Hii!! I'm Puppy, this is a sideblog of mine I'll be using to post anything and everything about Fresh! Might also post some CB, and rarer other utmv characters.
Fresh is my favorite forever and ever :-]
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[Masterlist of all my Fresh fanfics!]
Tags:
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#puppyyips -> longer text-posts about Fresh/aus
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#fresh & [character name] -> Any artwork featuring fresh and another character will be tagged fresh and the other characters name
And Nightmare's smile was back, content with whatever conclusion he had drawn, “How about a meal, together. I’ve always wanted to be more involved in… what makes you unique.”
“What do you even mean, involved?”
“Whatever you want it to mean, darling.” He offered his hand, after a moment’s hesitation, Fresh took it. He seeped between its bones.
--
or, Nightmare helps a sick Fresh take over a host
This fic was written for Fresh's 2026 birthday!
Fic undercut or on ao3!
It felt stuck to the inside of its skull. Standing was more manual than it should’ve been, even two weeks into the host like it was. The weight of its body felt like too much for its brittle joints.
“So flipping annoying", it growled to itself. And boring, to add to that.
There wasn’t much it could do to entertain itself without putting itself in danger– its lack of its usual quickness leaving it vulnerable to all of its usual favorite targets. There was one Fresh knew wouldn’t risk chasing it off permanently though.
It landed in an undignified heap, the neon fog it created with its teleportation desaturated and nearly grey. The tone matched the AU’s sky and dead vegetation.
Quickly getting to its feet, Fresh made sure nobody was close by. The imposing silhouette of Nightmare’s castle loomed, blotching out half the sky. It wasn’t as close as it wanted to teleport. Hissing to itself, it began trudging closer. The lack of spatial awareness was as annoying as it was disquieting.
Empty eyes greeted it by the entrance, but they scuttled off quickly. It was almost disappointing, but that monster always proved to be unreactive and boring to play with. Messing with it wasn’t a past time anybody but the castle’s owner were allowed to partake in anyway. Possessive bastard.
“Helllooo!” It called out as it entered, sauntering in. The sound was dampened by all the drapery inside. It knew they could tell it was here anyway. It called out again.
He wasn’t coming out to greet it, though, and it was too annoyed to walk itself into his jaws. The day was already bad, it didn’t want to pander to that egotistical prick too.
Maybe it could raid their snack cupboard, get itself a treat down in the dungeon. A new host wouldn't really make it feel better, and the thought of breaking them in made it feel nauseous, but most things did in the moment, so it beelined towards the basement entrance. It wouldn’t hurt, anyway.
Fresh wanted a pick-me-up, and if he wasn’t planning on being it, it would have to make do with something else.
The place was cold and dreary, the chill permeating even to its true soft body. Curse that guardian and his devotion to that horrid aesthetic of his. It could imagine so many more interesting places to keep prisoners than a damp stone basement.
The steps were uneven, and it had to brace itself on the wall as it meandered downwards. The darkness didn't help matters, the stairwell steeped in shadow. It would give Nightmare points for sticking to the vision, if nothing else. Someone called out from below as it neared the bottom, really adding to the dungeon vibe.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
It perked up as it answered, putting on a cheerful affect, “Yup! Though hearing a voice coming from the dungeon is pretty spine-chilling!”
Silence.
“Tough crowd, tough crowd.” Thought skeletons enjoyed funny little puns.
“Sorry.” Eventually they answered again, a bit more subdued. “That just… reminded me of my brother.”
Ohhh, it was one of those. An absolute score in its books. It swiped the keyring holding all the cell keys and turned down the hall it could hear the other’s voice echoing from, eventually coming face to face with him.
“Yo,” it said, grinning down at the skeleton. He'd hopped up to face it, but still stood a full two feet shorter.
“Hello!” He said again, an almost reserved smile on their face. A bit of reluctance it usually didn't see on a swap. The skeleton had probably been down here for a while. “My name is Sans! I'd say it's very good to meet you, but my situation is… not the best.”
Fresh snickered, the wrung out optimism was amusing. It wondered if this guy would even be able to fit in his universe anymore, if it let him out. Diverged from his cookie cutter, ultra palatable start. Not as cute. A stuffed animal covered in mud.
It couldn't imagine him being missed for long. It couldn't imagine him not being replaced.
Leaning in, it settled a clawed hand on the bars, taking a break from holding itself up, “The name's Fresh, pal. It's nice to meet’cha.”
The smile brightened. An expression like that wouldn't fit in the dungeon if it wasn't for the bags still obviously under his eyes. “Fresh, that’s a good name.” A pause, “Are you with the… the monsters who own this dungeon? I do not think they are very kind. I would really appreciate some help leaving.”
“Well I wouldn't describe myself as ‘with them’. Bet they'd be pissed if I took you out.” It pouted and drooped, hoping its genuinely tired state would add to the act.
Sans waved his hands, as if trying to keep its attention, “It's okay! I could protect you.” He patted his bicep, “I’m actually training to be part of the royal guard. If I’m not surprised, I could definitely put up a fight!”
It dramatically swooned, but moved its hand further up when the other tried to hold it through the bars. Yuck!
“I'll take that in mind, my knight.” Fresh couldn't hide the amusement in its voice as it fingered through the key ring for the proper one for the cell. The other was pushing out of the cell as soon as he was able, practically falling as he shoved their weight against the door.
“Okay, Mr. Royal Guard, lead the way!”
Sans smiled, bashful and tired, “I'm not a royal guard yet. I'm sure they'll consider it once I get back though–escaping an evil castle, how many monsters can say they’ve done that?” He did some exaggerated motions as he went on, hands gesturing widely.
It felt oddly like looking in a mirror, and it realized the other was trying to calm it down. That would be cute if it wasn't so annoying to be looked down upon like that– it was the one outside the cage. Fresh just smiled and motioned him forward.
As he made his way down the hall, he made sure to look back at Fresh every few steps. There was a certain keenness to his eye lights that made it hard for Fresh to keep its hackles down. “I was a bit worried– well, it doesn't matter. Thank you again, you’re being very brave for this, you know.”
It grinned, baring its teeth, and the words would've come out strained if it were a lesser person, “Aww thanks bud.” No response, more of that horrible stare. It did a cute pose, jazz hands, “Take a picture if you like my swag so much, bro! Don’t know if now's the time to check out my style though.”
“Right, right, we really should get moving.” Sans said, picking up the pace down the hall, forcing it to stagger after him.
Stupid cobbled dungeon floor, uneven and not at all helping its uncooperating balance. It should’ve removed the wheels in its shoes before this, the plastic catching on the stone as it tried to keep itself steady. As if to further show how obvious its weakness was, the other slowed his pace almost as soon as it failed to match it. Terrific. It felt like gagging.
“Sorry,” his droopy sympathetic eyes were worse than that knowing look, and it wanted to get this over with even more than it did earlier.
As soon as they were out of this dungeon, it could teleport the two of them into some isolated AU and start its meal without risk of Nightmare showing up. It just needed to get this over with quickly, just needed to stop slowing down.
“Just ignore me,” the words were nearly growled, and it made sure to smile widely to hide its annoyance, “We just gotta get out of here, yeah?”
The other nodded, as if agreeing, but still started walking beside it instead of front, arm poised to grab it if it fell, “It's okay if you need help, Fresh! You’re already doing quite a lot right now.”
It panted, struggling to keep the emotions tamped down. It wanted to sink its claws into him early, wanted to rip his throat out for the suggestion that it would need him to do anything but cooperate. “I’m fine.”
Sans clearly didn’t believe it. He moved closer, hand outstretched to steady it.
It reminded itself it was to play the role of damsel, and he the role of weary hero. Fresh needed to calm down. The emotions were like water cupped between its hands– no matter how hard it tried, it slipped between the cracks. Doomed from the start.
It took a step back, too much weight on its heel making the wheel slip out from under it.
The next moment felt like it was in slow motion; as soon as it started truly falling, he rushed forward to catch it. His short stature compared to it did nothing to stop him from grabbing it, holding its weight up by himself like it was only a sack of flour.
Its instincts screamed that it was being held by something stronger than it, able to snap its spine if he only moved his hands a little further back.
It wasn’t fear that it felt though. Hot and rushing through its body like fire, anger. Vitriolic and like poison. The world had gone completely silent, it could see him trying to say something to it, calm it down, like it was nothing but a startled animal. It couldn’t hear him.
It couldn't move, paralysed by the intensity of the feeling.
It just wanted to eat. It just wanted to leave this stupid dungeon. It just wanted to stop feeling sick. It just wanted this all stop, be over with so it could go back to sleep, it just wanted–
“Now, what’s going on here?”
Nightmare.
Sans pushed it to the wall, bracing its back to the cold stone as he stood in front of it. “G-get back!”
“So hostile,” Their smile stretched across their whole face, “is it so horrible I wish to know what’s going on in my own basement?”
“That’s– well that makes sense but,” he floundered, searching for words. “I would really appreciate it if you stayed a few feet back.”
Nightmare placed his hand to his cheek, “So very demanding.”
“I’m sorry, I really would like to give you the benefit of the doubt but–” he glanced back at it. It didn’t meet his gaze though.
Nightmare was seeing this, Nightmare was seeing– Its eyes met theirs instead. Crescent, amused. Sans didn’t seem to notice this small exchange, or maybe he just thought its raised shoulders were fear. It certainly was acting pathetic enough to warrant that.
“--I really can’t do that right now.” he finished, conviction steadying his voice to something firm. This was so embarrassing.
“You’ve really put yourself in a pickle, pet.” Nightmare disregarded him, completely focusing his attention on Fresh. “Are you mad at me?”
It was.
Sans tried to get between them more, but it was too tall for his silhouette to block from Nightmare’s sight. It was a polite try, at the very least.
“I can give you that, if you want an apology.” He gestured vaguely, but it knew what he meant.
Fresh looked away, palms braced against the wall to keep itself up. It didn’t really know if it’d be able to actually take the other over at this point, if given the chance. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of all its incompetence? Unable to even butcher its meal.
Sans said another heroic protest against what he most definitely assumed was Nightmare harassing it, but the guardian made a good impression of not hearing him. “That’s no good?” He tilted his head like a curious cat, it a puzzle he wanted to claw treats out of. “I assume you are hungry, otherwise you wouldn’t be trying to nick this fellow…”
And that smile was back, content with whatever conclusion he had drawn, “How about a meal, together. I’ve always wanted to be more involved in… what makes you unique.”
It didn’t answer right away, and they stalked forwards. Sans widened his stance, hand held out in a ‘stop’ sign. “Could you stop ignoring me? I see you have a history with Fresh but that doesn’t give you a right to talk to them.”
They took another step forward. Sans tensed, ready to start a fight.
It shoved him in the back.
Nightmare used his momentary unbalance to grab him, their tentacles striking at the weakness and restraining him easily. Gagged and rendered imobile.
“Was that a yes, my dear?” he cooed with a smarmy smile, “Oh how exciting.”
“What do you even mean, involved?”
He shifted his cargo, the struggling monster kicking at air silently as Nightmare made his way to Fresh’s side, “Whatever you want it to mean, darling.”
He offered his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, it took it. He seeped between its bones.
“I could always just watch, but that would be so boring, and so overdone…” Nightmare glanced up at it, catching its eye, “I’m more looking forward to, let’s say, helping out.”
He started to lead it onward, the two of them making their way to the stairs, Nightmare using his unoccupied tentacles to grab things off the dungeon walls as they went. It barely paid attention to it all. Chains and other restraints– probably things to make sure its prey couldn't run away. Distrust in its ability to restrain them.
It scowled, “Do you think I can’t eat by myself?” It ignored the fact it could barely walk up the stairs without leaning on them.
“Not at all, darling,” he gave it a closed eye smile, “I’m just saying I would enjoy that. And wouldn’t it be a nice apology? You won’t have to do anything at all, just let me do all the work, easy as breathing. You could even direct me– wouldn’t that be a nice role reversal? Ordering me around while you lounge.”
“Stop trying to act all sweet, it doesn't suit you.” It faked a gag.
They made it to where Nightmare had been leading them, the dining room, and Fresh regarded the large open space with distaste. Nightmare laughed at its expression. Usually, it was fed in the bedroom, so it could lounge around and nap after eating. It seemed Nightmare wanted to make this more of an event.
“Right here, darling,” Nightmare cooed as he seated it at the head of the table, where he usually sat. It relaxed into the plush of the cushions despite itself.
He swept everything actually on the table to the other end. Seeing it watching him, he shot it a satisfied smile and made quick work of restraining the struggling skeleton as well.
Sans took big gasping breaths after Nightmare’s tentacles left him, the chains restraining enough. It was a wheezy wet sound, almost gagging. That probably wouldn't get the rotten apple taste out of his mouth, Fresh knew from experience.
From where he lay, his head near where Fresh sat, he couldn't see it looming over him easily. He could see Nightmare though, and tracked the guardians movements with his head.
“What are you doing?” He asked, struggling against the chains. On any good day, it knew the other would be able to pull until the wooden table legs the chains were attached to snapped. The amount of time he'd spent in confinement wasn't doing him any favours though.
Fresh wrinkled its nose bridge with distaste at the rattling sounds– the metal sound ringing in its already aching head.
Nightmare laughed at the question, nearly shaking with amusement. “I'm being kind and considerate to my dear friend. Isn't that what your sort are always advocating for?”
He stalked closer, until he could hold the other’s skull, tilting it around. The guardian met Fresh’s eyes as he did, and it knew they were showing the body off to it. Useless, Fresh already saw all it needed to know.
The skeleton spluttered at the touch, frozen stiff for a moment by it, “My-? What? Well you can't just harm someone and say it's fine because you're doing it for someone else.”
“So picky. Can’t even appreciate the effort,” he sighs, “I need to get a few more... specialty supplies. Fresh, my dear, could I leave you for a moment?”
“Just get on with it,” It grumbled, slouching in the chair as Nightmare left.
There was only Sans and it in the room now. A few moments after Nightmare left, the skeleton seemed keen to use this to his advantage. “Fresh?”
It ignored him, pressing its face to the upholstery of the chair to block out any light. The room was already kept dim, but the darkness was still more welcome.
“Are you…” A few moments of silence, it could hear him squirming on the table. Was he trying to look at it? “You’re not really with him, right?”
“You don’t know me, pal.” It grumbled, voice muffled.
“I know that you showed me a moment of kindness. I know that you have the potential to do the right thing.” His voice got stronger as he continued.
It turned just far enough to see his eyes looking up at it, and kicked him in the back of the head. The wheels of its shoes made a satisfying crack against his skull. “Can it.” It snarled.
He was silent except for measured breathing, and it wished he would just cry instead. Lash out already. Call it a monster. Do anything.
“I’m sorry.” The skeleton finally got out, “You- you, must be really going through something terrible right now.”
Fresh wanted to scream.
It was contemplating if another kick to his skull would cave it in when Nightmare got back, voice whiny as it asked why he took so long to return. “He’s been so annoying,” It pouted.
The guardian dumped his supplies on the table before making his way to Fresh’s side. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear,” He cooed, reaching a hand out to hold its cheek. It leaned in, his chill welcome. “He won’t be talking much longer, don’t worry.”
Their tentacles shifted behind them, and it sat up to watch. The only thing it could see was the restrained skeleton struggling, letting out a choked “stop–” before Nightmare moved so Sans was no longer in its sight.
Eyes on him. It huffed, but obliged, leaning back into his palm, blinking expectantly.
Nightmare brought up his other hand, so both were settled on its face. It scrunched up its nose and leaned back when he drifted one closer to its eyesocket– he laughed, but didn’t go any further than cupping its chin. He was cold, an icy balm to its achy bones.
“What’s your plan, anyway?” It asked as he petted its face.
“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, my dear.” He replied, trailing one hand down its jaw and around the back of its neck.
It whined, closing its eyes and pressing further into his hold, “Man I am done thinking today. You said this’d be easier for me.”
He laughed; it could feel it through his hands, and hear a muffled noise behind him. The guardian leaned forward until he could press a kiss right under its eye. They stepped back with a flourish, presenting what they’d done with the skeleton behind them as if it was a nine course meal.
Sans had been gagged, this time with an actual implement instead of one of Nightmare’s appendages–the taste probably wasn’t any better though. He’d also been blindfolded, but it could still tell how stressed he was from the rest of his expression.
It clapped dryly at the display, a wry smile on its face. Nightmare bowed, making it snort.
They held a finger to their mouth, shushing any further noise, and began moving their tentacles around the table. The appendages slithered around the bound skeleton, brushing against his clothes but not touching him yet.
It was surely felt though; he flinched in his bounds, and let out a muffled noise, the gag not letting any words out.
Nightmare sent it another smirk, and it kept a keen gaze as the points of his tentacles wormed around and then between Sans’ joints. The skeleton jolted at the first touch. It knew most other monsters found the guardians’ cold slimy exterior uncomfortable.
The tapered ends easily pressed in, but the further the appendage went the more resistance was no doubt felt. Slower and slower as the seconds tickled by, extra slime weeping between the cracks.
There was no one moment the bound monster reacted, but it could see him breathing more heavily as the seconds ticked by. At that point it could see appendages pushing through, like shoots of bamboo. He let out a shaky gasp, breaths soft and short. Tremors shook him, but he kept purposefully still.
Fresh looped a hand around his bandanna and gave a sharp tug, jarring him harshly. The tentacles barely followed the motion, and it could feel the resistance, the tugging at the bound skeleton’s joints.
He didn’t react much past a tightening of his face and another huffing sound. It wondered what it could do to make him cry.
Nightmare tsked at it, "Impatient, are you?”
“Only because you’re taking forever,” it pouted.
He stalked closer, crossing the small amount of distance he’d put between them in two strides, grabbing its hand in his. It tugged it back, but not before enjoying the touch for a moment.
“You never want to take things slow,” Nightmare complains. It rolled its eyes; the other was clearly feeling the same thing, his tentacles waving and jerking with the bits of slack they had between his back and the bound skeleton.
He reached back for its face, and this time it made no move to stop him from tracing a finger around its eyesocket, the one that housed its true body. “Do you want to get to the main course then?”
“Don’t know if that thing,” it pointed towards Sans, who was breathing loudly now, sweat beading on his skull, “Is quite ready yet. He seems like a struggler, and you said I wouldn’t have to put in any effort.”
“You won’t,” they assure it, “You won’t need to take control just yet… just sit there and look pretty.”
“Flatterer.”
“You like that about me,” he laughed, plunging his hand into the cavity of its skull. He didn’t scoop it out, instead putting pressure outwards until the fragile bone started to crack.
It let go of the host’s Soul, and without Fresh holding it together, Nightmare’s action did too much damage for the body to recover. Sitting in Nightmare’s palm without a host, its tentacles coiled closer. It watched from there as Nightmare dusted off their chair– they'd probably order one of their little pets to clean up more later.
The guardian curled his fingers until he was clutching the main part of its soft body. The pressure was pleasant, but it didn’t want to be in the open. He seemed to get the message, setting it on Sans’ face.
He jolted violently, making another noise beneath the gag. It slipped a tendril underneath the blindfold and slowly slipped the rest of its body in afterwards. The body jerked and shook underneath it, the head waving wildly from side to side as if to dislodge it. It held tight, pressed to the walls of the skull.
Abruptly, the shaking stopped, and the body let out a pained grunt.
Everything was still, and warm, and dark. Fresh sent out more feelers as it settled into its new perch.
And then light started spilling in, Nightmare removing the blindfold with one hand and looking at it with that knowing smirk, his other arm positioned to hold the body down by the neck. It squinted at him, unable to word its displeasure but confident he could feel it.
Nightmare leaned down to that socket and made as if to kiss it. It squirmed in the cavity, amused by the way the body had jolted and grunted, no doubt able to see Nightmare out of the other eyesocket.
The guardian giggled as he leaned back out. With an almost careless motion, they ripped all his tentacles out from between the body’s joints. The body shook and panted around it, falling mostly limp. A tenseness missing now with Nightmare no longer exerting as much pressure. It knew there was more to come though.
Nightmare made good on that implicit understanding, moving to unchain the body. Their tentacles wrapped around every limb they removed the chains from, until it was only them keeping him in bondage.
He lifted the body into the air, admiring his work, and it looked down on him from its eyesocket. He smiled up at it, and settled where Fresh had been seated beforehand: the head of the table.
Gently, the most they had been since they ferried it from its old dusted corpse to its new body, they set him into their lap. Tentacles wound tighter and farther, taking advantage of how close the two of them now were to slide between bones and around arms and legs.
The body shifted as Nightmare arranged it to his liking. The torso arched forward, and the arms and legs held behind them; it could feel the jarring motion of Nightmare tugging him into place.
His grinning face was all it saw out from the eyesocket, content with what he had wrought. It curled up, making itself comfortable as Nightmare pulled the body further into extremes with his tentacles.
Once he was satisfied, he pressed his cheek to the body’s, inches away from Fresh. It roiled in place, before squirming closer to him. Eye to eye, he smiled, a cyan crescent moon. “Are you enjoying yourself, dear?” he asked.
After a moment's consideration, it bobbed up and down. The motion startled a laugh out of the guardian, shaking the body with the motion and tugging out another wheezy breath from him.
“This is taking longer than I thought it would,” He continued, slowly twisting the already strained bones. “I know you’ve been so excited to start your meal.”
There was very little it could see from its place inside the body’s eyesocket, but it could feel him slowly being shifted around by Nightmare. Grinding bones vibrated up through the body to where Fresh could feel them– It shifted angrily, flashing a warning blue when it heard something snap.
Nightmare seemed to find this much more amusing than it, smiling widely at its antics. “Don’t be so anxious, dear. That was just a finger.” He poked it with his own when he said that. There was still a discomfort to letting him touch its soft body, but his surface was soft and smooth, and it allowed him his moment.
It’d be fine as long as he didn’t damage the body too much, it reminded itself.
“You are more pampered than any pet in the world,” Nightmare said, petting around its eye. “And you probably don’t even realise it.”
It gave him a look. It very much knew the situation it was in, at all times. He was the one who didn’t know he was pampered. The guardian couldn’t know what it was thinking though–even he wasn’t that powerful– so he took its non-answer as agreement.
The two sat like that, quietly enjoying each other’s presence. Anytime Nightmare got bored, he’d entertain himself with the body. Fresh slowly dozed off, knowing there wouldn’t be any power struggles if it let its guard down.
Eventually, it jolted back awake, the first thing it processed being the sound of the guardian's laughter. He gave it another smile, stretched so wide it reached his eyes. It knew he blew on it to wake it up. Annoying freak.
“I think it's about time for you to have your taste, darling.” Nightmare cooed, “He’s been so delicious so far.”
It wasn’t like the two of them ate the same part, it couldn’t say. Why would it care if the body’s misery was enjoyable? It spread out anyway, tendrils digging into the skull and splitting into tinier growths, permeating the bones it could reach like mycelium.
Fresh was much slower than he usually was– on a good day he could do this in seconds– but there wasn’t any rush. The body wasn’t getting away no matter how long it took. It got through the ribcage easily enough, spreading from there to the shoulderblades, arms, pelvis, legs. It carefully avoided the Soul. The best for last, as they say.
Eventually there was nothing else left, but as it reached for it, the body jolted once more. Lashing out randomly, in a last ditch effort to get away from the sensation. Nightmare put a stop to most of the convulsions by tightening his tentacles, but the scowl on his face made it obvious he wasn’t very pleased.
It wasn’t either.
“Don’t worry,” he sighed, ripping open the body’s shirt with a clawed hand, exposing the ribcage and, more importantly, the Soul, “I’ll handle him.”
Carefully shying back, it let him reach into the body’s ribcage without touching any of its tendrils. His hand enveloped the thing easily, the glow dimming to near nothing through the negativity that encased Nightmare.
The body shook more violently, Fresh letting go of any small amount of control it’d gotten and leaving containing the struggling thing up to Nightmare. They barely seemed to notice, their attention laser focused on the Soul in their hand.
They squeezed. The body thrashed, knowing that he was nearing his end, that he'd be dead if this continued. Each movement was uncoordinated and stilted, unable to move out of the stress position Nightmare had forced him into.
They squeezed. Whistling breaths came from the body’s nose, each kick and struggle weaker than the last.
They squeezed. The body went still.
“Viola,” Nightmare grinned, splaying his hand out at the now limp body. It looked like jazz hands, but it knew he’d give it an offended look if it said that.
Hesitantly, it reached back out to the Soul. It was half worried he’d crushed it too much and there wouldn’t be anything left for it. It’d be in character for someone like Nightmare, afterall. The damage was only superficial though, and with a little coaxing, it got the Soul under its control, safely tucked in the eyesocket with its true body.
“Done?” He prodded.
It grunted, not up to figuring out how to talk again yet.
He didn’t force it, just keeping that stupid smile on his face and learning back into the chair.
His tentacles remained wound tight around its body, but manhandled it into something much more comfortable. Its face was tucked against his chest, its legs cushioned by the seats upholstery, him wrapped securely around its arms and chest. He peeled off the body’s gloves and boots as he did that, leaving it only in the ruined shirt and shorts.
The pressure was comforting, and it was too sated to want to get up anyway– maybe it could shapeshift itself a look that matched its sensibilities after a nap. Nightmare seemed to share its sentiment, content to just sit there with it on his lap. He nuzzled its face with his own. The man acted so similar to a haughty cat, it mused to itself.
