I had a fun idea. What if "Silly Vanilly" was originally Y/N's nickname for PVC, as a playfully teasing nickname even before they started dating? Then when SMC uses it for him, PVC just goes "Never use my partner's nickname for me ever again. They are the only one allowed to call me that!"
Apathy can suppress many things, but not the feeling of your skilled tongue.
Warning ⚠️: SMUT. Oral sex. Fem! Reader. Light bondage. Multiple orgasms. No Beta We Crumble Like Elder Faerie.
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Pride has ruled over Mystic Flour's actions for a long time, as much as she hates to admit (for admitting that means admitting she's able to still feel mundane emotions). However, even that Pride, cultivated by centuries of powerful existence and unshakable Apathy, cannot survive the skilled tongue licking at her folds and the fingers bruising her thighs.
How long have they been there?
How long has she been laying there, at the mercy of this mundane cookie and her ministrations?
How much longer can Mystic Flour Cookie take of this sweet torture?
"Ahn...!" That's all she can muster, sadly.
And, if she were to be honest with herself (as she usually claims to be), Mystic Flour knows how easily she could stop this. She is a Beast Cookie, for Witch's sake, the Beast of Apathy! With a simple flicker of her finger—and that's only if she feels theatrical (yet another feeling she won't ever admit having)—, she could turn the ropes tying her arms back into dust. With another flicker, she can render the one making her body tremble nonexistent.
But she won't.
She can't.
The mere thought of stopping what is happening is bothersome. The mere idea of ridding the world of (Y/N) Cookie's presence is unbearable.
So she has no choice but to submit.
To arch her back off the comfortable bed as another orgasm builds—the third or the fourth or the tenth, she can't tell—and she spills all over (Y/N)'s face, wet noises followed by swallowing.
And then more licking.
More sucking.
More biting.
More.
More.
"More."
The tears in her eyes don't blur her vision enough to hide the smug shine in her lover's eyes nor the victorious smirk below them.
"The Beast of Apathy... Wanting." (Y/N) Cookie's voice is both rough with the lack of use and slick with satisfaction—and Mystic Flour's cum.
Her nails run over pale dough, leaving behind faint red marks and goosebumps. And desire. Yearning. Aching. Hungering. Wanting. Wanting. Wanting.
"... More."
Apathy? Pride?
What are those when her lover brings her to the brink of existence with her loving touches?
Mystic Flour Cookie allows both to crumble away with a loud moan.
[They Long To Be] Close to You (Pure Vanilla Cookie)
Fem! Reader. Awakened Pure Vanilla Cookie. No Beta We Die Like Elder Faerie. Yes, I kinda made a parody of The Carpenters song for Pure Vanilla Cookie, bite me.
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"Are you guys hearing something?"
The Ancients stop their bickering at Ginger Brave's words. Well, Hollyberry and Golden Cheese stop, as the other three were already silent. Thanks to the new silence in the conference room, they can hear the faint sound of... A guitar? Coming from the balcony?
"Is that a guitar?" White Lily asks, stepping closer to the source of the sound.
"Hey, I think someone is doing a serenade!" Wizard Cookie exclaims, looking down said balcony.
All cookies crowd in the balcony, trying to get a look at what is happening. Below the balcony is (Y/N) Cookie, one of the newer friends Ginger Brave and his group brought from their adventures. A wandering bard, she said when asked, looking for inspiration in all corners of Earthbread. They met her after the grueling ordeal in the Spire of Deceit, touring the beast lands with wonder in her eyes and a heart of art... And a flirty mouth, much to Pure Vanilla's embarrassment.
She smiles at them brightly and waves, not an ounce of shame in her.
"Hello, Your Majesties and My Friends~!" She greets them cheerfully, adjusting her grip on the guitar. "Lovely day, yes?"
"What in the world are you doing, my friend?" Hollyberry asks, her smile back on her face.
"Oh, I'm about to start wandering again, but before that, I need to get this out of my chest!" (Y/N) beams. "Can I bother you to bring Pure Vanilla Cookie to the front? This song is for him!"
"Oh?" For all they can bicker, don't ever think Hollyberry and Golden Cheese are distant. No, even their teasing noises come in unison.
And they take no time to push Pure Vanilla Cookie to stand in the front of all of them, the poor cookie red with the sudden attention. And the implications of what's to come.
"Hello, gorgeous! The gentlest light of Earthbread! Always a view for sore eyes!" (Y/N) winks at him, laughing at his embarrassed expression. "Hope my feelings reach you!"
With a few strokes on the cords, she starts her singing:
"On the day that you were baked
The Witches got together
And decided to create a dream come true.
So they sprinkled sun dust in your hair of gold
And starlight in your eyes of blue... (And yellow!)
That is why all the cookies in town
Follow you all around!
Just like me, they long to be close to you~"
Repeating the last line a few times, she ends her song. The group of cookies above her are a mix of reactions: some are silently watching on with a small smile, others are cheering loudly and some are teasing the target of the song even louder. Said Pure Vanilla Cookie is so red he looks he might somehow overbake.
"With that, I say my goodbyes!" (Y/N) proclaims in her theatrical fashion, though to those who know how to look, it's clear she's sentimental and nervous. She did just confess her feelings directly, no teasing or banter to hide behind, after all. "There's no need to answer, beautiful, I don't wish to burden you! I just needed to show my feelings before they drowned me! I shall take my leave, goodbye and see you whenever!"
With an exaggerated bow, she leaves.
Silence reigns.
Then–
"What are you frozen there for?!" Golden Cheese Cookie yells, startling Pure Vanilla from his daze. "Go now, go after her, you fool!"
"She's right, my friend," surprisingly, it's Dark Cacao Cookie who agrees. "You should go now before it's too late."
"Go, Pure Vanilla Cookie," White Lily Cookie urges gently. "Don't miss your chance."
"Damn right! Off with you!" Hollyberry grabs his shoulders and manhandles him towards the doors. "And don't you there return without at least a kiss!"
"You got this, Pure Vanilla Cookie!" Ginger Brave and his two best friends cheer.
"My friends... I shall return later!"
And there goes Pure Vanilla Cookie, the most compassionate cookie, running in his dignified robes, trying to reach his lovely heart before she can get herself in some trouble in her endless search for inspiration.
After all, if she's to be trouble, he wants to be close enough for it to become his trouble too.
The Bride (Pure Vanilla Cookie x fem!Reader) [Part 3]
Welp, PV is in danger. Following the plot of Corpse Bride to a T wasn't fun enough so we're going a bit to the left
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“There is no need to be shy, my dear~”
“It is not a matter of me being shy, miss, it’s a matter of this being wrong.”
Pure Vanilla Cookie has lost count of how many times he has tried to talk some sense into his “host’s” head, but the odd cookie remains steadfast on her conclusions. He has repeated the story of how their “marriage” had happened, how he didn’t know the tree root he was placing the ring in was her finger, how he had no idea she was there to hear him say his hopeless vows to the night skin, how he never once planned to marry anyone but the original owner of the ring... all for nothing. The odd cookie simply waves away his every attempt to explain, as if his words are nothing more but a fly’s insistent buzzing.
“Now, now, we are husband and wife, no calling me “miss”, silly! Unless you mean it as a cute pet name, then by all means~” she giggles. “Now come, we’ve spent enough time here! The others are dying to meet you!”
“Others...?”
Without another word, she grabs his wrist and pulls him out of the room, giving him no other choice but to follow her. He can only hope the “others” she mentioned were other cookies—other more reasonable cookies who’d help him leave this uncomfortable situation. They walk through long hallways of gray walls and floors that probably were once pure white. Many art pieces and banners and tapestries litter said walls, their once vibrant blues and yellows and magentas now faded to a muted sadness, almost gray in their abandon. Their shoes make soft noises against the tattered red carpets. The flowers are all lifeless and the armors have long lost their luster and the statues are covered in dust.
It seems he’s in an abandoned castle.
When they finally reach what seems a sitting room, Pure Vanilla feels his breath catch.
Sitting there, drinking tea without a care in the world, are many cookies. All of them share the oddness of his supposed wife: no light on their eyes, their dough not quite fresh not quite stale, no life to truly find. Except, differently form her, they all appear truly like a hellish band of living dead, with the lack of pupils and the missing parts—parts that no cookie would survive without, like the middle of their torso and a neck to keep their head with their body. And some cookie parts stand around like full cookies. And some of said parts have come together in a mockery of a cookie.
A dense air of malevolent magic pushes down his shoulders. Something old, resentful and angry. Tasting heavily of putrefaction.
It seems their souls abandoned the castle as well.
“Family!” the cookie who holds his ring hostage announce, not at all bothered by the macabre view in front of her. “Great news! Look, my husband has finally come for me! You can stop calling me ‘Bride Cookie’, for now I am a married cookie!”
The reanimated corpses of the cookies that once were her family—he can see the resemblance, despite not wanting to look as he can feel his stomach painfully constrict—stare at them, their movements sickeningly slow, and start clapping, cheering for her like mindless marionettes.
Oh, he can feel his dinner try to crawl its way out of his mouth.
“See, my dear? They love you!” the cookie—maybe he should call her ‘Bride Cookie’?—giggles, hugging his arm to her chest, which makes him lean back awkwardly as she is a bit taller than him. “Oh, we’ll be so happy! I can’t wait to spend eternity with you!”
“Eternity?!” in a sudden burst of strength, Pure Vanilla Cookie manages to free himself from her grip. “I am very sorry, but that can’t happen.”
“What do you mean, husband?”
“That! I am not your husband!” Pure Vanilla winces internally from the harshness of his words, but he must make himself understood. Never mind that she stole the ring he got for White Lily, but she is clearly determined to keep him there forever, and that he absolutely cannot accept.
There is far too much he must do, he cannot afford to simply let go of everything and be a husband to a cookie he doesn’t even know the name of.
“I understand there was a misunderstanding, but I am no one’s husband. It was all a mistake, one that must be corrected.”
“Are you... are you calling our wedding a mistake?” she asks and he doesn’t like the wrath bubbling in her voice.
Nor does he like the spike in magic he feels coming from her.
Oh, how he misses his Light of Truth, it’d surely shine some light on this situation.
“You said the vows to me. You put the ring on my finger. You swore yourself to me!” her voice raises, fists shaking at her sides.
The rotten magic builds around them, filling the room with the smell of death and decay. The very bricks of the castle seem to shudder at her rising anger. Pure Vanilla has faced many great foes, however every instinct in his body tells him to either agree with her or leave. And as the truthful fool he is, he chooses the second option. Without his staff or his souljam, he can’t go against the ancient—the irony—power building around the crazed cookie. He’d have a better chance to fight if he were to find them. So he turns from where they came and runs.
Tries to, anyway.
The shrill scream of a pained soul reaches him faster than his own heartbeats.
Heavy magic hits him square on the back.
His world goes fades back to black.
When he wakes up, it is to the beautiful face of his beloved Wife Cookie, who greets him with a warm smile.
Husband Cookie smiles back. He simply can’t wait for another day of eternity by her side.
We've seen BIIIIG WIFE with SMALLLL y/n, so what about BIIIIG y/n with TINY TINYYY pv/shmilk
Gently cupping them in reader's hands and jokingly nibbling them? Like tasting them ykw :3 I think shmilk would have a subtle blueberry taste idkwhatimtalkingaboutloveyourworkbtwaaaaaaaaaaa
Cookie Run isn't good for my omegaverse needs cuz how the fuck do I explain in cookie lore that "the witches used omegaverse powder and now cookies have biological urges"? They're dough and sugar. I can get away with it when the cookie is half something else, like the dragons, or Werewolf Cookie, but how do I explain that Dark Cacao really just wants to knot Y/N and have them round with his pups when– no pups. They're cookies.
Currently working on: FNAF X CRK crossover. Human! Pure Vanilla and Human! Shadow Milk. Moon and Sun in separated bodies. Reader gets four boyfriends and a slice of shitty Fazbear pizza
Because of the wonky time nature of the Spire of Deceit, I can freely imagine Truthless Recluse following Pure Vanilla and the others back to his kingdom, and Recluse basking in PV's light and compassion, feeling more at home here than the murky nature of the dark side of the moon.
Both sides of Pure Vanilla will always exist, yet Recluse starts believing some things aren't rightfully his anymore. 'His' old friends, 'his' old home, 'his' old memories, so he latches onto Awakened Vanilla believing him to be the only thing he deserves now, and one day he wants to feel like he deserves this same epiphany, this awakening, but it'll take time since his soul and psyche was so messed up by Shadow Milk.
So in the meantime, Vanilla readily accepts his Moon half and makes efforts to include him in his daily life. Pure Vanilla wishes nothing more than for him to be safe and secure in the castle and at ease, by himself and around his friends. Once they got back to the Vanilla Kingdom, Pure Vanilla had an entire wing made private just for Recluse so he can be secluded and away from the world if he so wished.
Recluse stays up in his tower most of the time, feeling a strange attachment to a high space. He reads and studies magic and histories, only ever coming out once in a blue moon to speak to the other citizens and take walks around the castle in somewhat of a mystified daze.
After Pure Vanilla has free time, he'll take tea and food up to his other half, sitting with him by the warm hearth and just talking about his day to include Recluse in things. Vanilla knows they're both bad about eating, so it's both in part to encourage Recluse (who has little appetite) and remind himself as well.
And Recluse starts to brighten over time, little by little, opening up about experiences PV has already felt-with them being the same person-but allows his other half to get these things off his chest. After all, who could relate to such experiences if not the two halves of the same soul?
The sun and moon are now living under one roof and learning to love themselves again. You cannot separate them, as they're both important to each other and intertwined to make Pure Vanilla...Pure Vanilla. They will still have bumps in the road, as recovery is not linear, but their support system is large. If Pure Vanilla can win and find happiness, one day Recluse will find his own version of it as well.
Recluse leaning into the light of his Sun counterpart, and Pure Vanilla embracing the darkness of his Moon counterpart. How they're both so interconnected now...
Just Make More Dragons (Longan Dragon Cookie/Fem! Reader) [SMUT]
“I mean, if you want the age of dragons to return, shouldn’t you just... I dunno, make more dragons or something?”
“Are you volunteering?”
Warnings: no beta we die like elder faerie, smut, PWP, probably out of character, probably not all that well written, neutral pronouns for Longan Dragon Cookie, oviposition, breeding, mating, double dicks, Longan Dragon has some sort of aphrodisiac pheromones that I honestly don't care to explain I just wanted to use the fact that longan fruit apparently smells sweet and is used for relaxation–
Read at your own risk!
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“I mean, if you want the age of dragons to return, shouldn’t you just... I dunno, make more dragons or something?”
“Are you volunteering?”
Maybe you didn’t think it through before opening your mouth, but, then again, it’s hard to think when Longan Dragon Cookie is looming over you, eyes piercing yours for daring to direct your pathetic cookie voice their direction.
Honestly, not a single part of your current situation makes thinking an easy task. Out of all cookies and out of all places, it shouldn’t be you standing in the lair of the Ivory Dragon. Even if it was originally your idea to do something to distract the guy so the others could regroup and plan the next step to prevent the extinction of all cookie kind, you didn’t mean it had to be leaving you behind! It’s all Pitaya’s fault for throwing you at the pissed white dragon and leaving to lick their wounds somewhere, when you get your hands on that damn lizard-
“You haven’t answered, weak one.”
“I... I mean...” you stammer, taking a shaky step back, but they follow without much effort because, again, Longan Dragon is so damn tall.
You repeat that clumsy dance a few more times, quickly, eyes anywhere but the dragon. While you’re thankful they haven’t killed you yet, you’d rather not test your luck by sticking too close. Though it seems they don’t get the memo, meeting every step with one of their own, an oppressive waltz that ends with you against a hard wall.
“I wouldn’t dare suggest that! I’m just a lowly cookie!” you frantically wave your hands, fear running through your dough. Maybe if you act humble enough, they won’t crumble you for another few hours.
Damn it, Ginger Brave and gang, come faster!
Longan Dragon shortens the distance between you two, forcing you to lean your head back as much as you can to avoid touching their chest with your forehead.
Oh, they smell oddly sweet.
What a rich scent.
And their hands are so big, sharing their warmth—so far, all dragons you’ve met are pretty warm, must be a dragon thing—with your cheeks as they lift your face.
The sweet smell of fruit envelops you, relaxing your muscles without your permission. Not that you’re trying to fight the sudden wave of calm that hits you, no, you’re greedily breathing in all sensations, even the sensation of a much larger body pressing you against the wall, the difference in temperatures on your front and back making your breath hitch. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but tension pressing down your back that the small respite brings too much relief to your body and soul.
Then a thumb presses on your lower lip and you remember just where you are. And with who.
You open your eyes with a loud gasp, trying to free your body—and fuzzy mind—from the Ivory Dragon’s claws, but they don’t budge. No, they seem pleased.
“What...” you swallow saliva you hadn’t even noticed filling your mouth. “... are you doing?”
“A mate presents so willingly to be bred,” the dragon purrs—literally, you can feel the vibrations, “and responds to me so eagerly, what is this one to do other than claim them?”
Whatever happens between that low growl and your back meeting soft silken sheets simply doesn’t register in your memory. After all, the sweet scent filling your nose and the maddening kiss stealing your breath make remembering anything else difficult.
Longan Dragon Cookie’s body is hot and heavy on yours, their tongue insistent and their hands adventurous. Gone is the quiet intensity that made the Ivory Dragon a suffocating yet majestic presence, in its place is fervour you simply can’t comprehend, urgency and hunger and desire and want and need—oh, you can’t help but tug at their ivory strands, making them as messy as the kisses you two share. They growl, animalistic, finally acting like one would expect a dragon, instinct guiding them into manhandling you until your clothes are ripped off, exposed—offered to them.
You don’t bother to muffle your voice as sharp teeth finds the soft dough around your nipples. The dragon seems to like that, too, making sure to bite and suck and lick whatever place gives them the louder, needier noises. They move down your body, giving special attention to your navel, to where your womb rests, marking you with claws and fangs. Your vagina pulsates when they look up at you, locking eyes as they lick, long and slow, up the valley of your breasts. It’s so hypnotizing that you barely notice the sharp claws rubbing against your clit and folds, the danger making your toes tingle.
“This-” you gasp, pulling at their long hair—beautiful, like all of the dragon. “Keep... keep them outta me...”
“Do you think me foolish to risk hurt the one who’ll carry my eggs?”
“Eggs?!”
And the bastard only chuckles! A deep, rich sound that comes from the depths of their lungs, a sound no one ever thought the Ivory Dragon capable of. Feeling annoyed, you quickly hoist yourself up and do the unthinkable: you sink your teeth on the Ivory Dragon’s neck, completely forgetting that a dragon’s dough is much more resistant than a normal cookie’s. You can barely move your jaw, your tongue touching the smooth scales curiously.
Longan Dragon Cookie pulls you away from their neck with one harsh tug to the back of your neck, and for a second you fear that you’ve finally crossed the line and won’t see the next sunrise... but then they purr—or growl? Hard to tell—and oh.
They smile, predatory and pleased.
“A weak little cookie won’t be able to mark my scales, little mate,” they rumble, shuffling a bit until their robes fall off their shoulders. “But go ahead and try still.”
They bring you to another kiss with the hand on your neck, thrusting their hips on your unclothed pussy, allowing you to feel what awaits.
There’s two of them, your brain figures, there’s no way that bulge is only one dick.
There absolutely is two of them.
You watch as the rest of their robes fall off their body. It is like watching the most wondrous sculpture be revealed, like the ultimate piece of art finally leaves its artist’s studio to grace the world with its existence. Here is a being no one could ever dare deny their beauty, doing so would be to boldly lie to an omniscient god’s face.
And there are two dicks standing proudly, already leaking at the anticipation of tearing you apart.
Because that’s what going to happen, you’re sure. The one on the top is thicker while the one bellow is thinner, but they’re both far too much for a little normal cookie such as you. Longan Dragon Cookie, however, seems to care not—in fact, they seem to simply believe you can take it, take all they give you... which may or may not include eggs. Eggs.
“Wait!” you yelp, pulling at their hair, undoing whatever held it up and out of their way. To your surprise, Longan Dragon does listen, halting their clawed attack at your hips. “You- this- won’t fit!”
“They shall,” they simply answer, pressing another kiss to your navel before finally giving your wet folds—when did you get so wet?—their attention. “I shall make them.”
One long lick to your folds stops whatever protests you still have, instead freeing a long moan. Oh, their tongue is forked. Of course it is, they are a dragon, dragons have forked tongues, why wouldn’t the Ivory Dragon have a forked tongue—and why wouldn’t the Ivory Dragon be so good at using it?
Keeping their words, the claws stay away from you sensitive genitalia, instead drawing scratch lines one your thighs, some even painted blood red. The pain stings just enough to add to the pleasure the tongue stretching and exploring you gives. Giving up any sort of hesitance, you give in to your odd situation, enjoying with abandon the dragon’s ministrations until the knot built inside your tummy snaps and you cum the hardest you’ve ever done, pulling at ivory hair and squeezing a beautiful face between your legs.
Though despite that incredible orgasm, you still don’t feel satiated.
No, part of you still feels empty, craving more of the sweetness coming from your... your lover? No, what was it the dragon called you earlier—mate. Your mate.
As if feeling your desire, Longan Dragon Cookie crawls over your body, still licking their lips and chin to savour every drop of your juices, resting on top of you like a giant, warm cover. Strong arms hold you against a hard chest, prompting you to brace your arms around their neck and sink your nails on their back—thankfully, the scales don’t cover their cookie form completely, so you actually have a chance of scratching them, marking them.
If you could purr at that thought, you would.
Instead, you gasp as a fat cockhead pokes your entrance. Longan Dragon Cookie isn’t exactly gentle—the many bleeding marks all over your body show that pretty well—but they’re considerate enough to stop and wait every time you show signs of pain. Once the thicker cock is inside, they start moving in slow, deliberate circles, still holding you to their chest, giving you no chance to escape the addicting scent of their dough.
Not that you want to.
No, you want to drown in it. You want to be covered in that scent, suffocated in it, buried within it.
The stretch of the second penis entering you makes you whimper, but you can’t tell if it is from pain or pleasure—nor do you care, really. Not when your mate rocks the both of you steadily, thrusts slow but hard, resolute, hitting every spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back, kissing the entrance of your womb. It’s so hot, it’s too hot and you want more more more more!
“As you wish, little mate” the dragon growls in your ear, the breathlessness of their voice causing shivers to run down your back. “I will breed you round.”
Let no one ever say the Ivory Dragon doesn’t keep their word.
You whine your agreement, pleading for whatever they will give you. Something inside you had snapped into place earlier; suddenly, you are exactly where you should be, exactly with who you should be. Nothing else comes to mind but the one making you feel so good, taking you as theirs, giving you themselves. You turn your head in hopes to get a kiss and, much to your pleasure, you get exactly what you wanted. Longan Dragon Cookie is such a good mate, providing everything their mate wants without delay or confusion.
A good mate who’ll take care of your hatchlings—
Hatchligns.
Eggs!
Holy shit, Longan Dragon Cookie, the Ivory Dragon, is going to fuck eggs into you!
“Please...!” you beg, not sure what for.
Now, would carrying the eggs of your mate be so bad?
No, you figure as another orgasm washes over you, it wouldn’t.
An ever louder growl-purr answers your begging, claws mimicking the scratches left on a ivory back. Your mate starts thrusting faster, harder, deeper, as if trying to force your uterus to open to their cocks—no, not “as if”, that is what they will do. For the sake of your first clutch.
Your first clutch.
The thought alone triggers another orgasm and you repeat the earlier bite to Longan’s neck, not caring that your cookie teeth won’t pierce a mighty dragon’s scales. No, you must mark your mate however you can, no matter how difficult.
That is the limit for the dragon as they roar, shoving their cockhead into your womb with one last hard thrust.
You feel so damn full.
It is amazing.
There is nothing left in the world but you, your mate and where you two connect to become two. You scream to match their roaring, wild harmony ending in a passionate kiss.
Then you feel it. Something round travelling down their thicker cock, stretching you even more. A weak moan slips past your lips only to be greedily devoured by the dragon. The round thing must be about the side of your closed fist, maybe a bit smaller. The journey is slow, a sweet torture you endure in between the arms of your mate. When you dare open your eyes to look at them, your breath gets stolen by the sight of their pupils blown wide, eating away everything else. A forked tongue licks away your tears and sweat, the purring intensifying when you give their face your own, much shyer, licks.
Finally, the eggs pops inside your womb, getting comfortable in the empty space. The second cock gushes out a warm liquid; to fertilize the eggs, no doubt. Then another egg starts the journey. And another. And another. The first one arriving safely seems to have opened the gates as the others now rush to join their sibling. Another world shattering orgasm hits you when a particularly big egg presses your inner walls.
Ten eggs. You now carry ten eggs from the Ivory Dragon. Your belly looks round like a normal pregnancy. The cum inside you keeps you warm. So does the arms wrapped around you and the chest you nuzzle. You fall asleep, content and full, not a care in the world. Nothing can bother this serene moment with your mate.
A loud noise wakes you up hours later, and you recognize the voices of GingerBrave and the other cookies.
Day 2 of "Writing SMC angst until he stops breaking my heart and comes home" (welp)
*voz da Patrícia Lélis expondo Estilista Juliana* Ô, gente, voltei.
Another day, another failure. Lady Luck hates me, as suspected. Anyway, this fic is inspired by this post by @allimili , whose art I love so much QwQ No Beta and I also don't have my glasses so pardon any errors
One-Sided! Shadow Milk Cookie x ex!fem!Reader; Truthless Recluse (Pure Vanilla Cookie?) x fem!Reader
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Love is a very odd thing, Shadow Milk Cookie muses to himself. Despite being the holder of Knowledge itself, not even he can truly explain love and its intricacies. Even after feeling it himself, he still doesn't truly understand it.
Befero he abandoned the duty forced on him by the Witches, he had loved with abandon. He didn't know any better-and yes, he can notice the irnoy. But it hadn't mattered back then because he was in love and he was loved and, despite the growing pit of despair and stress in his heart due to his duties, he had been happy.
Happy to see her smile and to hear her voice. Happy to hold her hand and hug her close. Happy to kiss her lips and breath in her scent. He had been happy by her side, through thick and thin and rain and sun and sickness and health and joy and sadness. They had even dreamed of the future together, promises sealed in between bedsheets and sleepless nights.
But then he finally woke up and saw the Witches for what they were: terrible demons of cruelty, gleefully controlling cookies to their whims, a little pet project to pass the time. Right after, he understood what the other cookies truly are: useless batches of greedy ungrateful dolls, baked with every single one of the Witches' sins just to torment those who dream of a better world.
And so his rebellion started, joined by his four friends.
But she... she simply couldn't see. Or, rather, she didn't want to see. Not that he truly blames her, of course, after all, the Witches made sure no cookie would ever learn of their perversion. All his darling beloved knew was the silly cookies and their insignificant little lives.
She had rejected his changes. Gone were the smile and loving words and warm hugs and longing kisses.
The last glare she gave him when he was sealed in that damned tree was of pure hurt and anger. He swore to himself he'd get out and find her again, bring back her pretty smile and shower her in the love she deserved as he once did. He'd make sure of it, make sure she'd finally understand him and his goals. Everything would go back to happiness.
The next time he saw her, (Y/N) was smiling at Pure Vanilla Cookie the exact same smile she'd once give Shadow Milk Cookie.
For a brief moment, he believed the lie that she somehow knew that he was there, watching over her through the blonde cookie. Only for a brief moment, though, enough time for said blonde cookie to confess his feelings to her.
That was not in te script.
(Y/N) Cookie did have a knack for rewriting stories, though, so he should've expected something someone to be beyond his control. It was one of the reasons he had been so enamored with her in the past.
Still he screamed and cried when she returned Pure Vanilla's confession with one of her own.
His rage was so great even Burning Spice Cookie shut up from the root of the silver tree he was confined. Not that Shadow Milk cared, he didn't care for anything but his plans to destroy that weak little thief who stole not only hsi power but his beloved! And his plans to punish said beloved for her infidelity. Ultimately, he'd forgive her, of course, but she needed to pay before it could happen.
And what better way to do it than to corrupt her precious Pure Vanilla Cookie? Make him become just like Shadow Milk Cookie? Show her that in the end, she is meant to be his.
Except.
Except that when the time comes and he finally has Pure Vanilla Cookie Truthless Recluse drowning in the pit of deceit, (Y/N) Cookie doesn't leave him.
She is saddened, yes, and she frequently pleads that he "fights it" and "remember who he is" and "stop hurting other cookies, Milk, there must be another way", but she does. Not. Leave. She stays with him, takes care of him, gives him kisses and hugs.
And Truthless Recluse is so annoying about it too. Kissing her and hugging her and holding her hands and carrying her and smiling at her in a way he should've forgotten because he is not Pure Vanilla Cookie, Pure Vanilla Cookie never never n ever ever existed ever! Ever! everevereverever it has always been Shadow Milk Cookie ALWAYS ALWAYS SO WHY?!
WHY?
Why is that copy the one allowed to love her? How can he even love her? How can he love her when he is not Shadow Milk Cookie? How can he still keep enough of his pitiful sense of self to keep on loving (Y/N) Cookie?! IT'S ALL WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG
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