☆•° SHADOWMILK FIC BELOW!!! °•☆

k so this is my first time posting my fanfic onto tumblr. farts. lmk if i need to do anything special or not

Content; soul jam freakery, pwp, non-penetrative sex, switch shadow milk, switch pure vanilla, cookiefucking ig, brief mentions of purelily(?), 3k+ words :3

Pure Vanilla stood in a glade of flowers. As far as the eye could see, there were hills lined with hundreds and thousands of flowers. A shy moon peered over a hilltop, stars winking playfully across a picturesque, midnight-blue sky. For a moment, he just observed them.

On one hill surface, it was all coated in brilliant yellow and white petals. Yellow carnations, baby’s breath, chamomile, daisies, honeysuckle, white hyacinth, white roses. A beautiful cloud, light shining through each split where the sun kissed the feathery vapor.

Another swath of blue flowers lined another hill. Hydrangeas, irises, delphiniums, hyacinth, and morning glories. As Pure Vanilla heaved a relaxed sigh, inhaling the sweet scent of the floral arrangements around him, he noticed but a single flower at his feet.

A forget-me-not.

The rest of the flowers in the field burnt up, despite there being no fire present. They simply crumbled on their own, squeezing into themselves and turning into blackened char. The sweet smell of pollen and nectar and the midnight stars was replaced by the acrid stench of strawberry jam and burnt leaves. Ah. This must be a dream.

"Y'know, my silly little Vanilly, this has been in your cards for a loooong time coming," came a playful voice, an idle teasing to it, as if it were a conversation between old friends. Pure Vanilla didn’t bother to turn around towards it. In a way, it was really a reunion of sorts. “Have you missed me?”

Pure Vanilla stayed staring, fixedly, almost mechanically, at the single, twinkling flower before him. He wouldn’t give Shadow Milk the satisfaction of seeing him look startled, or even seeing his face at all. “Not in the slightest,” he replied with a sigh, the forget-me-not dancing in the painfully burnt nighttime air.

Hands wrapped around his eyes.

He resisted the urge to immediately elbow the foe behind him, or thrash out of the (admittedly gentle— why was it so gentle?) grasp of Shadow Milk, but he steadied his will, staying perfectly still. A warmth, a slow embrace, spread across his back as Shadow Milk pulled himself flush with the back of Pure Vanilla’s robes.

“Vannilly…” Shadow Milk cooed in a drawn-out tone. “If you want to look at anything ever again, look at me. You know that I can hear what you’re thinking. You can’t ignore me forever!”

Pure Vanilla sucked in a breath. He knew reading cookie’s minds wasn’t impossible— he himself could do it if he tried. Yet, he wasn’t sure if Shadow Milk truly knew how, if he was bluffing, or if you even could read one’s mind inside of a dream.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to risk it.

“That power is not yours, beast.” Pure Vanilla didn’t utter another word, keeping his lips drawn tightly together. Shadow Milk simply wouldn’t earn it from him, no matter how much he toyed with him.

When the ravaged flower field disintegrated around him, and reformed into a chapel, and Shadow Milk vanished from his back to reform in front of him, Pure Vanilla felt almost let-down, as ridiculous of a notion that it was, that Shadow Milk hadn’t tried harder to make him speak. Two rows of pews lined the rectangular room, highlighted by the beautiful moonlight coalescing through the windows. It streamed through blue, stained-glass windows— no doubt, they bore imagery of the wielder of the Light of Deceit.

Pure Vanilla felt a tightness about his limbs, and suddenly he noticed tendrils creeping around the floor, darkness forming and deforming vague shapes of tentacles as they wove between the pews. As he glanced towards the throne, between his bangs, there was a beast hovering above him, a sadistic grin twisting his cutesy, mis-matched features into a mockery of a cookie's face. Shadow Milk cookie, a tyrannical creature born of lies and falsehoods. There were many ways to end a dream, so Pure Vanilla quickly shuffled through his options, mentally. He didn’t want to even give this creature a chance to speak more. There was a war to fight, and it needn’t be distracted with silly things like dreams.

"Now, quit it with that look. We all know you can't do anything to escape from this dream, now! Stupid 'Nilla!" Shadow Milk cackled, as if he really could hear Pure Vanilla’s thoughts, and sure enough, more mysterious darkness rose from the floor, binding Pure Vanilla by the ankles. They slithered up Pure Vanilla’s slender legs, tracing his figure, wriggling across each inch of his dough. "Hey, didn’t you say you were going to protect everyone? That you didn’t have things like nightmares? You're the worst liar of us all. Which is why I'm going to take my Soul Jam back from you, Vanilly.”

Pure Vanilla glowered at this foe. He may have a point-- Pure Vanilla was not always the most truthful, as much as his jam implied it. Yet, every time he lied, it was in the name of justice. In the name of keeping the peace, and ruling over what he needed to protect. So, that was different. It certainly wasn't the shameful secret that Shadow Milk was making it out to be. If it was leveraged against him, though... he wasn't sure what he'd do. He just had to escape the dream before it got to that point.

Then, of course, in his moment of distraction, Shadow Milk took it as an excuse to approach Vanilla, looking down on him as the tendrils suddenly squeezed around his dough, crumbling the surface ever-so-imperceptibly. It burned. There was truly nowhere he could go, as far as his eyes could see, no way to fight against this darkness— he was caged in like a feral animal, and felt merely inches away from being provoked to fight like one.

Shadow Milk stepped towards the altar, finally lowering himself to standing height instead of floating. The porcelain tiles hissed as his feet touched them. With a gentle motion, he ascended the half-stairs, and settled atop the marble altartop. With one hand, he beckoned to Pure Vanilla, and he was dragged forward and onto his knees by the shadows binding his legs. Shadow Milk gazed down at him, cooing softly as one might to a stray animal. Pure Vanilla resisted the urge to growl at him in response.

"Don't worry, silly. This won't hurt a bit, okay? I'm gonna warm your jam up... bet no one's ever done that before, hmm, tightwad? Ahaha!" Shadow Milk cackled, and slowly rolled his sleeve a bit further back up his arm. His forearm was littered in hundreds of tiny scars that Pure Vanilla elected to ignore. This psychopath's sob story was worthless to him; he had probably just gotten into fights, or ran through brambles in boredom.

It was just as meaningless as the rest of his deceitful actions.

The shadows yanked Pure Vanilla upwards, suspending him off the floor by their grasp on him, and giving his knees an air-borne surface to rest upon. Being pulled forward so that his chest was level with Shadow Milk’s knees, he glanced up at the beast who held him in place. “Oh, my. Now that’s a sexy face on you, Vanilly. You look so angry…! What, going to crumble me with your teeth?” Shadow Milk offered with a smirk that only surfaced more and more suggestions in Pure Vanilla’s mind.

Shadow Milk’s hand found the side of his face, and it cupped his cheek. Without missing a beat, and keeping eye-contact with Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla parted his lips and put his mouth around Shadow Milk’s hand, as if to bite it open. If this went as planned, Shadow Milk would surely become distracted and lose his grip on Pure Vanilla’s dream. What he didn’t expect, somehow, was the look of sheer masochistic elation that crossed Shadow Milk’s features, like a cloud crossing over the path of the sun and darkening a summer day.

“Does that feel good?” Vanilla asked in utter disbelief, whispering the words across Shadow Milk’s dough, far more sensually than intended, as he fixed him with a stare. “Ah, you’ve always been strange…” he continued, “but truly, I could never have expected to what degree.” He just had to keep throwing Shadow Milk off of his game. Then, he’d be able to slip away.

Then, unexpectedly Shadow Milk brought his other hand (not the one cupping his cheek) up to Pure Vanilla’s upper chest, and began to toy with his Soul Jam, grazing his finger crossed it’s blue surface. It was an overwhelming sensation, causing him to cry out— ah, why was that so sensitive? Vanilla knew they were connected to their senses, as his own had flickered when he was in pain, but he didn't expect it to literally feel like his soul was being stroked along the edge by Shadow Milk, a wanton noise peeling itself from his lips. It was a tightness and blossoming in his chest, all while Shadow Milk's multi-colored eyes, on his face and on his body, seemed to be watching the faces he was making with curiosity raptly.

Pure Vanilla did try to reign in his expression, concealing his faint noises of surprise by biting his lower lip. It was made vastly more difficult by the fact that his legs were restrained and he couldn't simply run from this.

Normally, the moment before the villain could enact their awful plan, a hero would come bursting into the room, and save the hostage just as it started to look hopeless. Well, it seemed futile to resist, to Pure Vanilla, and there was yet to be another cookie within sight. No, it was all those piercing, mis-matched eyes.

Mis-matched eyes that were gobbling up eyefuls of Pure Vanilla's pathetic condition greedily, lustfully. "I just love how this looks on you," Shadow Milk whispered, sultry, to the distressed monarch before him. It was a new thrill to have this brilliant leader finally subjugated before him, finally brought (literally) to his knees by Shadow Milk's plans. It's not as if he couldn't have potentially seen it coming, but there were so many possibilities for losing or capturing Pure Vanilla every day that Shadow Milk cookie had simply taken to ignoring them.

He stroked along the edge of the Soul Jam with one pallid blue hand, the other halfway covering the flustered face of Pure Vanilla.

"Shall I keep going?" Shadow Milk offered with nothing short of a insane grin, just feeling the waves of pleasure rolling off of his body from just the blonde’s expressions. Yet, that grin was just the sort of thing that would perfectly throw Pure Vanilla off his game. "Seems like you're plenty ready for the warm-up, needy-Nilly.”

"Don't do this," Pure Vanilla said, eyes furrowing— though, it just looked like he was relaxing into the pleasure even more, "I'm not going to do whatever you want." Oh? Shadow Milk smelled a Class A lie around those words, like curdled milk atop an otherwise perfect latte. All it took was a little teasing to bring out the deceitful side of the blonde, and Shadow Milk had yet to tell even a single lie. Frankly, he knew which one of them deserved the Soul Jam more, based on that.

Teasingly slow, Shadow Milk reached a blue hand deep into the jam on Pure Vanilla’s chest, sinking into its substance like a cushion; the tone of his dough and the surface of the soul were the same color, as if they were always meant to be put together this way. He slowly pushed in, first inching in his fingers, then his palms, and then the beginnings of his wrist. It pulsated around him— it wasn't meant to be touched like this, but nevertheless, it burned in a way that was both painful and pleasing. It seemed almost to him as if he had stuck his arm into a pocket dimension somehow contained within Pure Vanilla's body. He would’ve been curious as to how it felt, if he hadn't tried such a thing with his half of the jam. And by his own experiences, he knew exactly how overwhelming it was.

“How’s that…? You know, this is why you’re mine. Without me, you wouldn’t be able to feel this way. Without my Soul Jam on your body, you’d never have known this pleasure,” he cooed, leaning down to speak into Pure Vanilla’s ear as he slowly began to swirl his hand and the tips of his fingers around inside of Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla suppressed a strangled moan at the intrusive feeling, immediately attempting to further cover his mouth with one of his own hands. Not that it lasted long, with one of Shadow Milk's tendrils quickly ripping it away, but an effort had been made to at least save himself part of the humiliation. "Please..." Pure Vanilla whispered, not being quite sure what he was begging for, other than that Shadow Milk was sure not to provide it, if he asked.

Shadow Milk made a satisfied grin and hum as Pure Vanilla's mouth was re-uncovered, wriggling his fingers inside the goopy substance of the jam until Pure Vanilla couldn't help but moan out again. It felt like someone had reached directly into his chest and was playing harp with his bare nerves; too overwhelming to form words, but still amazing.

"Oh, wow!" Shadow Milk giggled, tensing his fingers to squeeze the surface of the Soul Jam's glistening tension. "I can feel it, pulsing. It wants us to do this, doesn't it? Just think of how powerful we'll be together, Nilly..."

Pure Vanilla full-body shuddered at the nickname, feeling a familiar, aroused tingle in his back from the jester's rough voice; somehow, that managed to be almost more intimate than Shadow Milk's fingers inside of his soul. "It's too— too much," he finally managed, squirming away from Shadow Milk.

That's when it happened: Shadow Milk curled his hands through the jam, grabbing it like a handle from the inside, and yanking Pure Vanilla forward by it. The utterly debauched sound that fell from Pure Vanilla's mouth was both a shriek of pain and a guttural cry of pleasure: he wasn't sure which part was more earnest. "No running away, now! We've only just started, Vailly!"

With that, he pulled Pure Vanilla up against him into his lap, still holding him by the inside of his jam. This time, Pure Vanilla managed to keep it at a controlled yelp, but it did nothing to diminish the lustful burning he felt in every inch of his dough. He saw his Soul Jam faintly flicker with burnt out light— he was suffering, and he couldn't help but feel as though his perverse pleasure derived from it was a betrayal of everything his Light stood for, everything that he and the others like White Lily had fought for.

Just as he made the thought, Shadow Milk tsked aloud. “Don’t think of her. I can see it on your pathetic face— she doesn’t own you, I do. She wouldn’t make you feel like this, right…?” he asked, relaxing his grip on Pure Vanilla’s jam and returning to stroking it gently from the inside. It felt like stepping into a hot room on a cold, winter’s afternoon— it tingled all over Vanilla’s body, causing him to emit a soft squeak as the feeling bubbled up into every square inch of his vanilla dough.

"Now that you're up here..." Shadow murmured into Pure Vanilla's ear, pulling him closer to his chest. Vanilla couldn’t help but smell the faint aroma of blueberries on his skin. He managed to grasp onto Shadow Milk’s shoulder, bracing himself through his panic at being pulled, and steadying his pleasure. "Let's try something, okay? This'll feel even better than just my hands," Shadow Milk promised, and then their Soul Jams gently touched together as he pulled Pure Vanilla up closer into him, engaging him in a sloppy kiss.

Pure Vanilla could suddenly feel everything in Shadow Milk’s body and nothing in his own all at once. He was somehow two sets of lips, locked in an embrace that smeared frosting lewdly across faces, he was the future, he was the past, he was Blueberry Milk and he was being torn apart in luxurious torment and lust.

After either all of time, or just a second, Shadow Milk shoved him away with a sudden gasp, multichrome eyes going wide. His face was brushed in a dark blue flush, giving him a healthy looking bake, for once. He panted, licking his blue lips, causing Pure Vanilla's smudged off-white frosting to smear slightly across them both. "Woah there, Vanilla! Getting ahead of yourself!" Shadow Milk chuckled, his eyes slightly too wide for it to really come across as a properly controlling order. Had he really not predicted what this would do? Had Shadow Milk truly been unable to predict how this would feel?

That, or he was simply more sensitive than Pure Vanilla. When was the last time Shadow Milk had touched another cookie, dough-to-dough, after all?

Shadow Milk was overwhelmed. When he had touched his own half of the Jam, it hadn’t felt even half that intense. No, that was a splash of cold water, and this was a dunk in the ocean. Oh, God, he felt so one with Pure Vanilla. What had he been thinking? He needed… Vanilla to become him, not the other way around…!

Pure Vanilla's grasp on Shadow’s shoulders tightened, sensing his weakness like blood in the water. "Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this what you forced me to do?" Pure Vanilla spoke forcefully, his voice carrying more venom than he ever let it have. Vanilla was purity, he was a figure of angelicness, forgiveness. Yet, now that he had felt what it was like to be him, he had a taste of being like Shadow Milk, feeling how Shadow Milk felt; a lingering flavor of blueberry and strawberry jam on his tongue.

He found he liked it.

He found it was the bit of Deceit inside of him, that sort of sadistic joy he found at Shadow Milk's startled expression, the nervous twitch to his pupils as they raked over Pure Vanilla's body. Glancing down to where Shadow Milk's eyes were fixed, he saw that his Soul Jam was... slightly melted, in appearance. Bits of it dripped loosely in comparison to its typically crystalline appearance, and Shadow Milk eyed it with trepidation, yet enthusiasm.

"Again," Pure Vanilla found his voice demanding, despite originally being the one who disagreed with this whole arrangement. Surely, it was the pieces of Shadow Milk's Soul Jam that were simply combining with his own. They were extended body parts, nervous systems— as if a second brain purely to use magic existed in the beasts and the ancient heroes.

After all, this was just a dream. Pure Vanilla could do whatever he wanted with this blue freak; he had given up on escaping. He’d have fun until Shadow Milk had enough and ended the dream. It was his domain, after all— it’s not like Vanilla could do anything that Shadow Milk couldn’t escape from at his very own will. Besides, when was the last time that Pure Vanilla was allowed to have fun?

With a sudden lean forward, Pure Vanilla caught the dough of Shadow Milk's neck in his mouth, dragging their Soul Jams into another gooey connection. Devouring him, tasting the faint flavor of blueberries and darkness and sweet, fresh milk, on his dough. It made a frankly lewd sound, and Pure Vanilla could feel himself losing his purity yet again, slipping into the body and mind of the insane man before him as if it were his fine Sunday clothes. A gratuitous moan rippled from Shadow Milk's lips. "Oh, Vanilla..." he managed, trying again to pull back from their embrace.

No, that wouldn't do. Pure Vanilla ran his hand up the back of Shadow Milk's head, feeling emboldened by the Light of Deceit that was flowing through him, the contradicting nature of the powers within him. He grabbed a fistful of Shadow Milk's hair, and gave it a harsh tug as he bit down more harshly on his neck. The resulting sound was something Pure Vanilla wished he could hear for the rest of his life. A debauched shriek, rough in the quality of the jester's voice, of his own name. "N-Nilla...!"

Pure Vanilla paused for just a moment, teeth in Shadow’s dough, paralyzed by the intoxication of lust. With that, he was giving Shadow Milk another chance to struggle against him, but it was futile in earnest. Shadow was only doing it for the fun of it: both of them knew he could run whenever he wanted. Two-toned eyes gazed up at Vanilla in all of their sex and pain-tinged glory. "No running away. We're just getting started." Shadow Milk’s expression grew even more lustfully destroyed with the idea of Vanilla echoing his words, his earnest expression, with just the faintest hint of a smile on his blue-smudged lips.

☆°•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~●°☆

OKAY BYE THATS ALL THANK YOU

Gasoline Cookie OUT !! (feel free to send me requests in asks!)