#hp lovecraft x reader

[mellowwillowy]

Every Wednesday at 10 AM sharp, a handsome old man visits you for his weekly book.

Content: Subtle yandere, eldritch horror bs

Despite his wrinkled features, he seems ethereally handsome. You know he is not one friendly man because you've seen his wrath at his family or pests firsthand, but he has never even once treated you as though in a rude manner.

This ritual went on until he decided to start a conversation with you one day.

"Isn't it boring to work as a librarian in this vast library alone?"

And Mother, did you know he has a very rich voice. You were always flustered whenever he spoke and he found it amusing.

"It can't be helped. If not me, then who will take this role?"

Instead of leaving with his book as usual, he decided to stay for a moment. His eyes studied each detail of your appearance meticulously. The two of you were wearing spectacles, except that his was a monocle.

The man only nodded in response and left your counter as usual.

-

Yoggy. A silly name for a man like him but he had grown too used to it to even fuss about it. Unlike you who were just a lesser being, a vessel to your Mother, he was a god with immense power. You'd always think of him as a scholar instead of a glob of featureless tentacles, opting to not scare yourself to meet his almost golden-like eyes.

Wednesday, 10 AM sharp, he waited patiently for you to hand him another book for him to peruse. This time it was a book from the 14th century.

He examined the leather cover and carved the title on it, hand feeling the texture of the old book.

"Have you perhaps ever read that, sir? Should I get another one?"

Yoggy stayed silent for a moment, skimming through the book before shutting it tight with one hand.

"I suppose reading this again wouldn't hurt."

You shivered at his voice. Had you been anyone but not the librarian from this Capital of Life (library), those words would have been delivered more as a warning, a threat, or maybe even the last words you'll be hearing.

As though he noticed your concern, he cleared his throat uncharacteristically.

"I mean that. Cease your worry, librarian."

Perhaps it was because he considered the time you two had cultivated this relationship? It had almost been centuries.

You looked up through the rim of your glasses and looked through his eyes. He really meant it.

Unlike that one time, you accidentally wandered into his territory and saw him shredding someone like a paper for displeasing him, he really had no intention of doing that to you.

Yoggy left with a click of his cane, leaving you all alone on your counter before you dropped to your knees, breathing out the breath you had been holding in. Suddenly, a familiar bright man surprised you as he leaned through the counter, "You thought you almost lost your life again, didn't you~?"

You threw a book lying on the floor at his face out of reflex. Fortunately, he had a quick reflex and caught it with his left hand.

"I think he fancies ya'" He returned the book for you and you accepted it graciously.

"I don't think you should speak of him like that..."

"Why? Because he might behead me for it?"

You nodded and he burst out laughing.

"No no, but I'm serious, dead serious. Don't you think he finally felt lonely again?"

"I'm pretty sure his sons sometimes visit him..."

The man you were speaking to was one of the few friendly gods, alas he was the most likable one due to his friendliness but you chose not to indulge in a friendship with him lest you fell into one of his trickeries.

Nyarla shook his head and waved his hand dramatically, "Oh non non non! Lonely does not only mean 'lonely', but it can also mean 'lonely'."

As though he could read through your puzzled face, he inched closer into your face, mouth close to your ear, and whispered, "I bet he's horny right n-"

Suddenly Nyarla's head was hit by a cane you were familiar with. He immediately regained his composure, jumped into the counter, and hid behind you.

Yoggy came back with a book he didn't lend and a cane pointed toward Nyarla's forehead. His gazes weren't necessarily deadly but still threatening to Nyarla. You stood in front of Nyarla, shielding him from Yoggy's wrath before he got wrung like a dirty dishcloth again.

"Anything I can help you with, sir?" You looked at his face and then at the teal-colored book.

Yoggy glared at Nyarla who was hiding behind you before giving up the idea of wringing him. He handed you the book and you examined it. The leather-covered book had no title carved on it and it was notably old parchment papers. There was not a single content in the book as you skimmed through the pages. You looked at him questioningly.

"I figured I wanted to try something new this time. Librarian, do you know how to write?"

He wanted you to write him a story. Was it some sort of penalty for handing him a book he had once read?

"It's no punishment. I just wish to read a story from the librarian I frequent."

Nyarla whistled and suddenly groaned in pain. You immediately looked behind you and saw him folded in double, clutching his stomach.

"D-do I need to call the nurse, Nyarla?" You placed the book onto the counter first before tending him, trying to pry his hands off his stomach, and saw a black glob of eyes, presumably, Yoggy's doing.

"Nah, just gonna... yank this off." Nyarla pulled the glob from his abdomen, you noticed his organs splattered on the floor before dissipating into nothing. The bloody, open wound that was originally there also healed almost instantly. You shivered from the memory of Yoggy shredding that poor soul again.

Yoggy cleared his throat and your attention returned to him.

"Can you do it?"

Unwilling to be the next subject of his wrath, you nodded frantically and pushed Nyarla's early remark far behind your head. A coward as usual.

-

For the next whole week, Nyarla frequented your counter when he had the time, watching you writing and throwing countless drafts, your counter filled with crumpled paper. Your hands were dirtied by ink and your eye bags showed your lack of sleep.

Nyarla didn't stop teasing you, often reminding you about how 'lonely' Yoggy was and how he was just trying to woo you with this nonsense. You remained diligent with your work to provide Yoggy entertainment lest you became a gruesome lump of meat to sate his boredom.

Today too, Nyarla sat in front of your counter, pouting at the lack of attention you gave him while mindlessly playing with your hair. It was Wednesday at 9 AM, an hour away before Yoggy would visit you for his weekly read and perhaps your story.

Nyarla's golden eyes never left you and you could feel it bore into your pores uncomfortably.

But you paid no mind to it and tried to finish the book, rushing to meet your deadline.

You couldn't hear Yoggy's footsteps mainly because he wasn't walking but Nyarla could sense his presence.

Nyarla inched closer to you, his eyes mesmerized by your eye bags. His lip twitched into a playful grin before he playfully whispered into your ear, "I think I like it more when you are tired."

You didn't understand what he was trying to say. Did he mean he likes you more when you are stressed? If so, you weren't surprised until he nibbled on your ear playfully.

For the first time after centuries, an uncharacteristically high-pitched distress noise slipped out of your mouth. A thud was heard and it was Yoggy's cane falling. Nyarla didn't have to look back to know what it was and opted to clasp his hands onto your face, peppering your face in feather smooches until he was yanked away by angered Yoggy.

Like a mother cat picking its kitten with its mouth except that Nyarla's neck was strangled by his bare hand.

You saw a glimpse of his limbs, limbs filled with eyes staring into the distant and Nyarla, curling around his arms and legs, pulling him even further from you before slamming it into the bookshelves behind him.

If you could scream, you would have screamed but you decided to not bring any attention to yourself. You really didn't want to anger the god further. Nyarla could survive by installing his limbs back like an android but you couldn't. You decided to put all the pity on you and not Nyarla, opting to finish your proofreading ASAP while Yoggy swung Nyarla around like he was a cowboy.

This went on until it was 10 AM and Yoggy lined in front of your counter, his presence demanding another book as usual. You could tell how pale your face was without even having to look into his monocle's reflection.

"Have you finished writing your tale?"

"Y-yes." You mentally scolded yourself for the croaked voice. "Yes, I have sir."

You handed him the teal-covered book and just before you could leave to bring him his weekly read, he held you still by your hand, awfully gentle with how he tried not to scare you after the bloody display he had to show you.

"I will only be reading your writing for this week... so there's no need for another book."

Instead of comforting you, it only dreaded you further. And he could tell by how your pupils were shaking.

Nyarla who had just finally finished putting his limbs back together slinked his arm around his nephew while grinning at you, "Yoggy wants to enjoy your writing to the fullest. Even if it's crap, I'm sure he'll still enjoy it."

"I will, (Name)."

His hand went to reach your ear Nyarla nibbled on earlier and wiped it clean for you before he wiped it on Nyarla's face forcefully again. Just as Yoggy was about to leave, he made sure to drag Nyarla out from the capital.

You could hear Nyarla playfully tease him until they were finally out of earshot. You dropped to your knees and let out the breath you'd been holding on after Yoggy touched your ear, his face dangerously close to you.

You were used to Nyarla's stunt but never Yoggy's. You could feel his breath fanning against your skin and how his eyes looked almost like the golden sun. Your heart drummed against your ribcage, screaming to be ripped out.

Oh never mind, you've never had any heart to begin with and it was just the illusion of your heartbeat spiking up. It reminded you of the time when high schoolers would feel when they were near their crush.

Crush. Feelings? Do you perhaps feel that way for Yoggy or was it just unfamiliarity to his sudden action?

--

"Stop getting under my skin." Yoggy spat through gritted teeth.

"Why? Don't tell me you really fancy that librarian? Oooo, tough time for--"

Just before Nyarla could finish his line, Yoggy swung his cane and Nyarla managed to dodge it this time.

"If you won't quit it, your devotees will be shredded into my devotees' dinner."

A threat. And perhaps a warning. As much as Nyarla liked to push his buttons, he'd rather not risk weakening himself for something silly like this. Nyarla dissipated into nothing and left Yoggy alone with the teal-covered book.

He felt the carved title with his thumb and bit back a smile.

He wasn't sure how he thought of you but he wouldn't deny how pleasant your company was to him. He didn't have to specify what it was yet but he'd like to know what it was soon. For now, he was pleased to be able to see you once a week and perhaps twice a week soon.

He wished you'd require his assistance one day. To have you indebted to him would make it easier for him to grow more inside your mind. He'd rather not use deceit on you. You were a pleasant thing, not a pest or a sacrificial lamb.

Yoggy didn't realize he was walking into someone else until he heard a groan, too immersed in his imaginative world.

Yoggy didn't realize he was smiling until his son pointed it out.

And he refused to realize that he had slaughtered the few people who tried to court you.

... he'd like to understand what he was feeling as soon as possible.

[atsuberry]

🍰 ˚₊‧꒰ა my faves as your roommate ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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fc: atsushi nakajima, akutagawa ryuunosuke, louisa may alcott, HP lovecraft, ivan goncharov, sigma, fyodor dostoevsky

cw: college au, ooc charas, pure fluff, g/n reader, reader is lowk awkward, mentions of overdose

a/n: wow.. first post (GEULPP) I'm nervous, I hope you guys enjoy this though!! <33

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♯ 🍓┆Atsushi Nakajima .ᐟ

The sweetest roommate EVER.

You have a buttload of assignments? He'll help you! You made a mess? He'll clean it for you! You're sick? He'll take care of you.

He's genuinely so nice it makes you tear up a bit..

Always trying to find a way to find a conversation with you, oh you like working out? That's crazy because he suddenly has a membership card a few days later!.. you like anime? His favorite is the same as yours!

Shares the most concerning stories about his past and brushes it off as nothing..

And then you just stare at him dumbfounded.

Gifts you stuff as his apologies! Mostly stationery stuff, or stuff that you like.

♯ 🍮┆Akutagawa Ryūnosuke .ᐟ

Never interacts with you.

Never.

Only talks to you when he needs something

That doesn't go the same for you though, you lost your keys? That's on you.

He's a light sleeper, so if you're cramming your studies in the middle of the night making a bunch of unnecessary noise, he's wide awake.

He really needs his sleep.

Only stays on his side of the dorm, if he dropped something that somehow rolled over to your side, he'll ask you to fetch it for him. (Who does he think he is)

If you're a quiet person, he'll probably tolerate you.

♯ 🥨┆Louisa May Alcott .ᐟ

Was scared of the idea of sharing a dorm at first,

Eventually you grew onto her, but it took like A LOT of time

Sometimes, you'd see her pass out on her desk while she's studying

So you cover her up with a blanket..! (this became a frequent thing)

Louisa always notices the blanket as soon as she wakes up and feels sheepish about it,

You assure her it's fine! But you're still concerned about the fact she just LITERALLY passed out.

Sometimes asks for you to leave the dorm whenever she's doing her assignments,

And you're like, huh???..???

You shrug it off anyways.

You invite her whenever you're going out!

♯ 🥧┆H.P Lovecraft .ᐟ

He's literally non-existent

Never talks to you, only talks when you start up a conversation with him first.

He's genuinely terrifying

His side of the dorm is practically empty, he sleeps on one pillow.

He genuinely does not gaf

Whenever you're going out, he'll sometimes sleep on your bed to see if your bed is more comfortable than his.

(it is!)

Overall, he's just there, doesn't really do anything.

♯ 🥞┆Ivan Goncharov .ᐟ

High-key low-key a neat freak

He mentally disturbs you sometimes due to how unpredictable his emotions are, since he's constantly happy all the time.

Usually talks about Dostoevsky to you.

Lets you wrap his head with bandages if he's feeling lazy, but he's like, VERY detailed on how he wants it to be wrapped.

If you're a messy person then he's gonna be a real pain in the ass

If the two of you were to share a bathroom, literally the whole bathroom would be filled with shampoo bottles or whatever thingamajigs he has.

Whenever you're going out, he ALWAYS asks you to run an errand for him.

“while you're on the way, can you buy me..”

You're his errand person.

♯ 🍪┆Sigma .ᐟ

A chill roommate

His hair does concern you.. like, what even is that?? A Christmas tree??..??

It does feel nice to braid it though, the white and purple strands go well with each other when it's tangled up.

Never lets you cook, like no trust at all

Insists that y'all should just get take out instead,

Rude, but oh whatever..

Do you think he's the type of guy to show you funny videos of animals

Idk man...

♯ 🥯┆Fyodor Dostoevsky .ᐟ

His appearance genuinely concerns you,

He definitely has a shrimp posture when he's sitting.

Definitely stays up until 6 in the morning.

Only drinks like coffee for the whole day,

You try to pursue him into eating more, but he declines everytime.

However if he WERE to sleep, he'd definitely talk during his prayer before going to sleep.

(his prayer would be 10 minutes long)

One time, you caught him drinking a pill in the middle of the night thinking he was overdosing,

Turns out he had just forgotten to take his iron supplements.. whoops.

Impossible to sleep around him, his screen is always blaring a bright screen on his computer. (Unless you somehow manage to sleep around that.)

[narrators-journal]

For the Lovecraft ask can we add breeding kink and squirting and maybe size kink and belly bulge

Also maybe reader is his wife and she’s turned on by him

I just kinda went wild with your prompt ngl. Lovecraft is still reader’s husband, and she’s still turned on by him! But I wrote this less as a bsd-exclusive kinktober-style fic, and leaned into the monsterfucking aspect to just GO HAM on the tentacles and monster angle. So yes, this is Lovecraft x reader, but it’s also kinda able to be read as a general monster smut. Which, was fun to write! Sorry if I went a bit light on some things, or it’s not quite to your liking on the details, this is sort of my toe back in the water after kinktober.

Thankfully it’s not as bad as last year, but ya still gotta give yourself some leniency after a challenge, y’know?

CW: teratophilia, sacrificing, tentacles, possible oviposition? U can kinda ignore that tbh, but it’s there. Breeding kink is lightly impied, size difference is also implied, squirting

It was an ancient, possibly outdated tradition, to sacrifice women to a god in exchange for a good harvest. Yet, ever since you could remember, each spring had been marked by the offering of a fertile woman to the god of the sea your town relied on. Normally, said woman was on the younger side, around eighteen to twenty for the best fertility chances, but your grandmother had always warned you that standards were likely to change. So, as you bathed and mentally prepared for whatever happened to the sacrificial brides of your god, you weren’t surprised at your position.

You weren’t a virgin, nor were you eighteen, or even twenty, in fact, you’d gotten married before you had been chosen to be this year’s sacrifice. Yet, there you were. Your hands being tied behind your back by your husband before you were walked down to the beach, nude, to await your new ‘husband’.

Like any other sacrifice to your town’s god, you had been tied to the edge of the dock. Your hands bound behind you, your foot tied firmly to one of the sturdy supports. So, all you could really do was sit on the rough wood of the water-warped platform and listen to the waves lazily lapping at the sand beneath the dark, star-speckled night sky.

However, it wasn’t more than two hours max before you first spotted an odd, slow movement in the water. Too slow for it to be some sort of person, but too big to be a fish. It’s okay, You told yourself as you watched the form approach and sink into the glittering soup before you, Brides don’t always turn up dead. It’ll probably be okay, no matter what happens.

With that, you took a deep breath to calm the knot of anxiety that formed in your chest. Yet,when you felt the cold, watery slime of a tentacle’s smooth skin against your own, you still jumped and attempted to scramble away. Yet, there was little you could do beyond scoot as far from the edge of the dock as your tether allowed. Not that your nerves did much to dissuade more green tentacles from rising out of the water to snake around your ankles and wrists, or around your waist to trap you in place. To hold you hostage while more tentacles emerged from the cool sea water to explore your nude body. It was disgusting.

Yet, at the same time, it was thrilling.

Ever since you were little, you had heard tales and rumors about all of the many things that might happen to the ‘brides’ your town offered to the sea god in exchange for the plentiful fish, including the exact situation you now sat in. But, in those past years until your own eighteenth birthday had passed, some part of you had always feared the possibility of becoming the sea god’s bride.

However, when you’d passed eighteen and gotten married, that fear had gone dormant. But, it hadn’t left completely. After all, how could a woman ever put to rest the anxiety of being one bad flu season away from being chosen to risk being torn to shreds or split in half?

Only to find, that the slow slide of tentacles, and the gentle kisses of their suction cups against your nipples or the tender skin of your inner thigh didn’t disgust or scare you as much as you had expected. Instead, they excited you.

Even when a rather meaty tentacle slipped between your legs to prod at your dampening cunt, the pressure of it against your folds sent lightning through your blood, and the stretch of it pushing into you was enough to wipe away the fears and earn a lewd noise. And while yes, you weren’t a virgin, as hardships had left sacrificial options too slim to offer an eighteen-year-old woman and ensure something like that, there was simply something far more exciting than your human husband could achieve.

Yet, that didn’t keep the tentacle from settling deep within you, creating a bit of a bulge in your belly while your muscles twitched and stretched to accommodate the growing girth of the appendage within you. Nor, did it stop the tentacle when it began to move.

In. Out. In. Out. The tentacle’s movements within you were slow. Curious, almost. The odd, slick appendage somehow able to brush against and find each of your sweet spots as it pushed deeper into you to explore every inch of your gummy walls. And, while the monster you had been sacrificed to didn’t seem interested in your pleasure, the tentacle’s slow, thorough thrusts and flexes still managed to draw lewd moans out into the warm night’s air. Oh god, why does this feel so good? You managed to think while your back arched off of the rough wood of the dock you laid on into the inquisitive caress and attention of the tentacles that still squeezed and toyed with your breasts. Feeding the fire in your veins that you tried to ignore, even as the more primal, needy part of you begged, More. More! I feel too good. I need more! In a shameful plea for that pleasure to continue to be indulged.

And, as if the god had read those deep, lust-addled thoughts, the tentacles that snaked around your breasts and toyed with your nipples squeezed your mounds and the thicker tendril that stretched your cunt so deliciously flexed against that special spot within you. Pulling another, louder cry of desire from your throat with the force of the lightning it sent hurdling through you. Yet, even as your blood screamed with need, and the chill of the water-cooled tentacles that held your wrists and legs down were the only things keeping your small body from combusting, your new husband kept going. “Hah! W-wait! Hold on!”You begged into the spring night’s air, able to feel the tell-tale tightening of your muscles with each brush of that thick tendril against your g-spot. “I-I’m gonna- ngh!- going to c-cum! I’m gonna cum!” You screamed, no longer scared of your fellow townsfolk hearing your blissful calls over the waves when your euphoria crashed down upon you with such force that your juices squirted out slightly.

Though, your pleasure didn’t end with the deviant pleasure. You merely got a brief break from the friction, as the tentacle that sat buried in you stilled to let you stare up into the colorful night sky and catch your breath. And, for a second, you thought your monster husband had somehow sensed that you had orgasmed and was going to stop or at least pause their movements. However, the tentacle only paused for a moment, before you felt the already thick girth of the tendril move more within you.

Not to continue fucking into your twitching entrance, though, but to push something into you. The...egg? Capable of being felt as it slid down the length of the tentacle to settle into your womb. Followed quickly by more and more masses being pumped into your belly to the point that your belly began to look bloated. Not that you minded, though. You simply laid on the dock, listening to the waves lap against the supports beneath you while the tentacles kept hold of your limbs until your monstrous husband was satisfied with how plump your belly had gotten. Only then, did those strong tendrils finally release you to lay on the dock beneath the stars. Exhausted, slimy, and bred.

[dokk-fukuro]

so reader is already Lovecraft wife and says she loves all of him

Which leads to him turning into his true form and loving her

Fluff to smut

Not of This World [H.P. Lovecraft x f!Reader]

TW: SMUT, Minors DNI, afar reader, mention of using abilities, reader has ability too, mention of tentacles, she/her pronouns, mention of female genitals POV: You're the owner of an incredibly powerful ability that scares the inhabitants of your small town. And they decide to use you as a sacrificial bride for the Great Old One, because he haunts sailors on the water A/N: This is also the job I told you about, lol Word count: 3 821

The sacrificial bride. Sounds like a verdict, which isn't far from the truth. You, reconciled to your fate, are preparing for your “wedding” with something that will not leave a small town with outdated traditions alone. Surprisingly, they use quite modern technologies, but are forced to “please” small gods and creatures from outside, bringing them the gift of what they want.

You look at yourself in the mirror. You are not particularly happy with this outcome. You are only sixteen years old, and you are already forced to become a victim to please the Great Old One. And all why? And the answer lies in your shadows, with which you were “gifted” once, which now seem to you a curse. They're alive. They sometimes talk to you, tell you about what they have heard, what they have seen, what they have reached.

So you once found out that the head of a small town, a lustful old man, is ready to “marry” you to a monster from the depths of the sea, near which the city stands.

“We need him to leave the city alone. Even her parents don’t need this girl, and I’m sorry to give away others,” is what the shadows brought you. And since then, you have been preparing for what awaits you. The shadows that evening were ready to tear the headman to pieces for those words. It is true that your parents were cold towards you, loving only your younger sister and older brother.

"Smile, child, it's not every day that you get a chance to be a bride." It sounds from somewhere behind, and from this you want to grimace. Yes, not every day, but it would be better if there were never such moments in your life, and therefore the words spoken by an elderly woman who straightens her dress and tightens the corset at your waist seem like a mockery.

Your hair is only partly tied up. A pair of small strands are woven into braids that frame the face. Your eyes are on the people helping with the preparations like you're going to curse them. Oh, if you really could. You only seem paler when you look at yourself.

You hate them all, but slowly you accept the inevitable.

A whole procession accompanies you. A cloth is draped over your head so you can't see where you're being led. And only by the sound of water, which is only getting louder somewhere down there, you understand that this is a cliff. How you want to curse them all for eternal suffering. His father, mother, brother and sister, let alone the whole town. They tie you by the hands to a lonely tree standing on a cliff, but the canvas is not dragged off. The procession departs in silence, leaving you to wonder.

How much time you spend in this position you do not know, but your hands are numb, moving your fingers is already unpleasant. At some point, you laugh under your breath. To sacrifice you as a bride to some monster at the bottom of the sea. Ha! They just want to get rid of you because of your ability to control shadows. Even if there are gifted people like you among the residents, their abilities are clearly less dangerous to others.

A rustle is heard somewhere behind. Your whole body tenses up, you try to freeze so as not to show signs of life, it’s even scary to breathe. It could be anything… or anyone.

“How young you are, child." You hear, and you can’t understand what’s going on. It is so unusual for you now to hear human speech that it seems almost a hallucination, but no less terrible. A cool hand touches your chin under the canvas. Something or someone clicks their tongue. “White dress and… moving shadows. They decided to give you to me as a sacrificial bride, yes, Y/N?"

In response, silence. You are afraid to answer. Where does this something or someone know your name? They tear off the canvas from your head and raise your head, holding it by the chin. What appears before your eyes is not a monster, as you have been described.

This is a man about thirty years old with slick, black hair almost to the waist. His skin is pale, slightly greyish, his cheeks are slightly sunken. Dark gray eyes seem to look into the very soul. You are almost paralyzed with fear. It's not what you expected to see before your eyes. You swallow nervously.

"Are you scared, child?" the man grins, and your heart is already ready to go to the heels. You yourself do not understand whether you are scared or very much surprised by what you see. Your wrists are free from ropes. The man looks at his wrists and frowns a little. They're a little rubbed, but it'll pass. To your silent question, the brunette tilts his head slightly to one side.

“Since you are my sacrificial bride, consider me your future husband. Call me Lovecraft. I am that Great Old One you were given to."

And the last time you could be seen on the cliff.

Howard prefers to live away from people, spending most of his time relaxing underwater. You live in his house, learning to take complete control over your shadows, which learn to feel you too.

So the years go by. You are no longer a sixteen-year-old girl, you are a young woman just over twenty-five. Lovecraft does not change at all outwardly, as if he is not really a person, and you begin to catch yourself thinking about this more and more often. If earlier you would have reacted with skepticism to what you heard on the cliff on that fateful night, now you have no doubt that Howard Lovecraft is the Great Old One.

Late at night, when he didn't come back to the house after a while, you, scared to hell, rushed to find him.

You call out to him, look around everywhere, check all the woods, forests nearby, until your feet bring you to that very cliff. Lovecraft is standing there on the very edge, looking at the shining full moon, the reflection on the water of which gives the sea a mystical glow.

"Master Lovecraft!" Your eyes are filling with tears. He's been so kind to you all this time, teaching you new things. And all he asks in return for this is your loyalty to him, explaining that this is the fate of the bride. You have also had nights of love in which Howard is gentle to you, even very much.

The man slowly turns to you. It's so beautiful in the moonlight. His thoughtful gaze, in which one can see almost the hardships of the entire universe, is filled with increasing anger for the first time. But Howard is still reserved, even smiling a little at you when you run up to him. You throw yourself into his arms, nuzzle his solar plexus. The cool palm of the Great Old One rests on the top of your head. The wind ruffles his black hair.

"Y/N, there's something I'd like to discuss with you." The man is serious. The question he wants to raise is important. He looks at you in silence for a while before deciding to speak. "I want you to marry me. You will be my wife, and I will accept no other answer."

Your heart freezes. You look at your master Lovecraft, blushing deeply. He confronts you with the fact that you have no other choice but to become his wife. And for some reason, you don't mind at all. However, Lovecraft can also be understood. You sleep together, live in the same house, spend time together. A man is too attached to you to let you go to someone else. On top of everything else, you were named his sacrificial bride, which he also takes extremely seriously. However, with some amendments. You're not his first sacrificial bride, but you're the first one he hasn't killed.

"I agree." You smile, looking at Howard, as if mesmerized. He is so beautiful when the moonlight falls on him.

Lovecraft does not expect another answer, he knows that you will not answer in any other way. His cool hand strokes your cheek, goes under your chin and lifts your head. His dark gray eyes look into yours as he leans closer; your lips are separated by a miserable couple of centimeters. Howard kisses you gently, dryly, chaste, when you close your eyes, wanting to remember this moment.

"I will never let you leave me, Y/N," the man whispers, gently pulling away. You're so cute when your eyelashes flutter. You slowly open your eyes and gently smile at your new husband. You've become so attached to him over the past few years that you don't know what it's like to be alone. He treated you like a human being, not like a damned one.

Your warm hand touches his slightly sunken cheek, and Howard clings to the warmth like a lost cat who can't find his way home and asks for love from passers-by. He likes your touch, Lovecraft wants it to last as long as possible.

"I give you my word that I will never leave you alone…" You hesitate a little before continuing with a slight tremor in your voice and a blush on your cheeks: "my dear Lovecraft."

A smile suits him very well. It's a rare emotion you've ever seen. Usually Howard is always calm to the point of trembling, which is scary. At first, you were very afraid of this, because you didn't know what to expect from such a calm person. But now you're ready for anything, it's in your eyes, and Howard likes it.

He holds you in his arms, slowly covers your face with kisses. And this is the Great Old One, the very being before whom they shudder, whose appearance they are afraid of, because this does not bode well. You know him quite differently.

You are standing on the cliff where your fateful meeting took place a few years ago, looking at a small town in the distance. You're restless. Something has to happen. But it's not worrying about the worst. This feeling is more like waiting for something.

A huge wave is moving towards the city. No one will be left alive. You don't doubt it at all, but you don't care. The whole town agreed that it was you who should be left as a victim to Lovecraft, which means that no one deserves a chance to survive. Those houses that are closest to the shore are demolished first. The part of you that still retains at least some amount of compassion for those who live in the city wants to stop the man. However, his look alone makes it clear: he will not forgive the city that gave an innocent child as a sacrifice so that the Great Old One would leave everyone alone and not interfere with the sailors.

"This is my wedding gift to you, my love. They sacrificed you to save their own lives, and now they will lose them." People are fleeing from their homes in panic. There are screams, crying pleas for an end to this madness.

An ominous silence reigns. Neither voices nor cries of pets are heard anymore. I can't hear anything else. The sea is calm again, as if nothing had happened. You are looking at all the horror that the elements have created literally before your eyes. It was as if the city really did not exist. Those houses that remained intact are now abandoned. You have nothing to do with the ghostly place anymore. And you, surprisingly, feel a sense of relief. You are free and free to go wherever you want as long as Howard is with you.

Picking you up in his arms, Lovecraft walks with you along the path away from the cliff. The path you keep is back to the house where you live. Already in the house on a big bed, a man looks at you, admires you, as he has always done for several years. And if before, until you turn twenty, he did not dare to touch you in any other way than in a fatherly way, now nothing prevents you from loving each other as husband and wife.

"We need to set some rules in our lives," Lovecraft gently kisses you on the cheek. He's determined in what he's going to say. "From now on, I will be absolutely faithful to you, listen to your words, I will be your support in everything, but I expect the same from you."

You listen to him carefully, not daring to interrupt while the man takes off your clothes. This is your first time as husband and wife, so out of nowhere there is a slight shyness and awkwardness.

"I give my word that I will be faithful, I will listen to your opinion and I will support you in everything. You mean too much to me in this life for me to betray you," you pause before saying what is bursting out. "And it's not that those people gave me to you as a sacrificial bride. I won't betray you because I don't want to."

You touch his cool cheek with your hand, look into his eyes deeply, choosing the words you want to say in response to the question about your feelings for Howard. Initially, you had a completely different spectrum for him. When you first met Lovecraft, as his sacrificial bride, you were a little afraid of him, completely not knowing what to expect from him. And it was only after living with him for a long time that you began to understand that you loved him for his way of thinking, for his lack of emotion, for his manner of speech, even though it was strange, for calmness, education, awareness and responsibility.

Your shadows never liked noisy people, they were afraid of them. Next to Lovecraft, you found what you wanted. Home, love and a sense of security.

"I also find your ability quite charming. My shadows don't stand anywhere near." You nod, looking at how Howard undresses in front of you. A snow-white shirt fits neatly on the back of a chair nearby. A man's trousers remain on when he starts stroking and caressing your body, touching you as if in a gesture of acquaintance.

You pull him to you for a kiss, feeling a little cool and slippery tentacles begin to wrap around your body. One grabs gently by the wrists and presses them to the bed, the other two stroke the hips, sometimes wrapping around them. Howard drops kisses on your neck while his tentacles rush to touch your body wherever they can. His eyes are more like two Abysses than something human, but that doesn't scare you.

You gasp loudly every time the suckers on the tentacles leave reddish traces in the form of circles, some of them are very bright; they will definitely linger on your body for a couple of days.

"What do you feel now?" The man's voice is threefold, gives off a slight echo, and in principle it already sounds creepy, but he does not see fear in your eyes under it. Lovecraft sees genuine adoration in his direction, and this surprises him a little. "Do I disgust you?"

"No, not at all." You shake your head, feeling slightly embarrassed. You're pouting a little, subtly hinting that the man is still wearing his trousers. "Your tentacles. They are cool, a little slippery, move as if they have their own will and consciousness. But… I like it. I love you, Howard, and I will love you no matter what. After all, I am also not deprived of a small feature."

You giggle softly and let your shadows do whatever they want. They get to Lovecraft's trousers without any delay, take the form of women's palms and hurry to rid him first of the belt, and then of the unnecessary detail of clothing. The man only chuckles softly at this. His new wife is so sweet and charming when she tries to help him.

Howard again clings to your lips with his, kisses deeply, with tenderness and desire, listening to the muffled moans. This is the first time he uses his tentacles, but you are clearly not afraid of them, and he is incredibly happy about it. You accept him as he is. This is more than enough for him to experience a strange feeling inside, which bubbles like champagne, filling him with strange energy and the desire to joke and laugh stupidly. Is this… happiness?..

You both dissolve in love for each other, exchanging mutual caresses and kisses. You touch Lovecraft with your shadows, feeling everything they feel, even if it's not the same as your own hands. A man touches your chest with his cool hand, which causes a shiver down your spine. You let out a soft moan when Howard's lips descend first on one nipple, then on the second, paying attention to the previous one with a small tentacle.

You squirm under the strong but gentle grip of the tentacles of the Great Old One, breathing heavily, but asking only for one thing: that Lovecraft does not stop. The man looks furtively at the shadows and grins:

"Your shadows look agitated. Is it because of me or understanding what will happen next?"

"Both," you honestly admit, looking at your new husband with completely black eyes. This is the peculiarity of using the ability to control your own shadows. That's another reason they called you a monster.

While the shadows caress Lovecraft, he spreads your legs with his tentacles. They move smoothly in a spiral up and down, paying special attention to the inside. Your body is trembling with impatience and unusual sensations. They may well become your habit. And you understand why the body reacts like that.

Touching something unknown, unseen before. The same effect is produced by touching your shadows to someone. A person can lose his mind from the pleasure that the touch of shadows brings, or from fear. Your moans caress Howard's ears as he continues to deftly and effortlessly manipulate his tentacles, getting a little lost in the sensations from the touch of shadows. This is the first time he feels them, and it gives him goosebumps. Howard exhales convulsively through clenched teeth.

The tentacle that caresses your left thigh stretches out a little, and its tip touches your crotch. You arch in the back, being exposed to the kisses of the Great Old One, which only enhances the feeling of the tentacle touching the sensitive bundle of nerves. The tentacle moves along with small amplitudes up and down, then large, touching the folds and teasing the entrance to the womb. You moan uncontrollably, almost going crazy from what you feel, and kisses with glimpses of light bites add fuel to the fire.

Howard stretches his neck to be able to cover your body with kisses, suppressing his moans when he feels more tangible touches of shadows on his body. They stroke his shoulders, neck, chest, torso and climb lower.

"You are gorgeous, my love," the man whispers close to your skin, breathing heavily. And yet he breaks into a low, quiet moan when he feels the shadows squeezing his bulging penis. Lovecraft's heart is pounding in his chest like mad. The man is filled with passion and love for you under him.

He tentatively penetrates the tip of another tentacle inside, while he continues to attack the clitoris with the tip of another, making you almost scream. Your body is straining, then relaxing. You're begging Lovecraft to take you, whimpering with desire and lust. Leaving a short kiss on your eyebrow, the man kisses you on the lips when the tentacle penetrates inside in one smooth, slow motion.

The tentacle twitches in your pussy, touches all the most sensitive areas inside while it moves. Howard pulls away from your lips, listening to loud moans fill the room. He moans uncontrollably himself, feeling through the tentacle how tight it is inside you, how wet and warm it is.

And the thrill is added by your shadows, over which you lose control. They themselves move through his body and tentacles as they want. The room is filled with vulgar squelching, your moans and guttural male growling when the Great Old One increases the speed of the tentacle movement inside you.

You scream his name in outright ecstasy, almost losing all connection with reality. You're stuffy, hot. You feel good.

"I love you, Y/N. I will love you until the end of time and even after," Howard growls, looming over you. He wants to remember this moment of love that you share as spouses. How beautiful is his sacrificial bride, now his wife. You moan, whimper and whine from the sensations, fidgeting and asking not to stop. You are close to the climax, and when you reach it, the body only becomes more sensitive. All the caresses of the tentacles on your body are felt more clearly, the pussy is squeezed around the tentacle inside. The bundle of nerves is swollen and now susceptible to even a fleeting touch, but Howard continues to move the tentacle inside you, increasing the pace, almost going crazy from the intoxicating touches of your shadows, whose caresses are becoming more insistent.

After the second climax, your mind is clouded. All you can say is your husband's name. Your moans are now screams of pleasure. The third orgasm is coming, however, Lovecraft is also very close. You feel it with your shadows.

"Come on, love, let's do it together," his speech falters when Howard covers your body with kisses again, licking salty sweat. After the deafening groan of the two, silence reigns, which seems as uncomfortable as possible. Your breath is whistling, you're trying to catch your breath when the tentacle leaves your body. My vision is blurry and a little double, but my body feels so light, like someone else's. You smile wearily at your spouse when he gently kisses you on the cheek.

There are no more tentacles; there are only his big palms with long, thin fingers that take your weakened body and carry it to the cool bathroom. There, Howard helps stop the blood flowing from your nose — a side effect of controlling your shadows, which you are used to.

"I love you, Howard," you wheeze and smile wearily. Lovecraft gently takes your palm in his, brings it to his lips and kisses each finger.

"You're so beautiful now, Y/N. My Y/N," the man kisses your palm, calming all your feelings.

Thank you, my Queen. Thank you for your love.

[mrsrookhunt]

Scent Headcannons for whoever I want across Fandoms because I'm insane and exhausted, thank you for your time

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Rook Hunt, Chuuya Nakahara, Howard Phillips Lovecraft, Nikolai Gogol, Sebek Zigvolt, Trey Clover, Jouno Saigiku

Warnings: this is absolute trash slathered onto a page written by someone who got 1 hour of sleep last night. My condolences to you.

Azul Ashengrotto

He smells like the fancy cologne with those terrible labels in French so no one actually knows the scent, they just recognize the word 'musk' and think it's absolutely manly-- whenever he's running the Lounge. When he's alone?

Smells like bananas, it's the gentle scent of his shampoo; it might not be prominent, but if you were to lie down in bed with him and cuddle, you would certainly get a whiff of the flax, chiaseed, and banana shampoo worked into his soft tresses.

Rook Hunt

I'm almost 100% sure there's a vignette where he's mentioned using a cologne Vil made for him, but honestly I'm not sure what's a fever dream and what isn't these days, so he may smell like musk and some sort of flowery scent, or he may smell like cedarwood and patchouli, thanks to his heavily scented deodorant.

He loves anything heavily scented, it gives him a sense of distinct presence and gives you a headache. When he's hunting, however, he uses unscented products, so you may be able to escape the cloud of heady aroma occasionally by accompanying him on a hunting trip.

Chuuya Nakahara

Another cologne user SHOCKING!

Chuuya's cologne is milder than you might think. He doesn't need a strong aroma predicting his presence, and he doesn't like it either. His cologne is light and scented with sandalwood and cherry.

It's just enough to smell on him when you come within two feet of him, but nothing even remotely overpowering.

Probably the most modest cologne user in this list. The rest of them absolutely bathe in them like it's the middle school boy's locker room with axe body spray.

Howard Phillips Lovecraft

He smells like ozone. You might know it as the scent of being outside too long, but it is stuck to him. The general scent of the outdoors fluctuates on him.

He smells like salt water, particularly when you go in for awkward hugs, and his hair is coarse and knotted with sand and sea. He always smells like the ocean to some degree. You could drag him through a shower and wash and untangle that matted hair of his, and throw the most aromatic stuff possible on him and he still would come out smelling like seasalt and ozone.

It's never coming off of him. I hope you enjoy the sea.

G o o d l u c k

Bonus, the first time you tried to wash his hair out a nest of crabs crawled out and he wasn't even shocked.

Nikolai Gogol

He smells like cookies. You may be thinking, why would he smell like cookies? Well, how do you think the DOA lured Sigma in?

It's his deodorant. It's highly strong. After one night of using it, he awoke to his entire bedding smelling strongly of warm cookies. I am definitely not describing the deodorant I use and speaking from experience cough coUGH

I hope you've got a strong stomach, because you will crave sweets every time you get a whiff, or, conversely you will think of Nikolai everytime you smell cookies.

Sebek Zigvolt

Drowning himself nightly in whatever scent Malleus once mentioned was most pleasing to his senses 3 years ago. Probably eucalyptus and Anjou pear.

It is, luckily, a pleasing scent, even if it's so adept at assaulting your senses can smell him coming farther than his voice reaches. He's killing your ears and nose at the same time. The two birds didn't even require one stone, they dropped dead when he got too close.

Conversely, at home, he uses a light, citrus scented bodywash that leaves a pleasing glow on his skin and a comfortable smell clinging to him. He had to stop bathing in the pear scent after clients at his family's dental clinic vomited when he entered the room.

Trey Clover

Another false alarm for bakers everywhere, believing their pastries grew legs and walked out the door. Smells like cinnamon rolls at absolutely all times.

It's very, very pleasant and most people adore the soft scent that eminates from him when he gets close.

It's the result of ordering a perfume on accident, after believing he was ordering a charcoal and birch scented cologne. It smelled good enough that he was willing to overlook the fact that it was for young girls.

Jouno Saigiku

HE SMELLS SO GOODDDD

Turmeric and sage bodywash + flaxseed shampoo.

It's subtle, so you'll only be lucky enough to be graced with the scent if he lets you get close into his personal bubble, which can either be rare, or he could be extremely enthusiastic about keeping close contact with you at all times. It depends on who you are to him.

When he's going to an event or to receive some sort of award, he puts on a splash of pine-scented cologne. It's very classic, but he claims it fits him well.

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June 20th, 2023

-Kaori

[kaorikarma]

Let Your Soul Take Flight

Howard Phillips Lovecraft X Reader

"I'm... starving.."

"Aren't you always?" You tsked, having been caring for him for several days. From the moment you saw him, emotionless and uncaring in a pouring rain shower, you knew he would be difficult; but you hadn't expected just how deeply odd he was.

He hummed, gazing at a wall with what you could only hope was some sort of thoughts processing in his brain.

"Most of the time." His head turned to look at you at an eerie, inhuman swivel while he answered, eyes blank and wide. You shivered a bit, something you hoped he didn't notice.

"Ok, well, let's go for a round three on taking care of that today. Let's try a buffet this time. I can't afford $300 in fast food again." You sighed, noting his doe-eyed expression. He didn't really seem to care if he drained your wallet; hell, he didn't even seem to fully grasp the concept of monetary value.

Feeding him had been a monumentous task. It was first on your list, since he looked frighteningly gaunt and emaciated, but nothing seemed to fill his stomach.

He constantly complained of being hungry, tired, and itchy, though no amount of sleep, food, or anti-itch cream sated him. He just stared at you with those blank, dead eyes.

There was something about him that made you decide to keep trying. He didnt seem to understand anything about society, and you were strongly worried for his well-being otherwise. At first, you had suspected mental health issues, his eccentricities ever-present to a degree of naiveté, but after the several days you'd spent trying and failing to care for him, you began to suspect some inhumanity present in him. His odd movements, insatiable needs, the way you discovered late last night that the cause of his consistent itching was your gaze, he seemed to you too strange to be human.

You plopped down in the chair in front of your bed, which he had promptly taken over before you could direct him to your couch, complaining all the while that the linens were giving him a rash. Head in hand, you watched his brows furrow with unease as you looked him in the eyes.

"You said mostly. So.. what's kept you full in the past, stranger?" He paused for a second.

"Mm... Call me Lovecraft." The words floated lazily off his tongue. He hadn't graced you with his name yet, though he knew yours.

Your eyebrows shot up with amusement. "Well that's certainly a step in the right direction..., Lovecraft. You starting to trust me now?" You chuckled a bit as he seemed to look regretful of the admission, turning to look away from you.

"Ugh...Yuck. My stomach aches when you call me by that name."

You openly face-palmed, albeit playfully.

"If that's your name, what else should I call you?"

He seemed to think for a moment.

"...How..ard..? No.. that doesn't feel right either.. Perhaps you should go back to calling me 'stranger'." He finished, crossing his arms with a deep frown.

"Howard? Hmm.. a bit old-fashioned, but I think it suits you well--" He gave you such a look of incredulous disgust that you sat, slack-jawed; you couldn't recall a single time he seemed to feel so strongly about anything.

"Absolutely not.. It feels too weird... ugh... no..no..." You watched as he pulled the blankets of your freshly made bed over his head, quite literally hiding under the covers, writhing a bit, like he'd been physically wounded by your attempt to call him by name.

Sighing once again, you stood up to pull the covers off his slender frame, but found that he tugged stronger than you could pull your fleecy bed-spread from him.

You sat next to him, dramatically flopping backwards until you were lying next to him, on top of the still-tucked in edge of the bedding.

"So your name must be Howard Lovecraft, huh?"

He made some sort of hissing sound and withdrew further under the blankets, curling into an ill-proportioned, too-leggy ball of a gangly, tall man.

"But you don't like either of those."

No hiss. A good sign.

"What about a nickname?" You looked over at the lump under the covers; had there been no linen divider, your noses could almost touch.

You swore you heard a low grumble in his throat. Not particularly a pleased sound, but it wasn't an aggressive 'no'.

You put a wary hand on where you thought the back of his head would be, feeling his breath catch and his body shiver with the unexpected sensation. He didn't pull away, like you'd thought he would. This was the one of the first times you'd been this close to him, and the first time you'd touched him, even if indirectly, through thick cotton.

You admonished the feeling, letting all the possibly nicknames for 'Howard' run through your head.

"What about... Howie?" You whispered to the ball next to you.

He growled again, this time more than pleased.

Not a man of many words, but as you smiled, happy with with yourself for finding something he liked, he emerged from the blankets, navy hair mussed, but looking overall content with his new namesake.

He reached out an touched the base of your head curiously, as you had done to him, light smile gracing his face.

"Perhaps..is this... affection, you displayed to me?" He asked quizzically, voice soft and slow with all the wonder of a dreaming child.

The moment was gentle, you thought, but you were having trouble focusing on his words with the deep, freezing chill the emanated from his fingertips, making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You took the icy plunge and braced yourself for discomfort as you embraced him quickly and tightly, head resting in the crook of his neck.

He seemed confused and surprised, arms still where they were a moment ago, helplessly curled around the air.

"Yes, Howie. This is affection."

When his arms finally came down to awkwardly squeeze you, you realized this was the first time you had given him attention in which he responded well; no shivers of discomfort or anxious expressions in sight. He seemed to actually enjoy the embrace, freezing cold and trying to keep your teeth from chattering as you were.

You weren't sure how you'd not realized he was this cold before. Though you'd been staying decently far away from him, you thought that he would eminate this raw polar cold from a distance, yet you'd not felt a single change in the air until you were in his arms.

Though he'd relaxed and began deepening the embrace himself now, you had to pull away out of sheer discomfort, briefly looking down to see your bare skin blue and purple-tinged where you'd touched him for too long.

You hoped he didn't notice, although he looked disoriented after you'd broken the hug off so suddenly, looking a bit upset and ready to cling to you again, so you changed the topic with a gentle smile.

"You didn't answer my question earlier. What's kept you full in the past?" You repeated, knowing he'd already blanked on the question from minutes earlier.

He blinked for a moment, thoughts slowly returning to your prior conversation.

"I've not been full since I was a child. I ate copious amounts of crabs and fish, until I was sated for a few hours." At least he was more open to your probing questions now.

"Wow, your parents must have thought you a real challenge, huh?"

He looked down at you from his high perch with an unnerving gaze, not at all kindly and curious as it was a moment ago.

"I was capable of feeding myself. My parents had nothing to do with it."

"Oh.. ok, then."

You looked down at your feet, shuffling to the other side of the room before he took your hand, unexpectedly. A chill ran through your body, but his touch was so soft and pleading for you to look back at him, you didn't pull away.

"Am I too cold?" He asked, observing the way your fingers reddened in his grasp.

"A bit," you laughed lightheartedly, through half-chattering teeth.

He dropped his hand, ruffling through an inner pocket of his coat until he pulled out thick, woolen gloves.

Pulling them on, he took your hand again.

"Better?" You barely felt the chill of his hands this time. Smiling, you nodded at him.

"Let's go get lunch, Howie."

He let out a low, quiet laugh, accompanied by a near-impercievable smile, that barely reached your ears.

Maybe the third time would be the charm.

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Note: Can be taken as a (long-before) prequel to 'Primal'. I want most of my Lovecraft stories to follow the same essential plot and lore I set up, so they shouldn't have many differences unless it's a request.

Thanks for reading!

June 5th, 2023

-Kaori

[imjustabitodd]

People who watch bsd and their favorite is Lovecraft most definitely are monsterfuckers and or just really like him cuz he's a little weirdo

(it's me I'm the Lovecraft liker, not the actual auther just to get that out of the way)

[popsicle-parfait]

I will never understand why the same 4 characters get fanfics in the bsd fandom when there are literally SO MANY OTHER CHARACTERS (and cooler ones imo) with interesting abilities and dynamics PLEASE 😭LIKE LOOK AT HIM HES SO CUTE

[unikron-kitten-kat]

Welcome to My Realm

Creepypasta, Undertale, My Little Pony, Transformers, Invader Zim, Avatar: TLA, Star Wars, Erin Hunter: Warriors, HP Lovecraft, Pokemon, Marvel, Wings of Fire, and Harry Potter.

Side blog I use for reblogging, sharing others art, or shitposts

Main AU 1 Main AU 2

Lore Post:: Brothers Lore Post:: World

Lore Post:: The Manor and The Castle

Slenderman Drabbles || Splendorman Drabbles [WIP] || Offenderman Drabbles || Trenderman Drabbles [WIP] ||

Slenderman x AFAB reader || Slenderman x Male reader - 1 2 3 4 5 || Slenderman x Zackary - 1 2 || Slenderman x Charlie || Slenderman x Reader - 1 2 || Slenderman x Alex [WIP] ||

Alex || Appearance :: Origins :: Backstory :: Bisexual -She/They

Charlie || Appearance :: Origins :: Backstory :: Gay -He/Him

Xander || Appearance :: Origins :: Backstory :: Gay -He/They

Zackary || Appearance :: Origins :: Backstory :: FTM, Gay -He/Him

Johnny || Appearance :: Origins :: Backstory :: Gay, He/They

Master Tags || My Oc :: My Lore :: My Art :: Smut ::

[mellowwillowy]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫

Yan! Eldritch Horrors (or Monsterfuck for short) × GN! Reader

"I want you to gut me baby~"

""Say less""

Warning: NSFW, Inhumane Size, threesome, mention of wanting Reader to be a 'Mother', gruesome talk

So that's how you ended up in this mating press position, your guts rearranged by his inhumane size, your face dumbstruck by pleasure and pain at the same time.

"Ssshhh, you said you want to be gutted by us no? Take it, take it all~" his pace does not falter, it remains the same and steady, his veins hitting the spot you are dying for.

Of course, there's still another one present on the bed.

"Just wrap this cock with that pretty mouth, 'kay? Be good for us and we will reward you."

Your mouth is already sore from having his inhumane size still in you, drool pooling down on the mattress you three were on.

"So good~ so good for us aren't you, doll?"

His hand caresses the strands of hair from your face, sweats making it stick to your skin. You look down at your stomach and see something bulging out. It disappears then reappears again, pushing your guts upward, or so you think.

The other pulls out his member from your mouth and you immediately feel your sore jaw before he brings your hand to your stomach.

"Why don't you feel the thing that has been piercing you?"

"Oh-ho! Great idea! See? This is the proof of my love, gutting the fuck out of you," he increases his pace, his thrust getting deeper and harder, "feeling you in a way mortals shouldn't, oh how much I want you to be the 'Mother' of my offsprings~"

"Don't." He shoots the man above you a glare.

"What? I'm sure you want to see them bear us children too no~? Imagine seeing them round with our offspring in them."

"I'd rather not have the child eat and rip her alive."

Talking about those gruesome stuff while they are fucking you up? You love that. Truth to be said, the idea of being able to carry a child excites you, especially one that is inhumane and is capable of eating you alive to survive!

"What? Aha, are you sick? I can feel you clenching me!"

"Maybe our doll needs a bit of repair soon," he frowns as he peppers you with kisses, "I can't and won't let you ever bear any pain because of us..."

You kiss him back, tongue clashing with his. Not wanting to lose, he kisses you back, not letting you go until he figures you've run out of breath. He doesn't want you to faint just because of a kiss after all.

"Haa... khk- hey, what would you do if I wasn't joking?"

"... I'd fucking kill you"

"Wha-?"

This time the man above kisses you, unlike the passionate kiss you shared with the other one, his is more greedy and needy, teeth clashing against yours and tongue occasionally bitten.

"So close, soooo close... hey... I love ya'"

That was his warning before you felt something warm filling you up to the brim, hell the bulge is still there, all he has to do is pull out push your stomach down and his dead offspring will flow out of you like a tap water.

Just as he pulls himself out, he is immediately shoved to the side, "What a bad habit you got right here, not giving them a proper finish..."

"Eh? No... I, I came earlier so- ahk!"

He starts to stimulate you back, his fingers working their way around you, "Nonsense, you deserve more," his fingers insert themselves into your gaping hole, hitting all the spots that make you see the cosmic. His tongue licks your jaw, nibbling it before moving to your neck, giving you a hickey.

You come shortly after that, body twitching and mind dazes off into the unknown until he places his member on top of your face.

"Remember, I still haven't had my share, doll."

Oh that thing is surely going to fucking pierce and gut you up and you love that ♡

"Yeeeeeeshhh....."

---

Afternotes: I actually have the pairings in my head but I'll just let you guys decide.

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

With the rise of booktok/booktwt, there's been this weird movement against literary criticism. It's a bizarre phenomenon, but this uptick in condemnation of criticism is so stifling. I understand that with the rise of these platforms, many people are being reintroduced into the habit of reading, which is why at the base level, I understand why many 'popular' books on booktok tend to be cozier.

The argument always falls into the 'this book means too much to me' or 'let people enjoy things,' which is rhetoric I understand -- at least fundamentally. But reading and writing have always been conduits for criticism, healthy natural criticism. We grow as writers and readers because of criticism. It's just so frustrating to see arguments like "how could you not like this character they've been the x trauma," or "why read this book if you're not going to come out liking it," and it's like...why not. That has always been the point of reading. Having a character go through copious amounts of trauma does not always translate to a character that's well-crafted. Good worldbuilding doesn't always translate to having a good story, or having beautiful prose doesn't always translate into a good plot.

There is just so much that goes into writing a story other than being able to formulate tropable (is that a word lol) characters. Good ideas don't always translate into good stories. And engaging critically with the text you read is how we figure that out, how we make sure authors are giving us a good craft. Writing is a form of entertainment too, and just like we'd do a poorly crafted show, we should always be questioning the things we read, even if we enjoy those things.

It's just werd to see people argue that we shouldn't read literature unless we know for certain we are going to like it. Or seeing people not be able to stand honest criticism of the world they've fallen in love with. I love ASOIAF -- but boy oh boy are there a lot of problems in the story: racial undertones, questionable writing decisions, weird ness overall. I also think engaging critically helps us understand how an author's biases can inform what they write. Like, HP Lovecraft wrote eerie stories, he was also a raging racist. But we can argue that his fear of PoC, his antisemitism, and all of his weird fears informed a lot of what he was writing. His writing is so eerie because a lot of that fear comes from very real, nasty places. It's not to say we have to censor his works, but he influences a lot of horror today and those fears, that racial undertone, it is still very prevalent in horror movies today. That fear of the 'unknown,'

Gone with the Wind is an incredibly racist book. It's also a well-written book. I think a lot of people also like confine criticism to just a syntax/prose/technical level -- when in reality criticism should also be applied on an ideological level. Books that are well-written, well-plotted, etc., are also -- and should also -- be up for criticism. A book can be very well-written and also propagate harmful ideologies. I often read books that I know that (on an ideological level), I might not agree with. We can learn a lot from the books we read, even the ones we hate.

I just feel like we're getting to the point where people are just telling people to 'shut up and read' and making spaces for conversation a uniform experience. I don't want to be in a space where everyone agrees with the same point. Either people won't accept criticism of their favorite book, or they think criticism shouldn't be applied to books they think are well written. Reading invokes natural criticism -- so does writing. That's literally what writing is; asking questions, interrogating the world around you. It's why we have literary devices, techniques, and elements. It's never just taking the words being printed at face value.

You can identify with a character's trauma and still understand that their badly written. You can read a story, hate everything about it, and still like a character. As I stated a while back, I'm reading Fourth Wing; the book is terrible, but I like the main character. The worldbuilding is also terrible, but the author writes her PoC characters with respect. It's not hard to acknowledge one thing about the text, and still find enough to enjoy the book. And authors grow when we're honest about what worked and what didn't work. Shadow and Bone was very formulaic and derivative at points, but Six of Crows is much more inventive and inclusive. Veronica Roth's Carve the Mark had some weird racial problems, but Chosen Ones was a much better book in terms of representation. Percy Jackson is the same way. These writers grow, not just by virtue of time, but because they were critiqued and listened to that critique. C.S. Lewis and Tolkien always publically criticized each other's work. Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes had a legendary friendship and back and forth with one another's works which provides so much insight into the conversations black authors and creatives were having.

Writing has always been about asking questions; prodding here and there, critiquing. It has always been a conversation, a dialogue. I urge people to love what they read, and read what they love, but always ask questions, always understand different perspectives, and always keep your mind open. Please stop stifling and controlling the conversations about your favorite literature, and please understand that everyone will not come out with the same reading experience as you. It doesn't make their experience any less valid than yours.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

could i get a jack the ripper x male reader who is harry Houdini?((y/n knows jack isn't the real ripper))y/n/Houdini is the opposite of jack being very hyper & excited about anything & loves showing his tricks to jack who would sometimes almost have a heart attack about his extreme escape act, especially his Milk Can Escape acts oh the dried he felt.....but like in Valhalla they met & soon became a lovey dovey couple living there life in peace,until Ragnarok came..y/n would watch jacks fight with worry but in the end had happy tears seeing jack win..but was displeased seeing humanity in the end still hating him even after risking his life so they have a better chance in surviving!harry/y/n would stay by jack's side as he gets patched up,& y/n quickly became bestfriends with hlökk,

((y/n seemed to also be friends with a curtain horror writer...*cough* hp Lovecraft *cough*))

while this was happening Brunhilde found out the gods was planing to have a surprise round to throw her off but thankfully she found out before they could surprise her, when Brunhilde found out that the god picked would be a god of tricks & illusions[not loki] she immediately knew who to go...y/n aka harry Houdini!

she had to ask y/n in private because she knew jack would NOT let y/n enter not even a second thought about it, y/n would agree wanting to help humanity...y/n/Harry's weapon would be handcuffs that can summon any trap or confinement like chains,rope(both can be stretch infinitely), cuff's,cages, straightjackets & even an iron maiden,as well as traping his opponent in a large body of water

so imagine Jack's supprise when he saw you walking out of those gates ready to fight...when you said, you whare just going to get the tea😔

y/n would fight to his limits even unlocking a new ability,the ability is that y/n could now see through any tricks or illusions & know his opponents next move & skill set...his left eye would turn purple & Glow a faint light when he uses it((although it drains his energy rapidly))

in the end y/n aka harry Houdini would win...taking a bow as if he just got done with a another Escape act, before going backstage,in which he would be a greeted with a very unhappy, upset & nervous jack who was worried to god about him....

-Tears filled your eyes, seeing how cruelly your lover was being treated, willing to put his own life on the line to protect humanity, only to be treated like a monster.

-None of these cowards who were Jack so poorly were willing to put their lives on the line for humanity- they weren’t willing to fight!

-You had rushed backstage to the infirmary and all but collapsed into your lover’s arms, sobbing into his shoulder, as you had been so worried that you were going to lose him. Jack just smiled, holding the back of your head with his now clean hand, holding you close, letting you cry.

-Hlokk wasn’t surprised to see you there when she arrived to see how he was doing, once she was cleaned up, as she knew how much Jack loved you and vice versa.

-Jack couldn’t help but smile, seeing you and Hlokk getting along so well as the two of you instantly connected, especially when she realized who you were and you couldn’t help but show off, putting on a show for both of them, showing off your greatest tricks.

-You were so beautiful when you were like this, when you were happy- it was the color that Jack loved the most on you and always wanted to see it on you.

-As the matches went on, gods and humans exchanging victories, the gods were growing worried that they were going to lose, and they began to plot.

-Brunnhilde could sense the brewing storm, and she knew that something was up, with Zeus being so quiet. It’s a good thing that she has an inside person in the gods, one that was willing to help her and gave her the message that the gods were desperate enough to try to pull a fast one, as they didn’t want to risk losing this tournament- they couldn’t risk it!

-They were planning to have one more match with a trickster god, one who was skilled in tricks and illusions, even more so than Loki, as they believed there was no human that would be able to win against him.

-Armed with this knowledge, Brunnhilde was prepared, coming to you in the disguise of checking on Jack and Hlokk, who had forgiven her sister because she knew what had to be done, and that this Jack was the real Jack the Ripper- he killed murderers and left innocents alone.

-As she left, she glanced at you over her shoulder, giving you a look that she wanted to talk to you privately and you gave Jack a smile and went after Brunnhilde.

-She told you what the gods were planning, and she wanted you to fight. You knew that Jack wouldn’t agree to it- he probably would tie you up, if that would do anything against you, to keep you from putting yourself at risk.

-You agreed to fight but you had to be cautious, not wanting to upset Jack, which she agreed to and told you when to meet up with her to fight.

-You returned to Jack with a smile on your face as Hlokk was curious as to what the two of you spoke about, you just grinned, “Brunnhilde cares in her own way- she just wanted to know how you both were doing but felt shy on asking you herself.”

-Hlokk thought it was cute while Jack could tell that you were lying to him, but said nothing, as he knew that he could trust you.

-When it came time for you to fight, everyone was stunned when the gods announced there would be one more fight, Hlokk was yelling, saying it wasn’t far while you had a hand over your mouth in shock.

-You stood with a deep inhale, “I think we are going to need more tea for this.” Jack didn’t turn to you, nodding and you went to get it, giving Jack a peck on his forehead, your usually thing for when you leave his side.

-Your opponent went out first, cackling loudly at the booing humans, who were furious at this underhanded deed, and many of the gods, including several of those who fought, were booing as well- finding it dishonorable, worrying Zeus a bit that he shouldn’t have done this.

-A cloud of smoke appeared in the arena, shrouding the final human fighter in a cloud of mystery as Heimdall was hyping you up- as he wanted the humans to win- seeing the heart that they had.

-Heimdall pointed at the figure that appeared in the smoke, “The one- the only- Y/N!!!”

-The crowds roared with cheers as you beamed, spinning a pair of handcuffs around your finger, your Volundr item as you beamed brightly, waving around like you were about to perform.

-Jack’s eyelid twitched lightly as he ground his teeth together, you were supposed to be getting tea!! You were going to get an earful after this!!

-Your opponent was cocky, thinking he was going to easily win against you, but you were not to be underestimated. He charged for you, and you easily side-stepped him, swinging the handcuffs and in an instant your opponent was wrapped in chains, including his ankles and wrists being bound and he fell to the ground with a shout of surprise.

-Everyone froze, seeing this and you couldn’t help but grin, turning to him, “Let’s see you escape this!” the crowds were roaring as the trickster managed to easily escape, surprising you with his skills as he tried to do the same, chaining you up and stringing you upside down.

-He turned to the crowd with a grin, “Are you all entertained by this?!” the crowds were wide eyed, staring at something behind him and he turned as you dropped the last shackle, “That was a good try! What else you got?!”

-The match was back and forth, not so much with fighting and beating each other bloody, but trying to trap each other in elaborate ways to keep each other locked up to be able to land the final blow.

-It was entertaining, watching the two of you fighting, seeing you both escaping, but your opponent was getting pissed- finding you irritating- nobody was as good as he was!!

-When he actually attacked you, bloodying you up a bit, and you swore you could hear Jack screaming out your name as you were slightly dazed.

-You rolled, dodging another blow as you quickly got to your feet as you held the handcuffs and you smirked, “It seems like I should get serious too.” He glared as you charged, but when you ducked at the last second, dodging his blow, appearing behind him, he shouted in surprise as you grabbed him with your weapon and you smirked, “It’s time for the greatest trick the world has ever seen!!”

-The handcuffs lit up with a bright light before your opponent was wrapped in chains, then encased in an iron maiden, wrapped in more chains then suspended over a pool of water filled with piranhas before being lowered down into the water.

-The crowd was stunned as your hands came to your hips, a grin on your face as you saw the iron maiden moving as he struggled to get free. If he managed to get free of the chains, he was still trapped in the iron maiden, which was slowly filling with water, the spikes stabbing into him, making blood seep into the water, sending the piranhas into a frenzy.

-After a few moments everything went still and your greatest trick faded away, your opponent crumbling away as he perished, leaving you the winner which made the arena explode into cheers.

-You smiled, bowing to the crowd as if it were a show as you headed backstage, feeling a bit lightheaded from your wounds.

-“Y/N!!” you looked up, seeing both Hlokk and Jack running towards you and you did feel a bit nervous, as Jack looked mad, but he surprised you by leaping into your arms, his arms around your neck as he sagged into you, “You’re okay!”

-You smiled, hugging him like how he hugged you after his match, holding him close as he sighed, pulling back as he cupped your cheek, creating a tender moment before his other hand came up, cupping your other cheek before he grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, pinching and pulling your cheeks, “You reckless! Idiotic!! FOOL! Do you know how worried I was?!”

-You whined as he punished you, begging him for mercy but you knew that you deserved this for deceiving him as he released your cheeks, taking your hand to lead you to the infirmary while still scolding you.

-He was so cute- but you knew that he cared.

[mrsrookhunt]

Primal | pt. 1

Lovecraft X Reader

Mating with Lovecraft

Warnings: Fem reader, Animalistic mating, mating rituals, intense pain, breeding, inhuman pregnancy, offerings/human sacrifice, it's basically Lovecraft's backstory; this is so ooc I don't even care lovecraft never gets any attention and this idea has been rolling around in my head for MONTHS so I just gave up and wrote it as fast as possible

18+

When you first agreed to be Howard's partner, you didn't know how deep this went. You had joked, to yourself, before that he was not human, but with a book in hand, and a small smile on his face after you jokingly agreed to be his 'mate'-- because he was joking, right?-- Was that such an improbability?

The book he handed you looked older than time immemorial, but he didn't seem too concerned with its weak bindings as he shoved it into your lap.

"Long... have I awaited to give this to a human. It has been so long... I am glad to have a mate."

"A.. mate? My Howie... tell me what you're going on about."

His face fell and paled a bit.

"I should start from the beginning, from the history of my species." He shifts to hold you in his tentacles, like he's fearful that you might run away.

"Several thousand years ago, there was some sort of... anomaly. A genetic mutation of sorts, or as it's told in the stories.. no one knows what happened. But five of us, the forebearers of our race, were born." He looks at you for permission to continue, and you silently nod for him to keep going, curling yourself into his lap.

He isn't used to story telling, always a man of few words, and seems almost anxious about continuing.

He clears his throat.

"There ar--" a flash of pain crosses his face, clearing his throat to cover up his mistake. "There were 5 factions of us, from each one. At first, we were fruitful. We took human mates, and in the right communities.. we had no need to care for ourselves, since humans bowed in fear to us, providing us food, shelter, and offerings to mate with... Each faction thrived differently, some on showing kindness to humans, some relied on taking several mates to procreate, and others, like mine, were considered the barbarian factions, uncivilized and unable to adapt to human behaviors the way the rest of our kin were."

He glanced at his arms, eyeing the spot where the human skin met his monstrous green flesh; already toeing the line between human and animal in just one physical line, one that must have controlled him internally just as strong.

"Of course, this is why we were dying out. As fast as the tides rolled, my faction began to die out, from an inability to find mates, to fatal feuds with the others."

He looked the most emotional you'd ever seen him, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes as words tumbled from his lips with a passion you'd never heard before. You rubbed his chest, snuggling with a stray thicker tentacle of his to calm him. You poked the suckers gently while he composed himself.

"We weren't feared anymore by the turn of the century, as a species, as scientific doubts began to plague the minds of humans. They stopped providing for us, as their ancestors had. We... were so reliant. Too reliant. The other factions adapted beautifully to meeting their own needs, as fast as they had to reliant life, and there was a time of bliss for them as they assimilated into human life. We came a long way. Even my faction developed the ability to take human forms, despite being the last to develop such a thing. Speech came next, and then social skills. While we weren't advanced... we were ok."

You saw it now, the way his own form aligned with his story. He was too tall, too gaunt, couldn't speak well, spoke too deep and too slow. He was advanced, but not as advanced as a human.

He licked his lips, preparing to continue.

"There was... a drop off. I can't explain it myself; I don't know the cause." He mumbled with a sigh. "Suddenly, my entire species, every faction... was dying out, in mass numbers. Perhaps it was some unknown sickness, or some vile poison. But most of our species... died off. And those who were able to reproduce became few and far between."

He paused, looking the most distressed he had thus far. He made eye contact with you, fear and pain spearing into your soul. This was something you'd never seen from him before. So much pure pain.

"I was one of the very last offspring. There used to be thousands of us on the breeding grounds at any given time, and yet me and ten other young were being drilled by the few remaining elders the importance of our birth. Out of eleven of us, only four were viable. Seven were female, who cannot bear children of our species nor pass on our genes. It was a time of great distress."

You grumbled into his side sadly. This was a mass tragedy of extinction for his species. He rubbed your head a bit, sqeezing his tentacles tighter around you.

"Howie..."

He huffs. "It... doesn't end there."

He sighs to himself, looking down at his lap, avoiding your eyes.

"Two of the males died. It was me, and one other left."

You squeezed onto his pants. "For.. the entire species?"

He nodded back at you, eyes now blank and emotionless as usual.

"Yes, just me and one other. Unfortunately... we only truly mate once. We can have multiple breedings with multiple people, but we only take one mate. And while we could be considered immortal, when we take a mate, we limit our lives. When our mate dies, we follow shortly. The other... a distant cousin of mine, was eager to breed. He took a mate within a few weeks of being allowed to breed by our species' standards. She died during the mating process. There were only about 25 of us left, and only him and me were viable to breed, everyone else having already been mated and past the age of bearing young for humans, and so, we all knew that he would die.

I can't say I've ever wept more tears than I did the day the news of her death was delivered. None of us ever cried more. This was essentially the end of our species as we knew it. We were mourning a dead man who was still alive, and he mourned only for her, his mate. It's death by a broken heart." He admonished curtly, like he was trying to pull the words from his heart without stuttering.

You'd never heard Howard speak with such passion and intensity before.

Tears pricked at your own eyes.

"And what about you, Howie? You still have a chance, you can still--"

"No." He shakes his head with a sadness you could never begin to comprehend. "I cannot revive my species. I am just one man, one who was never expected to mate to begin with, due to my poor heritage from the most despised faction, and my unwillingness to take a mate in my breeding prime, after what happening with my mother, and then my cousin."

"Your mother...?" You whisper quietly, words hanging on the air.

"My..." He cringe, eyebrows coming to a deep furrow. "Ughck... father.. knew his importance to the species, and was more assimilated to human mannerisms than even some of the most skilled of our kind. He didn't inform my mother of his true species and her importance until the night before the wedding, with the expectation that he would mate with her on the wedding night. Our mating.... is a horrible thing. I'll let you read up on it yourself, but.. essentially, this book--"

He gently tapped on the worn leather book you had forgotten you were holding, releasing you from his tentacles.

"Is a record of every written and recorded mating and birthing experience for my faction. It is passed from mate to mate, so you will know what to expect. My father simply dropped a note explaining her role to him, and the book, at her door on the night before the wedding. The wedding... was one big trap. It was a farce simply meant to get them mated and bred, and it distressed my mother, to know that she had no choice in the matter. I've heard.... she went down the aisle in tears. I sincerely doubt... that they were happy ones."

He quiets for a moment.

"Oh, Howie..."

"She hated me. She hated everything about me. She was forced to bear an abomination, not the child she dreamed of. To exacerbate the issue... I looked just like my father, and acted like a perfect stranger to the world, that old trait of inhuman nature that seems to occur in my underdeveloped faction, surfaced in me."

"That's why you won't take a mate." You state quietly, breaking the silence. "You don't want to do to another poor woman what was done to your mother." You caress his face, but he turns away. The silence says enough.

"Howie... I want to be your mate. I promise you that. And maybe mating is horrific; but if we can bear a few sons, it'll be fine. I promise you that I won't reject you or our children; I swear on my life."

He meets your eyes sadly, expression still solemn.

"You haven't heard about the details of mating yet. You'll change your mind."

You brush his coarse, sea-salt smelling hair behind his ear, nuzzling yourself into his chest as you take in his shallow breaths.

"Then tell me. I think you'll be surprised."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Primal | Pt. 1

May 22nd, 2023

-Kaori

Tag a bitch, @layingwithlay here's to my besto friendo bc I felt like tagging you haha, suffer. ♡

[storiesforallfandoms]

more than a song ~ alex turner

word count: 2937

request?: yes!

“hi lovely! i wanted to request an alex turner x reader. just something based off of the song you’re so dark by arctic monkeys. he’s been friends with you for a while but a side comment from his girlfriend (something just like she doesn’t get how they’re just friends) and it’s just snaps into place. ig just him writing the song and moments of them together. maybeeeee him jacking off imagining her on all fours 👀. something like that! thank youuuuu”

description: in which he starts by writing a song about his best friend who is much different than him, and it turns into something more

pairing: alex turner x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (male masturbation), kind of cheating since alex is imagining the reader and not his girlfriend (who will be a made up character, not his real girlfriend louise), also the reader doesn’t really know what alex was doing so idk take that into consideration? idk these warnings are a mess now

masterlist (one, two, three)

It all started with a comment his girlfriend, Cheryl, made.

“She’s so dark. How are you two friends?”

They had just left a night out with Alex’s bandmates and his best friend, (Y/N). It was the first time the two women had met, which Alex was hoping would go well since both of them meant so much to him. They had just barley left the bar when Cheryl made the comment.

It amused him so much that he couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Why do you say that?”

Cheryl gave Alex a look. “Really?”

He stopped walking so he could turn to face her. “I’m serious. What do you mean she’s dark?”

“Alex...she talked for nearly an hour about HP Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe.”

Alex waited, expecting her to explain why that was a bad thing. When she didn’t, he said, “Yeah, those are her favorite authors.”

“They’re very depressing authors.”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve never read any of their stuff.”

Cheryl closed her eyes and sighed. “She’s got a very dark personality, Alex. Like murder of crows follow her around, Addams family’s long lost member dark. It’s just weird to me that you’re her friend when she’s so depressing.”

“Hey, you may think that, but she’s still my best friend. I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t insult her like that.”

Cheryl crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe I should be questioning your friendship with her in different ways.”

It was safe to say the night did not go as planned. Alex brought Cheryl home in a tense silence. He gave her a chaste kiss on her cheek before she got out without a word, slamming her door shut behind her.

The night had definitely left a slight strain on their relationship. Cheryl had decided that she hated (Y/N) just because of this idea she had that Alex and (Y/N) had romantic feelings for one another, but Alex refused to end his friendship with her when that wasn’t true at all, and when he had known (Y/N) for so much longer than Cheryl. So, even though they decided to continue their relationship, it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.

But Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N)’s personality stuck in Alex’s mind. He had never noticed a “darkness” to his best friend. She was just (Y/N), the person Alex had known since they were kids. But now he was thinking about the things she liked, and the way she acted and just her general personality. He found himself humming to himself around his apartment; a melody at first, but eventually lyrics started forming in his mind.

“You got your HP Lovecraft. Your Edgar Allan Poe.”

He quickly rushed to his work desk to scribble down the lyrics as they came to his head.

“You got your unkind ravens, and your murder of crows.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he thought of Cheryl’s comment about (Y/N) being like a murder of crows. What Cheryl didn’t know was that (Y/N) had a tattoo along the backside of her left shoulder that was a flock of black birds. They weren’t distinguishable birds, but she often said it was a murder of crows since they were black birds. Cheryl would probably have lost her mind if (Y/N) was wearing anything that would’ve showed off that tattoo.

Thinking of Cheryl caused his mind to wander to the turmoil of their relationship. He looked down at the verse and chorus he had written about (Y/N) and thought about the fact that he was in the process of writing a song for his best friend when he had never had thought about writing one for Cheryl at all since they started dating. Maybe Cheryl was right to think Alex felt stronger feelings than friendship for (Y/N).

He shook his head. No, that’s not it. She’s my best friend since we were kids, and I’ve only known Cheryl for a few months. That’s all it is.

“I know you’re nothing like mine, cause she’s walking on sunshine. And your love would tear us apart.”

Alex was at his desk for nearly an hour putting the song together. He had two full verses and a rough outline for the chorus, but it still needed something more. He was toying around with more lyrics when he started writing, “You watch Italian horror and you listen to the scores. Leather-clad and spike collar, I want you down on all fours.”

“Whoa,” he muttered to himself. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

But now that he had written it, he couldn’t help but picture (Y/N) doing exactly what he had written: on his bed, down on all fours, her ass in the air.

He shook his head. “No,” he scolded himself. “No, stop. This is wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop. He closed his eyes and the image was embedded into his eyelids. He felt himself straining against his jeans as he imagined himself knelt behind her, looking down at her ass in the wear, wearing only a pair of lacy black underwear.

He groaned as he palmed himself through his jeans. The desire was far too strong to ignore. He had to take care of this, otherwise he knew he’d have a nasty ache between his legs that he would not be able to get rid of.

Just one time, he thought. Then I’ll never think of her like this again.

Alex unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down to his knees. His dick was hard as a rock and angry red. He hissed as the cool air touched the sensitive area. He spit on his hand and wrapped his hand around the base. His head tipped back as a moan erupted from his throat.

He closed his eyes and the image of (Y/N) appeared again. Her face buried into the pillow beneath her, moans muffled by the fabric of the pillow. Alex’s dick plunging in and out of her tight pussy, her ass bouncing every time his hips collided with it. He imagined that her moans were as pretty as her regular voice was. Picturing that pretty voice moaning his name caused his dick to twitch in his hand.

The wet sounds of his hand stroking his dick mixed with his heavy breathing and moans filled the room. His mind drifted from having her bent over in front of him to having her sat on his lap in the very chair where he was sat. He imagined (Y/N), still just in a matching lingerie set, pulling him away from his songwriting so she could climb up onto his lap and straddle him. He imagined her pulling the fabric of her panties to the side, a string of arousal connecting her needy hole and the underwear. He could almost feel the warm, wetness of her walls as she sunk herself down onto him, and her lips on his neck as she started to ride him.

“Fuck,” he grunted. “God, that feels so good.”

His desire to have her grew, even though he knew he never would. She was his best friend. There was no way she felt this way for him, too. And he definitely was not going to risk their friendship by bringing these feelings up to her. More than anything, (Y/N) was his friend and he wasn’t about to lose her all together. For now, the only way he’d have her would be in his imagination, and he was more than okay with that.

Behind his closed eyes he could see (Y/N)’s perfect tits bouncing in his face. He squeezed the base of his dick a little tighter as his jerking motions became quicker, almost more desperate. He could feel his high creeping up on him, and he was desperately trying to chase it.

In his mind, (Y/N) was leaning into his ear. In a sexy, sultry voice, he pictured her whispering, “Cum for me, Alex.”

And that was all he needed to go tumbling over the edge. He called out her name into his empty apartment as his hot cum spilled over his hand, lap, and some on his shirt. He mentally cursed to himself for not preparing more for the mess, but physically he felt incapable of fixing it. He let his head rest on the back of the chair as he breathed heavily. When he opened his eyes to finally face reality, he was looking up at the ceiling instead of at (Y/N)’s beautiful face.

There was a slight ringing in his ears as the blood flow from his brain to his dick finally went down. It was loud enough that he almost didn’t hear his phone vibrating on the desk and took him a moment to realize someone was trying to call him. He reached out with his clean hand to look at the caller ID, and his heart skipped a beat when (Y/N)’s name and face popped up on his screen.

Against his better judgement, Alex answered. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” (Y/N) asked, a joking tone in her voice. “I’ve sent you, like, five text messages.”

Alex pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the lockscreen to see that (Y/N) had in fact tried to text him.

“Hey fucker, what are you doing?”

“Hello? Alex?”

“Quick wanking off and answer me.” (That one both made him laugh and made his heart pound harder against his chest.)

“Listen, can I come over? I wanted to talk about something.”

“I really hope the reason you’re not answering is not what I think.”

“Sorry, I was - uh - I was busy writing,” he said. It wasn’t entirely a lie. “I got really into it and had my phone on silent. Didn’t even know you were texting me. What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Well, I’m currently parked outside your place. Can I come in to talk about it?”

He felt his blood run cold. (Y/N) was outside his place right now trying to come in to talk to him, meanwhile he was sat at his work desk with cum over himself after jerking off to the thought of her.

This truly could not be any worse.

“Yeah! Yeah, just give me a second,” he said, quickly trying to figure out a solution to this.

“Alex, I’ve known you for years, you do not have to tidy the place up for me,” (Y/N) said.

“I know, I just need to...I just have to do something before you come in. Give me a second.”

He hung up before (Y/N) could protest any further. He quickly took off his already cum-stained shirt and used it to wipe off his hand and the area around his dick. He threw the shirt with the rest of his dirty clothes, tucked himself back into his jeans, and found a new shirt to put on. Just as he was pulling the shirt over his head, the doorbell started ringing. He quickly raced to his front door and threw it open to reveal (Y/N) stood there.

“Are you done whatever you had to do?” she asked, but pushed past him before he could answer.

“Come on in, make yourself at home,” he teased as he followed her in.

“I always do,” she said with a smirk. “You’re lucky I respect your privacy enough that I didn’t just get that hidden spare key and barge in here before I called.”

Very, very lucky for that, actually.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he asked her as they reached his living room. “Your texts sounded serious.”

(Y/N) sighed and flopped down onto his couch. Alex sat across from her, leaving a decent amount of space between them. His mind was still reeling from the mental images from earlier that he wasn’t sure if he trusted himself to be so close to (Y/N) right now.

But she seemed very troubled, which was very concerning to him. (Y/N) always talked to him when something was wrong, but very rarely did she physically come over to his place to talk about something. He knew whatever it was had to be very serious for her to show up so suddenly like this.

“I ran into Cheryl at the store just now,” she said, looking down at her lap. “And...well...I know she doesn’t like me. I’m not stupid. I know there’s a reason she doesn’t come out anymore when she knows I’m there, and our brief run ins since we first met always include a glare whenever she sees me. Don’t even try to deny it, Alex.”

He wasn’t going to, but his mouth had been open to speak. He wasn’t even sure what he would’ve said, so he closed his mouth again and allowed her to go on.

“I saw her and decided just to try and avoid her. I expected her to do the same. There was really no reason for her to approach me when it was just her, so I thought. But she came right up to me in the middle of an aisle and she...well, the best way to describe it is she went off on a tirade about not liking me and how she wishes you would just stop being friends with me, and even told me that I should be the one to end our friendship so that she didn’t have to stress about me and you anymore.”

Alex’s hands balled into fists on his lap. He couldn’t believe Cheryl would really go up to (Y/N) like that when he wasn’t around. Like (Y/N), he figured that Cheryl would’ve just walked the other way and left her alone since she disliked her so much. But to go up to his best friend in a public and to go as far as telling her to stop being friends with him for the sake of a relationship that wasn’t even a month in was further than he ever expected her to go.

“I thought you weren’t responding because she got to you first,” (Y/N) continued. “I thought she was going to come to you with some made up bullshit saying that I was the one who attacked her or something.”

“I haven’t heard from her,” Alex said. “I guess she’s waiting till whenever I see her next.”

“Listen, I’m sorry that I’m causing this strain on your relationship - ”

Alex reached out to take (Y/N)’s hand to cut her off. The contact sent a spark through him, but he tried his best to ignore it.

“You’re not the one causing any strain to my relationship. Cheryl is. She’s the one who is feeling so insecure about our relationship that she has to go as far as calling you down to the dirt while I’m not around. I’ve tried everything to assure her there’s nothing to worry about between us, but it’s not enough for her. I think...I don’t think I can continue this relationship with her. Especially not after what you told me.”

(Y/N) looked down at their joined hands. In a soft voice she said, “She’s a fucking bitch.”

Alex smiled and chuckled softly. (Y/N) did as well, and eventually, they were both laughing at her comment.

When the laughter died down silence fell over them. Neither one of them knew how to break it, but they didn’t really feel like they had to. Silence always felt comfortable between the two of them. They never felt like they had to speak if they didn’t want to. They could just sit like this for hours and it would be fine.

But their hands were still joined together. (Y/N) was tracing circles in the back of his hand with her thumb, almost absentmindedly. He liked the feeling of her hand against his. He never wanted to let go of her.

“You said you were writing when I came?” she finally asked, looking up at him. “Anything good?”

“Oh, um, I think so? I haven’t really put it together properly. It’s just a couple verses and a chorus that I have to finish.”

“Can I hear it? Or see what you have written, at least?”

His face burned at the question. He knew he was definitely blushing by the way that a confused look creeped on (Y/N)’s face. How did he show her this song, which was clearly about her and included a line about wanting to fuck her, and not absolutely ruin their friendship in this moment?

“I-I guess, if-if you wanted to,” he stuttered. “But, um...it’s...it’s a little embarrassing because...well, you were my muse for it.”

Her face seemed to brighten. “Really? You were writing about me?”

“Yeah. There’s some lyrics...well, you’d know it was about you the song is released so I guess there’s no getting around it, there’s some lyrics that are a bit...more than friendly.”

And there it was. There was no taking it back.

He watched her face, trying to gauge what her reaction to that revelation would be. She was just looking at him for a moment, as if registering his words, before a smirk crept across her face.

“Then show me,” she told him, her voice low and sultry the exact same way it had been in his imagination.

And Alex swore he had never been more excited than in that moment.

[ornii]

Wednesday x male reader where he has the same personality as Wednesday

The Price of Knowledge

You, for the most part, absolutely dreaded all things bright, colorful and overall anything that could pose some what of an nuisance to you. You preferred solitude and quiet above all manners of enjoyment, which lead to an unfortunately lonely childhood.

Born to a high class of Political Leaders, you were obviously destined for greatness, but that was the lie your family sent to the humanity, only the elite of Nevermore knew who you and what you were.

A Great Old One.

A Race of Malignant old beings from Long ago, locked away in the depths of the world, never allowed to see the world once more. A Profoundly dreadful man named HP. Lovecraft wrote stories about your family, brings of such immense power, that even the sight of an Old Great One would drive Someone mad. Given the power you have, luckily that wasn’t an issue for you. But with the power you have, it was a struggle to adjust to the social normality of humanity. Therefore, Nevermore was set in your sights.

The first year of Nevermore was, uneventful thankfully, besides your unfortunate meeting of one female students there. One day sitting upon a bench reading, you were suddenly approached by a girl, you looked upward to see Enid Sinclair with a cheerful smile, she introduced herself and you did as well. Your creator taught you manners at least, she informed you that she came here because of a Dare by Yoko. The conversation was slightly awkward as your responses were cold, not unintentionally but human interaction wasn’t something you understood but it was something you had to understand eventually if you wish to exist amongst them, and this Werwolf was the perfect pet to introduce you to it. And thus the year continues until she arrives.

Searching the library for a book on the human mind, your enjoyment of knowledge was quickly interrupted by Enids cheerful tone. It gave you nausea, but was something you had to endure.

“(Y/n)!” She said, you slowly turn around to Enid and the, creature next to her. You both locked eyes and immediately felt a surge of distain.

“I want you to meet my new roomie, Wednesday! I thought you two would get along perfectly. Wednesday this is (Y/n), he can move things with his mind.” she says, and it’s understandable why, you both look completely out of place. The discoloration in your bodies, the brooding aura of darkness and death, and the color black.

“Hello.” Wednesday says, and for a second you could see that there was something within her that you never saw in others.

“A pleasure.” You respond and you two stare at each other for what seems to be millennia, granted you cannot read her mind, but something is drawing you towards her.

While the meeting was cordial, you lacked the social attention to continue it, and left the meeting early on.

Days ago by with silence by Wednesday and she was simply a memory in your ever expanding mind. But another day in the library lead to an, interesting occurrence. A book began to fall off the shelf and your wits caught one, your pointer finger seemingly morphs into a dark, almost cosmic colored tentacles which rushes and grabs the book, calmly lifting and placing it back upon the shelf. Your powers were naked to the human eye, This some assume you simply move things with your mind, for humans cannot comprehend. But someone was able to.

“Interesting.” A voice says, you turn to the origin of the sound, and Wednesday was there watching coyly. Your face kept the clandestine look, but you were surprised.

“You.. can see it?” You ask. She nods and slowly approaches again.

“I could tell by our first interaction that you are, different, less human than anyone I’ve met. It seems no one is able to view them, so, what are you?” Wednesday says, and you slowly look around to see that no one is paying attention and the number of beings inside the library is limited, therefore you can speak a bit candidly.

“That knowledge… what you wish to know, it’s forbidden.” You say, and Wednesday closes Inc her cold eyes meeting yours.

“Curiosity of the dark arts has always been an intriguing study.”

“Dark Arts? Don’t call what I am child’s play Woman. The knowledge I have can drive one to madness.”

“And the price of knowledge is my sanity? Are you sure you’re trying to dissuade me?” Wednesday says. Your face slowly begins to contort, into what humans would call a, smile?

“You are, an interesting being…” you say, “Perhaps I will enjoy my stay here more than I expected..”

[eatstarz]

I’ve been here for like 2 days so here’s an intro

Hi, hello, good morning or afternoon or night

You can call me Star, Starz, B, or any nickname as long as I’m ok with it & I go by she/her

my ao3 is eatstarz but I don’t post that often, please make requests to save me from writers block (lack of inspiration not motivation)

here are some things I’m interested in in most interested to least

• Rick Riordanverse (I’m on toa atm)

• Reading and writing (I won’t read books with romance as the main genre but romance subplots & fanfics w preexisting ships I love) (I also cannot write romance for the life of me, but I can write unrequited love & angst/ hurt no comfort)

•Art (digital, sketching, markers, painting, etc)

• dinosaurs

•Dracula (The original novel, I will not acknowledge any of the movies/series unless Mina Harker Eats)

• baking (please help I can bake pretty much anything except chocolate chip cookies)

• the outsiders (I go through phases where I’m obsessed and where I forget everything)

• classical literature

• nickleback, arctic monkeys, Alex Benjamin, and train are some of my favorite artists

• Horror (I love horror but I get scared very easily)

• gnomes

• candles

• Fnaf

•Mat Pat (like all his channels & I’ve been a fan for 6+ years)

Here’s a list of things I will not write about, most other things are on the table you’ll just be ignored if I’m not comfortable with it, if I write it it will be posted on ao3 & I’ll leave the link in response

• nsfw (gore/bloody things are good, just nothing sexual however I can imply it)

•romance (I’m horrible at writing it

• hurt/ comfort (I can’t write comfort, you might get a little bit but it’ll go away fast)

• adult/ minor anything

• y/n x character/ reader inserts (used to write these all the time & I can’t anymore it’s so cringey to me)

Basically come to me if you want the angstiest angst without fluff

Fandoms/topics I’ll write about

• PJO, HOO, TOA

•Dracula

• TGCF

• BSD (not always I don’t keep up w it much)

• lovecraftian horror (I don’t condone things Hp lovecraft has done/said obviously but I love his works, so I will do nothing related to his metaphors about race and such) (can be original ish or existing creatures)

• psychological horror (i will not write about mental illnesses in that kind of way that makes everyone with them seem crazy (does that make sense(?))

• fnaf

• Dracula

This was pretty long but if you’re interested in anything I’ve mentioned don’t be afraid to dm me ! (I’m afraid to dm people)