#ask to tag. I'll add more if there should be more warnings. thumbsup

[contamination-zone]

Sharing a Meal

[UTMV FIC] Contains: Platonic Fresh & Nightmare, cannibalism, toxic relationship, Dead Dove*, non-consensual touching** [2,000~ words]

*[LOT of cannibalism] **[Nightmare and Fresh are good, but Fresh's host is semi-conscious at points and Not down to clown]

“I’ll feed you tomorrow if you let me…” It growled, the noise more akin to a whine, “you said this place was all you could eat.” He tightened his grip, letting his hand pet its spine in a soothing motion. It always loved that spot, “Come now, pet. A meal for a meal, that’s how we always did this.”

or. nightmare bites fresh. a lot. [platonic]

Fic under cut! or on AO3

Nightmare barely looked up as Fresh entered his office, even as it stomped in, almost seeming to beg for attention. Its wheels rattled against the hardwood floor, and he clicked his tongue, “stop that, you’ll damage the floor's wax.”

“It’ll add to the dreary look you’ve got going on, broski.”

He signed, “I suppose you are right. Is there something you need?”

“Nah, just chilling dude.” Fresh slunk closer, vaguely curious of his work but mostly seeming to want proximity. He was reminded of a cat. It definitely did need something.

“You are a good liar, but not enough for me.” He said, eying it up and down. It was thinner than usual, and a bit haggard looking; maybe it needed a new host? The bags just visible near its eyes could mean it wanted to sleep near him. That antsy energy that seemed to permeate its movements though… “Are you perhaps lonely, my dear parasite?”

“Not lonely my broski, under-stimulated. Bored.”

“Of course.” He’d let it have that. “How about we retreat to my room after… after I finish this paper. I’d been looking to turn in early anyhow.” 

He hadn’t, but he’d been particularly frustrated by the stars, his brother mostly. It would be nice to have some stress relief.

It hummed its ascent, fully finding itself behind his desk, head hooked around his shoulder, as he finished the last  few lines he’d needed to write. 

He shooed it off as he got up, stretching. 

It snickered, “you act like an old man.”

“And you act like a child.”

It laughed again and skipped a few steps ahead. Fresh had spent enough time in his castle, in his chambers, to know where to find them.

He followed at a more leisurely pace, not caring to rush and just enjoying the faint hint of suffering wafting off of his companion. It was too little to tell if it was the host or Fresh itself, but either way it tasted tangerine sweet.

By the time he’d gotten to his room, Fresh had already sprawled across his sheets, lounging like a big cat. Its confidence to act like what was his belonged to it instead astounded him.

“Seems you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

It lazily flicked one eye open. “Of course, brotato.” Throwing out its arms in a universal ‘hug me’ gesture, it whined, “get in here already. This things too cold.”

The guardian of negativity did not mention the fact that he was probably cooler than the bed, himself. Or the fact that it seemed perfectly comfortable without him, seconds beforehand. Further, he did not even climb in bed with it.

He, instead, chose to change into a nightgown. Something warm and flowing, with fluffy lining. 

Eyes bore into his back as he did so, though he knew the parasite had zero interest in what was shown. It was just impatient for him to get his nightly routine over with.

“The next soul you eat should be cyan, Fresh.” 

“Eh? What's that sposed to mean dude?”

“Nothing at all,” he said, settling comfortably next to it and letting his tentacles freemove. Mostly they wrapped around Fresh.

It squirmed a bit, adjusting to the encroaching constraint.

“Settle down,” He murmured against its neck, thinking about how vulnerable it was. It hummed, already sleepy, and tilted its head back so he could cuddle closer. The motion was undeniably cute….

He nuzzled against its vertebrae again, this time purposely blowing some cold air onto them, eliciting a shiver. “Jus’ lemmie’ sleep man…”

“Thought you were always up to having fun,” he teased.

“Rain check…m’ sleepy.”

“I’ll feed you tomorrow if you let me…”

It growled, the noise more akin to a whine, “you said this place was all you could eat.”

He tightened his grip, letting his hand pet its spine in a soothing motion. It always loved that spot, “Come now, pet. A meal for a meal, that’s how we always did this.”

It huffed again, squirming in his grip; he noted it didn’t try that hard. Considering its options.

Finally, it went limp. 

“Good boy,” he whispered, peppering a few kisses up the side of its spinal cord and under its mandible, eliciting more shivers. He wasn’t the largest fan of kissing, though not the biggest detractor either. Fresh, however, seemed to adore them. “aren’t you such a sweetheart?”

It must have loosened its grip on its host for him, because he felt a new wave of revulsion and horror from the body. He couldn’t help but coo at that, “So sweet for me, adorably weak to praise.”

“I just like hearing the truth bro…” it stuck out its tongue at him, annoyed. “Jus keep doing that.”

“Of course, as long as you keep acting so charming.” He hummed, nibbling a little with his next motion, testing. The bone was pretty brittle, probably because it had been in the host for so long. If he bit just a little harder…

It hissed at him, giving a playful swat, “hey! I don’t want to deal with damages.”

He rolled his eyes, “it was just a graze. You make yourself so tempting.”

It narrowed its eyes, and he could taste some annoyance in the air, though nothing too firey, certainly somewhat pacified by the complements.

He nuzzled it more gently, closest he was willing to give to an apology, “I’ll reimburse you. Go out and catch something fresher than I have in the dungeon.”

It hummed, very plainly interested.

He continued, “I’d look for a swap, one very plump and with a lot of good magic. I’m sure I could get them unharmed as well…”

It groaned, “No take backsies though, and you'd gotta get me them. Tomorrow.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“You like that about me.” It grinned, golden tooth glinting.

He sighed, “I really don’t know why.”

“C’monnn,” it whined, “don’t stop dropping the compliments as you get what you want. That’s so shallow!”

He laughed, which must have annoyed it, because it took more initiative. It pressed Nightmare’s face to its chest, growling at him.

“You’re such a charmer,” he said into its chest, “you know that?”

“Of course,” Fresh said, probably rolling its eyes. It listed the rest of its terms, “You can have the clavicles, bit of the sternum, and one or two upper ribs.”

He hummed, considering; what it offered was non-essential to a skeleton monster, at least for a day. “How generous of you.”

“I’m a super giving dude. So it’s a deal?”

“I will concede to that.” He pushed himself up, until he could straddle its stomach. It let him do so, slumping more comfortably in bed.

“The left clavicle first,” he warned, tearing a straight line down the middle of its shirt. Many of the bones had hairline fractures, small, nearly unnoticeable. He went for a spot that seemed easiest to break off.

“My shirt had buttons bro!”

He ignored it— the shirt would be ruined with blood anyway— and bit in, right before its shoulder met clavicle. The bone snapped with an almost unsatisfying crunch. It was brittle from how long Fresh has been in it.

The body below him jerked, though Fresh’s face remained grinning. More control let go of itself so it wouldn’t feel him eating it alive. Disappointing, but he’s sure he can enjoy the pain of its host instead.

After a moment's consideration, he swallowed the dust that had filled his mouth. It tasted bland, and he could understand why Fresh didn’t like it. Still, the image before him of its wounds slowly leaking magic? The wafting pain and fear of its host? It made the experience worth it.

His meal shook its head at his expression, mock disapproving, “you are the nastiest guy I know, you know that bro?”

“You tell me often,” he murmured, taking a lick at one of the bleeding wounds. Much better than just the dust; citrusy, which must have been Fresh’s influence, contrasting with the pain of the host. The sour and sweet mixed into lemonade. “It really is your fault though. You marinate these bodies until they’re irresistible.”

The parasite preened a bit, though it took on a mock-humble tone as it spoke “I don’t alter the magic that much.”

“Then it is good I enjoy the more subtle things in life.” He took another bite, fully removing its left clavicle. Most of it didn’t fit in his mouth, and he cupped his hand to catch the dust. “Do you want some?”

It gave him a flat look, “I already ate most of this body. Really that’s leftovers.”

“Come now,” He pressed his thumb against  the corner of its mouth. It, despite its protests, opened for him. Carefully pouring the dust in, he cooed at its compliance, “Your manners are lovely.” 

It grumbled and swallowed, though the grin got wider, “yeah… tastes awful. This is why I eat them live.” 

“To each their own, I suppose.” He hummed, fitting his teeth around the rib just below his last bites, splattered with blood. 

It was a more meaty bone, not snapping or breaking beneath his jaw as easily. He tugged, fangs sunk in, and felt Fresh lift slightly with his effort; the rib didn’t snap. 

A slight keen rang out, pained and hurt, making him glance up to see Fresh’s face, tinted with blush, embarrassed. “Ah, sorry man. Letting the body go too much.”

“No no, that was wonderful…”

It pouted, “don’t compliment him, complement me.”

He leans in to nuzzle its face, rubbing his cheek against its, “it’s only as cute as it is because it’s your voice.”

Warmth bloomed where he was touching it, and he grinned. It was so easy.

He laughed, before leaning down to fit his teeth back in the grooves he’d left. He braced his hands against its shoulders and finally broke it. It dusted slower, first the edges; he even tasted the marrow for a moment. 

The body shivered under him, chest heaving with pain. He let his own chest press down against Fresh’s, feeling every quiver and wheeze. It was sweeter than any of the blood or dust he’d eaten, a flavoring to add to the more physical meal. 

He gently held the right, remaining clavicle between his fingers, feeling how frail and hollow it felt after weeks of being connected to Fresh, and snapped it. The body flinched against him, the sharp pained zap of echoing into the air.

The parasite let out another hiss, and he cooed sweet praises as he continued. Carefully removing more of that clavicle with his hands until he had better access to the rib he’d been aiming for. 

“Just one more.”

“Better be.” It let out a noise between a huff and wheeze.

Settling his teeth around this one, he just nibbles and scraped at it instead of trying to yank it out. Putting pressure until he punctured it to marrow, he got a better opportunity to taste the flavour before it turned to dust in his mouth.

Fresh kicked one of its legs, though it didn't otherwise struggle. He couldn’t tell if it was the host or parasite that was starting to find this too much, the air was so highly saturated with distress. 

He lapped at the wounds gently, though with the way it still squirmed under him he knew it to be painful, before finally leaning back and looking at the mess he’d made of Fresh and its host.

It was covered in blood, breathing hard. Delightfully, the corner of its eye-sockets held tears. The rest of its expression seemed mostly sleepy or bored though, only a tad pinched; it was probably just its host once more. Still, he couldn’t help but find them so cute.

“Thank you, my dear,” he smiled, wiping the blood from his face. 

It grumbled, “I didn’t think you’d take so much.”

“What, do you think your body will dust in the night?” He cupped its cheek, voice sickly sweet.

It narrowed its eyes, but leaned in anyway, “if I do, change the terms to breakfast in bed too.”

He laughed, “of course. I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow, for now… let’s just get some sleep.”

It huffed at his seeming lack of remorse, but was quick to bring its arms around him. The movements were jerky and stiff, either from the lack of magic or the way it had cut control, but that didn’t stop its octopus-like hug.

In turn, he curled more comfortably over it, settling his head near its neck again he used one of his tentacles to pull the blankets over them. 

He made a pleased noise, stretching comfortably out over the larger monster, “you make a nice bed. Maybe I should keep you here.”

It tightened its grip, and he could feel it smiling, “well, weighted blankets are pretty rad.”

He tightened his grip, putting more pressure on it. It relaxes even further under him. He really should do this more often. He could barely remember what had gotten him so frustrated.