I got a lot of requests for a tentacle story, which is one I’ve be wanting to do! Thank you anons! Keep requesting!
Your cousin came for a visit and gave you a strange potted plant as a gift. She claimed it was a small succulent but you had never seen anything like it before. It came out like thick leaves that formed tightly together into a long cone, going from green to a soft pink color. Your cousin simply told you to keep it watered and sometimes give it sugar water.
You did so, watering it when the soil got dry and once a week you would use the sugar water on it. You weren’t sure how well you could keep it alive, you had never been a plant person. You had tried keeping herbs gardens and even house plants, but that always ended in tragedy. You had even tried planting wildflower seeds and as it did was result in a bald patch in your yard.
You were intent on keeping this little plant alive. You did everything the old ladies at the garden shop told you to do, you even talked and sang to the little plant. You kept it on a clear spot on your windowsill and even switched out the pot for it when you were worried it was getting too small.
(this isn’t day 8! I’m doing a full kink prompt for today too! but we had this idea last night and it was adorable so I had to write it and why not share?!)
“I got you a thing,” Noctis says, with a smile, when Prompto
comes home. He’s waiting, sitting at the kitchen table, draped backwards over a
Prompto’s eyes narrow, in response as he closes the door and
stops, head tipping, to give Noctis a look.
Noctis is pretty damn pleased with himself, if he’s being
honest. Neither of them are entirely sure of the exact year they met. Things
get kinda funny and blurry when you’ve been alive so long. The exact day? No
fucking way. He remembers the season though, and it’d been a cold, rainy autumn
day, the sky all dreary and the first hints of frost in the air. He remembers
spending those first weeks curled up in bed next to Prompto when they’d left
the window open and the cold had crept in and they’d woken up tangled together
for extra warmth.
“A thing,” Prompto parrots back at Noctis, and he looks torn
between excitement and wariness. Prompto, in a lot of ways, is like an
excitable kitten. Restless and easily entertained, but also easily bored, with
a short attention span and deadly claws, underneath the cute. It’s all part of
why Noctis loves him.
An AU where a big and advanced alien species enslaved humanity some centuries ago, and they consider humans as cute, fashionable pets.
Aliens are big and weird, and in a size and social role comparison humans are like a small housecat.
So you’re minding your business in your home, climbing up on the improbably big furniture and prodding at the incomprehensible alien knick-knacks. They use some really unintuitively behaving materials and they bounce when they should crack, or break when they’ve obviously taken harder knocks before.
Sometimes an alien picks you up with half a dozen tentacles, brings you close to its weird, bad-smelling eating and sniffing orifice, and proceeds to rub its face on your chest while you hang in there, while the alien goes “SNOOFMURFMURFSNUFMOOF” on you. Because it loves you, that’s why. Then it carries you to a different room while lovingly caressing you behind an ear with a slightly damp, cool tentacle, and plops you down in a seemingly random spot.
Occasionally, you spot someone else peering at you from around a corner or behind a bit of furniture, and you run over to see who it is, but they vanish - only to appear a little way off elsewhere. This only ever happens when the alien is in the room, watching you, and while it’s holding a strange-looking rod. That’s right - you’re pretty much chasing a laser pointer.
There’s this huge bowl in one room, kind of like an oversized punch bowl, and the alien pours some sort of slurry into it every day. It looks like week-old borscht, but the flavor changes by day. Sometimes it tastes like bacon, other times like candy. As soon as you’ve gotten comfortable with it, the alien starts serving you some completely different kind of slurry that tastes like aphids and old socks, and makes this frustrated “BLURBLEPLURPBLORRB”-noise while wiggling its flagella at you when you shun this substandard fare. There’s no way to make it clear that the place the alien got your food stopped carrying it and now the alien is trying very hard to get something as similar as it can find so you’ll be happy, but how’s it supposed to know how it tastes to you?
But when all is said and done, the alien does care about you. You get some weird-looking but fun toys to play with, you have a nice, soft and enormous pillow to lounge on, and the alien apparently enjoys listening to you talk at it while it gives you gentle tentacle-pets. And you can usually sleep curled up next to its big and soft midsection when the house is dark for the next 27 hours.