This boyfriend... ‘situation’, you could call it, wasn’t quite what you had expected. Not that you were complaining, all things considered. It was unbelievable. Actually, it was beyond unbelievable. Sometimes you’d wake up groggy, thinking that the events of the past several months must have been but a dream. You would sit bolt upright in bed, heart aflutter and sweating buckets. Then of course a gentle, comforting arm would circle round your waist to gently pull you back to his side and you’d relax, safe and secure in his embrace as several pitch-black tentacles would promptly pet you tenderly back to sleep.

Tentacles?!

Woah. Woah. Woah. -Record scratch- Let’s back up a bit, shall we?

C҉a̛r̛l̵al̶o̧gh’͠he̕lysion͟g̸p͞ŵ̶èl̨ or ‘Carl Elysion’ as his student ID showed, would have been considered something of a catch at your university if he didn’t keep himself to himself so much. The 2nd Year philosophy student was a cute, tall-ish, suave package of slender cheekbones, pale muscle, so-blonde-it-was-silvery hair and dark brown eyes framed behind rimmed glasses, with a general disposition of overly-but-not-falsely-sweet hidden neurosis of someone who is used to being reserved and trying to hide it. If he bothered to make proper friends beyond the usual acquaintances one might share a drink and a chat with but not much more, you have no doubt he would be considered a right proper lad. Beyond that, he was mostly normal. Mostly.

To be frank, the way in which you first met was relatively mundane. Positively banal, even. The two of you had collided with each other as you were making your way round a corner hurriedly on the way to your lecture; in-between effusive apologies and picking up your files off the floor, he had offered you a coffee to make up for it. Oddly charmed, you accepted his offer and the rest as they say, is history. Despite some initial misgivings the two of you were quickly able to settle into a comfortable relationship. He was not nearly as aloof as some fancied him to be, and took a genuine and considerate interest in your person. Hell knew the sex was good, even if he had insisted on waiting a couple of weeks before making a move. The boy was a fucking animal in bed, and seemed able to shift between being a commanding top and energetic power bottom, not that he cared for such labels in the first place. By the end of the second month you had moved into his accommodation at his invitation (your friends good-naturedly bemoaned your good fortune), a two-bedroom cosy little apartment stationed near campus with a fabulous skylight and a wonderful decor which was straight up your street.

All in all, life was good. The honeymoon period had yet to end, and you were just relieved to be in a mutually fulfilling relationship which was going strong.

True that he sometimes sleep-walked in the nude and stubbornly insisted on ‘Pillow Fort Friday’, but otherwise he kept things amiable and romantic and besides, he kept the place clean, and wasn’t a partier but didn’t mind if you and the squad threw some sometimes. It was that assured, easy-going nature and thinly-veiled mystery that made his company deeply enjoyable if quirky. He liked watching the movies you liked to watch and only talked to the TV if he was watching something on his own. He made an effort to get along with your friends and you were delighted when he organised a surprise birthday bash for you with them. Carl also happened to work a decent schedule at a local patisserie when he wasn’t in class or off doing... things... and brought home plenty of baked goods as a result. He occasionally worried about being a good boyfriend, and was not prideful enough to refuse to talk about sensitive topics pertaining beliefs or your relationship.

Nevertheless, by the time the third month rolled round you couldn’t help but realise certain things were, well, plain off about Carl. Properly weird stuff that was a level above the usual eccentricities you had come to adore. At first you were able to brush off his eyes turning a bottomless onyx when in a heightened emotional state or that he occasionally would speak in several unrecognisable tongues at once, but soon enough, things had got to the point where you had to have a frank discussion about his otherworldliness.

Carl, bless him, responded calmly, if somewhat ominously. He relented under a chaste kiss and a promise it wouldn’t change anything, and so he told you of his lineage as best he could. You surprised yourself with how easily you were able to accept his claim of being a ‘Lesser Prince of Unfathomed Carcosa’, whatever that meant (though it did explain why he lapsed into the royal ‘we’ when referring to himself) and with a little more explanation, the two of you strove to carry on as before. Well. Not quite as before.

Almost overnight, the inexplicable aura surrounding Carl and the apartment became far more noticeable to yourself. With no need to maintain the flimsy illusion of normalcy, Carl now kept his eyes that natural onyx black when around you. He seemed much more inclined to a grin now too, more often than not revealing a lengthy dark purple tongue which you soon learnt could do some fucking fantastic things to your body. The most overt change in his person was probably the six or so thick tentacles that sprouted out of somewhere on his lower back on will (come to think of it you could never tell quite where the base was), which with your consent, became a permanent feature of your sex life. Trust me, you’d never felt so perfectly filled in your life as you had that first time every orifice of yours was plugged, stretched and caressed by several throbbing, prehensile tentacles.

Naturally, there were some things that initially scared the shit out of you and had to grow accustomed to, like the time that you learnt that the ‘faeries’ which Carl said tidied the house at night was something of a misnomer; waking up at 3am to the sight of some silent, wingéd horror with a maw impossibly full of teeth sorting out the books clumsily on your bedside table was not quite what you had been hoping to see.

Still. You were boyfriend and girlfriend, determined to make it work and what could be normal than that? He had even bought tickets to the ‘King In Yellow’ for you two to see at the theatre this weekend. Funnily enough, your friends hadn’t heard of it either.

Hello there! Here’s one to all you ladies and gentlemen out there wishing for their very own lovecraftian boyfriend to tangle with. I’d like to be upfront with the fact that I’m not looking for anything dark or unpleasant with this. Generally speaking I’d like to keep this light and fluffy, with lots of tentacles and cuddlefuckings involved; think along the lines of relaxed sexuality, consensual power dynamics and all that sensual jazz. Just a couple of regular humans in love, nothing to see here.

Personally, and it may just be me, but I also happen to find the idea of this cute boy suckling on your genitals while on his knees, who’s looking up at you with doe eyes for approval despite being able to shatter your sanity on a whim, kinda hot. At the same time, consider tentacles (consentacles, if you will) to be a mandatory kink in this prompt since I’m positively dying to write out at least one glorious scene where your character is writhing in the grip of several beastly tendrils.

If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I promise I don’t bite! Much. I’m looking for a oneshot so if you’d also like to discuss a potential scene in a similar vein then don’t hesitate to slide into my PMs.