walking out the church.

As they walked they suddenly bumped into a feathered chest, “oh- sorry-“ they looked up (e/c) meeting sharp blue ones. He simply looked them up and down before letting out a small “it’s fine” as he briskly walked away a small cape flowing behind him. They watched him fade away into the church before turning and continuing their walk back down the path, “that must be Fenix, the one the oracle briefly talked about..” they mumbled out loud before hesitantly entering the village to explore.

#idv aesop x reader #aesop carl x reader #idv x reader #identity v x reader #idv aesop #aesop carl

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idv-ask-azrael · 2 years

Text

[some random af Magnus Archives x IDV crossover ideas for the hunters]

[I will give a quick explanation of the basic concept of TMA. Thus this post will include spoilers from The Magnus Archives (world building) and the backstories of the Hunters of IDV as I have understood them]

[Also this is a Horror Game meeting a Horror Podcast. Even though I will not go into detail, please consider yourself warned.]

[In the world of TMA fears exist as a type of supernatural being/concept. They are not really intelligent; they just want to feed on people's fear from where ever they are outside this reality. They can mark people and those people either become victims (who are very likely to die) or start living with and nurturing the fear, thus becoming an avatar with an unique set of skills that fit the fear they are serving. While there is usually one "main" patron/fear, one can be marked by multiple fears and many statements/episodes mix fears.]

[I will not be going on about what fear does what (that'll take forever and you can read it up on the wiki) but I'll explain my choice]

Hell Ember

The Desolation

The Desolation is primarily associated with fire, loss and destruction

Technically, Freddy would be the avatar and Hell Ember a victim but for the sake of this, we will ignore that fact

The Ripper

The Flesh, the Slaughter or The Hunt

Jack the Ripper murdered and mutilated people and if that doesn't scream The Flesh, then idk what does

Jacks "other personality" might just be The Slaughter hopping into his mind

Hunting, tracking prey is very Hunt-like

Smiley Face

The Desolation, (The Flesh, The Stranger)

He most likely burned down the circus and he himself is a victim of having his life destroyed

He is wearing someone's face.... Flesh and Stranger say hello

Gamekeeper

The Hunt

He is hunting down everyone who steps foot in his territory

Feaster

to be honest, I feel like this man is in his own league and cannot be categorized

If anything, it would probably be The Vast considering Hastur's head is a void with eyes

The ocean is often connected to the Vast as well

Geisha

The Lonely

With Miles gone, Michiko must have felt incredibly alone in this new country and hostile environment

considering we never really get detailed information, she could have cultivated her mark of The Lonely before she was killed

Soul Weaver

The Stranger or The Web

Circus, Freakshow, Prosthetics... Nikola, you forgot to pick up your spider friend

The Flesh would not fit, since she is getting prosthetics (non-biological). main story doesn't really deal with her body but rather what she makes of it

Spider mom. The Web primarily uses spiders.

Wu Chang

The Lonely and The Buried

Considering they seem to be very close (sworn brothers, almost identical design, they only exist together), Wujiu's death must have filled Bian with incredible loneliness

The Buried is also associated with "drowning" and "not being able to breathe", making it perfect for Wujiu

Photographer

The Eye, The Lonely, The End, (The Spiral)

Photography is a visual art, so The Eye is not far fetched

Conquering death and his obsession with it is a very good motive for The End

Joseph knows his brother is dead but still goes on and looks for a cure; it displays an obsession with a certain type of knowledge

Your twin dies. Loneliness here we come.

I only listed The Spiral because he is creating pathways to another place

Mad Eyes

The Hunt, (The Eye)

His fear of another attack would technically count as the fear of being hunted down. again, this would make him a victim, not an avatar but hey

tbh I just put down The Eye because his skills feature cameras

Dream Witch

The Web or the Vast

She is controlling a lot of followers... Web?

"There is something bigger out there" and Yhidra is right there with her followers

Evil Reptilian

The Flesh

His body was changed, thus The Flesh is a possible option

Axe Boy

The End

He certainly outlived his end

There is no special fear associated with nature and tbh I can't really find a theme for him

Bloody Queen

The End or The Slaughter

The End for living after being beheaded

The Slaughter is for going from Marie Antoinette to Bloody Mary

Guard 26

The Stranger, (the Hunt)

a machine becoming conscious and pretending to be human (or more) sounds very Stanger-like

Since Bonbon is used to keep people off the property, one could say he helps Bane hunt down intruders

Disciple

The Corruption

There is a lot of sickness and plague in her backstory; the corruption says hi (especially with the whole cat thing)

As tempting as Devil's Eyes sound, her story as nothing to do with The Eye besides the same symbol

Violinist

The Corruption or The Web

I mean he did get corrupted by the devil

His blood is "infected" by desire

His music seems to captivate others and it sounds almost as if it was addicting; he might be able to corrupt others

The Web usually controls people, so Antonio might fit there

Sculptor

The Spiral, The Stranger or The Flesh

The Spiral is often associated with madness or your mind lying to yourself. I think we can all agree she went mad enough to qualify

Creating very human-like sculptures sounds like a Stranger thing

Considering she most likely turned her caretaker into a sculpture, The Flesh might also be involved

Undead

The End

The End is all about death and this man is undead

There are avatars of The End who appear as "Death" until someone takes their place. They appear to be undead or immortal afterwards, so this is not a very far stretch

Reanimated Corpses/People are also marked by The End

The Breaking Wheel

The Slaughter or The Stranger?

From what I gathered they behaved just fine until one night, they suddenly started attacking people... so Slaughter?

Pretending to be one person or generally acting as a "family", the Stranger seems like a good choice

The Flesh doesn't qualify because while their "abnormal appearance" is mentioned, it is never really the main issue. acting is much more important to them.

The Lonely don't qualify because they still have each other

Naiad

The Buried

The Buried is also associated with "drowning" and "not being able to breathe"

One could also add in some Darkness or Vast for whatever turned her at the bottom of the lake

Wax Artist

The Flesh or The Stranger

His obsession with physical appearance and the fact he fused his sister to his shoulder makes it sound very Flesh-like

His sister still moves on his shoulder, so it might be Stranger related, especially with all those very human-looking sculptures

The End would not qualify since it was a one time event and not a long term obsession or issue

Nightmare

The Spiral or The Slaughter

With all the mind games, drugs and hallucinations, the spiral isn't far off

Another personality with violent tendencies! Slaughter, here we go again!

#just mun things:rambling #ha here we go again #fandoms got me

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floofyflowers · 3 years

Note

Hey? Umm can I request about..Hastur and Smiley Face react to their mini selves? I didn’t see many blogs accepting Hastur and Smiley Face asks 😭🙏

ask and you shall hopefully be happy with the results because i'm still not sure i can portray them v well ;; (i also wasn't sure if you wanted this to be platonic or romantic, so it can be interpreted as either)

original post for reference !

hastur and joker reacting to their mini selves trying to defend a gn!survivor!reader by attacking their feet

hastur

the tentacled deity tied you to balloons, amused by your huffing and whining

"hastur, c'mon, that wasn't very fair.. just set me down and give me a five second head start, i'll kite well, just please-"

just as he was going to respond with a low chuckle, something snagged on his foot/tentacle/limb(???)

swiftly turning, the god was met with a very angry mini version of himself

the little thing had a grasp on the hunter, desperately trying to drag him away from the chair

hastur sorta just blinked for a moment before using a tentacle to flick him off (poor mini hastur)

he basically just ignored him </3

went back to chairing you, but mini hastur was determined

from attacking the hunter's feet/tentacles/whatever (to which hastur simply shook him off), to trying to reach your restraints and un-chair you (hastur was also extremely tempted to chair the pet with you-)

mini hastur was utterly disappointed to see you sent back to the manor :(

all in all, hastur really couldn't care less about mini hastur attacking him, but he is just slightly proud of the pet for wanting to protect you

joker

smiley face decided to go friendly!

you hopped into a locker, allowing him to tie you to balloons and the two of you were just walking around, laughing and having fun while the others were finishing the final ciphers

then out of nowhere, there's something on his leg?

peering down, he sees mini joker smacking him

and smiley face was so confused????

like, "bud, why're you hitting me?? what do you want from me???"

then the mini clown began jumping up towards you, with outstretched arms, wanting to get you down

the frown was very apparent on mini joker's face and big joker didn't wanna see him upset :(

so, he set you down and picked you up, multiple times to help speed the struggle progress up (though, it did make you dizzy-)

and soon mini smiley face was hugging your legs, while you patted his back and slowly coaxed him off you

in conclusion, joker finds it so wholesome and cute <33

i'm also really really sorry this took a while to finish, but i do hope you liked it ! take care of yourselves !!

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v x you #idv headcanons #idv imagines #identity v imagines #idv feaster #idv feaster x reader #idv hastur x reader #hastur x reader #feaster x reader #idv smiley face #idv smiley face x reader #idv joker #idv joker x reader #identity v smiley face #identity v smiley face x reader #identity v joker #identity v joker x reader

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

Note

Hii if you feel comfortable could I request sensory deprivation with Hastur? His tentacles covering readers eyes and ears while he uses his other tentacles on them sjsnwjsn

I'm so horny for him forgive me 😔

Not my best pain

Rated M | Warnings: Monster fuckery, Hastur does not get horny tm but good for you finding him sexy lol

The eldritch horror named Hastur is currently sitting in a chair in the library reading a book. It is fascinating how humans attempt to capture so much in a few words. He can see why you read often when you are around him and enjoy sharing space with him. Today, however, Hastur noticed you were in need, you required sexual satisfaction as your hormones are high. He does not mind entertaining your needs, you are respectful that he derives no pleasure from this.

You made it very clear that you could find another means of resolving your little problem but he insisted. It is amusing to see you currently squirming on the floor as the tentacles he summons during matches fill your holes.

Strange human, but from what he understands you turn your fear into desires. Or maybe that is just with him.

“Hastur, Hastur.” You say when the tentacle that was in your mouth moves between your legs.

“This one is here, little human.”

“Can you kiss me?” You are very needy.

“This one has no mouth yet you insist on kissing this one.” You reach out for him blindly as he lifts your body, “Kiss here.” You can hear his voice closer so you kiss his strange face. “Better?”

“Thank you.” Moaning out your thanks.

#idv #anon ask #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #idv feaster #idv hastur #identity v hastur #hastur x you #hastur x reader #idv x you

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idv-hc-center · 3 years

Note

Hello! I've never really requested anything before, but if it's alright I would like to request platonic/familial hcs with Hastur and a gender neutral reader! Thank you❤️

Hastur has a family, but it would be hard to call it a "family" in a way we humans understand it

It's more of an "I was created by them so I'm technically their offspring" without any love that humans like to add to their relationship

He witnessed many times people showing affection or love to each other, and it always confused him

Do they enjoy it? Clinging into each other must be uncomfortable, but they always smile when they do that

So you don't even have to imagine how much it confused him when you hugged him for the first time

He noticed you following him for some time, but he acted oblivious to that

It wasn't anything surprising a mortal would be fascinated by him

Many mortals worshipped him before, and maybe you would be another one

During one particular day, while you were following him during duo hunters match, he decided to bless you with his attention

(and mostly because Michiko pressured him into going friendly)

"Mortals amaze me with their curiosity. They always have to search for something even if they couldn't handle the truth."

and somehow you began to talk

Hastur took a liking to you even though at the begging he treated your more like a pet who was constantly following him

A lost puppy maybe?

From many worshippers and humans, he met during his existence, you quickly became his favorite one

You grew closer to each other, and you even started to treat him like a part of a family

So it wasn't weird when you hugged him for the first time what was honestly a hard thing to do

Hastur felt your frail arms wrap around him as his confusion grew

He didn't like the fact he wasn't understanding something. He was a deity, after all, he should know everything

"Why are you touching me?"

You immediately moved away "I'm sorry, I should've asked if I can hug you."

"No, I want to know the reason why you did that."

"Because I like you, and I wanted to show that!"

"Oh"

You had a long conversation where you explained to the best of your abilities why humans showed affection

"So you think of me as a part of your family?"

"Yes! And people in families do that type of stuff."

"Isn't that a bit uncomfortable?"

"I don't think anyone cares if they truly like the other person."

"Huh, I don't think you would like it if I treated you like a family."

"Well, maybe not in "your family way" but if you treated me like a family in a human way, I would really appreciate that."

Hastur looked at you with his many eyes before loudly sighing as he thought

"Humans are weird but, this one must be suicidal."

He had to think about it a lot before completely understanding what you meant exactly

but at the end of the day, he didn't mind it

It was a new experience and an interesting one

He had to get used to that human idea of a family, but he grew a liking to it

He has still huge trouble understanding affection, but he likes to ruffle your hair or pet your head

But congratulation! You managed to confuse an ancient deity and even fascinate him with yourself!

#identity v #idv #identity v x you #identity v imagines #identity v headcanons #identity v x reader #idv x reader #idv headcanons #hastur x reader #hastur idv #the feaster

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lovelysho · 3 years

Text

attack on titan !!

reg ole smut ❦ — dark content ❤︎ — fluffy ❀ — angst ✿

𝐢. 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

acquainted — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❤︎ smut, drugs, high baby boy.

you invite your friend eren over for a smoke sesh, but of course the weed isn’t the only thing that gets you high.

natural sinners — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❤︎ stepbro renny, rough sex, under the table shenanigans.

you’re at a banquet with your family. it’s nothing you hadn’t experienced before. however, this night in particular provides you with more than you bargained for.

the only one — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❦ ✿ featuring your favorite but not so favorite ex.

you get an unexpected, but not so shocking, visit in the middle of the night.

cradle robber — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❤︎ big, manipulative, brother renny.

eren shows his sweet and innocent baby sister, what he thinks, the utmost love and care.

any friend of yours... — eren jaeger x fem!reader ft armin arlert.

→ ❤︎ a lil bit of toxicity sprinkled on the “relationship.”

in which you and eren are both two twisted individuals, but you like it that way.

sugar pie honey bunch — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❤︎ brat tamer eren with a cute little subby reader.

you were clueless; and boy were you a piece of work, but it didn’t matter. he’d shower his baby with love regardless.

I’ll let you have your way — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❤︎ drug lord eren jaeger, ya love to see it.

eren is a man with a hard job, a king one might say. and what’s a king if not with a queen by his side?

hot for teacher — armin arlert x fem!reader

→ ❤︎ dom armin with subby reader.

it’s the beginning of the semester and you’ve already managed to wiggle your way into the slot “teacher’s pet,” but for all the wrong reasons.

who’s a good boy? — armin arlert x fem!reader

→ ❤︎ puppy boy min. pervy boy min. don’t let him in your room.

you’ve got yourself a new companion.

I’m a good girl, I am. — jean kirstein x fem!reader featuring eren.

→ ❤︎ jean is such a pretty boy. of course you’d notice.

another day, another hotbox session with blunts passed between friends. the weed always takes its toll on everyone, and you’re not exempt from such a fate. not one little bit.

a dangerous game — eren, armin, connie, and jean x fem!reader.

→ ❤︎ (?) just another night spent with the guys. nothing special.

It’s friday night! and there are a plethora of games to be played, some more fun than others.

sweets for my sweet — eren, armin, connie, and jean x fem!reader.

→ ❤︎ these guys really are some characters.

you’ve accumulated quite the group of men to spend your time with, but little do you know, they’ve got something up their sleeves. because when they want something they get it.

𝐢𝐢. 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

dates with the aot boys

— ❀ eren, armin, connie, jean.

you’re dating the guys and these are some of the places they’d take you.

that mans a feaster

— ❦ eren jaeger and oral sex.

pussy king

— ❦ a continuation of eren having his way with you.

the guys and where they like to cum

— ❦ eren, armin, jean, and connie.

mmm, that’s what I like

— ❦ eren, armin, jean, connie, levi.

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

she’s a maneater — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ suggestive :: frat boy eren finds that not everyone will bow to his will.

polaroid picture — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❦ eren jaeger gifts you something special.

connivence store runs — eren jaeger x fem!reader

→ ❀ soft eren brain rot with him being the doting boyfriend that I know he is.

#masterlist — attack on titan #updated: 8/14/21.

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otakusparkle · 4 months

Text

Identity V x The Chara Cafe Christmas Cafe

Food and Dessert

- Pestacore filled with sea treasure

- A perfect roast beef salad arranged in perfect colors

- Grilled chicken made for visitors of the Darkwood Forest

- A dessert plate set packed with memories

- Sacred parfait with the gaze of "Hastur"

- Christmas dessert plate

Beverage

- First Officer Pine syrup cider

- Painter Minestrone and parsley

- Little Girl Strawberry milk tea

- Gamekeeper Cafe au lait

- Feaster Blue raspberry yogurt

- Christmas Hot cocoa matcha

Novelty

- For every drink that you order, you will receive 1 random coaster

- For every food or dessert that you order, you will receive 1 random decabromide

Merchandises

Badge

Acrylic Keychain

Acrylic coaster

Christmas greeting cards

Mini acrylics stand

For more information :

#idv #identity v #idv x the chara #idv feaster #idv hastur #idv gamekeeper #bane perez #idv little girl #idv memory #idv first officer #jose baden #idv painter #edgar valden

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decayandfanfics · 3 years

Text

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Out of sight, out of mind (interlude)

They disappear one night the same way they appeared.

Without a word.

It feels like waking up after a long dream. The way the sunrays enter your little kitchen, splashing your space in golden light looks almost ethereal, no longer their figures staining your white walls, standing out of place in the middle of your living room.

It feels a lot like the mornings after some heavy rainstorm.

It’s over. You think, breathing heavy and tired.

The apartment is quiet and cold, foreign to you. It reminds you a little they way you feel in hospitals. Places without personality, places without any personal touch. Even when everything is in place; the blankets are neatly folded in the closet and your toothbrush is the only one in the bathroom (Toga surely took her time tiding everything up) but you cannot feel at ease in it.

Maybe you are no longer the same person that use to live alone in this place, because it doesn’t feel like you belong inside the four walls that began to close too tight around you now, and even when you know you should run to the next police station and ask for help and protection because you’ve been hostage in your own home for weeks, you can’t get yourself to do it. It feels like a betrayal, somehow. Even when they held you captive, even when they’ve threat you and berated you. Even when there is no guarantee they would not be back to end the job after what you did to Dabi, after what happen with Shigaraki.

He looked like he wanted to hurt you last time.

Sorrow soft and silent start to rise, your heart breaking slowly with realization, smothering you, drowning you gently as you stand alone in the middle of your home, because they will never be back.

He will never be back.

It’s fine…I’m…safe. I’m safe.

You feel the jarring stab of grief, your heart cracking open under the pressure and the loneliness you’ve been trying to keep under control all this time, so you let out a shaking sob, finally admitting to yourself the ugly truth.

This is more than a little crush.

More like falling in love.

And your sweetheart has red eyes like jewels and a starved need for ruin.

So, you curl in a corner of your couch, hugging a pillow that smells way too much like soap and leather, finally allowing yourself to cry because this is painful, the kind of infatuation that can get you killed, that can destroy your life and ruin you. Him never coming back is a gift made of grief and poison, but you’ll take it because you know this is what you get in exchange of an attachment like this for a man who does nothing but harbor resentment inside the dark pit that is his chest.

You cry your eyes out, you cry desperate and lonely, holding tight to the pillow that still smells like him, no longer trying to suppress the nasty wound his gaze carved into your heart the moment his eyes met yours.

You cry because you think he hates you, because he didn’t just decide to go. Shigaraki choose to run away from this just to spite you and your infatuation because he wanted to stab you back. Because that’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of man that you allowed to hold grip onto your heart.

So, you stay curled in the corner of your little couch, sobbing and weeping over the painful mess you’ve made, wishing for the kiss you didn’t get the chance to steal and swearing that if you ever see him again, you’ll squeeze that devious grin out of his sharp face with your bare hands because if he wanted to hurt you by leaving without a word, then he should be fucking proud.

_____________________

He wasn’t joking when he asked her if she could handle rough.

“Oh my god” she sobs, inked tears staining her cheeks.

She looks like a mess, but he prefers it that way. He favors that she’s different, a complete opposite with her heavy makeup and revealing clothes, her smudged lipstick painting her chin and her breasts bouncing heavy, scaping her torn little dress. A perfect depiction of ruined and lewd.

She gags when he squeezes her neck hard, his index fingers curled as he yanks her body against the brick wall, too angry to care for his companion. No. He just wants to thrust into her as fast and rough as he can so he can get off the soon.

“Oh my-” she pants trying to hold herself against the wall, but he pulls her neck to him, pressing her back to his chest and then he yanks forward and bites her hard in the shoulder, his teeth leaving a purple mark on her skin.

“Shut up.” He grunts maddened when she sobs and squirms against his body, her smell entering his nostrils, making him gag instantly because he cannot stand the cheap perfume mixed with cigarettes, sweat and sex.

He cannot stand the smell of her hair, nor the shape of her body, or the height difference.

He cannot stand her lewd screaming.

So, he covers her mouth with his hand and shut his eyes tightly closed before resuming his brutal animalistic pacing, trying not to think in the salty flavor of her skin in his mouth. He just needs his release; it’s been a while since he gave himself to this kind of pleasure and for all things he’s ever done, he never fucked this angry before.

Tomura thinks he’s not particularly sexual on a daily basis. He doesn’t go walking around thinking about the next time he gets laid, not when he’s never been that interested in girls anyway, because he just…doesn’t like things nor people. So, his approach on sex is more like a task to be filled if anything else (like eating), rarely relying on another body since he doesn’t want to be touched at all. Now, of course he’s done it now and then, sometimes paying for it, sometimes a nightstand after some vodka in a seedy bar, but always quick to dispatch the person involved.

For Tomura, sex is about him wanting something and obtaining it the easiest way possible to just keep on with his life.

Or at least that’s how it was, but some reason he’s been feeling incredibly starved for it lately, and after being in a heck of a terrible mood and some heated lash out at his crew out of nowhere, he decided to pick his anger and put it somewhere else before killing one of his comrades.

Now, the woman is drooling all over his hand with all the choking, making him feel nauseous so he lets go of her and just digs his fingers on her hip keeping his index up, his long nails clawing at her skin, making her whine, squeezing him tight in reflex.

She tries to catch his wrist to move one of his hands to her breast, but he yanks away to pull her hair, growling a curse against her ear, swallowing hard.

This feels so wrong.

It’s not the right cup size.

It’s not the right smell.

It’s not the right height.

It’s not the right woman.

The mechanic friction is finally working its wonders because Tomura feels his low abdomen tighten before finally getting off.

No, he doesn’t see stars, nor grunts in feverish pleasure. He doesn’t taste her neck nor smiles when he cums. As soon as he releases, he shoves the woman as far away from him, removing the condom with disgust and decaying it (the thought of feeling her bare wet cunt against his naked skin revolving his guts).

He adjusts his clothes before throwing the woman some cash and just walks away, concluding that this was the most unsatisfying fuck in world’s history.

Tomura looks at his hands, feeling the sticky sensation of her saliva and her sweat, troubled because his face it’s super itchy but he feels so disgustingly dirty, that he doesn’t even need to smell them to know that her musky tacky perfume now lingers on his palms.

Maybe if I rub my hands, I can decay it away. He thinks, trying his hypothesis to no avail. ‘kay, that was pointless.

He manages to rub the fabric of his sleeve against his brow until the skin begins to show red dots of blood as he thinks seriously that he could kill for a hot shower, even when he’s not the cleanest guy around (he showers when he can. If he can’t do it, then he just doesn’t think about it), but he can’t stand the way the prostitute’s scent remains on him like a sin, and the thought is so ridiculous, because he’s done plenty of horrible disturbing shit in his life to now feel all guilty and nasty for a “less-than-mediocre” fuck.

So, he walks away, utterly unsatisfied. His anger dragging behind him, leaving a bloodied mess of chaos and longing for something far brighter than a rough fuck behind some lost alley, because he wants more than that. He wants the name, the body and the holy spirit that inhabits the girl with dangerous gaze and healer hands. He wants her violence, her anger and wild bravado, all for him to feaster and be consumed by it.

A violent delight that he can’t afford, not when he’s busy surviving until he finds the doctor or his master’s weapon, so he repeats himself that his infatuation, this sickness will disappear eventually, he just needs to get his priorities straight and focus.

He’ll do it, time will get everything in place again.

Cold creeps into him, the city lights filling the streets between car noises and people returning their homes. All of them busy minding their own lives, completely unaware of the hooded serial killer walking by, quietly sneaking into the fire escape of some old building.

_____________________

III

Internal medicine is one of those courses that drains every bit of life out of you. Arguably the hardest in a career full of hards, you now live under the constant threat of failure because this shit is a monster, and you know the statistics too well to not being aware that this course has the highest rate of reps in all the damn faculty.

So, you enter your uni mode; sugar-rush based diet and coffee like the world is ending to keep your brain functioning like is a nuclear reactor, sleeping four hours at nights and barely dreaming. Of course, it’s not just that class, is that you have three more besides that one, all of them of high difficulty for you to rejoice in your misery, so yeah. You live like a zombie.

I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich; I’m going to be rich… You repeat to yourself every morning after showering, watching your body in front of the mirror, admiring the sharp angles and purple eyebags that already began to claim your face.

Oh, and the hair loss due to stress is just the cherry on top of the cake, really.

Yes, your brain is at the brim of collapse right now, but classes start again, and your friends are there to suffer with you and it makes you feel accompanied and secure. Is just another semester of tears, panic, pizza and everything that implies to be a twenty something student, so you are thankful nonetheless, because you don’t have the time to think about the other thing…

You don’t think about it.

You don’t really think about it.

You don’t even think about it.

And you don’t say the name either, you refuse because you’ll do anything to forget about him, anything to erase the memory of his dark figure like a shadow against your white kitchen, too clever and insolent for your own good.

But it’s okay, you don’t think of him, or his slender fingers taking the bishop to strike down your king, and the way his dry lips curve upward before some smartass remark. You don’t think of his lean body towering over you, touching yours in so many places but none at the same time.

No, you don’t think of him while awake, but sometimes he visits your dreams to terrify you with his cadaveric hands and his face hidden by his hair. Ready to strike you down, a hand extended in motion to decay you into oblivion.

Sometimes he hovers over you, kissing your neck while ravaging you, incredibly close and raw and intimate, his mouth snarling dirty words you’ll never dare to say out loud. Dreams where his warm chest press against your naked body and your lips sings lewd lullabies just for him, welcome him to feaster on your skin with your face nuzzling against his scarred cheek, covering your face with his silver hair.

Sometimes he just sits in your kitchen as the sunlight reflects over his milky locks. His hand holding his cheek over the table in serene expression, calling your name to play again as the black king spins between his delicate fingers.

___________________

Tomura has a meeting with this new allied Twice found, like three days from now.

He’s not particularly excited about it, surely, it’s just another capo wannabe with grandeur delusions, but it could be worth it. Maybe he could get some money out of it since the league is completely broken after his sensei’s incarceration. They are in desperate need of a hideout, now more than ever since Kurogiri vanished and he’s sure the heroes must have captured him. (Thinking about this is pointless anyway because he doesn’t have the means to get him back)

Minding his own business, he walks with his hoodie on, passing between civilians like he’s one of them, completely invisible when he sees her.

It catches him by surprise. His heart stopping dead on its tracks, wide eyes and tight lips, uncertainty filling him all of the sudden, but he’s accustomed to make hiding spots out of nowhere, so he gets behind some store sign where he can watch her safely.

She stands outside a coffee shop, animatedly talking with some guy who wears the same clinic uniform that she has on. A school mate maybe? She’s an intern in a hospital so, they are probably on shift. Another doctor like her.

She looks tired and paler, but beautiful, nonetheless. The way her lips move give away she’s talking about something clinic, because her face has that firm expression she always does when she’s being professional.

She already looks like a doctor and God knows he’d gladly be sick every day of his life if she’s the one to treat him.

His feelings betray him. He was sure after a month she would be completely out of his system by now, this stupid illness already cured, but shit just doesn’t go away. It pisses him off to no end because she’s not worth the aggravation. C’mon, she’s just another boring normal civilian, she doesn’t do anything important or interesting. She’s not remarkable in any way that serves him, because not even her quirk is truly useful. Not when it threatens to kill her every time she uses it.

And looking her objectively, she’s not even that pretty, but somehow, he’s torn between his desire to make her see him and get as far away from her he can.

Searing jealousy pierces him, hate raw and jarring dripping from between his ribs when the man leans over and whisper something that makes her laugh and for a moment, he seriously thinks he’s going to kill him right there, no quirk needed because he would just love to gut him out in plain view for her to see what he thinks of her stupid friend.

He hates the man, but he hates her more because she dares to laugh, she dares to enjoy life and people meanwhile he crawls hungry and cold between ruined places.

Like sensing his glare, she suddenly turns her head with her eyes directed to the spot where he hides, her expression changing from joyful to confused in seconds, making him laugh because even when he’s sure she cannot see him, she knows he’s there and it feels like she’s tied to him somehow.

Her face gives away disappoint when she fails to catch him and the thought of her grieving after he left delights him, but he’s sworn to let her behind, so he rejoices for a moment in this little victory of his pettiness over her charms, before turning away from her, fully believing that this is the last time he thinks of her.

Chapter 13

__________________________________________

Hey lovely readers! since English is not my native language and writing Shigaraki is kinda hard because he changes and grows, and because he usually says many things about himself, but then he goes and do completely different things (like when he says he hates everything, but CLEARLY he’s fond of twice and stuff like that) so much in manga, it would be lovely to know what you think of this! I think it’s the only way to be better at something really, So, any questions, comments and concerns, please feel free to comment!

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #bnha 306 #bnha fanfiction #the great book of sayings

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euryd-ce · 2 years

Text

❁ FOLLOW YOU

PAIRING: Yandere! Hastur x GN! Follower! Reader

CW: Cults, General Yandere Themes, Kidnapping*, Manipulation

NOTE: Mildly headcanon reliant

Life in the cult by the Lakeside Village was all you had ever known, or at least, all you were allowed to know of.

It happened years ago. You were young; curious enough to walk away from the safety of your parents and into the woods, but clueless enough to be unaware of the danger you were walking into. In the far depths of the Lakeside Village, you stumbled across a joyous celebration. The people were praising a peculiar god you didn't know of, throwing strange-smelling meat into the river and bathing in a crimson red liquid.

They invited you to join them, and you had accepted, not knowing that they intended for you to be a sacrifice rather than to become one of them. You laid on the straw mat, blankly staring at the glistening blade held up high above you, until you heard a man yell for the ceremony to be put to a halt

By the mercy of their god, you were to be spared, and be well taken cared of. The tentacled god found himself amused at the obliviousness you had toward your surroundings. You deliberately brought yourself to the middle of a bloodbath to feed your own curiosity; to which he thought you were... a rather slow-thinking individual. Your sluggish thinking intrigued him, somehow, and it was enough for him to want to observe you from afar.

While you had never seen the 'Feaster' your fellow followers fondly spoke of, you always felt his ominous presence loom around you. It was eerie when you first became aware of it, but it slowly ingrained itself as a part of your life until it became yet another normal occurrence.

As the one who was 'Favored' by their god, you had several restrictions, one being that you weren't allowed to stray too far away from the place they called your home. You weren't told about it, but you learned about it the hard way when you took a walk that led you past the invisible boundaries their god had set for you, only to be forcefully taken back by the followers who secretly watched over you.

The other restriction of interest? You weren't allowed to know what was out there, what it was like in the world you could barely remember.

Often times, you'd come across new followers bearing knowledge about the world the cult kept locked away from you. They'd tell you of fascinating machinery, magnificent buildings, and the various awe-inspiring forms of entertainment out there... but, the next day, they'd be offered as sacrifices to the Feaster, for reasons revolving around blasphemy.

It filled you with doubt, especially when you always had a high, but slowly faltering, regard for your god. You grew up with the idea that the Feaster, the divine King in Yellow, would never act unreasonably. Perhaps these people were killed for attempting to present false ideas into your head. Perhaps, the many aspects of society they spoke of were just realistic imaginations they had for the far future.

On the other hand, Hastur slowly became tired of having to silence the hard-headed fools who fed your curiosity toward the outside world. He took it upon himself to appear before you, not as the King in Yellow his followers knew him for but as a young man who looked around your age. It was about time he put his last resort into action after all.

Both of you clicked and he was quick to gain your trust, just as he expected with his amountless knowledge about you. He, like the many followers that came before, told you of the same tales about the outside world. Unlike them, however, nothing happened to him. You dreaded what the Feaster would have done to him the day after he brought you the same lies that killed the others, only to find him alive and well.

Both of you looked around and listened: there was no yelling, nor was there a preparation for any ceremony of sacrifice. It was, eerily, quiet that morning. You quickly turned back to your raven haired friend and made a desperate proposal, whilst holding both of his hands.

"Run away with me, away from this yellow king they always worshipped, to this world you speak of, please?"

The irony of the entire situation was something to be laughed at in the eyes of the Feaster. You wanted to run away, but here you were inviting the very entity you were trying to escape in the first place. It wasn't exactly like he had planned out, but he entertained your request regardless.

You took the few things of value to you before asking him to lead the way. He led you to a forest, one that reminded you of the lush green trees that led you to the cult those years ago, and you were back, this time on the brink of escaping. Now that you thought about it you never got to make it this far only because of the followers but never by their god himself. The excitment and expectations you felt toward the outside world instilled doubt that the god they've worshipped for years even existed.

Your thoughts were cut off when your friend suddenly stopped moving, the nearest town already at sight. He turned around and looked down, "(Name)..." and he started walking toward you, slowly.

"...w-why'd you stop... we're right- our freedom is just within reach!" You questioned him, nervously.

His sudden change in demeanor frightened you. Every step he took toward you was followed by you taking a step back, the twigs and leaves making a crunching sound at even the slightest movement.

"You really think I'd let you escape me?" He finally looked up, now with bloodshot eyes that mildly resembled the few drawings you saw of the god whose existence you doubted.

"What do you-" you were cut off by the violent shaking of the ground as the person you thought you could trust revealed his true self, the King in Yellow, the Feaster, the god you were forced to bow down to all those years and the one responsible for the cult that kept you like a delicate bird in a cage.

Hastur thought it was about time to put the final act of his plan to place, what he called the Revelation. He'd appear before you, not as your friend but as your god. Then, he'd take you back with him, away from society, and away from his own long gone followers. You wouldnt have to suffer being kept like a pet by a cult nor would you have to go through the pain that society brings to its people. He could finally watch over you, not from afar, not slightly near, but up close and personal! He could even make himself a permanent part of you, that way, he'd never have to worry about you running off to who knows where.

In contrast to the thrill Hastur felt about his future plans, you were absolutely terrified of him. You wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Only a look of absolute horror was left, with wide teary eyes and your mouth left agape. Without thinking, you tried to run past him, anywhere that would lead you nearer to the society, anywhere your cries of help would be heard by more than just the silent trees of the forest. But your actions amounted to nothing

For you knew that the King in Yellow had opened his tattered mantle and there was no God to cry to now.

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