Tentacle Temptation - A Seductively Slimy Christmas
Something fell down the chimney and landed in my fireplace with a wet splat. I jumped back, crossing my arms over my chest. I stared into my fireplace for a second, trying to make out what was lying in the darkness. Was that a Santa hat? It looked like one, but this one was a bit different, its shape strangely warped. It was also sticky, a mucous coating drenching it.
A second later something long and sticky darted down the chimney. It was only there for a moment, snatched up the hat and was gone. In that second I felt a strange desire swirl within me. My nipples pressed hard against my forearms and I felt a moistness dribble from between my thighs. I crept towards the fireplace. As I got closer, I saw a pool of slime where the hat had been. Long strands of slime dangled down the chimney chute.
At that moment I knew that Santa Claus had skipped my house entirely. This year I was visited by Tenta Claus! In a flash it dawned on me what my gift was this year. My last minute naughtiness had paid off!
Excitement exploded within me. I grabbed my present and ran to the bedroom. Slime oozed from the bottom of the box, trickling over my arms and down my bare breasts. I plopped the present on my bed. The wrapping paper tore open on either side of the box and through each hole burst a tentacle, sending droplets of slime across my bedding and onto the floor. The tentacles reached to the bow and pulled it undone, then lifted the box’s lid. The four walls of my Christmas gift folded open revealing what was inside.
from my unpublished Leviathan / tentacle monster reader fic (Previous snippets from this WIP can be found here and here!). tags: eldritch tentacle cuddling.
“Cuddle me some more?” he asks, shyly, and you happily engulf him entirely, enveloping him within your mass and wrapping him up so entirely in gentle tentacled grips that he can feel it all over, that he is completely safe and isolated from the outside world. He eeps a little, and then relaxes into you, curling comfortably, wrapping his tail around a few of your tentacles in return. He looks into your nearest trio of eyes, and smiles.
content tags: dom!tentacle monster!Reader x sub!Leviathan, assigned gender at birth? pff tentacle monsters have no use for your humanoid binaries (gender/sex neutral reader), inhuman flirting, pre-canon, eldritch vibes, tentacles. so many tentacles. so many eyes. so many eyes
[rated M below] [WIP ZONE]
[You are The Unknown, youngest descendant of the Old Gods, terror of the deep ocean. You are mostly made up of an ever-shifting mass of tentacles and eyes that change shape and length and color at will. You are, as your friends assure you, hot. And today is the day when you finally seduce the object of your desire: Avatar of Envy, master of the seas, Leviathan himself.]
---
Oh, you say, taken aback. You misunderstand my intentions. I don't want to eat you. I want to court you. You thought you had signaled that very clearly, by howling your intentions in three voices and sending your best servants to Leviathan to do his bidding and projecting provocative glimpses of your sexy self into his dreams. You know, the traditional way.
"Y-you want to court a yucky otaku like me?" he stammers, trying to hide his face behind his arm.
You tilt several dozen eyes at him curiously. What is "otaku"?
"It's -- it's …" he trails off, uncovering his face, staring at you. "You really want … me?"
Ah, humanoids, always making things complicated for themselves. Yes, I desire you, you say patiently. I desire to mate with you and penetrate you with my tentacles and fertilize your eggs with my sperm. And sucker my tentacles all over your delicious soul and put my tentacles in your mouth and make you scream, you don't say, because Leviathan's face turns red with arousal and embarrassment, and oh, what a gift, humanoids usually don't change color this much unless they have chromatophores. You writhe several hundred tentacles in horny glee, and mimic his color change, though you can't help but strobe a little, like a horny twenty-millennia-old adolescent. He just makes you feel so youthful.
"I don't ... have eggs," Leviathan says faintly.
Fine, you can fertilize mine then, I'm versatile, you say.
A mega-megalodon comes by, right then, and charges to try to eat you both. You stay in place and let Leviathan handle it; maybe a show of force will help build his confidence.
The mega-megalodon charges, this enormous hulk of muscle and fin and teeth, and Leviathan turns and leans forward and the mega-megalodon just stops. For a moment, a glorious moment, he and the shark are face to face, Leviathan's tiny form floating in the face of imminent consumption and the mega-megalodon frozen with its fool mouth open wide, the water around them still as death. And then Leviathan gestures with his arm, and the water surges, and the mega-megalodon is tossed leagues away, tumbling end over end until it finally rights itself in the updraft of a hot mineral vent. The bioluminescent spots down the length of its back shift to a peaceful, cowardly don't eat me I swear I taste bad green, and it darts away like a minnow.
Then Leviathan turns to you, eyes aglow with power, and you shiver a little with delight and arousal. "Okay," he says, in a glorious voice of three tones, "I accept your courtship."
🦑 take your tentacle monster on a date 🦑/ Ruri-chan headcanon [OM!] [tentacle monster Reader/Leviathan]
check out the first snippet from this fic here! -> [link]
content tags: tentacle monster!Reader / Leviathan, gender neutral reader, monster courting, fluff, humor, eldritch vibes, communication issues between a tentacle monster & a humanoid demon, my attempt at a Ruri-chan headcanon, one tiny mention of breeding (literally 2 words)
[rated T below] [WIP ZONE]
Courting Leviathan, it turns out, involves a lot more talking than you had thought it would. He’s still pretty damn adorable, bringing you gifts of strange little figurines and textiles and babbling on and on about them. But you don’t understand his fascination with them, or the need to amass so many of them when they all look so similar to you, though of course you safely secret away everything he gives you into a pocket dimension.
Until one day, when you come up to meet him in the cool shallows just below the drop-off, and he beams happily as he tells you that this is his favorite and hands you a little clear rectangular prism with air trapped inside along with an idol of --
You hurl the box away from you, your tentacles writhing and flinching in fright. The Mistress of Poison! you howl.
“Hey!” Leviathan cries, snagging the box as it soars by him. “Why did you do that?!”
You inch away from him, and the terrifying mint-condition idol he’s cradling in his arms. You have doomed us both, you wail mournfully. None can touch the Mistress of Poison’s unholy idols but for her most dedicated acolytes!
He looks confused. “Um, this is just a regular-edition figurine, you can get these anywhere -- I would give you a nicer one, at least an SSR, but I haven’t quite worked out the waterproofing enchantments yet, and I wouldn’t want to waste a limited-edition SSR if it’s just going to get crushed by the pressure when you go home… But here, I doubt you care about mint-condition collecting, so you can touch this one!”
And he opens the package, releasing the air in a stream of bubbles, and reaches in --
NO! you roar, and seize his arm to keep him from touching the idol, from being tainted by its venomous corruption and dooming himself, and he flinches so hard that he drops the box and it goes sailing through the water. And lands, open side first, on the tip of one of your tentacles. The idol is touching you.
You shriek so loud it kills a nearby school of fish, and nearly tear a hole in the fabric of reality to hurl yourself away from this horrible plane of existence, before you realize -- you feel nothing. No pain. The tentacle touched by the idol is not withering away into a warped husk, no deadly corrupting venom is clawing its way through your being, the ten thousand voices of the Mistress of Poison are not crooning their song of murder into your mind.
You’re fine. And Leviathan is holding your tentacle.
“Are you okay?” he says, eyes wide with concern for you.
You shrink down a little, drawing your tentacles inward. (Including the one Leviathan is holding. This brings him closer to you. Nice.)
I am very confused, you admit. You offer the box back to him. This idol is safe to touch?
“Yes,” he says, looking confused himself as he takes the box. “It’s just a plastic figurine. Ruri-chan doesn’t poison her fans.” He glances aside. “Anymore.”
Ruri-chan, you echo slowly. A fittingly horrendous new name for the Mistress of Poison.
He smiles, and gives a happy little giggle, looking at the idol fondly. “I know, right? She’s so cunning and adaptable!”
Yes, you agree. You look at the idol, too. The “figurine”. Please tell me more about the recent exploits of the Mistress Ruri-chan, you say. I fear my seclusion in the depths has left me ignorant of Her Venomousness’ latest pursuits.
He beams happily with his teeny tiny humanoid teeth, and launches into an adorably excited babble about the last five thousand years of Poisonous news, to which you listen attentively, frequently exclaiming in excitement, in between snacking on the fish you killed earlier, which your tentacles started grabbing as soon as you realized you weren’t about to die. (You try to feed some to Leviathan, but apparently he can’t talk and eat at the same time, so he only eats a couple, before rambling on. It’s ok, you’ll kill a proper meal for him to eat later. Maybe that mega-megalodon is still around?)
She infiltrated the human world? you exclaim.
“Yes!”
And didn’t poison them all??
“No, listen, you haven’t heard the rest yet --”
You munch on your snacks, listening intently.
“...and now she uses flower magic to destroy evil demons!”
Flower-based poisons, you muse, sagely nodding several hundred eye-stalks, a truly ingenious means of keeping her foes at bay.
“Exactly!!” He does an excited little wiggle in the water, and continues.
She sang a diabolic duet with Levistus?? you exclaim, sometime later.
“I know, right??”
And I MISSED IT??? you screech, brandishing several half-eaten fish in agitation.
He smirks at you. He’s still holding your tentacle, which makes your other tentacles shiver with joy. “I have the concert special episode on my D.D.D.,” he says. “We can watch it together!”
Yes, you say immediately. A Date, a Proper Humanoid Date, aaaaa you are the luckiest direct descendant of Mighty Cthulhu to have ever spawned.
“Oh, but …” His face falls a little. “My D.D.D. is only waterproofed to twenty meters.” He gives you a hesitant look. “You’ll have to come up to the surface…”
You do your best to suppress the instinctive shiver, tightening your grip on his hand. Do I have to go … on land? you ask weakly. For him, you would, but…
“No, the reef is shallow enough,” he says, “you can stay fully submerged the whole time.”
Oh, you say, and relax. Reefs are fine. Tasty, though not filling. Let’s go then!
You watch the concert together with him at the edge of the reef, on a tiny little rectangular spell-stone that Leviathan summons and holds in both hands. Sadly, you don’t get to hold his hand during it. But he does let you cuddle up close to him, and blushes and smiles so delectably when you show restraint and carefully lay one (1) tentacle across his shoulders and along his arm.
The concert is devastatingly good. You love everything about the new Ruri-chan, and continue to be incredibly satisfied that you pledged to tithe a portion of your ongoing soul collection to her all those eons ago. Your happy screeching (and your attempts to sing along with the one song you know, an old deep-sea trench classic) shatter a swath of nearby coral and shake a bunch of fresh fish and crustacean carcasses loose from the reef floor, so there are also snacks for your Date, oh infinite hells, it’s so perfect. Leviathan even eats everything you hand him, this time, prickling sea slugs and hornet shrimp and anemone-laden chunks of coral, and as he munches contentedly away at the snacks while watching Ruri-chan dance a dance of decomposition and destruction and decay, you feel the constant howling of feed your mate stuff him full feed him breed him FEED HIM in the back of your mind quiet down to a low hiss for the first time in an eon.
