Breathtaking in Every Form

by Acro111

Summary:

The Fount hooked one of his legs around his shoulder and reached forward with his now free hand to grip his chin, dragging himself to a complete stop buried to the hilt. “Look at me, starlight.” He requested softly.

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A collection of smut exploring the shapeshifting abilities of The Fount of Knowledge and his other half. Now with bonus pregnancy chapters because why not

Chapter 1: Tutoring The Jealousy Away

Pure Vanilla was in a mood, and for once The Fount was stumped.

He hadn't started his day in a mood. As a matter of fact, The Fount recalled Pure Vanilla in a rather cheerful mood that morning. He’d gotten up early enough to write some letters, prepare a few of his daily remedies, and even rose before The Fount so he could wake him with a good morning kiss.

Okay, so that last point was more for him than Pure Vanilla.

The Fount went over their day in his mind as he waited outside some cookie’s bedroom. A boy had fallen off a house he’d been helping his father build. The break was nasty and the mother repeatedly cried that his leg would crumble and her son would soon follow.

The Fount had taken one look at the wound and stated, rather plainly, that, no, the boy would not crumble. And no his leg would not crumble.

Pure Vanilla had been a little kinder and explained how, while, yes it was broken, it was fixable. Nothing some batter, heat, and flavor couldn't fix.

The Fount despised sick cookies, they never followed through with clearing their bodies of sicknesses, always coughing and sneezing and spreading their germs everywhere. And while Shadow Milk had delighted in pulverising cookies into crumbs and jam, The Fount of Knowledge found jam in the medicinal sense to be…disturbing…? Unnerving..?

He didn't like it.

Still, going over their day, The Fount could find no reason for Pure Vanilla’s sour mood.

They’d started off with his morning lecture. Pure Vanilla had been in such a good mood he’d allowed nearly twenty cookies to ask questions after! The gnat.

Then, The Fount had his magic lessons with some of the cookies while Pure Vanilla went to check on the community garden.

Then…ah, yes, The Fount had a one-on-one magic lesson with Black Sapphire. That boy was learning quickly, he’d have to find some more complex spells for him soon.

Pure Vanilla requested The Fount sit with him for lunch, and a few cookies had come up to ask about one thing or another.

A man asked how to rid his cream sheep of an eye infection.

A woman asked when the next theater night would be.

A child asked if she could start learning magic in The Fount’s lessons.

Another man asked when The Fount would have a free evening for a one-on-one lesson.

And another child asked if Pure Vanilla had really been a king in his old home.

Then Pure Vanilla’s mood had taken a turn for the worse. The Fount had softly asked if it was whatever he’d eaten for lunch, perhaps it was a stomach ache or indigestion, but Pure Vanilla just grumbled and they carried on with their day.

The Fount pursed his lips.

Come to think of it, the man who’d asked for a one-on-one lesson had shown up at The Fount’s lecture about the upcoming harvest. He’d said something about needing help plowing, but The Fount had ignored him. Harvest wasn't the time for a plow, he’d missed the whole season!

And, speaking of the idiot cookie, Pure Vanilla’s mood had worsened even more upon seeing him.

That was odd.

…

Oh.

Oh.

The Fount felt heat bloom in his chest at how foolish he’d been. It was so clear now that the cookie had been flirting with The Fount!

What a stupid cookie! 

Laughable, really, to think The Fount would ever leave his silly-vanilly. Or that he would even toy with the idea of having eyes for anyone else.

The Fount blinked.

Of course!

Pure Vanilla was jealous! Oh that was new!

How interesting.

The Fount couldn't help but smirk.

Pure Vanilla came out of the room with the father, “The dough cast hasn't fully baked yet, so he should remain in bed for at least a day. After that, he may need some mobility aid while the dough underneath mends itself.” 

“Thank you for helping our Blue Cherry Cookie.” The father looked tired, yet relieved.

Pure Vanilla smiled, “It was no trouble, truly.” His smile faded when he saw The Fount.

Ouch.

He hadn't even flirted back, why was he being punished?!

Pure Vanilla droned on his reminders to the parents for caring for their son, then the two cookies took their leave.

Pure Vanilla made a point to walk fast, forcing The Fount to float faster to keep up. “I’m surprised you’re still here.” He huffed.

What a jealous little thing.

And why?

The Fount mused quietly to himself. Should he be honest and come out that he knew why Pure Vanilla was upset? Or, should he force the other cookie to communicate his feelings?

Option one felt like the smart, kind, and generous thing to do.

Option two felt more fair and more fun.

Just how far could he push Pure Vanilla?

“But of course, silly. Where else would I be?” The Fount asked.

Pure Vanilla grumbled as he marched up the steps to the Spire. Evening had fallen, so the sky was a dusty pink and the foyer was dark. The Spire’s lights slowly illuminated as they walked in.

Pure Vanilla made a beeline to the kitchen.

Odd.

He didn't normally eat more than one meal a day (and that was only if The Fount made him).

The Fount followed him, “Aren't you coming to bed, little cookie?”

Pure Vanilla slammed a cabinet shut with as much force as possible. His nose twitched with simmering anger, “I just need some tea first.”

“Oh?” The Fount played dumb and floated over to pin Pure Vanilla between the sink and himself, “Feeling tense, little one?” He rested his hands on either side of the sink, Pure Vanilla pressed to his chest.

Pure Vanilla did not bite the bait, “You can go on up to bed. If the Spire is kind, it will allow me to follow after.” He turned the sink off once his kettle was filled but refused to turn around or acknowledge him. 

It was no fun when the actors went off script. Pure Vanilla should have been a shaking mess with The Fount keeping him pinned like this. 

He scowled.

“Pure Vanilla —,”

“I am fine.” Pure Vanilla insisted, “Go to bed.”

“No —,”

“Please??”

“Not without you.” The Fount put the proverbial foot down.

Pure Vanilla huffed dramatically, “then, at least move aside so I may make my tea.”

“Allow me,” The Fount reached around him to grab the kettle, but Pure Vanilla tightened his grip on its handle.

“I am capable of making my own tea, Fount of Knowledge.”

“Pure Vanilla Cookie, give me the kettle!” The Fount snapped, slamming his hands down on the counter hard enough to knock the whole thing askew. The foundation splintered and the tiles cracked, leaving the sink and adjacent counters tilted towards them.

Pure Vanilla dropped the kettle in shock at being yelled at and the damage done to his kitchen.

He finally looked back up at The Fount.

The Fount blinked, the eyes in his hair he didn't even realize were open winked away. He pushed himself back from the counter.

“Pure…Pure Vanilla, I —,” It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were totally off script, and he’d been bad.

Again .

The Saint was right.

He’d crumble Pure Vanilla.

All because of what? Some random cookie The Fount couldn't even conjure up in his memory made Pure Vanilla jealous?

The Fount blinked away the burning in his eyes, “Enjoy your tea, Pure Vanilla…don't…don't be long.” He smoothed out his hair and robes as he floated out of the kitchen.

He’d fix what he’d broken tomorrow.

Right now, he needed to get away. The doorway to the foyer led to a library somewhere on the seventh floor and The Fount all but collapsed onto one of the couches.

The Fount’s body ached like dough rolled too thin and tough. He felt like one wrong move would crumble him and he wrapped his arms protectively around himself to keep his form together. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still see the room. 

Shadow Milk’s eyes had opened in his hair.

Crumbs.

Pure Vanilla had likely seen them, and while it wasn't the first time the Beast had ever come out in front of him, it was the first time having The Fount’s malicious intent focused on him.

It was getting harder and harder to keep Shadow Milk contained. The Saint had been right, of course he’d been right, he was a danger to everyone…even Pure Vanilla…

Maybe he should speak with him, go to the Salt Flatlands and beg for help.

It wouldn't have been the first time, but…

But he’d been doing so good!

He did his job, he fulfilled his duties, he was The Virtuous Fount of Knowledge!

He was not Shadow Milk. He was not The Beast of Deceit…

But…maybe The Saint could just…give him a reminder..?

Maybe he would — !!

“My Fount?” Pure Vanilla’s voice echoed through the Spire. 

The Fount could feel him moving around. He’d ended up walking a loop between the second and third floor.

“Please, where are you?” Pure Vanilla sounded desperate.

The Fount forced Shadow Milk’s eyes shut and opened his own.

“My Fount? Please, I have something to say!” Pure Vanilla finally made it to the third floor.

The Fount summoned a mirror. He smoothed his starlit hair out, ensuring any lingering shadows were swiftly and promptly combed out and flicked away with his hands. Then he waved the mirror away and turned to face the doorway just as Pure Vanilla stepped in.

“My Fount?”

“I’m here, little cookie.” He answered, his voice more hoarse than he’d anticipated.

Pure Vanilla sighed with relief and made an instant beeline for him. “My Fount, please, I — ,” he chewed on his lip, “I must apologize for my behavior.” He grabbed the Fount’s forearms and tilted his head back to look towards him.

The Fount blinked.

Well that was certainly an adlib he hadn't been expecting.

“I…I let my own thoughts and feelings interfere with our work day and now I fear — no — I know it has followed us home.” Pure Vanilla frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, and he shook his head. “And I don't want those kinds of thoughts and feelings to come into our home.”

“Little cookie,” The Fount tried to comfort him. He reached up to tuck Pure Vanilla’s hair back, and though he could see the smaller cookie wanted to lean to his touch, he resisted.

“Please, let me,” Pure Vanilla swallowed hard, “let me finish.”

The Fount pulled his hand back and frowned.

Pure Vanilla took a shaky breath, “I know not of your personal life prior to my coming here,” he said quietly. He turned his head downwards as if hoping to make himself smaller, “So I am unsure if you were aware of certain…actions that took place today.”

The Fount stayed quiet, curious as to how far Pure Vanilla would go with this line of conversation. So far, it was clear the topic was upsetting him and leaving him flustered and bothered.

Pure Vanilla took another shaky breath, “But…a cookie today f-fl…” 

Oh, the poor thing couldn't even say it. He was practically shaking.

Pure Vanilla’s brows furrowed further, he took a final shaky breath before saying in one go, “Another cookie flirted with you and it upset me since you did not outright refuse them even though logically I knew you would never leave me for another cookie.”

The Fount waited for Pure Vanilla to calm down.

It didn't seem like he was calming down. If anything, each breath seemed to wind him up more. His face turned red and he screwed his eyes and mouth tightly shut as tears clung to his eyelashes.

“Pure Vanilla?” He looked like a soda volcano ready to pop and fizz everywhere.

“Please hold me.” Pure Vanilla finally cried, his eyes opening just enough so the tears on his lashes lost their surface tension and fell to the floor. “E-even if you do intend to leave me, p-please, let me preten-hrmrmph!” 

The rest of his plea was muffled as The Fount swept Pure Vanilla into his arms and pressed a hot and needy kiss to his lips.

“Don't you ever,” The Fount broke their kiss just enough for him to speak, though his other half began to grip and grope at his robes.

“Think for one second,” he bit the smaller cookie’s bottom lip hard enough to draw jam and tears.

“That I would ever even entertain,” Pure Vanilla let out a pained gasp that melted into a hot moan when The Fount dragged his tongue over the new puncture marks around his bottom lip.

“The idea of leaving you for some lesser,” he planted a searing kiss, on Pure Vanilla’s lips “pathetic,” another kiss, “ mortal cookie.”

Burning anger simmered under his dough, and a possessive need to remind Pure Vanilla of who and what they were blinded him to everything but the little cookie making heavenly sounds in his arms. His tongue forced its way into Pure Vanilla’s mouth, drinking in the last of his other half’s oxygen. He already knew every inch of Pure Vanilla, now his tongue worked on drawing out every pretty little noise he could make. 

Pure Vanilla grabbed fistfuls of his robe and moaned, high and needy, turning into batter in The Fount’s arms. 

More.

More.

He needed more.

More tongue, more body, more hands, more everything.

His knees actually buckled and The Fount had to break their kiss just enough for him to bend down and catch him. He wasted no time, however, in scooping up his other half. Pure Vanilla barely had time to protest, before The Fount turned and threw him down onto the couch he’d been previously lamenting on.

“F-fount~?” Pure Vanilla’s eyes opened weakly, and it was clear he was lightheaded by how foggy his eyes were. Replacing oxygen with your partner’s tongue would do that.

“Zip it,” a zipper appeared between Pure Vanilla’s lips and sealed his mouth shut. Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened to an impossible size and he panted heavily through his nose. Since when could The Fount shapeshift him?!

“I don't want to hear a word from you unless you’ve learned your lesson.” The Fount ignored the panicked look in his eyes in favor of straddling and bending over Pure Vanilla in order to bite at his neck.

No preamble.

No little kisses, or nibbles, or kitten licks.

He just dove straight into devouring the squirming, crying, muffled moaning cookie under him. His fangs sank into the soft dough, puncturing just enough to bruise and draw jam. The Fount pulled back and mouthed the now tender dough, licking the jam up before it could drip and possibly stain anything.

Pure Vanilla whined. Each love bite left his head reeling and his body hot. He tried to roll his hips into The Fount, but it was a case of unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. 

The Fount ignored him in favor of sucking more bruises into his dough. At this rate, he’d be more hickey than dough, not that he was complaining.

He just wanted more.

When The Fount did not give Pure Vanilla the response he wanted, he began to huff and squirm unsatisfied. Heat was pooling low in his gut and becoming just slightly unbearable.

The Fount, meanwhile, pulled back from Pure Vanilla’s neck, dragging his fangs along the bruised and battered dough. He drew more jam and immediately bent back over to lick it up.

Pure Vanilla let out a muffled whine.

“You,” The Fount began to speak, half mumbled by the mouthful of Pure Vanilla dough he had, “Are mine.” 

Fuck The Saint.

Fuck his lessons.

Pure Vanilla was his , and he would always choose his silly, stupid-vanilly over every other worthless cookie on Earthbread.

“I will never,” The Fount roughly thrust his hips into Pure Vanilla.

The other cookie cried out in startled pleasure.

“Choose another cookie.” The Fount began to thrust his hips into Pure Vanilla’s as if he was trying to fuck him through their clothes.

Pure Vanilla panted heavily, finally getting the friction he’d been craving since The Fount first threw him onto the couch. The zipper left his cries muffled, and hot tears stained his dough.

He knew his Fount would never leave him, but it made his dough warm and tingly to hear those words out loud!

“You, who holds my soul jam. My other half. My starlight. My Pure Vanilla.” The Fount growled, each word earning a needy and hot thrust.

Pure Vanilla whimpered and moaned. His cock was so hard he worried it might burst. He could feel an orgasm burning low in his gut.

Unfortunately, just as he began to see stars, The Fount’s thrusting eased back into a gentle roll. Pure Vanilla let out a dry staccato sob, he’d been so close. Not that he wanted to cum in his robes, but Witches, he’d been so close. He swallowed hard and opened his eyes to look at his Fount.

The Fount sat back just enough to grab his legs and Pure Vanilla immediately pulled his legs up and let them fall apart as much as possible.

“Aren't you a smart cookie~ ?” The Fount purred, licking his lips. Pure Vanilla blushed, he’d given in too easily, but it was too late to take it back.

Pure Vanilla's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as the clawed hands he so loved began to rub his thighs, pushing his robes up and leaving his lower half protected by only his leotard.

The Fount looked up at Pure Vanilla through his bangs, “Have you learned your lesson, little cookie?” He asked, his voice low.

Pure Vanilla nodded helplessly.

The Fount’s eyes narrowed. Then, his face split into a toothy grin and he whispered, “I don’t believe you.” 

Pure Vanilla’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest. If it went any harder, he worried he might pass out.

The Fount didn’t seem to notice his distress, instead, drinking in the moan that Pure Vanilla tried to choke out when he pressed the heel of his palm to the smaller cookie’s erection. The poor thing was so hard, twitching and leaking so much precum The Fount wondered if he had cum and just hadn't noticed it. He took his hands off the squirming cookie under him.

Pure Vanilla tried to plead with him that, yes, yes! He’d learned his lesson! He belonged to The Fount, he should have never doubted that, but the zipper was still there. 

Seemed like there was more to the lesson — !!!

Pure Vanilla’s eyes flew wide open and he let out a muffled cry as The Fount began to grind the palm of his hand over Pure Vanilla’s erection.

The Fount practically purred as he bent low to nuzzle Pure Vanilla’s stomach. “You always make such lovely sounds, my little cookie.” He kissed up his stomach all the way to his breastbone.

Pure Vanilla began to hyperventilate, overstimulated from the hand pawing his painful erection and the lips burning holes in his robes. He tried to move his hips in time with The Fount’s hand, but it wasn't enough. He wanted everything off, he wanted his Fount, he wanted to be held and loved.

The Fount chuckled and sat back up, “Look at you,” he cooed teasingly, “thrusting for nothing.” He eyed the zipper still closed across Pure Vanilla’s lips. “It seems you may need a little,” he walked his fingers from Pure Vanilla’s thighs to his waist, drinking in the shiver that had the smaller cookie moaning, “tutoring.”

Before Pure Vanilla could understand what he was saying, a clawed finger snagged his bodysuit just above his navel. As soon as a hole was made, The Fount gripped the fabric with both hands and ripped it.

Pure Vanilla let out a muffled cry as his erection sprang free. At least the pain from it being restrained was gone, but now he was suffering the pain of being tortuously understimulated.

“Now now,” The Fount reached up and wiped his tears away, “this is for your own good.”

Pure Vanilla couldn't even think about what he could possibly mean. All he could think about was how hot he was, how hard he’d gotten, and how much he really really wanted The Fount to take care of him.

What was he missing?

What lesson was he supposed to learn?

He knew he belonged to The Fount, and he was so happy to hear he’d never be left or tossed aside for any other cookie —

Ah.

Of course.

How silly of him.

The zipper finally disappeared and Pure Vanilla got to moan as loudly as he pleased as The Fount stuck two fingers up his ass.

The Fount glanced up at him, “Ahhh, I see you’ve finally learned your lesson.” He began to slowly roll his fingers in and out of his hole.

“Y-yessss,” Pure Vanilla felt as though his bones were batter.

The Fount curled his fingers and Pure Vanilla curled his toes, his mouth falling open in an empty scream. “And what did you learn?” He asked, smirking.

“Th-that I’m,” Pure Vanilla swallowed, his mouth was dry, “That I’m y-yOURS!” His recital turned into a scream as The Fount pushed in an unprepared third finger. The stretch burned, but sent shivers of pleasure up and down his spine.

“Annnnnnd~?” The Fount asked.

“A-and,” Pure Vanilla had to catch his breath, matching every other constant thrust of fingers in his ass, “And you won’t ever leave me.”

A wide, toothy grin broke out across The Fount’s face, “Good boy.” He purred, then he pulled back to make a dramatic show of inspecting his fingers up Pure Vanilla’s ass, “Hmmmhmhmhmmm,” He hummed thoughtfully, slowly edging his fingers back out the pretty little hole they were currently being sucked into. 

He glanced back up at Pure Vanilla who looked seconds away from drooling and crying. He pushed his fingers back in up to the third knuckle and watched with barely contained glee as Pure Vanilla’s mouth opened with a silent cry. The poor thing tried to roll his hips, either to build friction or avoid it (he wasn't entirely sure which), and his chest began to heave with heavy breaths.

“Mm-mmmyyy,” Pure Vanilla couldn't even speak.

Good.

The fool would probably just, well, make a fool of himself if he tried.

Seriously. Him? Leave Pure Vanilla?

Foolish little cookie indeed.

Still, he’d learned his lesson, and answered The Fount’s questions correctly. Wasn't that worth something?

The Fount curled his fingers and Pure Vanilla’s legs began to shake.

Pure Vanilla moaned and mumbled something that might've been his name, but The Fount wasn't listening. Not really. He had tunnel vision as he grabbed one of Pure Vanilla’s legs and lifted it up and out of his way. He slowly dragged his fingers out of Pure Vanilla’s ass. As soon as they were free, The Fount lifted his own robes.

“N-no—!” Pure Vanilla sat up and stopped him from grabbing his own erection. 

The Fount looked at him, stunned to have been stopped.

“Please, I — I want to see you.” He reached forward and grabbed the hem of The Fount’s robes, “Take it off…please?” He pleaded.

The Fount didn't particularly enjoy being naked while having sex, but Pure Vanilla had earned his reward, so he would oblige.

His robe, along with Pure Vanilla’s robe and the rest of his shredded bodysuit all made it to the floor in record time.

As much as he wanted to dive right back into his little cookie, The Fount found himself stunned speechless, as usual.

Pure Vanilla was such a beautiful cookie. Especially when under him (and even when he was on top of him, too). The Fount couldn't help himself. He curled his whole body over Pure Vanilla’s cradling his head in his hands as he kissed him slowly.

Pure Vanilla let out a moan that told The Fount everything he needed to know.

They both needed this kiss.

Normally, their kisses were all heat and want and passion. And those were nice, but this kiss was slow and needy. He took his time matching rhythms with Pure Vanilla, sinking his body lower until their doughs were flush. He could feel every inch of Pure Vanilla, and it still was not enough.

It would never be enough.

Pure Vanilla felt drunk on blueberries, the scent of his Fount flooded his senses and he'd never felt more content in his life. He hooked his arms and legs around The Fount’s shoulders and waist, pulling him even closer and rolling his hips up into him. He could feel The Fount’s erection rub against his.

The Fount groaned and broke the kiss, “Why,” he kissed Pure Vanilla, “would I ever,” another kiss, this time to his jaw, “want,” he began to trail kisses down his neck, “another cookie here with me?” 

“I can't help myself.” Pure Vanilla admitted breathlessly. He began to rut against The Fount’s gentle rolling, his cock throbbing painfully between them.

The Fount kissed Pure Vanilla’s breast bone and grabbed his hips to still them, “careful, little cookie~,” he purred, “you're going to bite off more than you can chew right now.”

Pure Vanilla whined, “Please?”

“Little cookie.” It was a warning.

Be patient.

But Pure Vanilla was such a cute beggar, tugging at his arms “Please, my Fount? Show me? I-I need —,”

“Well, well,” His dough thrummed excitedly and he pulled back, his claws lightly raking over Pure Vanilla’s small waist, hips, and thighs. He sat back, admiring the slight tremor he left in the other cookie’s dough. “Someone’s a kinesthetic learner.” He knew Pure Vanilla likely wanted him to get started because he had jealous thoughts lingering in his mind, but The Fount found it too fun to wind him up and receive no release.

Pure Vanilla gripped his arms and tried to pull him back down.

Key word: Tried.

The Fount just smiled and traced lazy circles in the dip between his thighs and the base of his throbbing cock. Every few traces he’d curl his claw around the blonde hair at the base of his shaft and give it a tiny tug. 

Pure Vanilla trembled at his feather-light touches. He bit his lip and whined, “P-please,” he panted, “Please, my Fount!” He started to squirm, growing more desperate as those loving hands massaged his pelvis and were oh so careful as to not touch his cock.

The Fount knew if he waited too long he’d have to warm Pure Vanilla up again, so he relented with an eyeroll and a smirk. He reached down and lined his cock up with Pure Vanilla’s tight little hole.

The poor cookie under him just about wept as the head pushed through the ring of muscles. He probably could have done with more warm up, but the burn and the stretch made every filling inch worth it.

The Fount was achingly slow, only filling him a little at a time before he’d start rolling his hips, easing into the space he was given. Pure Vanilla’s grip on the couch was deadly, his knuckles were white and his arms were shaking. 

Slowly, over the course of five minutes, The Fount’s cock nudged its way deep into Pure Vanilla’s asshole. Every vein, every bump, the curve that snuggled in deep and hit juuust right, every inch he was given made Pure Vanilla melt. When The Fount finally bottomed out, they both moaned.

“Now,” The Fount breathed quietly, “Who do you belong to?” 

Pure Vanilla’s mind was mush from how slow he’d been and he actually took a second to think about it, “You, m-my Fount.” He felt so wonderfully full.

The Fount pulled nearly all the way out and snapped his hips forward, sinking all the way back inside. He jostled them so hard the couch screeched on the wooden floors. Pure Vanilla let out a high scream, needy, desperate.

“And for how long will you be mine?” The Fount asked as casually as one might ask about their schedule for the day.

Pure Vanilla blinked rapidly, still reeling from the first thrust. “F-f-foreverrrrAH - AAH!” He let out another scream as he was rewarded with another sharp and fast thrust.

“Will I ever need another cookie?” The Fount asked coyly, grinning so all of his sharp teeth were on display.

Pure Vanilla was starting to like this game. The rules were simple: answer a question, get fucked. But he wondered…

“Maybe.” He answered quietly.

The Fount blinked and stared down at him.

Pure Vanilla blushed. “I-I mean —,”

But whatever excuse he was about to come up with died on his tongue. The Fount curled himself over Pure Vanilla and sank his sharp teeth into the tender dough of his neck. At the same time, his hands cupped the back of Pure Vanilla’s knees and pushed his thighs back until Pure Vanilla was nearly bent in half, and he began to thrust mercilessly into his crying other half.

“A-AH-AH-AH M-MY-MY FOU-OU-OU-OUNT!” Pure Vanilla screamed with every thrust. The couch was scraping across the floor with every thrust, groaning under the unexpected and constant pressure.

The Fount growled, his claws digging into the soft dough on Pure Vanilla’s thighs. He unlatched his jaw and pressed a searing kiss into his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, and then he turned to the opposite side of Pure Vanilla’s neck and bit down on that side, too. 

Hard.

Pure Vanilla let out another staccato scream from pleasure, going cross eyed as he was fucked mercilessly. 

The Fount’s fast rhythm never faltered, nor did he allow Pure Vanilla to relax his legs. He was kept pinned, folded in half, weighed down by most of The Fount’s weight as he was speared open.

Again and again and again.

Pure Vanilla felt hot all over. Some distant part of him realized he’d have to really make sure his robes covered him tomorrow, another part of him wanted to leave the bruises his Fount was making out and exposed for every cookie to see.

The pressure in his gut was growing to be too much, The Fount was hitting his prostrate over and over again, abusing the poor spot that sent stars across his vision and shocks up and down his spine.

If The Fount kept this up, he’d come undone in no time.

When he finally let go of his neck, The Fount stared, drunk in love, at the huge bite marks he’d left behind. He might as well have bitten a chunk out of the poor healer’s dough. He slowed his pace, going from painfully fast thrusts, to only slightly slower grinding. 

Pure Vanilla let go of the breath he’d inadvertently been holding and let his head roll limply to the side. Full.

He felt so full.

The Fount hooked one of his legs around his shoulder and reached forward with his now free hand to grip his chin, dragging himself to a complete stop buried to the hilt. “Look at me, starlight.” He requested softly.

Pure Vanilla felt so absolutely fucked out, even with The Fount’s guiding hand, he struggled to focus on him. But he did. The Fount was stunning, breathtaking as always. The scars crisscrossing his body shimmered from the sweat clinging to his dough. Despite not needing to breathe, he was taking deep breaths that rattled his defined pecs. His arms shook with barely restrained strength and Pure Vanilla wondered briefly what it’d be like to be crumbled by him. Some of his own jam dribbled from the corner of The Fount’s  mouth.

He moaned and his eyes fluttered shut as the head of his Fount’s cock nestled against his prostrate.

The Fount smiled lovingly at him, “Beautiful,” He toyed with Pure Vanilla’s bottom lip and earned a whine and a needy look.

With his focus on him, The Fount brought his hand back down to cup the back of his leg, and started rolling his hips once more, slower this time.

Pure Vanilla’s eyes rolled back and he let out a low, long moan.

“Stay focused on me, little one.” The Fount whispered, maintaining a constant roll. His cock dragged along the inside of his ass, curving and hitting a spot so deep within the little cookie under him that he shivered. He was only just starting to feel a pressure building up in his gut.

“I - I,” Pure Vanilla panted, tears burning the corner of his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. All he could think about was the wonderful sensation of his Fount’s cock slowly pressing on his prostrate, rolling in and out to just barely kiss the sweet spot. He tried rolling his hips in time with The Fount’s thrust, but found the press he was still trapped in limited his movements. 

“I said,” The Fount readjusted his legs again, this time throwing both of his tanned legs over his shoulders.

“Focus,” one clawed hand came to rest around his hips.

“On,” the other hand came to grip Pure Vanilla’s neglected cock.

“Me.”

Pure Vanilla gasped and choked on a sob the second his grip tightened and The Fount gave a testing jerk of his cock.

“P-Please!” Pure Vanilla whined, “Mmm - my Fount!”

The Fount began to pump Pure Vanilla’s cock in time with his quickening thrusts. Pure Vanilla jerked and twitched under him, it was slowly becoming too much.

“What do you need, little cookie?” He asked, far too composed for a Virtue currently wrecking his other half with his cock. His cock reached his prostrate again, bruising the sensitive spot as The Fount opted to grind directly into that spot over and over again.

“C-cum!” Pure Vanilla whined, his dough tingled.

“Mine? Or yours?” The Fount grinned, tightening his grip on Pure Vanilla’s cock. He was rewarded with a whine.

He couldn't decide. 

His mind was mush. 

His body was hot.

“Don't worry,” The Fount purred, “I’ll take care of you.”

And Pure Vanilla began to cry in earnest because he knew it was true. He knew his Fount would take care of him. Why had he ever doubted that?

The constant pressure nudging his prostrate, and the clawed hand pumping his cock all became too much. His dough thrummed with heat and his gut felt like a band stretched too tight.

He was getting close.

He bit his lip and whimpered.

“Mm - mmmy —,”

“Yes~, my little cookie?” The Fount purred into the bend of one of his legs.

“I - I’m yours.” His head rolled back as the constant thrusting in his ass became as familiar as his own heartbeat. He wanted to stay like this forever.

The Fount’s pupils narrowed to slits, “Mine.” He nipped at Pure Vanilla’s leg and quickened his thrusts to his earlier brutal pace. He quickened his pace on his cock as well, his focus narrowing to the throaty gasps Pure Vanilla couldn't control.

“Mine, mine, mine!” It became a mantra building and heating his core.

“Yours!” Pure Vanilla panted, “All yours!”

“All mine!” The Fount felt a flood of jam drop to his cock, “All mine!” His orgasm hit him suddenly and hit him hard. He buried himself in his little cookie and came, his vision whiting out and his hand still pumping Pure Vanilla’s cock. As soon as his vision came back, he started to slowly rut his hips forward, grinding into Pure Vanilla’s hips so every drop of his seed stayed inside.

The feel of his Fount cumming in his ass was what Pure Vanilla had needed, and his own orgasm came with a high, “M-My — ! Cumming!” His body twitched and jerked as his orgasm ripped through him. He could feel his own hot cum splashing on his stomach, and he let go of all the tension in his body.

For a moment, both cookies just panted heavily. Neither wanted to move, they just basked in the heat of their orgasms.

Slowly, Pure Vanilla tried to thrust his hips into The Fount’s hand, but the clawed hand on his hip kept him pinned to the couch.

“Careful, little cookie,” The Fount mumbled. He let go of Pure Vanilla’s cock, hot vanilla cum sticking to his hand. He summoned a towel and wiped his hand off, then he very gingerly started to clean the cum off Pure Vanilla’s stomach. 

Then, he carefully lowered Pure Vanilla’s legs back down. His poor fucked out cookie was so malleable, he moved exactly how The Fount needed him to. The Fount braced himself on Pure Vanilla’s hips and slowly started to pull out.

His cum began to drip out of Pure Vanilla’s stretched hole, and The Fount thrust himself back in all the way to the hilt, moaning at the heat and the way Pure Vanilla trembled under him.

“In my opinion,” The Fount leaned down and kissed him. Pure Vanilla hummed happily and returned him the kiss. It was slow, deep, a needy question and a feverish answer. The Fount pulled back and nuzzled their noses together.

“As the all-knowing Fount of Knowledge,” Pure Vanilla giggled and he kissed the noise right out of him, breathing in deeply the smell of blueberries, vanilla, and sweat.

“That you need,” he began to roll his hips again, feeling himself growing hard in Pure Vanilla’s ass, “further tutoring.”

Pure Vanilla lazily looped his arms around his shoulders, “Well,” he shivered as goosebumps ran across his dough, “you are the expert.”

Chapter 2: Love My Tears Away

Notes:

The sprite edits at the start of each chapter will show what, or rather who the chapter is focusing on. Just an FYI.

Another cookie, crumbled.

All because they hadn't heeded The Fount’s warning.

A pack of wild cake hounds had been spotted by a cream sheep farmer two weeks ago. They came by every few years during their hunt for food before hibernation, and it was safer to wait them out than try to do anything about them. Besides, they hardly ever ventured out of the forests. 

The only reason The Fount didn't tell his cookies to crumble them was because he knew how important wild cake hounds were to the ecological system of Beast-Yeast's many forests. 

Instead, The Fount had urged his cookies to stay out of the forests. 

And most did.

Except for one foolish cookie.

Whether she had been dared or forced or walked in of her own volition, she had been found crumbled two days after she’d gone missing.

Why hadn't she listened?

Why do cookies never listen?

They sit and they nod and they pretend to be educated by his words, but in the end, they never listened.

He stared at the bed that would soon grow cold. The limbs bent at angles too harsh. The jam coagulating in the bite marks that told him exactly what had happened.

Dumb.

Dumb, stupid cookies.

All of them.

It’d been a miracle that even this much of her had been recovered.

Just enough for a small coffin. Just enough to mourn.

The Fount retired to the Spire early, dismissing every cookie that tried to approach him with a wave of his hand. He knew Pure Vanilla would stay well into the night to comfort the grieving family, but The Fount didn't have it in him.

Not the patience, not the compassion.

He’d given up so much of those things before he’d corrupted, he simply had none left to give.

Safe within the Spire, he leaned back against the door and buried his head in his hands. The image of that poor girl, bent and crumbled, cold and lifeless, was seared into his eyelids.

He pushed himself forward and walked into the shadows of the Spire that embraced him.

He hated himself.

Maybe, if he’d been better.

Maybe, if he was perfect.

Maybe that girl would still be alive.

But he wasn't better or perfect, and she crumbled for it.

He ended up in a room so secret, only two people knew of its existence (himself being one of them). And he wept.

He paced and wept and watched milkcrowns bloom and wept some more.

It was agony.

He collapsed into the field, stardust billowing around his body and scattering into the darkness. And he wept.

He didn't want to be in agony.

He wanted to give up this power. This vastless sea of knowledge that never seemed to do him or anyone else any good.

He wanted Pure Vanilla.

The Fount’s tears faltered.

He might not be able to fully give up his power and the consequences that came from it, but he could at least pretend for an evening.

And he knew the best form to take.

The Fount quickly ran his hands over his hair, and down his sides. His body shrunk in places and swelled in others, his robes shifted into an (increasingly familiar) dress. Once she was finished transforming, she quickly left the secret milkcrown garden and manipulated the Spire to find her room.

Pure Vanilla still was not back, and he likely wouldn’t be for a while, so Blueberry Milk made herself comfortable.

She kicked off her kitten heels, undid the bow in her hair and around her neck, and even undid her braid. Even though she’d gone through all the efforts to make her illusion appear flawless, she didn't want to lay in bed and be uncomfortable.

She turned and flopped onto the bed on Pure Vanilla’s side, inhaling the comforting scent of her other half.

She smiled — in spite of how her face still burned from her earlier crying — thinking about how Pure Vanilla might react to seeing her in their bed instead of his default form.

Blueberry Milk (as they’d needed a way to distinguish this form from his others, and why not use his given flavor since he hardly ever used it while in his default form anyways?) had slowly become a regular rotation in their love making. 

Anytime The Fount was overwhelmed or overworked, Pure Vanilla would gently coo that he hadn't had any thoughts of power or the consequences that came with it while he was a woman.

So, The Fount would change and let Pure Vanilla fuck the horrible feelings out of her.

It wasn't that The Fount felt a woman couldn't handle her job. The Seunim and The Apostle were (mostly) proof that they could (true, they also corrupted, but so had he and the other two Virtues, so did that really count as not doing their job?). 

But Blueberry Milk was one of the few forms he took that was smaller than Pure Vanilla, and gave Pure Vanilla a physical advantage in the bedroom. Not to mention as a woman he was way more sensitive — to touch, to her emotions, to Pure Vanilla’s emotions and needs, to everything!

She loved being manhandled and fucked stupid. She also loved when he took things slow and made love to her until her mind was mush. Really, she loved any way Pure Vanilla chose to fuck her.

She knew, however, that she was likely in for a long and lonely night, so she snuggled Pure Vanilla’s pillow and allowed herself to drift to sleep.

Mercifully, her sleep was dreamless. 

She woke, dazed and confused, at three A.M. to the feeling of someone entering the Spire. Not just anyone, but Pure Vanilla.

Had it been any other time, any other day, for any other reason, she might've hopped out of bed in order to jump Pure Vanilla’s bones. Today was not that day. Instead, she rolled over to her side of the bed.

And she took his pillow with her.

The Spire was also not in a mood, and it easily led Pure Vanilla to their room. He sighed heavily as he entered, but his footsteps paused on his side of the bed.

“O-oh, my lady, what a surprise!” Pure Vanilla sounded light, perhaps even excited, but Blueberry Milk cracked an eye open and saw he looked exhausted. Deep bags under his eyes, shoulders sagging, mouth slightly parted and breathing heavily.

The poor thing.

She reached out to him, “‘ommto bed.” She mumbled.

Pure Vanilla smiled, but walked around to her side. He bent low over her and gently grabbed her shoulder, “roll over, dear.”

She’d just rolled over before he came in. But, too tired to argue, she allowed him to help her roll over. She didn't roll all the way, just onto her stomach, and then she felt a heavy weight on her back.

“Pure—?”

“Shhh,” Pure Vanilla whispered as his hands began to knead into her back.

“O-ooooohhh,” she moaned tiredly.

Pure Vanilla massaged her back, taking extra time around her hips and waist where the exit wounds to the Witch's Fork laid buried under her layers of clothes. Despite knowing what he knew about Witch's wounds, he still tried to push some healing magic into her dough. Any amount of relief he could provide, he would gladly give. His magic simply simmered over her dough and refused to go any deeper.

Pure Vanilla frowned and redoubled his efforts. If he couldn't magic away her pain, he could at least offer her some relief with his hands. Once he had gotten the last knot out of her hips, he moved back up to her shoulders.

He felt heartbroken to see just how tense her dough was. He’d left her alone too long, even though the family had needed him and he couldn't just leave them, he didn't want his other half to feel alone.

Occasionally, he’d pull his hands back to her hips and lean down to kiss the curve of her spine through her clothes, but then he quickly sat back up and continued his ministrations.

It was a nice distraction, a set of mindless actions he didn't have to think (or overthink) about. And all the while, Blueberry Milk laid under him and moaned little happy moans as each knot was lovingly undone.

As the last knot came undone, Pure Vanilla leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long, Blueberry,” he kissed her shoulder blade, “Please,” he kissed the sensitive spot just under her ear, “allow me to make it up to you.”

She frowned. He smelled like a bonfire and sour jam. Not vanilla.

“You stink.” She mumbled into her pillow.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, “I do need a bath.” He agreed. He started to massage her back again as they spoke, “Would you care to join me?”

She didn't feel like she needed one, but she wanted one just in case the smell of bonfire and jam lingered on her from him sitting on her, so she nodded.

Pure Vanilla picked himself up, then instructed her to roll over once again. She did so, and immediately scrambled for purchase on Pure Vanilla’s shoulders as he lifted her into his arms.

“I can get there on my own.” She blushed.

“You could.” Pure Vanilla agreed, “But I intend to take care of you," He nuzzled his nose against her cheek, "so let me do that.”

She grumbled, but obliged.

The connecting bathroom was spacious. A shower stall and built-in tub side by side on one wall, a mirror and two sinks with cabinets underneath on the other, and tucked back in the back of the bathroom behind a half wall was a toilet.

Pure Vanilla sat Blueberry Milk down on the edge of the tub and turned the handles. Water rushed out of the faucet, already hot and starting to steam as it filled the tub.

Pure Vanilla stripped himself and Blueberry Milk could see he was sweaty and gross. He’d been working nearly twenty one hours. He was exhausted and grimy, but she still drank in every muscle and curve of his body. Even still, under all his robes, he somehow managed to keep up his tan. The happy trail of blonde hair on his pelvis was a beacon on his sun-kissed dough, calling to her and stirring up heat between her legs.

Truly gorgeous.

Once he kicked aside his dirty robes, Pure Vanilla held his hands out to her. She accepted them and he pulled her to her feet. He expertly reached around her back and undid her corset (he was getting too good at that). Pure Vanilla worked carefully, moving her gently as he dropped the corset. He managed to get her blouse off without a problem, then he lowered himself to his knees and began to fumble with the zipper that held her skirt on her hips. His tired eyes were unfocused, and his hands were trembling with exhaustion.

Blueberry Milk frowned and reached down. She laid her hands over his to get him to stop. He looked up at her as she pulled down the zipper and allowed her skirts to pool around her feet.

Pure Vanilla continued to look up at her reverently as he shimmed her petticoat down her legs. Then, unable to resist, he rested his forehead on her stomach. He began to gently mouth at her stomach, kissing, soothing, and relaxing his lady even more. He gripped her ankle and slowly moved his hands up one leg, memorizing every dip and curve of her calves and thighs. As his hands moved up her leg, his mouth moved down to her thigh.

Blueberry Milk let out a tired moan and swayed on her feet. Pure Vanilla’s arms immediately wrapped around her legs, holding her upright.

“Careful, my lady.” His whisper no louder than a breath. Blueberry Milk's heart was pounding in her throat.

Pure Vanilla gripped the elastic band of her stocking and kissed her thigh as he began to roll it down. Blueberry Milk rested her hands on his shoulders as he pulled her stocking off her leg. She was shaking, but felt secure so long as Pure Vanilla was holding her.

He turned and repeated the process with her other leg.

The corset, blouse, skirts, petticoat, and stockings were all added to his dirty clothes pile.

By now, the tub was almost full. Blueberry Milk sat back on the edge of the tub, which, while warmed by the water, was still cold on her dough. She shivered.

Wordlessly, Pure Vanilla went to his sink and bent down to retrieve something from his cabinet.

Soaps.

He went back to the tub and poured a small amount of translucent warm-white soap into the tub.

Bubbles slowly filled the tub as the water level continued to rise.

Once the tub was full of steaming water and vanilla scented bubbles, Pure Vanilla turned the water off. He stepped in first, ensuring the hot water was not too hot, then held his hands out to Blueberry Milk.

She accepted his hands and carefully stepped in.

Pure Vanilla sat in the curve of the tub and gently pulled Blueberry Milk down to sit in front of him. She settled between his legs, her back against his chest.

The water was perfect, and they both instantly relaxed.

“I missed you.” Pure Vanilla mumbled, reaching up out of the water to pet her hair.

Blueberry Milk rolled her head to the side so her ear was pressed to his chest. “I missed you, too.” 

Pure Vanilla kissed the top of her head.

And for a while, that was all.

Then, Pure Vanilla picked up one of Blueberry Milk’s hands. They were much smaller, and far more delicate than The Fount’s, but slender and beautiful nonetheless (after all, they were technically one and the same). And Pure Vanilla got to work massaging her hand. He started with her palm, rubbing circles in the cup and over the swell of her thumb, then moved to massage each knuckle of each finger.

It tickled a little, but by the time he was done with the first hand, Blueberry Milk could feel the difference it made. She let him massage her other hand, then he went back and massaged each of her arms.

Finally, as his ministrations slowed, Blueberry Milk’s senses returned to her and she felt as if she were going to melt into batter at any moment. 

The only thing holding her together was Pure Vanilla. His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her like a vice he couldn't stop using if he wanted to.

Both immortals soaked their aching dough in the warm bath. Both knew it would take a long time being exposed to moisture to crumble them, so they didn't feel pressed for time. They could just relax in the tub, and stay in their embrace.

Even when the water started to cool, Blueberry Milk simply dipped both hands into the water and heated it back up with magic. Every time she did, Pure Vanilla rewarded her with a content sigh and a kiss to her temple.

Honestly, she could've gone right back to sleep like this. Warm, naked, in Pure Vanilla’s arms. It was perfect.

“Darling?”

She hummed.

“We’ve been in here for an hour and a half.” Pure Vanilla began to kiss at her temple and down to her jaw.

“Hmm, really?” She hummed again. She hadn't noticed. Her whole body felt as if she’d been dipped in warm honey, although Pure Vanilla’s kisses made her shiver and squeeze her legs shut.

“Mhm.” Pure Vanilla hummed back. “And not that I don't love holding you like this,” he squeezed her and kissed her cheek. 

She turned and captured his lips with his next kiss. Pure Vanilla inhaled as if she was the first fresh breath of air he’d ever had. His hands came up to cradle her face, and his long fingers carded through her hair. Blueberry Milk felt warmth blossom through her whole body, and she melted into the kiss. It was hot, and needy, and they weren't even using their tongues yet.

He broke them apart soon after and nuzzled her, “because, Witches, do I love holding you like this.” He took a tired breath, “We should finish up and get back to our actual bed.”

Blueberry Milk hummed tiredly in agreement. She sat up on her knees and turned around in the tub to face him. Pure Vanilla looked at her, confused.

“Wh-what’re you—?” He tried not to let his eyes linger on her wet and soapy breasts, but it was hard not to when they dangled so delicately in his face.

“You still smell.” She wrinkled her nose, “I’m washing you.” She leaned forward to reach for the shampoo.

Pure Vanilla bit his lip and tensed up as her wet breasts pressed against his chest. He knew protesting would get him nowhere, not that he wanted to protest. He’d had to be so strong today…yesterday? Time was blurring more than his vision. How long had he been working?

Blueberry Milk sat back, lathering up her hands. “Turn.”

It wasn't the first time they’d bathed each other, and Pure Vanilla had total trust in his Fount, so he did as he was told. He turned so his back was to her, his legs folded up so he could still fit in the tub. Blueberry Milk sat on her knees and gently began to massage the bubbly vanilla scented shampoo into his hair.

Pure Vanilla sighed contentedly. 

Blueberry Milk was meticulous, because she always was. She shampooed his hair twice (a feat considering how long his hair had grown since accepting The Light of Truth), ran conditioner through his hair and let it sit, washed what she could reach of him and handed him his scrubbing net for the parts she couldn't reach.

Pure Vanilla’s hands were shaking as he scrubbed his feet, although he wasn't entirely sure if it was still due to his exhaustion or due to how intimate and gentle Blueberry Milk was being with him. As if she thought he’d crumble. Or maybe it was because she kept inadvertently rubbing her own wet, naked body against his and it kept making all his heat and jam flood into his cock.

For as exhausted and drained as Pure Vanilla was, Blueberry Milk was still a breathtaking treat. Seeing her lying on their bed had been a welcomed surprise. Any other day he might have jumped at the chance to have his way with her, ravishing and worshipping her body until they both collapsed in puddles of their jam, sweat, and cum. But if The Fount had changed into her, that also meant something was wrong, and he was determined to make her forget about it and feel better.

He wondered how big the mess would be to clean up if he fucked her in the tub…

“I’m going to rinse you now.” Blueberry Milk’s voice was soft, still lingering with sleep.

Pure Vanilla nodded, he didn't trust his voice. He was too busy thinking about her tits bouncing so hard they’d splash bubbles everywhere. He was thinking hard about stuffing her so full they’d lose track of how many times he’d clean her beautiful little pussy with his hot cum.

Blueberry Milk was gentle, rinsing his hair, his body, and then she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Pure Vanilla tensed up, feeling every curve of her pressed to him. Nothing but water between them.

“Ready to get out?” She mumbled tiredly, tucking her nose into his neck to inhale his fresh clean scent.

No.

“Don’t you need to wash up?” He asked.

“What do you think I was doing while you were scrubbing at your feet?” She asked, deadpanned.

“Right…”

“So…ready to get out?” She asked again.

No.

“Yes.” He sighed.

Blueberry Milk pulled away for just a moment and he heard a pop. The water started to drain and he pushed himself up to get out of the tub. Bubbles clung to him as he rose up out of the water and he frowned. He didn't like drying bubbles off, he could still feel them, their residue on his dough.

He sighed and watched the bubbles slide down his legs, “I may have to rinse off still.”

“So will I.” Blueberry Milk yawned a cute little yawn, her fangs on full display.

Pure Vanilla stepped out first and offered his hand to Blueberry Milk. She accepted it and stepped out as well. She stretched and Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but stare at the twitch of her muscles. In this form, she was very much like a snake. All lean and smooth, but pure muscle. Not at all like the more cat-like way The Fount’s default form was.

However, if there was one thing both — all — forms of The Fount liked, it was warmth.

And currently, naked, in the open bathroom, she was not warm.

Blueberry Milk was far more sensitive to, well, everything, so despite her best efforts to not shake, she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. 

Pure Vanilla blinked out of his stupor as she inadvertently covered her dark blue raspberry nipples. He quickly turned the shower on and made sure it was nice and hot for her.

He still stepped into the shower stall first, but he barely had time to turn back and offer Blueberry Milk a hand in because she practically jumped in behind him and closed the door.

The shower stall was not as big or luxurious as the tub, they still could have fit together side by side in any orientation, but that was only because The Fount was Blueberry Milk right now, and she was not nearly as tall as he was.

Blueberry Milk sighed and finally unfolded her arms from around herself. Her nipples were still hard, and Pure Vanilla couldn’t waste a second in bending down, scooping each of her breasts in his hands, and gently mouthing one nipple while brushing the pad of his thumb over the other.

Blueberry Milk arched into his touch, the hot water hitting her back and shoulders ran down her curves and drowned him, but he was happy to stay right where he was. 

“P-Pure Vanilla!” she grabbed his shoulders, suddenly sounding more awake. 

He hummed, and pulled back just enough to breathe, “Yes, my lady?” His thumbs and index fingers worked to keep her nipples pert and at attention. He tugged each one up and let them drop, her breasts bouncing as they settled back down.

Blueberry Milk took a shaky breath, “What happened to going to bed?” She grumbled.

They were both exhausted, for different reasons, and it was nearly five A.M. so that didn’t help.

“You don’t need sleep.” Pure Vanilla tilted his head, he sealed his mouth around her other nipple and gently rolled his tongue around the sensitive bud.

Blueberry Milk moaned.

“And,” Pure Vanilla added, rising just enough to nip at the sensitive spot below her ear. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and her mind went fuzzy as the stimulation on her nipples and the nipping at her jaw continued without mercy. 

He stepped closer, forcing them both back through the hot steam of water to pin her to the wall, “I think you need me a bit more than they do.”

“Nilla —,”

“Please,” Pure Vanilla whined and rolled his hips against hers. She gasped as she finally felt how hard he was. 

“Let me take care of you.” He began to suck on her neck, “I spent all day with them,” ‘them’ being the cookies of their realm, the ones they were meant to take care of. “Let me have you.” His hands finally left her nipples and began to wander down to her hips.

Blueberry Milk was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. Everything he did felt so good. She wanted to do nothing more than give in and let Pure Vanilla handle everything. Anywhere he touched her left her dough feeling tingly and warm. But they were still in the shower, now teetering closer to two hours of being wet, and while they were immortal and crumbling via moisture would take more time, she really just wanted to be back in bed where she was guaranteed to be warm.

“Th-the shower,” Was all she was able to gasp out.

Pure Vanilla looked around. The bubbles had been completely washed off, long gone down the drain. There was no reason to stay in the shower…

And yet…

Pure Vanilla stepped back into the stream of hot water, Blueberry Milk looked relieved to be released. But, when she turned to open the sliding glass door, Pure Vanilla grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back flush against him.

How could he just let her walk away when her cute little ass was right there?

“Pure Vanilla! Gentle!” One of Blueberry Milk’s hands flew to grab his hand around her hip, the other flew out in front of her to brace against the shower door, “You know this form is sensitive!” She scolded.

“I know.” Pure Vanilla bit his lip as he began to rock his hips and pull her hips back towards him. His dick slid between her plush thighs, tingling his hard on. 

“Pure Vanilla,” She moaned. The head of his cock nudged her clit and she rocked her hips back against him.

Pure Vanilla made a sound somewhere between an inquisitive hum and a moan, “M-My Fount, please,” He gasped, continuing to thrust himself between her thighs, and picking up speed, “I know you want me.”

Blueberry Milk straightened her shoulders and stared ahead at her translucent reflection. He was just trying to get her wet, it wouldn’t work! The bed was no more than fifteen feet away!

“I know because,” One of Pure Vanilla’s hands left her hips and rubbed loving circles on her ass, “You only turn into Blueberry Milk when you really really want to give up control.”

Okay…

“I know because,” His hand pulled back, then came down hard on her ass with a wet slap, she let out an involuntary cry, “Blueberry Milk is so sensitive.”

So maybe…

Blueberry Milk let out another cry and arched herself up as the hand on her ass snaked around her hips and dove straight past her bush of white and blue curls. His index and middle finger pressed gentle circles on her clit. Pure Vanilla used her moment of weakness to pin her to the shower door. Her breasts were smushed against the glass. Her breath fogged up some of her vision, but she didn't resist or pull away.

“And you’re so wet.”

Okay, so maybe it was working!

“I could just,” Pure Vanilla gritted his teeth as he reached down to stroke his cock. Normally, he might've taken the time to fully worship and devour his lady, but he didn't think that was what they needed right now. He lined his cock up with her hot cunt and pushed in. “S-sink right in.” He groaned, her cunt rolling and sucking him further in.

Blueberry Milk moaned and curled her hands into fists. His cock burned and stretched her pussy, not fully prepped or relaxed, but it was a wonderful sensation. Something totally new she began to over analyze and store away for later.

She could feel every vein on his cock, the drag of his head when he pulled out less than half an inch to readjust himself, the way the water from the shower streamed between them, seeking to come between them but finding no room. She could feel the water gliding over her slick, pulling some of it down her leg. And as Pure Vanilla pushed more of himself into her, she could feel his blunt nails digging into her dough, hear him struggling to breathe because if it felt this good for her, she could only imagine what he was feeling.

With one last readjustment, Pure Vanilla pushed past the last of her slick tightness and filled her completely.

“F-full,” She moaned.

“Yeah,” Pure Vanilla breathed, he was staring down at where his dick was nestled into her hot cunt. The velvety walls inside began to squeeze his cock, begging for more. “Do you like feeling full, my lady?” He eased up some of his grip on her hips and began to pull back out.

“Hmm mhm,” She hummed and nodded, her face and breasts still pressed to the shower door.

“Full from my cock?” He asked.

“Y-yes,” she moaned.

He pushed himself all the way back in, moaning as he let himself sit inside her. The heat of her cunt was divine, and she squeezed his cock as if encouraging him to get a move on. Pure Vanilla readjusted his grip once more, and began to piston his hips, dragging his cock out and thrusting it in to the hilt, hitting her as deep as he could reach.

Blueberry Milk began to rock her hips back against his.

“F-fuck.” Pure Vanilla breathed. His thrusts became sloppy, and water splashed between them every time he rocked into her.

“Pure a-n’lla, m’rrrr,” Blueberry Milk moaned, her face still squished against the door.

More.

She was begging for more.

And whatever his lady wanted, she got.

Pure Vanilla dug his fingers into her hips and pounded into her. Her slick cunt practically sucked him in and he groaned as she tried her best to push back and match his thrusts.

It was hard to see with all the water dripping from his hair and the steam in the bathroom, but he could just barely make out one of the mirrors on the other side of the bathroom.

He knew how much Blueberry Milk liked watching herself while they made love, so he carefully stepped back and pulled her with him. 

“L-look at yourself,” he panted, “in the mirror. For me.” He added, heat pooling in his gut.

Now that her face was no longer pressed against the glass, he could hear her more clearly, “Mirror, what—?” But her voice trailed off.

Pure Vanilla grinned.

Oh what a sight she must've been taking in.

And what a sight it was.

Her breasts were still pressed to the glass door, even through all the steam she could see her poor nipples were being suffocated. Every thrust pushed more of her breasts against the glass door. Her arms were out on either side of the door frame, holding her steady as she was pounded from behind. She couldn't see much in terms of Pure Vanilla’s dick in her pussy, but she could see him.

His eyes were closed and his brow was tight, he was focused.

Focused entirely on her.

It didn't take long before the attention and the pressure got to her. Pure Vanilla adjusted his legs and grip on her hips, spearing into her at a new angle and rubbing the sensitive spot just inside of her cunt. Blueberry’s legs began to shiver and she gasped out, “Th-There! D-don’t stop!”

Pure Vanilla grit his teeth and kept up the punishing speed she’d asked for. He could almost feel the heat pooling in her cunt just seconds before the pressure snapped and she came with a loud cry.

Logically, he knew they should get out of the shower. So, he reached behind him and fumbled with the shower handles, slowly grinding and rolling his hips into Blueberry Milk’s and showing a great amount of self control for not cumming in her the moment her pussy began to squeeze him.

Eventually, he got the water turned off, and he returned his hands to her hips. He exhaled slowly and watched her breathe.

Even in this form the iridescent chains wrapped around her entirely, making it easy, even with his poor vision, to see every curve and dip of her body.

“I’m going to pull out now.” He whispered gently, massaging her hips.

After their first tryst with Blueberry Milk, Pure Vanilla had learned to warn her when he was about to pull out. Because once she was full, she didn't like being empty, especially not without warning.

Pure Vanilla was used to crying during love making, he still was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of love and joy he got out of being with his Fount (in any form). He cried openly. But neither Blueberry Milk nor Pure Vanilla had been ready for her tears when he’d pulled out without warning. 

Perhaps it had just been that particular day and the growing frustrations The Fount had been pushing aside, or perhaps it was due to Blueberry Milk’s sensitivity, but after their sixth round Pure Vanilla had pulled out for just a moment to open the curtains around their bed (it had grown to a stifling heat from their love making). He’d left her laying on the bed for all of five seconds before she’d balled her hands into fists, pressed them into her eyes, and let out the most heartbreaking wail he’d ever heard.

About two dozen milkcrowns had sprouted up on their bed before Pure Vanilla was able to calm her down just enough for her to sob out a single word:

“EMPTY!”

And it had taken another half dozen for the word to click in Pure Vanilla’s mind.

As soon as he slid back in her to the hilt her sobs died down to weak hiccups, and her incoherent babbles became coherent.

All the fears Pure Vanilla knew about, but that The Fount hadn't ever voiced out loud to him came spilling out of her as he pounded into her, desperate to end her heartache.

She didn't want to be alone anymore.

And Pure Vanilla was the only cookie to understand her.

She didn't want him to ever leave.

She didn't want him to go.

She wanted him to stay with her forever.

And if that hadn't sent Pure Vanilla over the edge, then her begging for him to always stay in her and fill her with love until they both crumbled had. How could he refuse?

Just thinking about staying buried in Blueberry Milk’s pretty little pussy and cumming for her whenever she needed until he crumbled made him want to cum. But he knew his lady needed more from him, so he forced himself to calm down.

Pure Vanilla repeated himself, “Blueberry? Sweetheart?” He reached forward and pulled her wet, starlit hair back from the side of her face. “I’m going to pull out now, okay?” He wouldn't move unless she was ready.

Finally, she acknowledged him with a tiny little nod.

“Okay.” Pure Vanilla said, more to himself than to her. He braced himself on her hips and began to pull out. The more he pulled out, the more he could feel her slick juices dripping from her achy cunt. He wanted to do nothing more than slide right back in.

As soon as he was free they both slumped against the shower walls to catch their breath.

 “Are you ready to move to the bed now?” He asked.

“I was ready before,” was the grumbled answer he got.

Pure Vanilla chuckled and pushed himself to stand, “Come on,” he helped Blueberry Milk stand and held her hand as they each stepped out of the shower.

Despite being filled with steam twice over, the bathroom was cold, so Pure Vanilla quickly dried them both off with his towel.

“I swear, it’s like you’re trying to turn me into a vanilla flavored cookie.” Blueberry Milk grumbled.

Pure Vanilla paused, his mouth dry, and he said nothing as he discarded the towel on top of their long discarded clothes and bent low to scoop Blueberry Milk up in his arms.

For once, she didn't protest.

He carried her back to their bed and gently laid her down before he crawled on top of her and kissed her.

Blueberry Milk melted onto the bed and lazily looped her arms around Pure Vanilla’s neck. She kissed him back, giggling as his dull teeth nibbled on her lower lip.

She allowed him entrance to her mouth, and he greedily licked every inch he was given. 

Pure Vanilla breathed heavily, determined to keep heaven in his mouth for as long as he could. When he did finally pull back it was due to the clock gently chiming that it was half past five.

Pure Vanilla frowned. Half an hour and they’d have to start getting ready for the day. Half an hour and his lady would slip away from him.

However, Blueberry Milk just sighed dramatically, “ohhh, stupid clock.” Then she gently tugged Pure Vanilla back down and kissed him. 

He readily returned the motion. He reached down between them and gently nudged her legs open. Blueberry Milk immediately let her legs fall open, only to then wrap them around his waist. Pure Vanilla nestled himself between her legs, still feeling the heat and want from between her pretty blue folds.

“When he — comes — I’ll need you — to tell Black — Sapphire — that we are not — working today.” Blueberry Milk mumbled between kisses.

Pure Vanilla paused and pulled back until their noses were just barely touching, “My lady?”

“They had you all to themselves, yesterday.” Blueberry Milk pouted, “I need you now.”

And like that, all the jam in his body shot straight to his cock. He swallowed hard.

“I have a request, as well.” She added quietly.

“Anything, my lady.” Pure Vanilla’s mouth was dry despite how much drooling he was doing in anticipation.

“When we’re completely done, please, stay in me.” A dark indigo blush spread across her cheeks and chest. Blueberry Milk refused to look at Pure Vanilla as his eyes opened with fondness and adoration. “I like feeling full of you.” She absentmindedly began to curl some of his damp hair around her finger. “I want to go to sleep feeling full of you. I want to wake up and still be full of you. And please,” she finally dared to take a peak at him. Pure Vanilla looked so eager to please it was almost too cute to handle. 

“Yes, my lady?” He urged her on, already starting to rock his hips against hers.

“When we do wake up, whether it is later tonight or tomorrow morning, please,” she bit her lip and glanced up at him through her black and white eyelashes, “fuck me full again.”

Pure Vanilla broke out in an eager grin, “whatever my lady asks for,” he leaned back down and kissed her, “my lady gets.”

Notes:

I think after this fic and after updating the next Save the Virtues chapter I'll write something with Black Sapphire in this AU, because why not make my favorite boy a sad boy? And I'm trying to see if there is a way for me to combine my Black Sapphire idea with my Silent Salt idea...we'll see what happens

Chapter 3: Baby Mine

Notes:

Warning, because I know this turns a LOT of people off, there are HEAVY breeding kink themes in here. There's also a teeny tiny lil (explosive) argument between The Fount and PV, but shhh don't worry about it, they're fine.

Something had been nagging at Pure Vanilla. 

A query, followed by a thought, had wormed its way into his head, burrowed into his brain, and would not let him go.

He thought of it far too often for comfort, but how could he think of anything else when the subject of his daydreams and thoughts was always within reach?

Something The Fount had said before: 

“I swear, it’s like you’re trying to turn me into a vanilla flavored cookie.”

Had been playing on a loop in his head.

The Fount smiled at a little cookie as she excitedly showed off the puppet he’d gifted her a few weeks ago. She’d sewn her own costume for the puppet.

“Well, actually, I drew the costume and mommy sewed it for me, but see?” The little girl smiled proudly.

The Fount picked up the puppet and turned it over in his hand, “excellent craftsmanship,” he mused out loud.

Pure Vanilla smiled as he watched them.

“The design is,” The Fount paused dramatically, “stunning, but naturally, I expected nothing less from you, Candy Apple.” He patted the little girl on the head before he dropped the puppet back into her outstretched hands. 

Candy Apple giggled and squealed and squeezed her beloved puppet so tight, Pure Vanilla was shocked its head didn't pop off.

“Excuse me, Pure Vanilla, sir.” Black Sapphire mumbled as he pushed by him, “Candy Apple Cookie! I am meant to be babysitting you, but how am I to do that when you keep running away?!” He bent down and scooped the little girl up, his wings fluttering with frustration.

She protested loudly, but Black Sapphire just turned to The Fount, “my apologies, Fount, if she interrupted or disturbed you.” Then he glared at the girl in his arms and pinched one of her cheeks, “the little gnat has a habit of slipping away.” Then he addressed the teary eyed girl. “What would your poor mother do if you were to be lost? Huh?”

Candy Apple rubbed her reddened cheek and sniffled.

“It's fine, Sapphire.” The Fount laid a gentle hand on the young man’s shoulder, “she was no trouble. We saw she was unaccompanied and intended to stay with her until she was found.”

Candy Apple gasped excitedly, apparently thrilled at the thought of being noticed by The Fount.

“Yes, sir, well,” Black Sapphire readjusted her in his arms, “I will take my leave. Is the lecture on blights still occurring this evening?”

The Fount looked around the community garden dejectedly, “Yes, I’m afraid so, unless Pure Vanilla or myself can identify the true cause of this,” he nudged a rotted plant with his staff, “I’m afraid we may have a case of blight in our village.”

“Of course, sir.” Black Sapphire nodded his head, then took his leave.

“BYE BYE FOUNT!” Candy Apple shouted over his shoulder.

Pure Vanilla felt warm.

The Fount was so good with the children of their realm. He adored them (when they weren't sick or interrupting his lessons).

It almost made him want a child. 

With The Fount.

With his Fount.

Pure Vanilla would need several hands to count the amount of times they’d made love with The Fount as Blueberry Milk. And every time, The Fount insisted (begged) Pure Vanilla cum inside.

He knew The Fount knew cookie physiology inside and out. He’d made his own genitalia, had explained the process of old-fashion reproduction probably a dozen times over to young and inexperienced cookies who were terrified before their first dates, and could shapeshift his own genitalia at will whenever he wanted.

But had he ever made a womb?

Had his seed ever taken? He’d made love to her enough, sometimes multiple times in one evening, surely if it were possible…

And what happened when Blueberry Milk Cookie shimmered away and The Fount reappeared?

It had been plaguing him for some time.

The thought of his Fount swelling with child — his child — drove him wild. Breasts heavy with milk, thighs pudgy (well, pudgier, if he were to stay as Blueberry Milk), a pregnant glow on soft blue dough.

Even when The Fount was making love to him, he just wondered about how The Fount would look carrying their child, and that usually sent him over a tearful edge.

Thank the Witches The Fount had never asked him questions.

“You seem distracted.” The Fount cocked up an eyebrow.

“Just thinking.” Pure Vanilla answered. 

The Fount frowned and turned back the the patch of dying plants, “yes, it is curious.”

Not quite what Pure Vanilla was thinking about, although he knew he should have been.

Had he been in the right state of mind, he might’ve been of use to The Fount in figuring out what had gotten into the community garden. 

It was a patch of land between the village and the cream sheep field, surrounded by waist high rock walls (Well, waist high for The Fount, more like chest high for Pure Vanilla). The only two structures inside were an old garden shed of tools that anyone could use while in the garden, and a gazebo so old it was practically buried in ivy.

The garden had a plentiful arrangement of plants. Some flowering, others fruit bearing — Pure Vanilla wondered if The Fount would ever stroke his own belly if he were pregnant — vegetables and other crops, even some saplings and fully grown trees. 

Would The Fount let him rest his head on his belly if he were pregnant? Would he be permitted to feel his pregnant belly, feel their child growing and moving around inside him? How would the little dough react to his touch?

Currently, just the flowers and fruits had suffered from whatever was killing them.

What kind of flavor would blueberry and vanilla even make?

Or would it be a totally new flavor?

Would they have their powers?

Would they be blind like him? Tall like The Fount?

“Hello? Earthbread to Nilla?” The Fount put his hands on his hips.

No wonder The Fount loved his hips so much, Blueberry Milk’s hips were divine. Definitely birthing hips.

“Nilla?”

“Sorry?” Pure Vanilla’s mouth was dry.

“Crumbs, you’re distracted.” The Fount huffed a white strand of hair out of his face.

Would they have The Fount’s luscious starlit waves? Or Pure Vanilla’s blonde strands?

“Can you focus, please, for five seconds?” The Fount snapped his fingers in Pure Vanilla’s face.

He frowned, “I’m sorry, I am distracted.”

“I know I am the most handsome cookie on Earthbread —,” understatement of the century, The Fount gave him a suspicious up and down, “but you’ve been staring too long. What’s wrong, my little cookie?”

“I…” Pure Vanilla’s face felt flushed. How could he possibly tell The Fount what he’d been thinking? And here? Where someone might hear him?

As if sensing his trepidation, The Fount held out his hand, “Come, little cookie.” Pure Vanilla took his hand and allowed The Fount to lead him further into the community garden towards the gazebo.

“Sit, tell me what is bothering you.” The Fount ordered.

Pure Vanilla did as he was told. The gazebo offered little privacy, but at least they were away from the walls, so the likelihood of someone hearing them was low. He swallowed, his mouth dry. “I had a question for you.”

“My life’s story.” The Fount grumbled, but quickly put on his biggest smile, “How can The Fount of Knowledge help you?”

“Please...don't tease me...” Pure Vanilla frowned.

The Fount’s smile didn't drop, but his eyebrows twitched.

Pure Vanilla took a breath, “Blueberry Milk Cookie is a woman.”

“Not a question.” The Fount shot off.

“Not done.” Pure Vanilla fired back just as fast. “Does she…do you…what I mean to say is…” he took a deep breath. Was it always so hot out? He felt sweaty.

The Fount rolled his eyes, “Out with it, Nilly.”

“Have you ever made yourself a womb?” Pure Vanilla finally blurted out.

The Fount blinked. 

Then…

He laughed.

A sharp, taunting laugh.

“Oh – OH AND I THOUGHT I WAS THE CLOWN!” He doubled over, arms around his gut as he laughed.

Pure Vanilla frowned. He felt small and…disappointed? Ashamed..? It was suddenly too raw a feeling to name.

It's not like they needed a child on top of everything else they were doing…but the thought…the idea…

Pure Vanilla sniffled.

He didn't even realize he’d teared up.

At the sound of him sniffling, The Fount immediately stood straight and his laughter died in his throat. “Wha—? P-Pure Vanilla, you can't be serious! We have a job to do! A job that is supposed to keep me out of the Silver Tree and keep you from crumbling!”

“I know!” He insisted, “But it has been in my head for days!” He couldn't even look at The Fount right now.

Shattered.

He felt shattered.

“I just,” And now he was crying so hard he was hiccuping. He furiously scrubbed his eyes with the sleeves of his robe, “I love you s-so much! A-and when we-we — when we make love with you as B-Blue-Blueberry Milk, I —,” he was embarrassed.

Here he was, crying like a man who’d lost his first love, when he’d been a hero and a king, and now the Light of Truth.

He was meant to be powerful.

He was meant to be above the wants and needs of mortal cookies.

He felt like a fool.

“You what?!” The Fount shouted. What kind of fool would want a child with him anyways?!

Pure Vanilla just cried harder into his hands.

Ah.

Pure Vanilla was the kind of fool…

Pure Vanilla felt embarrassed, ashamed, disgusted. He pounded at the sides of his head, willing every thought out so he could be empty.

“Pure Vanilla, stop that.” The Fount scoffed.

He couldn't stop. 

It hurt.

“Pure Vanilla, I said stop that!” The Fount looked him up and down.

No.

No.

Empty.

He had to get the stupid useless thoughts out of his head and get back to work.

Back to work so he couldn't be bad and wrong and stupid!

It hurt.

“PURE VANILLA!” The Fount’s roar rattled in his dough as he wrenched Pure Vanilla’s fists away from his head.

Pure Vanilla gasped as if he’d just resurfaced from drowning, “I’m sorry!” He wailed. “I’m s-so sorry! Please! Please forgive me!” He slipped off of the gazebo bench and onto his knees. His wrists burned in The Fount’s hands. “P-please! Forget everything I said!” He clasped his hands together, literally praying for forgiveness at the Virtue’s feet.

The Fount uncomfortably clicked his tongue, “Get up.” He grumbled.

Pure Vanilla let his head hang, tears and snot dripping down his chin. He hadn't cried so hard in so long, his lungs felt bruised. His head was throbbing, probably on account of him hitting himself so much.

“For Witches sake, Pure Vanilla, get up.” The Fount hoisted Pure Vanilla to his feet and held his little cookie steady.

Pure Vanilla all but collapsed into his arms, still shaking with great wailing sobs.

The Fount let him cry for another minute, then he grabbed Pure Vanilla’s shoulder and held him at arms length. Pure Vanilla’s lower lip wobbled and he bit it to keep from crying out again. 

He didn't want to be held at arm's length. Not when he’d given his heart and soul to being held closer.

The Fount sighed, “No. To answer your question.” 

Pure Vanilla blinked his eyes open wearily.

“I did not make a womb for myself.” He bit his tongue to keep from degrading Pure Vanilla further. Honestly, someone should have praised him for the amount of self control he had right now.

Pure Vanilla sniffled, “I’m so sorry.” He croaked. “I should have never —,”

“That does not mean I cannot.” The Fount added sharply.

Pure Vanilla looked at him confused. “W-what?”

The Fount rolled his eyes, “It is entirely possible for a Virtue to reproduce,” He recalled having to comfort The Apostle when each of her little doughs would not take to an oven’s heat and collapse before they could even take their first breath. “Even without genitalia. As you know, cookie-kind can reproduce in four-known ways. The single-bake method, the double-bake method, the dark moon magic method, and through sexual reproduction.”

It sounded like one of his lectures.

“Most, if not all cookies, go for the single or double bake methods to produce offspring. No hormones needed. Quick and easy. Few, however, have little success in getting their dough to rise. So, they resort to sexual reproduction.”

It was one of his lectures.

Pure Vanilla’s face burned.

Stupid.

He felt like such a stupid cookie!

The Fount continued, “And you have cummed in me while I was a woman approximately ninety-two times with an average of fifteen times per love-making session over a span of six weeks.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened. Why was he not surprised The Fount had those numbers off the top of his head?

“The Light of Truth has gifted you with ungodly stamina.” The Fount almost sounded like he was groaning at the memory of being fucked into oblivion.

“Fifteen?” Pure Vanilla was still stuck on that number.

“On average.” The Fount answered automatically. Then he blushed and cleared his throat, “Now, had I had a womb, it is likely due to our elevated statuses as Virtue and Hero.” He gestured between them respectively, “Your seed would have taken the first time.”

All the heat in Pure Vanilla’s body shot straight to his cock.

“However, that hardly seems fair as you are the one who seems to want a child.”

Pure Vanilla blinked, confused, “Wh-what? What do you —?”

“Perhaps you should know how it feels to be bred?” The Fount mused, eyeing him up and down.

“M-my Fount??” Pure Vanilla’s heart was in his throat.

“Would you like that, my little cookie?” He pulled Pure Vanilla close again. He brushed some of the hair sticking to Pure Vanilla’s tear stained face back out of the way. “To be bred? To have a child with me?”

Pure Vanilla’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

To have a child with his Fount would be an honor.

Pure Vanilla would have given anything to — his thoughts went completely fuzzy as The Fount’s hands carded through his hair. He felt his hair grow lighter. All the weight from his hair having grown so long was suddenly gone. The Fount brought his hair around the front of his shoulders, gripping most of it in his hands.

He tugged a little on Pure Vanilla’s hair and he bit his lip to keep from whimpering. When The Fount pulled his hands away, Pure Vanilla was surprised to see two blue ribbons, each the color of The Fount’s starlit hair.

How cute, but —

The Fount’s arms wrapped around Pure Vanilla and he gasped and blushed and melted into the embrace.

If he could have taken the last twenty minutes back, he would have. If he could have just kept his desires to himself, maybe The Fount wouldn't have gotten so upset.

But, in his Fount’s arms, Pure Vanilla felt as if everything was alright. His Fount would take care of everything — would take care of him.

The Fount’s hands drummed up and down his spine, pawing and pulling at his robes. Pure Vanilla’s dough burned and tingled with his touch. He could feel bits of him swelling and other parts shrinking. Or, maybe it was his clothes? Or maybe both?

Then, his hands completely pulled back. The Fount stepped away, put a thoughtful finger to his chin, and hummed. 

Pure Vanilla blushed. He felt like he was a specimen under a microscope.

“No, not enough.” The Fount ultimately made up his mind on whatever he was thinking of. “Not nearly enough.” And he fluttered back over and started patting him down again.

Again, his dough felt hot and tingled. This time, he could see what had happened and what was happening.

He’d been right to think it was both his dough and his clothes being changed. As The Fount stepped back again he summoned a mirror and held it up, “Ta-da~ Aren't I good?” He purred.

Pure Vanilla stepped up to the mirror to see better and gasped. Her voice was higher than it had been, but then again, she was no longer herself.

Before her in the mirror was a plump little cookie. She had Pure Vanilla’s skin, and Pure Vanilla’s hair (albeit, in fluffy little pigtails that just barely hung over his chest). But Pure Vanilla’s robes had been replaced by a soft cream dress over a dark blue petticoat. A golden corset held the top of her dress up, and it was doing a lot of heavy lifting.

When The Fount had said she wasn't ‘nearly enough’ he must've gone back to add more…well…everything.

Her breasts were much bigger than Blueberry Milk’s, even with the corset they were nearly spilling over. Curiously, she groped her breasts. A shaky breath left her lungs.

Witches, they were sensitive. And definitely more than a handful. Where Pure Vanilla could comfortably hold Blueberry Milk’s breasts, one in each hand, with just a little extra to give them some jiggle and bounce, her own breasts were at least a size bigger, maybe two.

And sensitive.

Did she mention they were sensitive? Because just grabbing them to verify their size had her clenching around nothing.

And that was another thing.

All the hardness she’d had before was gone and replaced by heat and slick and want. And she suspected The Fount hadn't shapeshifted her to have underwear, she could feel slick coating her inner thighs.

Pure Vanilla looked back at her reflection and dropped her breasts (they bounced! Even in the corset!). She palmed herself through the dress and found her hips were wide, and she had some pudge to her thighs, not much more than Blueberry Milk, but noticeable (Pure Vanilla was very familiar with Blueberry Milk’s thighs). Her ass was also far more plump than Blueberry Milk’s. While hers was perfectly round for grabbing and smacking, Pure Vanilla’s was, again, bigger!

The Fount stepped around the mirror, letting it hang in space. He stood behind Pure Vanilla and wrapped his arms around her.

“Here,” He said, resting his hands on her lower abdomen, “is where your womb is. Do you feel it?” He cast a lingering dark gaze at her in the mirror before he turned and began to nibble her neck. He pressed down on the spot and Pure Vanilla shuddered.

She couldn't feel it, but Witches, just imagining it full from The Fount’s cum made her cunt ache.

“Why—,” her own voice startled her and she cleared her throat as The Fount just grinned at her in their reflection. She tried again, “Why did you make me…like this?” Not that she was complaining, Witches no, she rocked from foot to foot, arousing herself as her slick stuck between her thighs and squished together under her dress. 

It just seemed like overkill.

“You forget,” The Fount wiggled his fingers and grinned wickedly, “I have bigger hands.” And, as if to make a point, he stepped to stand in front of her and  reached around to grab her ass through her dress.

Pure Vanilla inhaled sharply and bit her lip. Her eyelids fluttered closed, she’d be content to be The Fount’s squishy little doll forever. She loved the feeling of his hands on her.

She wished he’d touch her more.

“And besides,” The Fount bent down over her. He tucked a hand under her chin and tilted her head back so he could nuzzle their noses together, “I happen to know the best bodies for carrying children.” He smirked, smug, “Fount of Knowledge and all.”

Oh, well, that made sense.

But Pure Vanilla had really stopped listening and stopped caring the moment his hands had started massaging her ass. Pure Vanilla was getting wetter just from feeling The Fount grope her.

“How does it feel?” The Fount asked.

“E-empty.” The word came out before she’d even acknowledged it in her own dough.

She felt achingly empty.

“Awww, my poor silly-vanilly,” The Fount cooed and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, “I know the feeling too well. Would you like me to fuck you?”

Pure Vanilla reached up with both hands to hold his hand in place and nodded, “y-yes! Please?”

The Fount had made things easy for himself, putting the silk ribbon holding Pure Vanilla’s corset up in the front rather than in the back like Blueberry Milk’s corset. He hooked one finger around the gold ribbon and pulled. 

The ribbon holding the corset together came undone and her breasts fell forward, achy and heavier than she'd been expecting. The Fount let the corset fall to the ground and he absentmindedly kicked it away.

Pure Vanilla was grateful she at least had a blouse on, given the fact The Fount had neglected to give her a bra or any other covering. But The Fount’s hands dove down her shirt and pulled her breasts out the top of her blouse.

“A-ah!” Pure Vanilla was caught off guard by the sensation of someone else touching her very sensitive breasts.

“These,” The Fount explained as he lowered himself to his knees to be eye level with her rosy nipples. He grabbed a tit in each hand and ghosted his thumbs over the sensitive buds. “Will fill with milk, as I’m sure you know.”

Pure Vanilla nodded absentmindedly, she gripped The Fount’s arms as he jiggled her tits and stuck his tongue out so it would swipe across each breast as it swayed in front of his face. She wanted his mouth on her now. She didn't even care where.

It was then Pure Vanilla realized her suspicions were correct in that The Fount had not created this visage with underwear in mind.

“These,” The Fount continued and reached up under her skirts. He grabbed her thighs, “Will grow fatter.” Then his hands rubbed her thighs and hips, “and these will widen.”

Pure Vanilla could have turned to batter when she looked down at The Fount and found him looking up at her.

“I’m going to breed you.” He breathed, “Right here. Right now.” Pure Vanilla shivered as The Fount gently pulled her down to her knees, and the guided her onto her back, “I’m going to fill you,” he crawled on top of her, hiking her skirts up so he could nestle himself between her legs, “over and over again,” Pure Vanilla was trembling with anticipation. “Would you like that, little cookie?” The Fount purred as he nuzzled his nose between her breasts.

Pure Vanilla let out a shaky breath she’d been holding and nodded.

The Fount began to mouth the side of her breast, “Words, little cookie.”

Pure Vanilla blushed and her vision went hazy, “P-please?”

“Please what?”

Pure Vanilla whined. She couldn't win, no matter what form they took. “Please,” she rasped, “breed me. Please love me and breed me-mmph!”

The Fount slammed his lips against hers, gnashing his fangs against her dull teeth and forcing his tongue into her mouth with no warning.

Pure Vanilla, however, melted against his harsh and sharp edges and kissed him back with equal fervor.

While most other cookies would have shrunk back in fear at the thought of pain with their love making, Pure Vanilla embraced it. In either form, Pure Vanilla sought out — loved — all of The Fount’s sharp edges. His claws punctured her hips as he fought to find a spot to grip, his teeth tore at her lips for more access to her mouth, and she craved all of it.

Pure Vanilla did not shield away from pain. 

No, she embraced it.

She held clawed hands in her calloused palms. 

Enveloped jagged hips between her plush thighs.

Dragged her hot tongue under sharp fangs.

And while treating a knife with tenderness was just in her nature, the softness of her and everything she did drove The Fount wild.

Some deep part of him knew he was terrifying to behold. A fallen God whose dough was rotted to the core. But Pure Vanilla never treated nor saw him that way.

He released her lips and began to press needy kisses down her neck.

“F-fffou —,” Pure Vanilla gasped and squirmed under him.

Easily double her height now — with her new form being even shorter than her original form — The Fount rested his hips down on hers so she couldn't move too much. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her dull nails into his back.

She whimpered, and while he knew she likely wanted him to take his robes off, he also knew that he planned to take his time with her before getting to the main course.

If Blueberry Milk was more sensitive than The Fount, he was sure (he’d made sure) Pure Vanilla was even more sensitive in this form. And he didn't want her squirming too much (yet).

Her dough, the sweet and spicy vanilla taste The Fount was addicted to, was somehow even sweeter than before. In this form, her sun-kissed freckles showed on her dough more and The Fount mapped each one out with his mouth, sucking small tender bruises that showed the world who she belonged to.

The Fount kissed down her neck until he reached the swell of her breasts, then he pulled back.

She whined again.

The Fount tilted his head, admiring his work on her dough. 

Poor Pure Vanilla was panting hard as if she’d just run a marathon, and her eyelids fluttered dreamily.

He’d already gotten permission, but The Fount wanted — needed — to hear her again, “Are you ready, little one?”

Pure Vanilla nodded, even though she hadn't caught her breath and her heart was trying to escape her chest, she was ready for more.

The Fount carefully lifted her skirts, treating the fabric like precious gift wrapping and what lay underneath was the present awaiting him. Pure Vanilla shivered as more of her legs were exposed.

She was not surprised to see The Fount had shapeshifted her to have nothing on underneath, no underwear, no stockings, nothing. Part of her wondered if that was for his own pleasure, or if he’d truly forgotten since The Fount never wore underwear himself.

The Fount wasn't sure where to look first. Her suntanned legs were spotted with freckles around her knees and up her thighs (what was his little cookie doing, exposing that much dough to the sun??). Her inner thighs were already glistening with slick. And her perfect little pussy was quivering around nothing under a bush of blonde hair. 

His mouth began to water and he gave her no further warning as he sank down onto the floor of the gazebo, hooked his arms around her thighs and pressed his tongue flat against her entrance.

Pure Vanilla bit on the meaty part of her hand to keep from crying out too loud — they were, after all, still in the community garden.

The Fount kept his tongue pressed flat to her entrance, he could feel her pulsing and squeezing nothing. Very slowly, he curled his tongue up and dipped just the very tip of it into her hot cunt.

Pure Vanilla shuddered and moaned under him.

Great Ovens, he was going to devour Pure Vanilla.

The Fount pulled his tongue back out, pulling slick with him, then darted his tongue back in just a fraction of an inch further than before. Pure Vanilla jerked under him, the sensation totally different than anything she’d ever felt before.

The Fount continued his ministrations, flicking his tongue in and out of her hot cunt, lapping up the slick that came with it, and he kept his arms locked firmly around her thighs so she could not move.

It was agony for Pure Vanilla. Her whole body was hot and trembling. She wanted nothing more than The Fount’s whole cock in her cunt this second! She needed to be filled by him now or she was going to crumble!

But The Fount continued to curl his tongue into her cunt, in and out, quick bursts of pleasure, but nothing to linger on. If her dough was somehow sweeter in this form, then her slick was something else entirely. Sweeter and spicier, but also oaky and creamy, it was a divine nectar that The Fount couldn't get enough of. He readjusted himself and that was the only warning Pure Vanilla got before The Fount wrapped his lips around hers and sucked.

Pure Vanilla’s cunt squeezed around nothing and she arched up into his face.

The Fount eased back just enough to press his tongue back in, but this time he buried himself as deep as he could. Pressing his nose into her blonde hair, and curling his tongue up and into the sensitive spot riiight — ?

The Fount hardly reacted beyond grinning when Pure Vanilla’s free hand shot down to grab his hair and hold him in place. She wept as she continued to bite down on her hand.

Ah, that’s where that was. Trickier to find when it wasn't your own.

The Fount finally loosened his grip on her thighs and allowed Pure Vanilla to grind onto his face. He moved his tongue in and out of her leaky cunt in time with her thrusts and she whimpered as the pressure and the heat in her gut grew to be too much.

Her whole body relaxed and the heat ebbed away as The Fount removed his tongue. She was about to cry about how close she’d been when a trio of fingers replaced his tongue. Pure Vanilla cried out in shock and pleasure as The Fount’s tongue lapped its way up to her clit.

Three fingers pumped in and out of her, keeping up the same merciless pace of his tongue. Her poor pussy was stretched a little too quickly and even though the burn felt amazing, it still made tears well up in her eyes. And just as she got used to his fingers working on her insides and his tongue swiping teasing licks around her clit, The Fount curled his fingers into that sweet spot that started flashing stars in Pure Vanilla’s eyes.

The heat and the pressure immediately came back. All of her muscles tightened and her grip on The Fount’s hair came near the burning point. 

If something didn't happen soon, either stimulation to her clit, or a dick in her cunt, or even just a squeeze of her nipples, she was going to burst into flames!

Thankfully, graciously, The Fount’s teasing licks around her clit ended. He pressed his lips to her clit and sucked.

Hard.

Pure Vanilla arched into him, screaming so loud they were definitely heard if someone was in the garden with them. She came hard on his fingers, which did not stop moving as The Fount began to roll his tongue around her clit.

Too much!

Too much!

Pure Vanilla’s whole body trembled as the overstimulation kept her orgasm rolling to the point it began to hurt. But she loved it.

In her original form, Pure Vanilla was a crier, so overwhelmed with love and adoration for The Fount that he couldn't help but cry. And in this form, a form more sensitive to everything, it didn't surprise either of them when hot tears began to roll down her face.

The Fount finally unlatched his mouth from her clit and crawled up to lay beside Pure Vanilla. His free hand held his head up, while the fingers on his other hand slowed to a lazy pace that allowed her to unclench every muscle in her body and relax. The Fount smiled coyly as her pussy continued to squeeze his fingers.

Pure Vanilla turned to face him and pouted.

He couldn't help but laugh, “What's wrong, little one?”

Pure Vanilla just continued to pout.

“Ah,” The Fount realized what she wanted and summoned a cloth and wiped his mouth (mostly) clean. He discarded it behind him, knowing he’d probably need it later, and leaned down to kiss her.

Pure Vanilla hummed happily and returned the kiss as she began to grind her hips onto his hand.

The Fount chuckled into the kiss, “So eager,” he mumbled. Pure Vanilla fought hard to keep his lips around hers, even as he rolled over her and removed his hand from her cunt. 

“So willing.” 

She tried to follow him as he sat back, adjusting her legs so they rested on his thighs. His eyes roamed over her exposed breasts and down to her glistening cunt. 

“So,” he looked back up to make sure she was watching him. He grinned when he saw her blown out pupils. “Beautiful.”

Pure Vanilla was practically made to be praised and she was like batter in his hands while he readjusted them both so he could free his cock from his robes. 

“So,” he lined the tip of his cock up with her leaking cunt and lubed himself on her slick. He pressed the head of his cock to her hot and needy pussy and slid about halfway in with no resistance, “breathtaking.”

Pure Vanilla twitched and moaned under him, “S-so much! T-too much!” Her nails dug into the wood underneath them. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax. She wanted all of The Fount’s cock in her, not just half. And despite being lubed and stretched properly, his cock was still met with resistance.

The Fount gently shushed her, “Careful, love.” He leaned down and began to mouth her collarbones. “Someone might hear you.” He gently grabbed her hands, brought them up to either side of her head, and interlaced their fingers so she couldn't give herself splinters.

Pure Vanilla whined.

It really was too much.  

The Fount tried to roll his hips, dragging what length he could fit in and out.

“B-but my Fount —,” Pure Vanilla was silenced by another kiss. She wanted to frown and cry for a different reason, but she knew her Fount would take care of her.

Love her.

Give her what she desperately wanted.

So she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. This kiss was much slower, everything The Fount was doing now was much slower, almost agonizingly slower. 

He was trying to be oh so gentle with her.

The Fount’s tongue gently swiped across her lower lip, and Pure Vanilla readily opened her mouth for him with a broken moan. He continued to slowly roll his cock in and out of her, nudging himself a little further in each time. Even though The Fount knew his little cookie inside and out, his tongue slowly, almost curiously, explored her mouth. 

He was trying to relax her from tip to toe, opening her up to him in every way.

And it was working.

He pulled back, peppering sweet, quick kisses to her lips, her neck, her jaw, and down further.

“Nilla,” he panted, hot breath ghosting over her dough, “you’re so,” he gently pressed the tip of his tongue to the underside of one of her nipples.

Pure Vanilla moaned and trembled under him.

“Wonderful.” He finished before closing his lips around her nipple and sucking on the sensitive bud.

Pure Vanilla whined and began to grind her hips upwards to meet The Fount as he continued to push into her. She’d taken about three-fourths of him and the stretch still hurt.

“I,” She swallowed hard, her saliva thick, “I can't,” she began to cry, “I can't take anymore.”

“Oh, but you will,” The Fount reassured her as he popped his mouth off of her nipple, “because you’re just so,” he locked his lips around her other nipple and sucked on it hard.

At the same time, he pushed himself all the way in, forcing himself past her resistance and settling himself firmly between her legs.

They both groaned from the heat.

“Perfect.” The Fount finished, letting go of her nipple.

Pure Vanilla was crying, from pleasure, from pain, from The Fount’s love and praises.

Too much!

“Remember,” The Fount flicked his tongue over one of her nipples, “you're doing this to be bred.”

How could she forget? She’d been waiting for this for — weeks really, but now the idea of her getting pregnant was stuck in her head and she wanted it now .

“So,” The Fount leaned back and grabbed her legs. He pushed them up into her chest and began to pull out. The stretch and heat was too much!

The Fount slammed back into her, her slick squelching between them, and Pure Vanilla screamed.

“You will take all of it.” Was The Fount's only and final warning before he began to mercilessly thrust into her.

Pure Vanilla let out a sound that was a cross between a moan and a scream. It was too much, but she wanted it. 

She loved it. 

The pain shot heat and jam straight to her core and she came suddenly with no warning.

“A-AH!” She could only grind her hips into The Fount’s as her unexpected orgasm blinded her. Tears burned the corners of her eyes.

The Fount continued to thrust into her, sending her spiraling over the edge of overstimulated pain and pleasure. It was getting harder to breathe. Pure Vanilla scrambled for purchase, digging her dull nails into The Fount’s back.

He growled something in her ear, but her ears were ringing, so she could only feel the vibrations of his voice through their chests and feel his breath on her ear.

Another overstimulated orgasm was building in her, and Pure Vanilla bit her lip to keep from making too much noise.

The Fount’s pace was becoming brutal, bordering on bruising, but the more her hot cunt squeezed around his cock, the more empty his mind became. All he could think of was driving his cock as deep into his Pure Vanilla as he physically could. 

He groaned and buried his face in her neck as another unexpected orgasm tore through her. Her hot and needy walls tried desperately to milk him as she tried to thrust her hips into his.

He turned his head to mouth at her neck as his own orgasm began to creep up on him, “N-Nilla,” He moaned, his thrust growing sloppy, “O-one more of those and I may cum.”

“Please!” Pure Vanilla gasped, “Please, please, please,” she begged and cried.

The Fount’s dough was flushed with heat, “One more, starlight,” He groaned into her neck, losing his rhythm even more as she turned and pressed tearful kisses into his neck, “Cum for me one more time.”

He very nearly lost his balance and he ended up rutting and grinding their hips together, his cock barely slipping out before pistoning back into her divine heat.

The change in friction was enough to send Pure Vanilla over the edge one more time and The Fount clamped his jaws around her shoulder as his own orgasm quickly followed. His whole body thrummed and jerked as his cum filled, overflowed, and leaked out of Pure Vanilla’s pussy.

For a solid minute.

Then, The Fount’s body relaxed and he very carefully, as if he was afraid of crumbling her, lowered Pure Vanilla’s legs. She was shaking, tear-stained, and looked like an absolute wreck, but she also looked completely blissed out.

“This,” The Fount groaned as he stretched his back and gripped her hips, “May burn.”

Pure Vanilla just nodded.

The Fount started to pull out. Thick, hot cum dripped out of her poor stretched hole. 

Pure Vanilla screamed as he thrust back in her without warning!

“My seed’ll likely take the first time,” The Fount sounded smug, “But I did promise to fill you over and over again.” He bent low and nuzzled her, “And I intend to do so.”

Pure Vanilla wasn’t sure if she could handle anymore, but her body and mouth had already made a decision, “Pl-please, more.” She whined.

And The Fount made good on his promise.

Pure Vanilla came another eleven times compared to The Fount’s four. Both were covered in a thick layer of sweat, and at some point between The Fount’s second and third orgasm he had completely stripped them both. 

By some higher mercy or grace, no other cookie came to the garden, which only encouraged The Fount to keep going.

Sometime between his third and fourth orgasm, The Fount slowed down — not because he was tired, crumbs no. He slowed down because some distant part of his feral mind knew that Blueberry Milk loved when Pure Vanilla would make slow, long-lasting love to her, and he decided Pure Vanilla needed to experience that same kind of devotion.

He whispered ancient prayers into her dough, sealing each one with a long kiss that asked for nothing but love in return, and Pure Vanilla returned each one with tearful reverence and deference.

He stroked runes into her dough with his claws. Runes of protection, bonding, warmth, and love. He didn’t properly seal them (he’d never mark Pure Vanilla with runes without her consent, and he didn’t think the heat of their love making was the best time to ask for it), but he still enjoyed the whimpers and whines that broke her voice.

When his fourth and her eleventh orgasm finally hit, they were both gasping for air and shaking. And truly, the only thing stopping them was the knowledge that they’d have to hold a meeting for whatever the ovens was wrong with the garden. Because they sure as shit didn’t solve the abruptly-dying-plant problem by having sex.

A tragedy if ever there were one.

When The Fount finally pulled out of Pure Vanilla, he only just managed to push himself off to the side before he laid down beside her. His whole lower half felt bruised, warm, and tingly. He rolled his head to the side and watched Pure Vanilla breathe.

He smiled and gently wrapped his arms around her. She jumped, startled at the touch.

He miiiight have overstimulated her too much.

The Fount pulled Pure Vanilla to lay on his chest. She’d spent the better part of the day on the hard wooden floor of the gazebo, the least he could do was offer to be her full body pillow while they came down from their respective highs.

Unfortunately, The Light of Truth had gifted Pure Vanilla ungodly levels of stamina and the greedy little cookie began to kiss his neck.

“Already wanting more?” The Fount purred in her ear.

Pure Vanilla hummed and nodded, “Please?”

“You are so desperate to be with child.” The Fount almost sounded like he was teasing her. He kept her firmly in his arms.

Pure Vanilla blushed, “Y-yes.” She whined, “Please.”

“You like the idea of being bred? Of being fucked nonstop until you're forced to carry my seed?” The Fount’s voice was low as he began to rub comforting lines up and down her spine.

Pure Vanilla nodded, tearing up once more. 

She didn't care which of them carried their child, the idea of having a little dough to call their own had firmly rooted itself in her heart and would not let go. 

Something solely theirs. 

Not the Witches. 

Not the other Virtues. 

Not the other heroes. 

Theirs. 

A little dough they could watch grow up and teach. Something that would be the physical embodiment of their love. A combination of divine flavors that they would be able to love unconditionally. A reminder to them and everyone else of who they were.

The Fount smiled sadly, “Darling, I must be truthful with you.” Pure Vanilla’s heart was in her throat. The Fount pressed a hand to her lower abdomen, “I did not give you a womb.”

He…

He’d lied..?

Pure Vanilla’s mind went blank, “What..?”

“Please, starlight,” The Fount brought his hands up to cup her face, “understand, we cannot possibly handle having a child.” Pure Vanilla felt stubborn tears burning her eyes. The Fount continued to speak, “You and I…we are meant to serve Earthbread. We are not meant to be cookies with lives and wants. Wanting and having you is a privilege, and one I fully aim to take advantage of,” he chuckled, but Pure Vanilla only heard rejection, “But, we are both too busy to have a little dough to raise. Impossibly busy to even consider carrying one ourselves.”

Her lower lip trembled and her nose scrunched up in an attempt to keep from crying. It was true. It was all true. But it still broke her heart to hear.

“I mean, could you imagine one of us possibly being out of work for months on end to care for a prenatal child? The kind of heat we’d have to subject ourselves to to keep the dough from being too watery, but nothing too hot to keep it from over baking? The stress of hormones and the weight of power from our soul jams?” The Fount tried to pass off the idea of one of them being pregnant as something humorous.

But Pure Vanilla could imagine it. She’d been imagining it for weeks now, ever since Blueberry Milk had made the comment about being turned into a vanilla flavored cookie. Images plaguing her mind that had felt so real, she swore she could have felt the stirrings of life thrumming under her dough this very second.

She began to hyperventilate from holding back so many of her tears.

“Oh.” Was all she could choke out of her, the single syllable wet with tears and full of heartache.

The Fount’s eyes widened and he sat up, readjusting Pure Vanilla to sit on his lap, “Starlight, no, no tears.” He began to wipe them away as soon as they began to fall. “Pure Vanilla, please, I…” he paused. 

This was clearly something Pure Vanilla desperately wanted, and it broke The Fount’s heart to know he could not give it to him.

He hated lying to his little cookie, but… 

“Pure Vanilla?” He brought their foreheads together and nuzzled his nose against hers. 

She whimpered, a mournful, heartbreaking sound.

The Fount closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't even bring himself to comfort her with a lie. As easy as it would have been to promise her that one day they’d have a baby dough of their own, he couldn't force the words out of his mouth.

He hated lying to his little cookie, so he wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” Pure Vanilla’s voice was quiet and trembling. Tears streamed down her cheeks without end, wetting her lips, dribbling off her chin. This was different from the tears of love and joy and adoration The Fount was used to. These tears were mournful, pained, and agonizing.

“No, little one,” The Fount shook his head and pulled her closer to hold her firmly against him, “I’m sorry.” He held her and let her cry onto his shoulder, gently rocking her back and forth.

While it would have been heavenly having a little one to call their own…a little one with his precious silly-little-vanilly…something he could almost see and believe and reach out to…

The Fount knew a child of theirs would only be more leverage the Witches…more leverage The Saint could use against him. And he couldn't — he wouldn't — put Pure Vanilla through that kind of pain. He already ran the risk of losing Pure Vanilla — he rested his cheek against her cool blonde hair and he curled his body around hers, as if to shield her from the pain he caused her — he couldn't lose them both.

Notes:

Hollyberry's Save the Virtue chapter is almost done, and once that's posted then I will finish the next drabble...which I THOUGHT was gonna be the story of Shimmering Salt and The Fount...but then I got waaaaay too into the Black Sapphire drabble I was just trying to outline...so you may get Black Sapphire, you may get ShadowSalt, idk yet.
ALSO, PV, MY BELOVED, HIS VOICE IS BACK!!! I HAVE BEEN WAITING TO PLAY THE SHADOWVANILLA BEAST YEAST CHAPTERS FOR HIS VOICE ACTOR TO RETURN (we love Yuri in this house) BUT I AM ALSO NOT READY TO HEAR TRUTHLESS'S CRASHOUT!!!

Chapter 4: Love Me Like We're Strangers

Notes:

You would think, as someone who has had multiple sexual relations across various genders that I would have had more ideas for this chapter. I did not.
Also a reminder:
The Fount of Knowledge = Blueberry Milk
Pure Vanilla Cookie = Nilla Waffle Cone Cookie

Everything about Blueberry Milk exuded charm and grace. From the bounce of her starlight-silver braid, to the swishing sashay of her golden skirts. She pursed her lips as she bent low to inspect a traditional Pure Vanilla Kingdom flower crown.

Her nearly-blind companion kept her arm linked with hers. “What do you think, love?” She asked.

Blueberry Milk peered through her long black and white eyelashes at Nilla Waffle Cone Cookie — the name she’d teasingly gifted Pure Vanilla Cookie while shapeshifted into a more feminine body. 

“It’s quaint.” She answered.

Nilla Waffle’s shoulders relaxed, “Quaint? Is that all?”

Blueberry Milk huffed as she stood back up and started guiding the other woman through the busy streets of the Pure Vanilla Market, “Look, starlight, you must understand, I have seen hundreds of kingdoms come and go,” She gestured with her free has as she spoke, “It’s a beautiful kingdom.” She reassured her, “But quaint.”

Nilla Waffle rolled her eyes, “If you wish to return home, we may. I do not wish to keep you here if you are not enjoying yourself.”

“N-no! No!” Blueberry Milk blushed and shook her head, “This may be your best idea yet, little one!” She took both of Nilla Waffle’s hands and led her to the fountain for a seat, “I so love getting to spend uninterrupted time with you.” 

The pair sat on the fountain’s edge and Blueberry Milk cupped Nilla Waffle’s cheek. “I can’t recall us ever having this kind of time to ourselves. At least, not time we’ve stolen from storms or from our people.” For there weren’t many excuses the pair used to steal time for themselves.

“It’s just,” Blueberry Milk grimaced and looked around.

The Pure Vanilla Kingdom was beautiful. Most of the infrastructure was made from hardened waffle cones and fondant icing. Stained sugar glass sat snug in every window, showing off the graceful opulence of the kingdom without feeling ostentatious. Even the air was warm and sweet, nothing at all like the cool, stale air of Beast-Yeast. 

Everything was different from home.

While Beast-Yeast’s architecture had to be built sharp and imposing due to the wildlife and varied biomes all squished together, the Pure Vanilla Kingdom’s architecture was elegant and soft. It was as if the kingdom had only ever prospered and never suffered. And maybe that was true, Crispia wasn't known for being destroyed by Beasts.

“Different.” Blueberry Milk only picked that adjective because everything else felt too complicated to say or sounded too judgmental. 

How could she concisely state her feelings? That being here felt like she was comparing their home to Pure Vanilla’s home. The Spire was theirs, while it was an extension of The Fount, it was just as much a home to him as it was to Pure Vanilla. 

But here? In the kingdom that Pure Vanilla built?

It was like staring at someone and realizing for the first time just how rich their own life had been before meeting them. This was Pure Vanilla’s home. Not The Fount’s. Everything here was too warm and too soft and too sweet for The Fount.

And it all served as a reminder that Pure Vanilla was truly the best thing to come out of the worst time in The Fount’s life.

And it also served as a reminder that Pure Vanilla had been somebody before he was The Compassionate Light of Truth.

Blueberry Milk Cookie felt…left out. Out of place. Like an ugly jam stain on an otherwise pristine painting.

Nilla Waffle noticed her spiraling and held her hand against her cheek. She nuzzled her palm and began to pepper little kisses on her palm and wrist. “Come back to me, Blue.”

Blueberry Milk blinked and blushed as Nilla Waffle continued to pepper her hand with kisses.

“Nilly~,” she pouted.

Nilla Waffle peeked an eye open and smiled, “Sorry, my lady.” She turned Blueberry Milk’s hand over and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, “I couldn't help myself.”

“You never can.” Blueberry Milk smirked.

Nilla Waffle’s cheeks burned, “Well, I mean,” she scooted herself to sit closer to her, hip to hip, and she draped one arm across Blueberry Milk’s lap to keep her in place, “How can I, when you're just so,” Blueberry Milk’s heart stuttered for a beat as Nilla Waffle nuzzled the sensitive spot just under her ear and started to kiss her neck, “breathtaking?” Her warm breath tingled Blueberry Milk’s dough.

“Pure Vanilla!” Blueberry Milk whispered, “How scandalous,” she grinned, “kissing a random cookie so vulgarly in public!”

Nilla Waffle pulled back and frowned, “Don't call yourself ‘a random cookie’.” She said, and she reached up to cup Blueberry Milk’s cheeks. She sat forward, now half on Blueberry Milk’s lap and nuzzled their noses together, "Please..."

Poor Blueberry Milk’s heart was pitter-pattering so fast it was a miracle she didn't throw it up.

“You are not just ‘a random cookie’ to me, my Fount.” She whispered before kissing her reverently.

Blueberry Milk sighed and leaned into the kiss.

Yup, this was definitely one of Pure Vanilla’s better ideas. 

She squirmed in her seat, already feeling heat and want stirring up between her legs. For once, a bothersome experience.

Nilla Waffle’s hand danced up Blueberry Milk’s arm, up over her shoulder, and into her hair. She curled her fingers into the starlit waves at the back of her head and gently pulled juuusssst enough to —

Blueberry Milk shivered and let out a suppressed whimper as she gladly opened her mouth for her.

“Good girl.” Nilla Waffle smiled before diving in tongue first to her mouth.

Blueberry Milk squeezed her legs shut, for once frustrated at her lack of underwear. She reached up with one hand to twirl one of Nilla Waffle’s pigtails around her clawed finger.

The market was busy enough that no one paid any mind to the two strange cookies making out by the fountain. But, being in such a public setting where anyone could be watching them made Blueberry Milk’s empty, leaky cunt ache, and made Nilla Waffle’s heart thrum excitedly.

Nilla Waffle had practically crawled halfway onto her lap, so Blueberry Milk leaned down, scooped her legs up into her arms, and draped her legs over her lap.

Nilla Waffle giggled, "We should do this more often." She pulled back, only to then lean forward and kiss her nose.

"Do what? Make out in public?" Blueberry Milk smirked. It seemed like her silly little "Pure" Nilly wasn't so pure.

"Sneak away." Nilla Waffle answered truthfully, she played with the tucked away ends of Blueberry Milk's braid, "Hide in plain sight." She rested her head on her shoulder, "It's so nice to be out with you, and be out with you."

That was a fair point. 

For as poorly as they kept their relationship a secret, The Fount and Pure Vanilla maintained an air of professionalism when they worked. They hardly ever made public displays of affection beyond occasionally holding hands, though most of that they easily explained away as Pure Vanilla growing up in a different culture where casual touches were acceptable and even the standard. 

And why would they display their love out in public? They had a job to do while they were out and about, and their job did not include suffocating each other with their tongues.

Blueberry Milk smiled, "I will say," she looked around at the Vanillian families and visitors from far and wide, all smiling and cheerful, "It is nice to get away from it all." She squeezed Nilla Waffle's waist, "And getting away with you makes it even more wonderful."

The Fount had never had a vacation, not if he didn't count the times he would sneak off to The Apostle's garden for a good catching-up gossip session or the hundreds of years he spent locked in the Silver Tree. But all of that was before their tempers flared and their fuses were shortened. Any time he took a "break" for more than two days, The Saint would be on him like a feral cakehound on jam.

So, this would technically be the first vacation The Fount had had, and he only agreed to it after Black Sapphire had pointed out that with the planting season upon them there would be less lectures and less of a need for the Virtue to be present all-day-every-day.

Still, she worried The Saint would be waiting for them upon their return.

Waiting to crumble his Pure Vanilla. 

Waiting to seal him in the tree.

Waiting to —

"You're drifting again, love." Nilla Waffle kissed her slowly.

Blueberry Milk melted into the kiss. She was trying to relax, really she was. But the anxiety of being caught disobeying the Witches was a fear baked into her very dough.

Nilla Waffle sighed and pulled back, “Would you indulge me, Blue?”

“Anything, little cookie.” Blueberry Milk smiled. 

Unfortunately, that meant Nilla Waffle turned and got off her lap. Blueberry Milk frowned even as Nilla Waffle took both of her hands, pulled her to her feet and coyly said, “Come with me.” 

Blueberry Milk couldn’t help but smile as Nilla Waffle led her through the streets, confident in her steps despite her poor vision. Her ever-present optimism and smile warmed Blueberry Milk’s dough.

“While you were busy looking around earlier,” Nilla Waffle began to speak as they walked, “I ran into an old friend of mine…” She pulled something on a chain out of her cleavage.

All of the heat rushed to Blueberry Milk’s face.

How long had she been wearing a key around her neck???

Blueberry Milk just stared at the key as Nilla Waffle led her to a welcoming looking inn. 

The Crow’s Nest Inn was a two story building that had a bar that opened out into the street. Not a single seat was open around the bar, and the smiling bartender managed to make a crowd laugh as he passed them their drinks. Around the side of the inn was a set of stairs that led to an open hallway with several doors leading to, presumably, rooms.

“And I asked her for a favor,” Nilla Waffle stepped up onto the first step and spun around to face her, “And as the former king, she, of course, obliged.”

“Using your power for gains, are you?” Blueberry Milk grinned mischievously.

“Only to gain favor with you,” She leaned forward and kissed her cheek, “Come on up.” She began to tug her again, pulling her up the stairs.

Blueberry Milk couldn’t help but laugh at how giggly and carefree Nilla Waffle was acting. She was practically glowing like a young cookie!

Nilla Waffle took them to the far side of the balcony and bent down so she could see the keyhole. Blueberry Milk watched, amused, as Nilla Waffle fumbled with the key for just a moment before it was successfully inserted and turned.

Nilla Waffle held the door open for her and Blueberry Milk stepped inside.

She’d never been in an inn before, so she had no idea what to expect, but it was somehow cleaner than she had imagined.

While the Crow’s Nest building itself was made from old speculoos dough, the inside was just as warm and sweet as the rest of the Pure Vanilla Kingdom. There was a single blue stained sugarglass window on the right wall, and across from it on the left wall was a large bed with a creamy comforter. There was a door on the far side of the room that led elsewhere — probably an ensuite, if Blueberry Milk had to guess — and there were a smattering of other fixings in the room; a lamp, an armchair, a desk.

But what surprised her the most was all the orchid petals scattered around the bed, the orchid blooms woven into the headboard, and the bouquet of sleeping vanilla orchids tied with a blue ribbon laying on the bed.

It was perfect.

Nilla Waffle closed the door behind them and quickly skipped past her to pick up the bouquet, “I know it’s not typical for us, but,” she stepped closer so the only thing between them was the bouquet, “I wanted to surprise you. You always seem to know everything that happens at home, and,” She blushed as she half buried her nose in the bouquet, “and I hope it isn’t too much.”

Blueberry Milk could have melted into batter in that instant and she would have been happy with (most of) her life. No one had ever spoiled The Fount, or so boldly loved her as much as Pure Vanilla did.

“Oh, Nilla.” She accepted the bouquet and held it aside so she could pull her beloved other half closer. “It’s wonderful.” She kissed her, “You’re wonderful.”

Nilla Waffle smiled, “Good.” She peppered her with kisses, “I worry — when you — linger — on thoughts — that upset you.”

Blueberry Milk just shook her head, “It is just — who I am.”

Nilla Waffle sighed, “I know.” She took the bouquet back and laid it on the desk. She began to pull Blueberry Milk towards the bed, “But, as I’m sure you know, sleeping vanilla orchids have multiple uses. The most common use is in sleeping droughts, as they can make you forget bad memories.”

“Are you planning on drugging me?” Blueberry Milk teasingly asked.

“No,” Nilla Waffle pushed Blueberry Milk onto the bed, “But I don’t need the orchids to make you forget every horrible memory you may have.”

Blueberry Milk’s insides shivered as Nilla Waffle crawled onto her lap and looped her arms around her shoulders. She swallowed hard and only just had time to brace her hands on Nilla Waffle’s hips before she had the full weight of the smaller cookie on her and they fell backwards onto the bed. 

Nilla Waffle kissed her deeply, gently — reverently — mapping her every curve with her hands. Blueberry Milk inadvertently moaned and Nilla Waffle took advantage of her open mouth to slip her tongue inside her mouth and stroke the pearly white fangs she loved so much.

Too soon, Nilla Waffle pulled away. Blueberry Milk tried to follow, but Nilla Waffle simply buried her face in her neck and began to mouth and suck on the sensitive spot under her ear. 

Blueberry Milk dug her nails into Nilla Waffle’s arms. It was too hot in the room. Her vision began to swim and she felt suffocated by the sweet air.

“N-Nilly —,” she moaned.

“Shhh, Blue, I’ve got you.” Nilla Waffle’s hands snaked around her back and expertly undid her corset top.

Blueberry Milk panted, “You’re too good at that.”

Nilla Waffle smirked as she leaned down and bit the top of her corset. She pulled back and tossed the corset to the side. She then dove back in to continue kissing her neck. 

Blueberry Milk squirmed underneath her and opened her legs. Nilla Waffle immediately nestled herself between them, her mouth still sucking and nipping at her neck.

Blueberry Milk’s dough tingled, she felt lightheaded and could only tether herself to Earthbread through Nilla Waffle’s hands roaming her body. She inhaled sharply as Nilla Waffle pressed a kiss to her throat over the ribbon holding her blouse up while groping one of her breasts.

“N-Nilllllsss,” Blueberry Milk whined.

Nilla Waffle undid the ribbon with her teeth and discarded that to the side as well. “My sweet Blueberry,” She began to nuzzle her neck and mouth her way down her chest, “tell me…” she squeezed her breast as her other hand came up to free the other one from the top of her blouse, “Where do you want me?”

She kissed around her exposed breast, then licked a stripe up to her nipple, “How do you want me?” 

Blueberry Milk could feel slick dripping from her hole and down the curve of her ass, she locked her ankles around Nilla Waffle’s back and grabbed the hand that was fondling her breast.

“I w — I want,” She panted, unable to think straight while Nilla Waffle was touching her. 

Nilla Waffle expertly flipped their hands around so that Blueberry Milk was groping her own breast and Nilla Waffle was just puppeteering how hard she squeezed herself. She then groped her free breast and ghosted her lips around Blueberry Milk’s dark blue raspberry nipple.

“Yes, love? Tell me?” She purposefully made her lips brush her nipple as she spoke.

Blueberry Milk’s mouth went dry, and she whined, “Ooohhh, I don't think you realize how wild you drive me.”

Nilla Waffle slowly sat back, but kept her hands where they were. 

Blueberry Milk looked at her with wide eyes.

Nilla Waffle nodded fiercely, “Oh, but I do, my Fount.” She whispered. Then she let go of both her breasts and crawled forward. Her pale blonde pigtails hung on either side of Blueberry Milk’s face, and her bangs came down and barely brushed her forehead. 

“Because I am so desperate for you. All the time.” Nilla Waffle breathed heavily. “I have been since the day we met.”

Blueberry Milk’s eyes widened even more. “Nilly…”

Nilla Waffle blushed and licked her lips, “I only ever held myself back because I thought perhaps it was simply our shared soul jam…and when I realized that was not the case,” she leaned down to nuzzle their noses together, “I was scared I might upset you.”

That was valid. The Fount didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to loving and being loved. 

Nilla Waffle sat back once again, “You used to act as if you were so frightened by me,” she ghosted her hands up to Blueberry Milk’s knees, pushing her skirts up as she went, "Snipping and snarling like a feral cakehound…”

Blueberry Milk frowned. She’d held Pure Vanilla at a distance for so long, it was hard to believe he’d had feelings for The Fount long before he’d realized it himself.

Then, Nilla Waffle smiled and pushed Blueberry Milk’s skirts the rest of the way up and out of her way, “But I treasure that you want me as much as I want you.” Her gaze flickered down to her dripping cunt and she almost started drooling. 

She looked back up at Blueberry Milk, “So, I will ask again.” Her hands danced up her thighs towards her heat, “Where do you want me..? How do you want me..?” She tilted her head curiously knowing full well the innocent gesture would rile her up.

Blueberry Milk’s heart and mind were currently being liquified, and she took a gasping breath before she answered, “Here. With me.”

Nilla Waffle smiled lovingly at her, “Of course, my love.” She leaned down and nuzzled one of her thighs, “After all,” she began to kiss the inside of her thigh, creeping lower and closer to her needy, achy cunt, “We were made for each other.”

Blueberry Milk shuddered and moaned as Nilla Waffle licked up the slick on her thigh.

“N-niIILLS!” Blueberry Milk arched into Nilla Waffle’s mouth as she wasted no time in sealing her lips around her swollen clit and sucking.

Nilla Waffle moaned at the sound of her other half screaming her name. She continued to suck on her clit, rolling her tongue over the sensitive bud in time with her hips. As she settled in between her legs, she brought one hand up to stroke and pet her puffy pussy lips.

Blueberry Milk rolled her hips and whined. She wanted more.

And Nilla Waffle, of course, delivered.

Hearing how breathy and whiny she’d made her other half, Nilla Waffle smiled and slipped two fingers into her cunt. She wasted no time in turning and curling her fingers up and —

“Nilla! Th-There!”

Nilla Waffle grinned against her cunt. She let go of her clit with a wet -pop- and licked a hot stripe up her pretty blue folds. Her eyes nearly rolled back at how heavenly her slick tasted. She kept her fingers curled and pressed fervently up into the sweet spot that left Blueberry Milk soaking and trembling.

Blueberry Milk continued to roll her hips, matching the same fiery pace Nilla Waffle had set and whined. She could feel an orgasm growing, but she wanted her to —

And, as if she read her mind, Nilla Waffle licked one last stripe up her cunt, and dove back down to suck on her clit.

“NILLY-Y!” Blueberry Milk arched off the bed, pressing her pussy into Nilla Waffle’s face. Her body shook with an unexpectedly strong orgasm, sending waves of shock and pleasure through her dough.

Nilla Waffle gently eased her back onto the bed and rolled her tongue gently over her clit in time with her orgasm.

Her vision was slow to return to her, and Blueberry Milk just stared at the ceiling as her orgasm slowly rolled out of her.

Nilla Waffle sat back up, pearly blue slick dripping down her chin, and a smug smile on her face.

Blueberry Milk squinted at the ceiling, a terribly delicious idea shot through her and she sat up.

“Blue? Wh-what are you — a-aaah??” Nilla Waffle blinked in shock. 

One second she’d been nestled between Blueberry Milk’s legs, and the next thing she knew Blueberry Milk sat up, pulled her forward, and laid down with Nilla Waffle straddling her face. Nilla Waffle gripped the headboard and tried to see what Blueberry Milk was planning, but her skirts were in the way!

Blueberry Milk, however, was nice and content under her skirts, especially with Nilla Waffle’s perfect pussy just inches above her face. The poor thing was drenched and squeezing around nothing.

“B-Blue? What are you doing?” Poor Nilla Waffle sounded so scared.

“Admiring.” Blueberry Milk mumbled, more to herself than to Nilla Waffle, and she grabbed the other cookie’s ass and pulled her down to sit on her face.

Nilla Waffle let out a startled, choked sound as a cool tongue pressed its way deep into her cunt.

“M-my F-f-fount!” Her whole body trembled.

Blueberry Milk just smiled and continued to lick up all the juices and slick that dripped from Nilla Waffle’s pussy. Her claws dug into the soft dough of the moaning cookie above her.

Slowly, Blueberry Milk dragged her tongue out of her cunt. Then she licked a slow stripe up her lips with the flat of her tongue, and ended the movement with a feathery-soft kiss to her clit.

Nilla Waffle moaned and started rolling her hips. Blueberry Milk’s claws dug deeper into her dough.

“On me.” She growled to herself and she pulled Nilla Waffle back down and sucked mercilessly on her clit.

Nilla Waffle let out a cry and began to grind her cunt against Blueberry Milk’s face. She was rewarded with a squeeze and another growl.

Blueberry Milk could have stayed under Nilla Waffle’s skirts forever, sucking on her clit and slowly rolling her tongue around the sensitive bud, feeling her other half dripping slick onto her chin and rolling her hips over her face.

She readjusted her grip on Nilla Waffle’s ass and pulled back with an over dramatic gasp. Her face was soaked with Nilla Waffle’s slick.

“Blue? A-are you ok-AAAY?!”

Blueberry Milk dove right back in, nosing her clit and diving her tongue as deep into her pussy as she could go. She moaned, feeling her cunt trying to desperately squeeze her tongue.

“Oh, Nills,” Blueberry Milk moaned, pulling back only long enough to speak before she began to lick her cunt, “Witches, Nills, you are just so,” She sucked on her clit, “divine.”

Nilla Waffle had a death grip on the headboard and was trying very hard not to cry, but it was incredibly hard for her when the cookie she loved so much was eating her out like a starved beast finally earning a meal.

Her whole body tingled as she felt familiar fingers rub her inner thigh and then rub her achy cunt. two fingers slipped into her pussy, finally giving her the stretch and pressure she’d been craving. 

Blueberry Milk slowly pumped her fingers in and out, not seeking friction, just wanting to provide pleasure.

And provide, she did. Heat and pleasure and want coiled low in Nilla Waffle’s gut, she was so close to — !

“Witches, Nills,” She could just barely make out Blueberry Milk’s voice over the ringing in her ears, “you taste so sweet.”

And that of all things did it for her. The next time Blueberry Milk’s fingers pressed into her, she rolled her hips down onto her face and came with a staccato cry.

Blueberry Milk drank it all, savoring every drop she was given and then some. She inadvertently let out a sad moan and Nilla Waffle shakingly dismounted her face.

“Is everything alright?” Blueberry Milk pouted.

“What?? Of course!” Nilla Waffle reassured her, “Why?”

“I wasn't done,” Blueberry Milk sat up to grab her hips.

“O-oh!” Nilla Waffle blushed.

Blueberry Milk smirked and pulled Nilla Waffle back down on top of her, kissing her deeply and moaning at the taste of their respective slick mingling on their tongues.

Fermented blueberries, creamy vanilla, it was the most heavenly flavor she could think of.

Reaching up, Blueberry Milk undid the starlit ribbons that tied Nilla Waffle’s hair into pigtails. Her blonde locks fell around them like a curtain, shielding the Virtue and the Hero from the world.

No…

In here, they weren't a Virtue or a Hero.

They were just Blueberry Milk Cookie and Nilla Waffle Cone Cookie.

Blueberry Milk sighed into the kiss, her mouth growing hotter the more her tongue danced with Nilla Waffle’s tongue.

Nilla Waffle lifted her arms and Blueberry Milk aided her in undressing. Carefully, as if afraid the other might crumble, they began to undress each other. Blueberry Milk’s blouse came off first, followed quickly by Nilla Waffle’s corset and blouse.

Nilla Waffle pulled away from their kiss to suck on the sensitive spot under Blueberry Milk’s ear. Blueberry Milk arched her back with a gasp, pressing their breasts together and shivering at the feel of their nipples nudging each other.

“I love this little spot on you.” Nilla Waffle whispered as she pressed the tip of her tongue to the spit under her ear in question. “It makes you so,” Blueberry Milk gasped as her skirt was expertly ripped off her waist, “pliable.” Nilla Waffle grinned.

Blueberry Milk whined and pawed at Nilla Waffle’s hips. 

Nilla Waffle giggled and sat back just enough to pull her own skirts off.

Now all that remained between them were Blueberry Milk’s stockings, which Nilla Waffle intended to keep on her. She ran her hands up Blueberry Milk’s legs, pulling and wrapping them around her waist.

Then, Nilla Waffled rolled her hips forward and pushed their clits together.

Blueberry Milk moaned.

Nilla Waffle smiled and began to gently, almost lazily roll their hips together. Each pass rubbed their clits together, and Nilla Waffle could feel her slick dripping down to mix with Blueberry Milk’s slick.

For a few minutes, Nilla Waffle got to enjoy the look of pure bliss on Blueberry Milk’s perfectly soft features. How better to serve The Fount than to make sure she knew just how loved she was? If all Nilla Waffle could do was give her a few moments of thoughtless bliss, where she didn't worry about Witches or crumbling, then she would live a fulfilled life by her side.

She teared up, unable to help herself as she fell forward and kissed Blueberry Milk fiercely. Blueberry Milk slowly returned her kiss, looping her arms around her shoulders to keep her close. All while Nilla Waffle continued to grind their hips together.

Any form.

Any time.

Any place.

Pure Vanilla loved The Fount of Knowledge.

Breaking the kiss, Nilla Waffle began to thrust her hips faster, rubbing more of her pussy against Blueberry Milk’s pussy. 

“Blue?” Her lower lip trembled as heat boiled low in her gut.

Blueberry Milk blinked, her long lashes fluttering against her flushed cheeks, “Yes, my little cookie?” She began to roll her hips up into Nilla Waffle’s thrusts.

Nilla Waffle pressed their foreheads together and tried to even out her gasping breaths, “M-my wonderful Fount of Knowledge…”

Blueberry Milk’s eyes shone with curiosity.

Nilla Waffle’s dough was sparking with heat and want with every pass of their clits. Her thrusts stuttered and she grabbed fistfuls of the creamy blanket beneath them to steady herself, “I love you!” She cried, hot tears finally falling from her lashes.

Blueberry Milk smiled lovingly, “Oh, my poor silly-vanilly.” She pulled her back down for another slow kiss. It didn't at all match with the now feverish pace Nilla Waffle was now rutting into her, but it was more than enough to cloud Blueberry Milk’s mind and senses.

Blueberry Milk’s claws dug into Nilla Waffle’s arms and she came unexpectedly, crying out and arching her back as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Seeing her lovely blue cookie come undone sent Nilla Waffle over the edge of her own orgasm with a high pitched, needy whine. She slotted her pussy down over Blueberry Milk’s leaky cunt and started grinding like a cakehound in heat to ride out their orgasms.

It took a solid minute for both of them to come down from their high. Blueberry Milk had to aid Nilla Waffle off of her and gently guided her to lay beside her.

For a long stretch of silence, the two cookies just smiled at each other. Blueberry Milk absentmindedly played with one of Nilla Waffle’s loose locks.

Nilla Waffle’s eyelids fluttered, the excitement from the whole day catching up to her quickly.

Blueberry Milk turned and opened her arms. Nilla Waffle’s smile brightened and she immediately snuggled up next to her. They tangled their limbs together, peppering sweet, soft kisses on each other's dough.

After settling, Blueberry Milk realized they were still on top of the covers and she snapped her fingers. They both sank into the mattress as the blankets disappeared and reappeared on top of them.

Nilla Waffle sighed contentedly and nuzzled her head under Blueberry Milk’s chin.

Blueberry Milk continued to pet her little cookie, savoring the last few moments of peace and quiet they’d have away from their duties. She could feel Nilla Waffle growing heavier in her arms as sleep overcame the overstimulated Hero. She kissed the top of Nilla Waffle’s head and allowed herself to close her eyes.

Maybe it’d be fine if they were gone for just one more night…

Willing herself to relax, Blueberry Milk kept her lips pressed to Nilla Waffle’s forehead. She wasn't seeking pleasure or pressure, just presence.

“I love you too, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

Notes:

You may have noticed there are now 6 chapters instead of my originally planned 4. That is because the responses from last chapter were so overwhelmingly in favor of PV and The Fount having a baby that I decided to grace you guys with not one, but TWO PureFount baby drabbles. Aren't I kind?
This does, however, mean I'm putting off the sweet and cute PureFount Black Sapphire drabble and will be posting the ShadowSalt drabble next. You guys get your baby, I get to torment you all with Silent Salt.
~TOODLES~

Chapter 5: Pure Blue

Notes:

Not me thinking people would be turned off at the idea of PV and The Fount having a baby only for yall to BEG for it.
WELL JOKES ON YOU YOU GET TWO NON-CANONICAL BABIES!!
THAT'S RIGHT I'M MAKING BOTH OF THESE FOOLS GET PREGNANT!
This first NON-CANONICAL pregnancy chapter will be focusing on Pure Vanilla and Blueberry Milk, so the last chapter will be the much requested Nilla Waffle and The Fount.
And no I didn't do MPreg....THIS time.

Pure Vanilla was exhausted.

Happy beyond measure!

But exhausted.

Still, his exhaustion did not cause him to falter as he practically ran home after spending all day with his people. He entered the Spire, which had been temperamental as of late, and paused while he listened to the sounds inside.

The first story was quiet, so he went to the nearest staircase and prayed it took him where he wanted to go. No sooner did Pure Vanilla make it to the second story that he had to duck and avoid a book flying around with bat wings.

Ah.

The Fount was still a little stir crazy.

Pure Vanilla’s smile didn’t fade in the slightest as he briskly walked in — what was usually — the direction of the library. His determination was rewarded as he peeked into the library and saw Blueberry Milk fussing over a collection of books and scrolls all flying around her.

“No, you lot are moving to the upper library and that’s final.” She pointed her staff accusingly at the books and scrolls. “I will not have dark moon magic out where a child could find them!”

Pure Vanilla ducked as an angry scroll fluttered out of the room followed by the swarm of books that went with it.

Blueberry Milk huffed and brushed her bangs back from her face.

Pure Vanilla thought she was the most beautiful cookie in existence. Seven months pregnant, hair in a loose braid rather than the typical high crown braid she wore, dough positively glowing, and just starting to get into nesting as the day their little dough would arrive crept closer and closer. He’d never loved another cookie more.

After a long conversation about the possibility of having a baby dough of their own, the pair agreed that if the opportunity to have one came up, The Fount would be the one to carry. 

For starters, The Fount was far more used to shapeshifting than Pure Vanilla was, and could withstand her dough being changed for such a prolonged period of time. She wouldn’t go crazy and lose her sense of self. Second, she was The Fount of Knowledge, on paper, she knew exactly what she needed to do to successfully carry and deliver a baby dough. And third, The Fount had worked by himself for years, Pure Vanilla was more than willing to take on extra work so The Fount could carry their child.

So long as work was being done, none of the other Virtues could complain.

Not that it took them terribly long to conceive. The Fount had been correct in their elevated status as Virtue and Hero aiding in the process. Naturally, as Blueberry Milk, The Fount knew precisely when she’d be ovulating. Of course, Pure Vanilla had wanted to make sure there was no opportunity for his seed not to take. So every spare minute they had, for an entire week, Pure Vanilla made sure to fill her with his seed. 

Every.

Spare.

Minute.

They’d nearly been caught out in public several times. But Pure Vanilla would not falter. They were having this baby.

However, it hadn’t been necessary, as barely a month later Blueberry Milk began to show the early signs of pregnancy.

She was pregnant with their child.

Their child.

That thought alone made all the exhaustion, the mood swings, and the volatile explosions of magic all worth it for Pure Vanilla.

“Hello, love.” Pure Vanilla came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. His hands rested on her swollen belly and all his exhaustion melted away.

Blueberry Milk barely passed him a glance over her shoulder, “You’re sweaty. And stinky.” She scrunched her nose up. “You of all cookies should know how sensitive I am, well,” She turned around in his arms and began to hit his arm with every syllable, “It’s now your fault I am double-y sensitive to everything!”

Pure Vanilla just smiled and leaned down to kiss her. “I missed you too, love.”

“Stinky.” Blueberry Milk grimaced, but kissed him back.

“What all did you two do today, love?” Pure Vanilla asked, his hands lowering to her hips to gently palm and massage them.

Blueberry Milk sighed dreamily. Her whole dough ached these days, but anytime Pure Vanilla’s hands were on her all her aches seemed to melt away. “Just,” She huffed, “Trying to,” Her hands curled into fists as she held onto his robes, “do stuff.”

Okay, so, not the most eloquent answer, but Pure Vanilla knew her brain was frazzled with a million and one thoughts.

He smiled and nuzzled their noses together, “I told you, if you’d done all this at the beginning —,”

“Yes, yes,” Blueberry Milk grumbled, “What happened to the ‘Compassionate’ in your title, oh Light of Truth?”  

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with my compassion before.” Pure Vanilla titled his head curiously.

“Bending me over in someone’s backyard while they ran to check on their neighbor is not the definition of compassionate, my little cookie.” Blueberry Milk deadpanned.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, “Fine. Would you like some help?” He offered instead.

“Finally, some compassion.” Blueberry Milk nodded, satisfied, “And right now,” She pushed him away, “You can help by showering. Stinky.”

Pure Vanilla chuckled and held his hands up in defense, “Alright, alright.” He pulled her closer again and kissed her cheek.

“STINKY!”

Pure Vanilla laughed despite being hit in the chest several times. Then, he knelt down and held Blueberry Milk’s swollen belly. “I didn’t forget you, little one.” He kissed the swell of her stomach and looked up at the love of his life. “I’ll be right back.” He promised.

Blueberry Milk wanted to wipe the smug and pleased look on his face. She waved a dismissive hand at him and when he tried to go in for one more kiss she turned her head away, “If you don’t get your stinky dough in the shower right now —,”

Pure Vanilla pouted, but relented.

Alone in the library once more, Blueberry Milk got back to organizing — or rather, reorganizing — her extensive collection. Anything relating to Dark Moon Magic or the Witches was sent to the uppermost library, and for good measure she decided to magically seal the room so even if a little dough should happen to wander up there unsupervised they’d never find it.

Then, she decided she wanted more sitting places and more floor room in the library. If they were going to be in here with their baby — and Blueberry Milk had made it clear as crystal that their baby would be read to every single day — then she wanted it to be a safe and comfortable place for them.

Her hands absentmindedly rested on her swollen belly as she pursed her lips. She didn’t have much in terms of children’s literature. What did children even read? She didn’t think Candy Apple read much, but perhaps Black Sapphire would have some kind of idea. She’d ask Pure Vanilla to check tomorrow.

Exhausted, she went to one of the couches and laid back with a heavy sigh. “Oh, my little nebula.” She murmured, rubbing her belly, “What am I going to do with you?”

She was still terrified. 

Being able to love and be loved by Pure Vanilla was a privilege she’d stolen from the Witches. They weren’t meant to be in love. They were meant to be coworkers at best and acquaintances at worst. 

And she was terrified they would take Pure Vanilla from her.

Or worse.

She was terrified they would send The Saint to take Pure Vanilla from her.

But, seven months into her pregnancy, and she was fairly certain the only cookie outside of Pure Vanilla and herself to know she was pregnant was Black Sapphire.

Sue her, she’d gone stir crazy staying inside at the four month mark and had wandered onto the fourth floor balcony just to feel some sun on her dough. Black Sapphire had been the only cookie to look up at and call out to her.

Blueberry Milk had panicked and ran back inside.

Pure Vanilla had come home to desperate milkcrowns suffocating her. She’d been having a full blown panic attack for hours and had reached the numb and desperately scared dissociation that usually followed her panic attacks. Pure Vanilla reassured her that he would speak with Black Sapphire the next day.

None of the other Virtues had said a word to her about it, and Pure Vanilla never told her what he and Black Sapphire had spoken about, so she assumed all had been smoothed over.

But now that they were nearing the end (okay, so she still had roughly two and a half months left, but still), she was terrified of what came next.

What came next was, well, a baby.

Their baby.

A creature so small, so delicate, they risked crumbling if handled wrong. And then they’d have a toddler. A kid. A teenager. An adult.

“Your mind is drifting, love.” Pure Vanilla, smelling fresh and clear, bent down over the couch to kiss her cheek.

Blueberry Milk hummed absentmindedly. 

She hoped their baby grew up to be as talented and skilled as either of them. She’d even be fine if they were as skilled as Black Sapphire. She hoped they never had to suffer through the pains they’d gone through, the heartaches they’d carried.

Most of all, Blueberry Milk hoped their baby would never be cursed to grow life with their tears.

Pure Vanilla sat close to her on the couch, then bent down to scoop her legs up and rest them on her lap.

“That’s not helping the library.” She mumbled, still rubbing her belly.

“No, but it is helping you, is it not?” Pure Vanilla asked, tilting his head.

Blueberry Milk hated how right he was. She inadvertently let out a moan as he began to massage her feet. Melting, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

“Would you like to go to bed now, love?” Pure Vanilla asked, “I can take the morning off tomorrow and help finish the library then?” He didn’t slow or stop massaging her feet.

“No, and I need you to ask Black Sapphire what kind of books the children are reading these days.” She said, grateful she remembered at least one thing today.

“Are you sure?” Pure Vanilla asked.

Blueberry Milk nodded and hummed. “One of us must keep working to,” She struggled to find the words for a moment, “to keep up the illusion that all is well.”

Pure Vanilla smiled sadly. While he understood and respected The Fount’s wishes to keep their baby a secret for now, he wished he could scream it from the rooftops. He wanted his friends to know; the other heroes and those back home in his kingdom. 

But that had been The Fount’s only condition to carrying their child. No one was to know about it. So long as work was being done, no one outside of the cookies in their own realm would be suspicious of them.

Pure Vanilla couldn’t wait for the day he could freely walk amongst his people with his Fount and their baby. Grinning eagerly, he put Blueberry Milk’s feet to his side and crawled forward on the couch.

Blueberry Milk tilted her head back up just in time to see Pure Vanilla settling his head on her stomach and stretching out between her legs. 

“Comfortable?” She asked, deadpanned.

Pure Vanilla hummed and nodded.

Their little dough was still for now. Usually their baby was more active in the mornings and afternoons, and occasionally late at night. Pure Vanilla remembered how he burst into tears the first time he got to feel it for himself.

Blueberry Milk had been so excited when he came home that day, telling him all about how active his child was and how tired she was that her ribs were being used as a baby’s first xylophone, but when he laid his hands on her he’d felt nothing. Blueberry Milk reassured him that she wasn’t crazy and the baby had been moving just prior to his return. 

Pure Vanilla had only nodded and stared at her swollen belly, as if willing the baby to move with just his gaze. 

But it hadn’t happened. 

Not for several days.

Pure Vanilla was heartbroken to think he was missing out on so much while he was out working.

But just a few days later, Blueberry Milk had all but slapped him awake from a dead sleep and grabbed his hands. By the time Pure Vanilla was awake enough to realize what was happening, his palms were pressed to her belly and he could feel tiny little kicks.

He’d cried and kissed Blueberry Milk like their lives depended on it. He laughed and cried and rubbed her stomach and kissed her and bent down to speak to their child excitedly. 

The waiting was the hardest part.

Right now, however, their baby was still. Likely resting.

Blueberry Milk ran her hand through Pure Vanilla’s hair. “I’ve been thinking of names.” She said suddenly, breaking the gentle silence they were in.

“You know it’s best to go by flavor, love, and we don’t know that yet.” Pure Vanilla murmured, kissing her belly.

“Yes, but still, just thinking…”

Pure Vanilla sighed and smiled, “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, if they’re more blueberry than vanilla, I was thinking something like Blue Cream…” Blueberry Milk continued to pet Pure Vanilla as he peppered kisses on her stomach. “And if they’re more vanilla, I thought maybe Vanilla Bean would work.”

“And what,” Pure Vanilla pushed himself up so he could lean forward and nuzzle their noses together, “If they’re a perfect blend of flavors?”

Blueberry Milk chuckled and shook her head, “You know that is seldom the case.”

“Look at Candy Apple, a perfect blend of Caramel Cookie and Jazz Apple Cookie.” Pure Vanilla pointed out.

“An exception, not the expectation.” Blueberry Milk held a finger up to her lips to keep Pure Vanilla from kissing her and cutting off their conversation. Pure Vanilla pouted as Blueberry Milk pushed him back with her finger.

“What are you hoping for, love?” She asked.

As soon as her guard and finger were down he pushed himself back towards her and kissed her. “I…” He pulled back and began to kiss down her jaw to the sensitive spot under her ear, “Am hoping for happy.” 

He sucked on the spot and felt Blueberry Milk shudder under him. “And healthy.” He kissed his way back up to her lips, melting when her hands came up to scratch the nape of his neck.

“You silly sap.” Blueberry Milk smiled.

Pure Vanilla couldn’t help it, he was just too happy.

The last few weeks of their pregnancy were rough. With the rainy season upon them, Pure Vanilla found himself staying out until midnight some nights to help their people. Many times he came home and found Blueberry Milk asleep in some room or another, as if she’d been up waiting for him.

It broke his heart to know he was missing out on all her nesting and leaving it all to her.

He just scooped her up and carried her to bed.

As the expected day drew nearer, Pure Vanilla found himself giving excuses as to why he had to be home early. Blueberry Milk had decorated nearly all of the nursery by herself and he wanted to help in some way.

Blueberry Milk stood and sized up each of the little plushies in front of her.

A cream sheep.

A cake hound.

A jellybear.

And a blueberry bird.

If there was one thing Blueberry Milk knew about kids, it was that oftentimes they had a safety net in the form of something physical. Most of the children in his realm were gifted a doll or a puppet of some kind upon their first birthday from The Fount himself. He prided himself on knowing the birthdays of all his cookies, and each one was gifted a unique doll just for them.

But Blueberry Milk didn’t know which of the plushies before her should be the plushie their baby got.

“Our baby can have more than one toy, love.” Pure Vanilla said as he emerged (freshly showered) in the nursery.

“This isn’t just about the toy.” Blueberry Milk narrowed her eyes at the jellybear. For as cute and classic as it was, it was missing…something. So she waved her hand and it flew off to the toy box. 

“It’s about the —,”

“Physical manifestation of love and courage.” Pure Vanilla nodded, “Yes, I know, you’ve been fretting over it for three days now.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his head on her shoulder. She’d actually narrowed it down to four today and he was impressed. When the original line up of ten was out, he feared she’d just get frustrated and turn them all into fabric scraps.

“I’m partial to the cake hound, myself.” He nuzzled the sweet spot under her ear and smiled as his hands roamed her very pregnant belly.

Any day now could be the day their little one came into the world.

“That’s because of your affinity for beasts.” Blueberry Milk waved her hand again and the cake hound flew (roughly) into the toy box with the jellybear.

Pure Vanilla frowned, “It’s because they’re strong and able to adapt and overcome anything.”

Blueberry Milk pursed her lips. She wasn’t convinced. She looked back now at the cream sheep and the blueberry bird.

“I like both of these.” Pure Vanilla said.

The cream sheep was made from fluffed cream sheep wool, with a black velvet face and mismatched blue eyes. The blueberry bird had been thrown together with scraps of blue fabric, making it more a crazy quilt blueberry bird than a traditional looking blueberry bird.

Wordlessly, the blueberry bird flew to the toy box.

Cream Sheep it was then.

“Any particular reason why this one?” Pure Vanilla asked.

Blueberry Milk’s eyes were watery as she looked back up at him, “Blueberry birds are carriers. They travel far from home…”

“Oh, Blue…” Pure Vanilla tucked her hair back from her face.

She turned around to face him head on. Blueberry Milk did her best not to cry, “I don’t want to lose them.” She choked out.

Pure Vanilla wiped the stubborn tears that fell from her eyes and pulled her into an embrace.

“I don’t want to lose either of you.” She gasped, clinging to fistfuls of his robes as if that would help keep him safe with her forever.

“And you won’t.” Pure Vanilla reassured her.

“But, if The Saint —,”

Pure Vanilla’s grip on her waist tightened, “I do not want to hear him mentioned again.” He said firmly.

Blueberry Milk had spent the first five months of her pregnancy crying and having night terrors that The Saint of Solidarity was on his way to crumble her, crumble Pure Vanilla, their people, their baby, anything and everything that came in the knight's way.

Pure Vanilla might have held the title and soul jam of The Compassionate Light of Truth, but the truth was there was one cookie he hated more than anything else on Earthbread.

And that was The Saint of Solidarity.

For a cookie meant to unite cookiekind, he did a damn fine job at working for his own benefit and betraying his fellow Virtues.

And he was an asshole.

Pure Vanilla closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. He was not going to spend the last few days of Blueberry Milk’s pregnancy offering Shimmering Salt anymore space in his head. He smiled and opened his eyes.

“Blue,” He pressed their foreheads together, “Love of my life.” He smiled as she sniffled and pouted to suppress a smile. “There is nothing and no one on Earthbread that would ever get me to leave you. And our baby,” His hands pulled back from her waist to rest on the sides of her belly, “I will protect with my life if I must.”

“When.” Blueberry Milk sniffled.

“If.” Pure Vanilla corrected.

He understood her fear. It was something baked into her, she couldn’t help it, but Pure Vanilla would defy the Witches themselves with every ounce of power his soul jam gave him to protect his Fount and their child.

With the toy decided upon, Pure Vanilla took over putting the rest of the nursery things away. Waffle cone blankets from his home, meant to keep the fresh baby dough warmly swaddled and at the perfect heat, were neatly folded and put aside. The bedding on the crib cleared so it was ready for whenever they decided to stop co-sleeping. Children’s books (courtesy of one very embarrassed Black Sapphire) were stacked neatly by the rocking chair Blueberry Milk was sitting in (she’d been on her feet all day and was grateful for the opportunity to just supervise). And everything was cleaned to perfection. 

“Thank you,” Pure Vanilla sighed as he scooped her up into his arms.

“For what?” Blueberry Milk held onto him as they left the nursery. The Spire hadn’t been nearly as temperamental these last few weeks, resulting in a disturbingly normal layout (who knew the Spire was just a single spiral staircase leading up and not multiple staircases leading to Witches knows where?). 

“For letting me help in the nursery.” Pure Vanilla smiled.

Blueberry Milk rolled her eyes, “Sentimental fool.”

Pure Vanilla ignored the jab and gently sat her on their bed. He knelt before her and pretended to ignore her hitched breath. He carefully undid the ribbon holding her house slippers on (she’d taken to wearing them when her feet started to ache and her center of gravity shifted making floating harder to achieve) and slipped them off her feet.

This had become part of their nightly ritual and Blueberry Milk was going to miss it — The Fool-King Virtue with the foolish king Hero at her feet as if worshipping her. Pure Vanilla peeked his eyes open and looked up at her through his long lashes.

“I love you, Fount of Knowledge, Blueberry Milk Cookie, Virtuous Light, Shadow Milk, Beast of Deceit.”

Blueberry Milk’s throat was dry, “Well, why wouldn’t you?” She tried to act dismissive. Even the inclusion of Shadow Milk had her heart thumping. She'd never get used to being loved so thoroughly by someone as wonderful as Pure Vanilla.

Pure Vanilla broke out in a slow smile and he kissed her belly, “I love you.” He whispered to their child. “I cannot wait for you to be here, little one.” 

As he had done every night for the past nine and a half months, Pure Vanilla whispered his wishes and hopes for their child into her dough and sealed each one with a kiss. Some nights he went on for so long that Blueberry Milk had to drag him to his feet so he could get some sleep, others he simply shared his wish for their baby to be happy and healthy and to know how loved they are no matter what.

Tonight was one of the longer nights, and after about ten minutes of him whispering into her dough, Blueberry Milk pulled Pure Vanilla to his feet. “Alright, Nilly, you need to get some sleep so that I can get some sleep.”

Pure Vanilla pouted, then dropped to one knee to give her belly one last kiss, “Good night, little one.” 

Pure Vanilla spent the night holding Blueberry Milk tight in his arms as he always did, but tonight was different…

Blueberry Milk’s dough was flushed and warmer than usual, and she kept trying to squirm and move away. Pure Vanilla woke sometime around three a.m. to her panting and groaning.

“Blue?”

“It’s just contractions.” She shook her head, sounding far more awake than she should have been.

Pure Vanilla sat up and turned on his bedside lamp.

Blueberry Milk was clenching her stomach in her hands and gritting her sharp teeth as if she were in pain.

“Contractions?” Pure Vanilla felt heat creep up his neck, “Y-You mean —?”

“I don’t think it’s the baby, no.” She panted, sweat dripping down her forehead. Then she curled up on herself and groaned, “Okay, okay, m-maybe it is the baby.”

“Oh…OH!” Pure Vanilla shot out of bed. Blueberry Milk had gone over with him probably a hundred times a week what to do when the time came, and Pure Vanilla had aided dozens of cream sheep give birth when he was younger, not to mention aiding the wet nurses in the village whenever a cookie decided to go through with the sexual reproduction method of child bearing.

So he definitely wasn’t panicking.

Because Blueberry Milk had shapeshifted her body with the sole purpose of giving birth, it was a fairly smooth process. Still, their bedding would have to be replaced after being shredded by bestial claws. 

Sweaty, exhausted, and dough thrumming with waves of pain, Blueberry Milk had never been more relieved to hear the first little cry. All the adrenaline rushed out of her dough, and she fell back on the bed exhausted. She could hear Pure Vanilla moving around and then he was still. Curious, she lifted her head and blinked her tears away.

Pure Vanilla was cradling their little dough. He looked up at her, tears brimming in his eyes, “Blue…” He quickly stood and carefully walked to the head of the bed to sit beside her. He very carefully turned so she could see the swaddled, still slightly damp baby dough.

“She’s beautiful.”

Notes:

How mad would yall be if I revealed the similarities between The Saint and Pure Vanilla? Because lordy the parallels are parallelling and The Fount def has a type lmao

Chapter 6: Fount Nilla

Notes:

PAY ATTENTION TO THE NEW TAGS I HAVE ADDED BECAUSE EVEN WRITING THIS CHAPTER MADE ME CRY!!! There WILL be bricks.
As always, the pregnancy stories are non canon, so this chapter has nothing to do with last chapter. It's its own separate canon.

The Fount’s Pure Vanilla wanted a baby, and so, a baby he would have. He was an all-powerful, all-knowing Virtue and the origin of magic. 

He could grant this small wish.

It had been a long discussion. The better option had been for The Fount to shapeshift into Blueberry Milk, after all, he was used to shapeshifting and wouldn’t easily lose his mind to being in a different body for so long.

But Pure Vanilla had been adamant. 

The Fount couldn’t so easily disappear for months without arousing suspicion, but Pure Vanilla could. They could come up with any number of excuses for his absence. Plus, The Fount had already been an unwilling prisoner to the Silver Tree, Pure Vanilla did not wish to subject The Fount to that kind of house rest and risk… him coming out and possibly hurting himself or their baby. Not to mention it was Pure Vanilla’s wish in the first place, he wouldn’t allow The Fount to put his dough through that.

The Fount reluctantly agreed, and after lecturing Pure Vanilla on everything he could possibly need to know about pregnancy, they got busy.

Every spare moment they had to themselves, The Fount would bounce his little cookie on his cock and fill him to the brim with his seed.

Less than a month after trying (and trying, and trying, and - ya know what? Just trying for the hell of it) the first early signs of life were present in Pure Vanilla.

They tried switching back and forth, shapeshifting Pure Vanilla into his original form, but keeping his womb so he could still work while he was able to, and returning him to Nilla Waffle’s form once he was home so his dough could relax a little more.

But the constant changing back and forth was hurting his mind more than if he’d just decided to stick with Nilla Waffle for the whole nine months. So, after only a few weeks of trying to work, The Fount officially put Pure Vanilla on house rest and told the cookies of their realm that he was ill and would soon return to his old home for a period of time to relax and heal.

Their cookies were, naturally, concerned and offered to support The Fount and Pure Vanilla however they could.

Nilla Waffle spent much of her pregnancy nesting, rearranging things in the Spire much to The Fount’s chagrin. He often came home and found Nilla Waffle in one room or another that Pure Vanilla usually never ventured to, getting into The Fount’s collection of possessions, and fretting about this or that.

On more than one occasion he came home and found her camped out on the library floor, a collection of books piled high around her as she struggled to read the passages on the page.

“You wrote this book?” She’d ask every time.

And every time his answer was, “A long time ago.”

The Fount wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but seeing his little cookie swell over the months as their little cookie grew inside her made him wonder why they hadn't done this before and made him wonder if he could do it again.

Even when Nilla Waffle was wrecked with nausea, her vertigo adding to the misery, she was the most breathtaking cookie in all of Earthbread.

The Fount held her on his lap, massaging her lower back as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

“You’re wonderful my Fount.” Nilla Waffle mumbled into his neck, "Thank you."

The Fount just smiled.

Any excuse to hold his little cookie he would take.

True to his word, her breast grew heavier as the months went on, her hips widened, and her thighs grew a little pudgier. She was still the most beautiful cookie The Fount had ever seen.

Around the five month mark, however, Nilla Waffle began to experience sharp pain in her abdomen. She cried almost daily, and her hands never left the growing bump in her belly.

“You don't think —?” She couldn't even bring herself to say it.

“No.” The Fount shook his head, “We’re not going to let that idea take root. Try not to dwell on it, my starlight.” But he couldn't help but rub her belly protectively.

One morning, Nilla Waffle was in so much pain, The Fount almost mistook her silence for sleep. He’d only noticed she was awake because of the death grip she had on her pillow and her nightgown.

“Nilla?” He turned and nestled his body against hers, “Nilla, what’s wrong?” He pressed his lips to her neck and hoped he could soothe whatever was causing her pain.

“I-it hurts.” Was all she could croak out.

“What hurts, love?” The Fount laid his clawed hand to her forehead, she felt clammy.

But Nilla Waffle answered him with a dry, staccato moan of pain.

“Starlight?” The Fount tried hard to push his worry aside, but his dough began to tremble in fear. 

Nilla Waffle suddenly began to hyperventilate and The Fount scooped her up into his arms and rushed to the bathroom. He’d only just put her down in front of the toilet when Nilla Waffle dropped her head inside the bowl and threw up a mess of jam and stomach acid.

“I’m staying in today.” The Fount decided, pulling her hair back from her face.

“N-no, no.” Nilla Waffle lightly shook her head, “you have to work…o-our people need you —,”

“ You need me, Pure Vanilla.” The Fount kissed her temple as another round of jam and acid was upchucked into the bowl.

For as much as he disliked jam in the medical sense and sick cookies, The Fount took care of Nilla Waffle as if she was a fragile and priceless treasure.

Once she was done destroying her esophagus, he carried her back to bed and laid her down. He made sure she was comfortable, then he went back around to his side of the bed and laid back down. He tried his best to hide his worries and fear.

Jam in bile wasn't unheard of, but…

He held his little cookie a little tighter, his hands over hers as they cradled their little one.

The next morning, The Fount leaned forward and kissed Nilla Waffle’s cheek. “Starlight?”

Nilla Waffle’s eyes were open, and she stared blankly at the window.

“Will you be okay today?” The Fount asked. He wanted to stay with her again today, but he knew he had to get back to work, lest The Saint found out and came to ruin everything.

Nilla Waffle didn't answer.

The Fount frowned. “You can summon me at any time today, love.” He whispered and kissed her cheek again. 

Still, no response.

The Fount got out of bed and got dressed for the day. Then he walked around and knelt before Nilla Waffle. She didn't even focus on him.

The Fount brushed her blonde locks back from her forehead, “Please, starlight. Anything you need, summon me.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then he turned to her baby bump and pressed a kiss there too. “Please, take care of your mother, little one. I love you both.”

Going to work had never been more difficult. 

After The Fount had trailed off during his morning speech watching a mother and father cookie coo over their fresh little one he pulled Black Sapphire aside and asked his disciple to stick close to him just in case.

Black Sapphire, of course, obliged.

And thank the Witches for him, too, because no sooner had the sun passed its zenith that The Fount felt the tug of magic that meant his little cookie needed him.

The Fount apologized to the crowd that had gathered around him and told Black Sapphire to spread the word that he would not return to the village the rest of the day and he teleported home.

Nilla Waffle was sitting on the bathroom floor, her back to the wall, and her arms held protectively around her body. She looked up at him and let out a mournful sob.

“I-I’m so sorry, my Fount!” She buried her head in her knees.

“Nilla, starlight, what’s wrong?” The Fount knelt beside her.

“They're gone!” Nilla Waffle turned and clung to him, “Our baby is gone!” She sobbed, her face scrunched up and bright red. He could feel her agony and he pulled her onto his lap.

“Oh my starlight,” he cradled her and gently rocked her back and forth, “My love.” He kissed her forehead and squeezed her as tightly as he could, “I’m so sorry.”

They stayed curled up on the bathroom floor all night, sticky with jam, sweat, and tears. The Fount let Nilla Waffle cry her heart and soul out, and anytime she apologized he just gently shushed her.

It wasn't her fault.

The Fount knew how to make a body that could support life. He knew exactly what to do to make sure Nilla Waffle got pregnant quickly. He knew all the best prenatal care and routines.

And it still hadn't been enough.

Perhaps his true curse was to hold the knowledge of life, but be unable to gift it to the cookie he loved most.

By the time the sun was coming up, The Fount finally found the energy to move them. He helped Nilla Waffle pass what remained of their child, cleaned them all up, and carried them both to their bed.

The little dough was beautiful. All ten fingers and toes. The same cute nose as Pure Vanilla. The tiniest ears, lips, and eyes they’d ever seen on a cookie.

Nilla Waffle cried nonstop and just stroked the cold little dough nestled between them. The Fount laid silently and just watched.

As the sun rose and set, The Fount knew what had to be done. “Starlight..?”

Nilla Waffle looked up at him, her lip trembling, “Please don’t take him…”

“I’m sorry, Starlight.”

“Please, no, just a little longer??” She curled herself around the baby dough.

“Starlight…he’s gone…”

“No, please,” Nilla Waffle’s whole body shook with heartbreaking sobs.

The Fount gently lifted the little dough from her arms. Nilla Waffle didn't resist, but she let out the most heart wrenching wail and clung to the pillow their baby slept on.

“Please! Please don't take him away! Please, my Fount!” She screamed.

The Fount took the little babe to the milkcrown garden and buried him there. A single, weeping vanilla orchid bloomed over the smoothed dirt.

Nilla Waffle was still sobbing by the time he returned to their room. The Fount laid beside his other half and pulled her into his arms.

Nilla Waffle sobbed loudly and clung to him as if her life depended on it.

Tonight, it did.

The Fount did not work a full day for weeks. He would wake, give a morning sermon on whatever his people needed to hear, then spend the morning helping only the most dire of requests, and retreat back to the Spire by noon.

Nilla Waffle stayed in their bed and wept.

Most days she just stared at the pillow their baby had slept on. Some days she curled her whole body around it and squeezed it to her flattened, empty womb, as if she might magically be able to put him back together.

But everyday she wept.

The Fount worried for her. She wasn't eating, she was hardly sleeping, she was withering away before his very eyes.

One evening, roughly two months later, The Fount woke Nilla Waffle with a kiss to her temple. “Starlight…whenever you are ready to return to your body…I will do so.”

Nilla Waffle’s lip trembled, and she clung to him, “I…”

The Fount pressed a kiss to her forehead. He wouldn't rush her, but staying shapeshifted for so long could not have been helping her recovery.

She swallowed and looked at him with heartbreak in her eyes, “I want to try again.”

The Fount blinked at her in surprise, “Starlight?”

“Please…”

“Nilla…you’ve been in this form too long.”

“Our baby’s,” she choked up, “our baby’s due date hasn't even passed yet.” She began to cry, “please, one more try!”

The Fount weighed the pros and cons in his head.

The cons won.

Pure Vanilla had been shapeshifted for too long, she needed to be back on her feet and working, losing the first dough had been heartbreaking enough, what if they lost it again? What if he lost them both?

And yet…

The one single pro…

They both wanted a little dough so badly…

The Fount tucked his finger under Nilla Waffle’s chin and tilted her head back so he could capture her lips with his. Nilla Waffle wrapped her arms around his shoulders to pull herself closer to him.

The Fount pushed himself forward, rolling over and pinning her to the bed. When he pulled back, they were both crying. Those stupid milkcrowns bloomed on either side of Nilla Waffle’s head.

The Fount looked over Nilla Waffle’s face, looking for any trace of hesitation. 

He saw none.

He bent low and kissed her deeply, “I love you.” He whispered against her dough.

“I love you, my Fount.” She answered.

This time, The Fount took things slow. He’d already decided he wasn't working today, so he had all day to please and love his other half. He kept their hands intertwined nearly the whole time, whispering praise into his little cookie, who was being so strong and brave for them both.

He filled her over and over again, following her every command as he made love to her for hours. Anything she wanted, he would give her.

He knew his seed would take.

He just hoped this time it would stay.

They received no confirmation until two months later, when they could finally wait no longer and tested her. 

They’d waited until after their baby’s due date to find out.

Nilla Waffle never took her hands off the small bump.

Every morning, afternoon, and evening, she had at least one hand on their baby. She tried to hide it, but The Fount heard her whispered prayers and tearful wishes.

The Fount didn't trust the Witches with their prayers. But he would never tell Nilla Waffle to stop.

This time around, she was too scared to start nesting. Even the nursery, which had been halfway completed, had been sealed with one of their pillows inside. The Spire clung to the room, so The Fount simply sealed it with magic so no one could accidentally stumble upon it.

As they got closer to the five month mark, Nilla Waffle began to have daily panic attacks. The Fount ordered her to bed rest and tried to reassure her that staying calm and thinking positively would do wonders for their baby. Anytime he was out working and she began to panic, she would summon him home and he would be there, cradling her and reassuring her that they were safe. They were all safe.

They got to the end of the second trimester and Nilla Waffle’s anxiety spiked to a concerning degree. 

“We need to be thinking about a nursery.” The Fount kissed her forehead as he laid a cup of tea on her bedside table.

“I can't…” Nilla Waffle whimpered.

“Starlight…”

“What if I lose the baby again? I…I can't go through with that…” Nilla Waffle kept her hands on her belly.

“Then, please,” The Fount scooped her up into her arms, “Indulge me and just…come to the room? Sit with me while I work on it?” He didn't want to do it alone.

Nilla Waffle sniffled, but obliged.

The Fount carried her there and gently sat her down in the rocking chair — the only thing actually put together in the room — before kneeling down and kissing her belly.

“You really need to take better care of your mother, little nebula.” The Fount murmured into her dough, "You're worrying her to crumbs."

The Fount did the work of setting up the nursery, only asking Nilla Waffle for her opinion on where things should go and what she’d like out and available immediately upon the baby’s arrival.

“If the baby comes.” She mumbled.

“When.” The Fount corrected.

It broke his heart to see her so…

Broken. 

The Fount rummaged through the toy box and pulled out a plush cream sheep. It reminded him of the one Pure Vanilla kept in his kitchen and he smiled.

“Here.” He dropped the little toy on her lap.

“What —?”

“To hold when I’m at work.” He nuzzled and kissed her cheek.

“I’m not a child.” Nilla Waffle pouted.

“I didn't say you were.” The Fount smiled.

The sheep helped.

Nilla Waffle did not summon him home nearly as much, but that didn't stop him from stopping by the Spire and checking on them several times a day.

As their due date crept closer, The Fount held his little cookie a little tighter. 

A small part of him feared he would lose them both.

Some force outside of his near-omnipotent control would take away his beloved cookie and their desperately wanted child.

But nothing happened.

Nothing outside of what was expected in a pregnancy. Nilla Waffle woke with sharp pains and cried out.

The Fount was awake in an instant, “What happened? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He rolled over and cupped her face in his hands.

“C-contractions.” Nilla Waffle choked out.

“Con..contract — contractions!” The Fount jumped out of bed and scooped Nilla Waffle up into his arms.

He’d been secretly preparing a space just for this moment. A warm room to keep the baby dough from collapsing the second it arrived, small and cozy, some place that wasn't their room…just in case.

Nilla Waffle had been clinging to the cream sheep plush when he’d picked her up, and she clung to it as her Fount helped her through her labor.

After the final push, Nilla Waffle fell back on the nest of pillows around her.

The room was silent.

Nilla Waffle’s nails dug into the plush cream sheep and she bit her lip to keep from crying.

“Starlight,” The Fount settled down next to her and kissed her forehead, “Would you like to hold him?”

Nilla Waffle cried out in pure relief and joy as a small cry reached her ringing ears. She held her arms out and embraced her baby dough.

“Hello, little one.” She cradled the crying baby dough and kissed his still slightly damp forehead. “Hello, my heart.”

Notes:

I've been convinced to add Mpreg, and y'all are slowly convincing me to commit to a PureFount baby, but just know...it will come at a cost.
How attached are we to Black Sapphire? Just on a totally unrelated note.

Chapter 7: PureFount

Notes:

I don't know why the Mpreg version of this ended up so much more hornier than the "straight" version of this. Sooooo, come get ya freak4freak mpreg!
The Sprites aren't as overtly pregnant here because I wasn't sure how to make the designs more pregnant.

High, needy moans echoed up and down the central spiral of the Spire.

Inside the master bedroom, The Fount and Pure Vanilla had been making love for hours. The air was thick and sweet, both immortal cookies were covered in sweat and small droplets of jam.

“I - I can’t, nnnn-mmmmore.” Pure Vanilla whimpered.

The Fount had Pure Vanilla folded in half under him, “You said you wanted to have a baby.” He reminded his other half.

“W-well you just m-ma-made such a show offffnnnnn,” Pure Vanilla could hardly get his words out, devolving into a babbling mess as his Fount filled his pussy for the sixth time that evening. 

The Fount stayed buried in him, slowly grinding himself through his orgasm, “What was that, starlight?” He asked coyly.

“You - you made ssssuch a show of turnin’ me int’a woman…” Pure Vanilla’s words slurred, “f’gured yous use ‘er.”

The Fount used magic to keep Pure Vanilla’s legs bent up in the air so he could lean forward and cup his face in his hands, “And miss out on seeing all the best parts of you absolutely fucked out of your silly little mind?” He kissed him, forcing his mouth open to throat fuck him with his tongue.

Pure Vanilla moaned and shuddered. His pussy clenched around The Fount’s cock as he came unexpectedly.

The Fount pulled back and nearly collapsed onto him, “ Witches, you feel divine .”

Pure Vanilla blushed, “W-was the pussy necessary, though?” The Fount had, rather unexpectedly shapeshifted Pure Vanilla’s dick into a pussy at the beginning of the evening, something about a theory? Could Pure Vanilla’s new womb hold onto The Fount’s cum if his body was still primarily male? It had been a pretty pitiful excuse if they were both being honest. And the only reason they were conducting this experiment on Pure Vanilla was because it would be easier for him to hide a pregnancy than The Fount.

Part of Pure Vanilla was content to lie in a mating press and be bred all night as The Fount’s cum hole if it meant he also had a womb. He wanted a baby dough so badly, he would have done anything.

The Fount leaned back, stroking the ticklish underside of Pure Vanilla’s thighs, the little cookie under him trembled as he spoke, “Would you have rather given birth out your ass? I can arrange that.”

Pure Vanilla whimpered and jerked as The Fount’s ticklish touch continued to torment him, “N-no…” he admitted quietly. 

His blushed burned brighter as he felt The Fount’s cum slowly dribbled out of his hot cunt. He braced himself, grabbing fistfuls of the bedding as he knew as soon as The Fount saw —

“Oh no no no no~!” The Fount cooed and forced himself back inside Pure Vanilla’s leaky pussy, “not a single drop can be spared, starlight.” 

Pure Vanilla moaned at being stretched full again.

“You want a baby, don't you?” The Fount nuzzled his neck, slowly beginning to thrust into him again. He was stuffed so full, they could see The Fount’s cock bulging out of Pure Vanilla’s stomach.

Pure Vanilla nodded, stubborn tears escaping from the corners of his eyes.

He wanted a baby so bad! 

He wanted his Fount’s baby! 

“Then, we mustn't waste precious materials.” Was The Fount’s final warning before he resumed his brutal pace, tip of his cock kissing the edge of his stuffed womb.

Pure Vanilla could only moan and smile and be a happy little cum doll on his Fount’s cock.

He couldn't wait to grow bigger while carrying their child.

Their child.

Just the thought alone, the thought that all of his Fount’s cum was nestling deep inside his womb that would soon be the first safe home of their child, made Pure Vanilla cry out and arch his back as he came around The Fount’s cock.

Even as Pure Vanilla began to feel the edge of sleep creep into his dough, he begged his Fount to fill him. He didn’t care if he fell asleep, his Fount had full permission to fuck into him and fill him with his divine seed over and over again.

Pure Vanilla’s hips were burning from being held in a mating press for over eight hours straight, and he woke to feel The Fount’s hard cock sliding in and out between his thighs.

“M-mmmm’ F’nt?” Pure Vanilla was still trying to wake up when he was being tugged and pulled and — “Hhhaaaah — hmmmmm!” He moaned as his sore, leaky pussy was stuffed once more, only this time he was on top of his Fount.

The only thing shielding him from the cool morning air was his long hair.

“We should've been getting you pregnant a long time ago, my love.” The Fount said, slowly guiding Pure Vanilla’s hips up and down on his cock. The Fount was merciful in that he did a few testing bounces before sinking Pure Vanilla down to the hilt on his cock.

“I love being able to fill you, over and over again.”

Pure Vanilla just moaned and nodded in agreement.

Any form, any way, Pure Vanilla wanted to be greedy and keep all of his Fount’s cum to himself.

…

They were late to work.

For a few weeks.

And really, it was such a small change.

Pure Vanilla already suffered from vertigo, so nausea was nothing new to them. And Pure Vanilla openly cried all the time, so his mood swings weren't unexpected.

It wasn't until Pure Vanilla woke up and found his Fount’s hand gently stroking the small bump in his lower abdomen that it all became real for them. And suddenly all their half-baked excuses for what they’d tell their people when Pure Vanilla got too big to hide his pregnancy came to the forefront of their minds.

“You're going to have a baby.” The Fount smiled, looking up from the small bump that could have really been anything.

Pure Vanilla sniffled and teared up.

“We’re going to have a baby.” The Fount said again, this time pulling Pure Vanilla flush against him so he could kiss him deeply.

Pure Vanilla smiled into the kiss and giggled joyfully, “We’re going to have a baby!” He cupped his Fount’s head in his hands and deepened their kiss.

For the first few months, hiding the pregnancy was easy. Pure Vanilla’s robes were already large and flowing on him. So what if his hand often lingered on his stomach? No one noticed or pointed it out.

However, that was likely because The Fount had a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

They hardly ever showed public displays of affection, so seeing The Fount of Knowledge all handsy and nuzzling his other half had some cookies of his realm concerned.

Pure Vanilla giggled as The Fount nuzzled his swollen belly. It was late, but neither of them could sleep.

Pure Vanilla had finally reached the point where his robes could no longer conceal his pregnant belly, and the cookies of their realm showed daily concern for his exhaustion levels, so they’d made the decision to put him on home rest until the baby came.

“And you’ll have your papa’s blonde hair, and warm dough.” The Fount rattled on, “you’ll be the perfect little size and vanilla flavor —,”

“And what if they're tall, like their father? And brimming with magic and mischief?” Pure Vanilla stroked The Fount’s white bangs back from his face, “And blueberry flavored?”

“Well, we can always try for another —!” The Fount laughed even as Pure Vanilla playfully smacked him.

“I’d just like for them to be happy and healthy.” Pure Vanilla smiled.

“Naturally,” The Fount nodded, then he crawled up Pure Vanilla’s body, “and they’ll be kind and sweet just like you, with the same beautiful eyes and —,” he began to kiss and nibble Pure Vanilla’s neck.

“M-my Fou-ount!” Pure Vanilla giggled, “St-stop!” He weakly beat on his Virtue’s shoulders.

But The Fount could hardly keep his hands to himself. 

He was obsessed with his little cookie.

Pure Vanilla spent most of his days in house rest just rubbing his pregnant belly, talking to the little dough that was growing inside.

“Your father is very protective of you already, little one.” Pure Vanilla had stopped trying to wear clothes that fit. None of his clothes fit. He could have worn The Fount’s clothes or a bathrobe, but he’d rather stroke his belly and have nothing in between them. 

He rested his head against the stained sugarglass window in the main library and stared out at the village. Today, the library was up on the sixth story, so even if anyone looked up, they’d only see the vague shape of something in the window.

“He worries, near constantly.” Pure Vanilla was gentle as he stroked his baby bump, “He thinks the other Virtues are out to get us and rip us apart.” He began to gently rock himself back and forth, “I keep reassuring him that we will never leave him.”

Pure Vanilla sighed and pushed himself up, his vertigo swayed the room to the left and right before settling down. He kept one hand out to catch himself if he fell, and one hand on his belly.

“So, if you could just stop making me sick, that would help assuage some of his fears.” He laughed to himself before he went to the kitchen to make some tea.

It had taken him a while to get used to walking around naked, and truly, Pure Vanilla didn’t need to be naked, but he loved the reaction of his Fount whenever he did come home to a naked Pure Vanilla.

The first time it had happened, Pure Vanilla had been in the kitchen, as he was right now, and The Fount hadn’t said a word to him before he picked him up, laid him on the table, and began to eat out his leaky, achy pussy.

Just the memory of it was enough to keep Pure Vanilla bare and excited.

Sure enough, when The Fount came home that evening, he found his naked little cookie waiting for him. 

Around the five and half month mark, Pure Vanilla was woken up by sharp pain in his abdomen. His hands instantly found his belly.

The pain dulled, and then was sharp again.

Pure Vanilla inhaled sharply.

The Fount’s hands were on his belly as well, and he pulled himself closer and mouthed at the back of his neck. “The baby is kicking.” He mumbled.

Pure Vanilla felt tears burn the corner of his eyes and he smiled. “ Our baby is kicking.” He whispered.

The Fount chuckled sleepily into his neck, “ Our baby.” He repeated.

Pure Vanilla turned and nuzzled his Fount, “I love you.”

The Fount smiled, “I love you more, my little cookie.”

Pure Vanilla loved his little baby dough, his little baby bump. He loved stroking and holding his belly.

It was strange, however, to see his reflection. From the chest up, Pure Vanilla still looked like…well…Pure Vanilla. But then his swollen belly showed just how altered his body had become, all from a little bit of The Fount’s magic.

Of course, his whole body would have been changed and altered if The Fount had gone ahead and turned him into Nilla Waffle Cone Cookie.

Part of him was secretly pleased his Fount had chosen him over his more feminine form. 

Like he’d finally won at a game only he was playing.

And why wouldn’t he have been happy? 

What did he have to be sad or scared or worried about when The Fount would come home from working all day to find a naked Pure Vanilla just admiring his pregnant belly in the mirror and immediately be pulled into his arms and smothered in kisses?

Pure Vanilla was made for The Fount, after all. 

And The Fount had no complaints, if anything, he was already thinking of how soon after giving birth could he get his other half pregnant again. 

The poor thing had no idea how seductive he was just by standing naked with his hand on his pregnant belly, how aroused he was whenever he remembered that it was his baby growing inside his little cookie.

He loved holding his little cookie while he held their baby.

He both wanted desperately to hold his baby, and was terrified for when they’d arrive.

“What is that you have, my starlight?” The Fount wrapped his arms around Pure Vanilla and rested his chin on his shoulders. 

Pure Vanilla was wearing only a bathrobe, but he hadn't bothered to tie it shut, so his whole belly was proudly on display. “A letter from White Lily. I had simply asked her if she could send me more ginger. Its growing period there is longer than ours.”

“Did…does she…” The Fount tightened his grip on his little cookie.

“I didn’t tell her.” Pure Vanilla smiled sadly, “I know you wish to keep our baby just between us for now.” He wished he could have told his friend about their baby, but he respected The Fount’s wishes. 

He turned and nuzzled his neck, “I used my vertigo as an excuse.”

The Fount sighed with relief and nuzzled him back, “You’re so smart, my little cookie.” 

“I learned from the best.” Pure Vanilla giggled as he was swept up into The Fount’s arms.

The Fount knew Pure Vanilla did not like hearing about his fears, not in a dismissive or inconsiderate way. But he knew Pure Vanilla did not like The Saint of Solidarity.

Early in the pregnancy, The Fount had continuously voiced his fears of being caught, and Pure Vanilla had put his foot down on the matter.

“If you say another word about The Saint, I am leaving. I am leaving and I will have our baby back home and you will just have to deal with it.”

“But this is our home.” The Fount had wrapped his arms around Pure Vanilla, “ This is our baby’s home!”

“Then stop talking about The Saint! He cannot do anything to us!”

“But —,”

“Blueberry Milk Cookie, I will walk out of this Spire if you —,”

The Fount had decided kissing him and keeping him safe in the Spire was more important than indulging his fear in The Saint.

The Fount gently laid Pure Vanilla on their bed and crawled up between his legs to rest his head on his baby bump. “How was my little starlight today?”

“Are you asking me, or the baby?” Pure Vanilla asked with a smile and ran his hands through The Fount’s hair.

“Whichever one of you wishes to grace me with an answer.” The Fount teased, kissing his baby bump.

Pure Vanilla sighed and rolled his eyes, “Then I suppose I will answer.” 

“Pity, I was so hoping our little one would be here today.” The Fount teased.

“Today, I started work on the nursery. I got a few things done.” Pure Vanilla ignored him.

“Like?”

“Like putting away blankets, assembling some things.” Pure Vanilla felt warm and happy and began to drift to sleep.

“You assembled things alone?” The Fount perked up, “Naked? Without me?”

Pure Vanilla laughed, “No, I wore clothes.”

“Darn.” The Fount nestled himself back down between his legs.

The baby kicked just then.

“See? Even the baby is upset that you were dressed.” The Fount glanced up at him with a grin.

“I’m starting to think you only got me pregnant to see me naked.” Pure Vanilla gently tugged at his hair for attention.

“Oh, no,” The Fount shook his head, “My beautiful little cookie wanted a baby so badly he held onto the wish for weeks until he bursted into tears at my feet and prayed for one.” He crawled up and began to kiss and nip at Pure Vanilla’s collarbone.

“And I, in my infinite grace, mercy, and wisdom, decided to grant him his wish.” He kissed up Pure Vanilla’s neck, relishing the tremors and breathy moans his little cookie let out.

The Fount kissed Pure Vanilla deeply, “You being naked is an unexpected perk. One I fully intend to study.”

“Study? Hm?” Pure Vanilla looped his arms around The Fount’s neck and pulled him back down for another kiss.

“Oh yes.” The Fount nipped at his bottom lip, “I simply must discover what other symptoms result in you skipping around our Spire naked all day, every day.”

“I do not skip.” Pure Vanilla pouted, a warm blush spread from his cheeks to his chest.

The Fount kissed his pout away, laying his breathtaking little cookie down and prepared to devour him whole.

As their due date drew closer, The Fount continued to worship his beautiful little cookie. He put Pure Vanilla on bed rest, half because he didn’t want his little cookie to have unnecessary stress, and half because he knew sex could sometimes help ease pregnancy pains and kick start labor.

He loved his soul mate, sue him.

He loved feeling his baby kick and wriggle inside his little cookie. 

He was currently feeling a lot of kicking. He looked up at Pure Vanilla who was grimacing. “Starlight?”

“I - I think it’s time.” Pure Vanilla frowned.

“Now?” The Fount perked up. It was morning, but he could afford to be late, today of all days.

Pure Vanilla nodded, “Ohhhh, yes, now.” He sounded in pain.

The Fount knew just what to do, he had to for the cookies of his realm, but helping his little cookie through labor was totally different.

He could only watch and offer words of encouragement as he waited for their little cookie to come into the world.

Pure Vanilla was a champion, pushing their little one out in just a few pushes. Wet, screaming, and thrashing, The Fount scooped up their little one and began to clean their little boy.

His vanillian dough was covered in jam, which The Fount quickly cleaned away. 

“Ffff-fount?”

“I’m here.” The Fount quickly swaddled their little baby and walked to the head of their bed where he could sit beside Pure Vanilla and show him their son. “And so is our son.”

Pure Vanilla began to cry, “O-oh! Hello little one.” The Fount carefully passed him to Pure Vanilla, who immediately cradled and kissed his damp forehead. “Hello, starlight.”

Notes:

I've had enough interest in teh babies, but let me know, would yall want some non-canon fankid stories? I've already got sprites!

Chapter 8: FountVanilla

Notes:

Can you tell I had no ideas for a chapter title lmao
If I think of something better then I'll change it later
And again, I don't know how the yaoi chapters ended up way hornier than the other ones. That seems like something for me to unpack later LMAO

Also, did someone ask for more Saint of Solidarity? Coulda sworn one of ya did 😈😈😈

“Please, my Fount, just consider it!” Pure Vanilla felt like a young cookie, at school, begging for his teachers to just give him one more extension on a project he had put off to the last minute.

“The answer is N-O, little one.” The Fount continued to float away from him, “People would notice if one of us was out of work.”

“But surely someone as clever as you could come up with an excuse as to why!” Pure Vanilla had to practically jog to keep up with him. “Please!” Pure Vanilla cut him off at the staircase and looked up at him, “You are so smart, and kind, and generous and I know we could do it!”

“Flattery, while appreciated, will get you nowhere.” The Fount pinched his cheek and gave him a shake.

Pure Vanilla pouted as The Fount floated around him and down the stairs.

“Why won't you give me this, Blue?” Pure Vanilla whispered, more to himself, but of course The Fount heard.

At the bottom of the stairs, The Fount froze at the question not meant for his ears. He pushed away how hurt he was and turned back, “Are you coming? We have a busy day today.”

At the top of the stairs Pure Vanilla unclenched his fists, “Coming!” He turned and walked down the stairs, “You could transform me into Nilla Waffle —,”

“Your mind was not meant to handle a shapeshifted body for a prolonged period of time, starlight.” The Fount went to kiss his forehead, but Pure Vanilla avoided him. He tried to maintain composure.

“Then you could shapeshift into Blueberry Milk —,”

“I am Blueberry Milk.” The Fount deadpanned.

Pure Vanilla frowned.

“Now, no more of this baby talk, starlight.” The Fount tried once more to kiss Pure Vanilla, and was denied again when he turned his head away. His eye twitched in irritation as Pure Vanilla walked towards the front door.

“Busy day today.” Pure Vanilla threw his words back in his face.

The Fount was in a miserable mood all day. 

Sometime after lunch, Pure Vanilla perked back up and played his role of Compassionate Light of Truth well.

The Fount, however, continued to stew in his anger. He didn't like being denied by his little cookie.

At some point in the evening, Pure Vanilla was helping a small gaggle of kids carry pumpkins and gourds door to door to drop off on everyone's porches, and The Fount watched them bitterly from a distance.

Black Sapphire elbowed him, “Eyes. Sir.” Was his warning.

The Fount forced Shadow Milk’s eyes closed and turned in the direction of the Spire, “Please inform Pure Vanilla that I’ve retired home for the evening.”

“Yes, sir.” Black Sapphire nodded.

Pure Vanilla smiled as the children all excitedly shared with him what costumes they would wear on the upcoming holiday. But his heart was still heavy.

Why wouldn't his Fount gift him their own child? Why couldn't their little dough be excitedly sharing their costume ideas with him? 

After escorting children home with the help of Black Sapphire, Pure Vanilla returned to the Spire.

The foyer was dark and quiet, and he sighed. 

Wouldn't the Spire have been so wonderful and full of love and life if a little one could run up and hug him at the end of a long day?

Pure Vanilla teared up just imagining it and he slumped back against the wall and slid to the floor.

He didn't think he asked for much. And his Fount was able to give him what he wanted. So why wouldn't he give him a baby? 

Well, he knew why, he just wished The Fount would trust that Pure Vanilla could handle himself and a baby.

After Pure Vanilla had gotten all of his tears out, he pushed himself to his feet. As much as he wanted to stay curled up on the foyer floor, he knew The Fount would just be angry with him for avoiding their bed.

The Spire spun him in circles a few times, his sadness ebbed away as frustration took over.

Maybe he should have slept on the foyer's floor, since the Spire didn't want to lead him to their bedroom. Unfortunately, just as he resolved himself to sleeping on the floor, he found their bedroom door.

The door was ajar and Pure Vanilla paused as the smell of sweat and blueberries hit him.

He could hear something wet squelching and then a needy moan.

Shock burned his face as he pushed their door open. 

The Fount was laying on their bed, completely naked, legs bent up, and a hand fingering his pussy.

His…

What?!

The Fount looked up at him, sweaty and desperate, “It’s about time.” He panted.

Pure Vanilla's mouth was dry and he began to strip as he walked towards the bed, “Wha — what is the occasion?” He didn't dare get his hopes up.

“I figured out a way to give you what you, hmmmm - haa-ah,” The Fount arched his back as his fingers scissored himself open, “Want.”

All the jam in Pure Vanilla’s body rushed to his cock, “What I —?” He crawled onto their bed and watched with great pleasure as The Fount finger fucked himself, slick absolutely gushing around his hand and onto the bed.

The Fount nodded, “You want a baby?” He panted.

Pure Vanilla braced his hands on either side of The Fount and nodded eagerly, “Y-yes! Yes, my Fount!” His heart was racing so fast he worried he was going to pass out before he could get started.

The Fount pulled his hand out of his pussy and used his fingers to spread his puffy lips, “Then, breed me.” He ordered.

Pure Vanilla didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed The Fount’s hip with one hand and lined his cock up with his other hand. He only had to pump himself twice before he was stiff and ready, and he slowly began to sink himself inside the hot, wet, needy cunt of his Fount.

Pure Vanilla moaned as he slipped into the hilt. “A-are you —? This isn't…? Please, my Fount,” he began to roll his hips, gently thrusting in and out of his divine pussy. “Please, don't tease me…do you…?”

The Fount nodded, “I have a womb.”

Pure Vanilla’s gasp devolved into a moan as his thrusts sped up. “Y-you do?”

“Yes, now fill it.” His Fount ordered, a hand reaching down to finger his puffy, slick clit. 

Pure Vanilla did not have to be told twice. 

He fucked himself into The Fount’s needy, squeezing hole, cumming into him over and over again until he finally collapsed on top of him.

And as much as The Fount reassured him that their elevated statuses as a Virtue and a Hero would almost assuredly result in their first time taking, Pure Vanilla insisted on filling him again the next morning.

And the next evening.

And the following morning.

And the following evening.

And every morning for the rest of the week.

And every evening for the rest of the week.

And how did one cookie have so much stamina??

The Fount wondered if perhaps the Witches had sent Pure Vanilla to test his endurance. He was almost grateful when the first signs of pregnancy manifested themselves because Pure Vanilla gave his pussy a slight reprieve.

“So…so how are we going to do this?” Pure Vanilla asked, pulling The Fount’s hair back from his face as he threw up into the toilet.

The Fount held up a finger, he needed some grace and a moment to collect himself.

“I will,” he panted, “continue to work until I am too big to work.”

Pure Vanilla smiled and kissed his temple, “I love you.”

The Fount just grumbled.

True to his word, though, The Fount worked through the early months of his pregnancy. He was able to hide his small but growing bump under his robes and all would have been well…

If Pure Vanilla would stop looking at him like he had carved the world (well, in a way, he had, but this was different!).

But how could Pure Vanilla not look at him like he’d hung the stars in the heavens above? The Fount was positively glowing.

Radiant!

Breathtaking!!

They easily explained Pure Vanilla’s sudden clinginess away. He came from a culture where casual touches were the norm and encouraged. He was just home sick.

But even at home, Pure Vanilla could not keep his hands to himself.

How could he?

His beloved, virtuous, wonderful Fount had finally given him what he wanted. 

A baby.

Pure Vanilla nuzzled The Fount’s growing bump every night. “I love you.” He whispered to the growing baby, kissing up the baby bump to The Fount’s chest, “I love you.” He whispered to The Fount, "I love you.” He nibbled on the sensitive spot under his ear.

The Fount was fine with being pregnant if it meant his little cookie worshipped him daily and nightly.

The Fount worked until the six and a half month mark when Pure Vanilla wrapped his arms around him and The Fount realized how visible his baby bump was.

“I think it’s time we come up with an excuse.” The Fount murmured.

Pure Vanilla hummed and rubbed his hands over the bump. “You could spend the day in the observatory?”

“Doing what?”

Pure Vanilla thought, “Maybe we could say the other virtues warned you of a storm? And you’re tracking it?”

“Oh yes, and what will we do when no storm comes?” The Fount asked.

Pure Vanilla sighed, he wasn't as good at coming up with lies as The Fount was.

The Fount turned and patted his head, “Worry not, little one, I will think of something.”

For the first day, Pure Vanilla simply shared that The Fount was busy and would be back to work soon.

But it was less than a week before the concern of their people left the Realm of Knowledge and reached the realm of another Virtue.

Pure Vanilla smiled and reassured their people using the excuses The Fount gave him to spread. He felt bad lying to them, but they were trying to keep their baby a secret for as long as possible.

Black Sapphire squeezed his way through the crowd and grabbed Pure Vanilla’s arm, “Sir, the Virtue of Solidarity is here.” 

Pure Vanilla’s dough felt cold. “Where?”

“He’s making his way to the Spire.” 

Pure Vanilla quickly and loudly excused himself and ran for home.

Part of him hoped The Fount would stay inside and not engage with The Saint.

Part of him knew The Fount would take any opportunity to piss The Saint off.

Luckily, Pure Vanilla made it to the Spire before The Saint, but only just. He slipped inside and leaned back against the door as The Saint began to pound on it.

“I know you are in there, Light of Truth.” His voice reverberated the door.

Pure Vanilla panted and tried to catch his breath before he answered, “One moment!”

“Starlight?” The Fount’s voice echoed from high in the Spire.

Pure Vanilla just loudly shushed him before turning back to the door and opening it just enough to peek outside. “Yes, Saint, sir?”

The Saint’s fiery plume lashed behind him like an angry whip, “Where is The Fount of Knowledge?”

Pure Vanilla gripped the door and put on his calmest smile, “Working.”

The Saint tilted his head down, ensuring Pure Vanilla knew exactly where he was looking, “Do not lie to me, Light of Truth. I am more familiar with the powers of your soul jam than you will ever be.”

Pure Vanilla felt sick to his stomach, “Then it should come at no surprise that I am shocked you are spending more time here than doing work in your own realm.”

A pair of arms wrapped around his midsection and a sharp chin rested on his shoulder, “Ohhhh~ Sssssaint Salt.”

The Saint straightened back up, “Blue…”

“What on Earthbread are you doing here ~?” The Fount asked in a mockingly sweet tone.

Pure Vanilla made sure his grip on the door was firm, and he subtly held his arms out so his sleeves could block more of The Fount from view.

The Saint’s armored hand creaked as he tightened his grip on his sword. “Blue, concerning rumors from your cookies have reached my realm. I am here to ensure you are well and reassure your —,”

“Ohhh, my cookies are just so kind,” The Fount purred, “But as you can see,” Pure Vanilla could hear him smiling, and he kept his smile on his face, “I am well, I am working, and so is my little cookie.” Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but smirk victoriously as The Fount nuzzled his neck.

“Ssssssooooo, if that is all —,” The Fount began to push the door shut with his foot.

The Saint grabbed the door with frightening speed and Pure Vanilla staggered back into The Fount’s chest trying to keep a grip on it.

“I know you’re lying to me, Blue —,”

“I wonder how poor White Lily Cookie feels, knowing you are neglecting your duties because you’re far too concerned with my duties?” The Fount’s tone was one of warning.

The Saint was silent.

“I seem to recall one of us Virtues saying that our work reflects on our other halves, and that the Witches would crumble any cookie that fails us.” The Fount’s voice was low, void of all the teasing, musical tones it’d held before.

Pure Vanilla glared up at The Saint.

If he caused White Lily to crumble, he’d give The Saint a lesson in compassion and solidarity that he’d never forget.

The Saint tilted his head and The Fount’s grip on Pure Vanilla tightened. “I also told you that I vowed to the Witches that I would ensure we never faltered again.”

“And who is the only Virtue to not have accepted their other half?” Pure Vanilla asked. 

The Saint’s neck snapped down, his coal red eyes burning through his helmet at him.

Not that he wanted to put his friends' business out for The Saint to take advantage of, but Pure Vanilla wanted him gone now. “It seems to me, Saint, sir, that you have some work to do.”

The Saint glared down at him, his coal red eyes burning his dough. Then, The Saint looked at The Fount, “This is not over, Blue. I will be keeping a close eye on you.”

“I’m sure you will.” The Fount growled.

And with that, Pure Vanilla and The Fount harshly closed the door in his face.

Pure Vanilla let go on the breath he’d been holding and rested his forehead on the door. A cold sweat broke out across his dough and he clutched his chest as if the encounter had physically pained him.

The Fount grabbed and turned Pure Vanilla around.

“My Fount, I’m sor - rrmmph!” Pure Vanilla barely had time to apologize before The Fount had him pinned to the door and his tongue down his throat. Never one to turn down a kiss from his Fount, Pure Vanilla kissed him back, nudging his tongue against the Fount’s so he could breathe.

The Fount pulled back, his pupils blown wide, “That was, by far, the most attractive thing you’ve ever done.”

“O-Oh.” 

And Pure Vanilla found out exactly how his Fount felt about that as he was pulled to their room.

The rest of The Fount’s pregnancy went as expected, and on a night when the moon was full and low the Realm of Knowledge gained a little princess.

Notes:

Since I've now been "found" by two of you (hello, friends), I might as well share that if ya wanna see more sprites, stories, and (sometimes) spoilers for drabble ideas, you can find me on Tik Tok at Sweeneysart.

Notes:

As with other smuts I've written, I'm moderating comments, so don't be weird.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of PureFount Drabbles