Sumi's place

Pure Vanilla Cookie was always a gentle soul, and it reflected wholeheartedly in his relationship with you. Always patient, always kind, especially when it came to the bedroom.

The two of you even had your first times together, where he'd shook underneath you as you sat down on him, sliding into you smoothly, like a lock clicking into place.

It felt right. He was the perfect, adorable size for you.

Then, when he left for Beast Yeast you missed him so terribly, so deeply.. and yet you couldn't bring yourself to touch yourself without his presence. You knew he loved to make you feel good, so something in the back of your mind told you he'd be disappointed if he wasn't there to witness your pleasure.

When he came back? He was different. Taller, his beauty like no other. A presence, a radiance that outshined all else. To stand beside him was an honor- a fever dream to know he was all yours.

But his awakening posed a problem you hadn't seen coming.

His dick was fucking massive. Every part of him was, really, but especially that log between his legs. Before, he was, well, modest. You loved him and you loved his body, and you were glad he previously could fit into you so easily with… some of the activities you put him up to.

You knew he'd never hurt you. He'd sooner crumble than soil a crumb on your body.

Yet it was hard to not feel intimidated when he first showed his face, sunnier than ever… you could barely keep a straight face because of the very pronounced bulge in his robes.

It should have been flattering– and don’t take that the wrong way, it definitely was– but the idea that he was so openly aroused in public by the mere sight of you set off alarm bells. 

Before, he'd been a little more shy in his affections, only letting himself become worked up in the privacy of your own chambers. ‘I'd prefer to not expose any of my subjects to that side of me.’ He'd told you one night, flustered as you curled his vanilla cream hair.

But now, he was absolutely shameless. Proudly displaying his need for you in public– even as the castle servants glanced, mortified by seeing their king in such a way. 

On the first night of his return, he'd followed you around like a lost puppy, desperate for a chance to decompress with your company. You still had one more request to polish off before you could retire for the night, and you found yourself in the castle's library reading over some old manuscripts that hadn't yet been modernised. 

He sat with you quietly, providing small inputs on the translation. Getting to share such a comfortable silence with you was what he’d been yearning for. Beast Yeast was hectic, and he’d had barely a moment to rest– the cracks still ran deep in regards to the Spire, too.

And well, you couldn't really blame him when the crux of his robes started rising the moment your thigh bumped his. It was innocent- you’d merely been reaching over for a change of ink, but it sent his heart leaping, body temperature quickly rising. 

You didn't notice his suffering at first, absorbed in reading over your work while your husband squirmed beside you– in fact, you didn’t until he gingerly took hold of your wrist. You looked over to him inquisitively, gasping as you witnessed him. Flushed just lightly, tilting his head so his hair cascaded down his shoulders like liquid gold. 

When he spoke, his voice was low, tentative, but sure. 

“Dear… I apologise for doing this but…”

He slowly guided your hand, feeling your stomach jolt as you realised just what the big problem was. 

“I need you. Please, may I have you?”

You’re speechless. It feels… superheated, like the scalding surface of an oven. His silky robes slid so smoothly over him, thin enough that you could feel the shape of his cock with distinction. It felt thick, heavy in your palm as you squeezed him, in shock over what you had your hand wrapped around. 

His hips tilted forward just barely, chasing the gentle constrict of your hand. Soft lips part as he sighs in content, head falling lax into his collarbone. Robes bundled up around him, inviting as they reminded you of disturbed sheets. 

Witches– they barely hid anything. You watched in awe as the bulge swelled, growing harder beneath your very fingertips… and it was big. Sure, he may have been on the smaller side before, but this had just gone overboard. Even though you were only feeling the top of it, your fingers would have no chance of meeting each other if you’d tried.

How did it feel so hot, so heavy? Was he not even wearing underwear? You’re practically jerking him off already with how thin these robes are.

You squeeze him just barely, trying to process just how much you were dealing with here, and found yourself suddenly melded to him. He hooked his arm around your hip, unashamedly taking a fistful of ass as your face is pressed into his generous chest. His hips bucked against your limp hand. 

“I'm sorry about this my dear,”

The situation was devolving way too quickly for your liking– he’d slipped off the top of his robes in a fervor, letting it pool around his waist in a bid to free his heated skin. You weren’t safe either, as he lifts you effortlessly and sets you face down on the couch. He wasn’t rough– but there was no room to squirm away from his roaming hands as he kept you stationary with one hand on your shoulderblades. 

His warm weight settles atop you, rolling his needy cock against the back of your thighs. Your pants and underwear are yanked mercilessly down your ass, he doesn’t even bother to remove them completely, simply leaving them caught between your thighs. It only made you feel more vulnerable.

You gasp as he grips your hips and gives one heavy grind, sliding the fat base directly against the seam of your lips. You're genuinely afraid he's just gonna try and shove it in– previously, you could take him without any prior prep, but now? Witches, no.

You hiss again as he gives another languid grind, your slick only just barely starting to coat him with how terribly big he was. 

“You're so… petite, now. Y/N”

Anybody would be little next to you dude– oh no.

The wide tip presses wholly against your hole, the light pressure he exerted not even beginning to spread you apart. There was no relent even as you wriggled nervously against his hold on your hips, even daring to coo at your nervous sounds.

He simply nudged himself against you, making a mess as his size smears your own slick around like a too-big paintbrush. 

“I missed you so much my love. Every night– I thought about you. I yearned for you. I saved myself for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the confession. Did he really feel the same way–?

“And… I'm sorry if it's a little cruel of me, but I just can't wait anymore,”

And your heart subsequently drops as you feel the widest pressure you’ve ever felt down there grow, fat tip teasing your tiny hole open. It could barely even start to nudge past the tight ring of muscle, and you grit your teeth as some part of your makeup starts to shift. You’d never experienced something like this, like he threatened to tear you apart and shape you anew.

But, besides for that first opening feeling, and as he pants and whimpers with how much he needs to be inside you, he can't just fit himself past your tight entrance. 

There's a pause as he audibly pants, giving a tiny little moan that you knew so well– and unfortunately, it meant he was aroused out of his mind.

You feel cold wetness land on you down there- did he really just fucking spit on you?

Even though it was gross, it was the extra bit of lubrication that did the trick, as you feel the pinching stretching start with distinct horror. You can’t help but give a tiny sob as the tip of him pops into you all at once. The sound of it was embarrassingly loud, and your hips grew weak as you regretfully experienced what it’d be like to sodomize yourself with a soda can. 

How could your husband be so cruel when he's so much larger than you? You were reduced to breathy whimpers, begging him to be gentle repeatedly. He didn't even let you go completely limp, holding you up as he ever so slowly displaced your insides with his cock.

Your head hangs heavy as all you can feel is your husband and how cruelly he's shoving himself into you. Is this karma for how thoroughly you've tortured him in the past? 

Your head hangs heavy, unable to keep the strength up as though him shoving his cock into you had sapped it all away. All you can feel is him, your beloved husband, and the cruelty he’s putting your body through to satisfy his own needs. Is this karma for how thoroughly you've picked him apart in the past?

Him being so dominant was unheard of in your relationship– being gentle was simply a part of Pure Vanilla. It was ingrained into his dough, and you'd gleefully taken the role of dominating such a darling cookie. 

You suppose it was hypocritical to blame him when you’d subjected him to the worst of your own desires.

Sure, you’d been a little mean with it, but did the Witches really think it was an appropriate punishment to give your husband a strong libido and a literal fucking horse cock?

He gave tiny, mean little ruts into your body, fighting against the resistance just enough to not tear you, but still unrelentingly opening you up further and further. You’re horrified to see only a quarter of him has sunk into you. 

Witches– You’d really been calling upon them alot tonight. But it was warranted! You’d realised the two of you were still in the library. This was public!

He only smiled at you when you told him with a panicked expression, patting your head like it was just all something he’d planned.

The old Pure Vanilla would never do something like thisssSS-!

Oh-!

With a hiss, he sank several inches into you at once, your whole body locking up praying he wouldn't just shove the whole thing in. Until he bumped into a wall deep inside you, sending you reeling. Oh no way! 

Only half of him had fit, and he was shoved right up against your cervix, leaking pre directly into your womb. There's no way he could fit any more!

But he didn't acknowledge that. Leaning over you, he presses ghosts of kisses to the back of your neck. Uttering quiet praise and, most ominously promising you that ‘we can fit the rest next time,'.

It was completely still, only the flicker of candlelight convincing you time hadn't stopped as you tried to cope with being smothered from the inside and out. His hair fell over you like a curtain, blocking your view so that there was nothing in your world but him. 

Everything was hazy, his warmth seeping into your body soothing your tensed muscles. There was only so much you could relax, feeling him push against you from all angles.

But the moment's rest was long deserved– if he moved at all right now you think something would actually break. 

His skin feels so smooth as he nuzzles into your cheek, pressing tiny kisses to the edge of your lips.

“You feel so lovely… like I've truly come home.”

He claims your lips, using one hand to tilt your jaw up, then shakily breathes out.

“This is new for us isn't it? Normally you treat me so well. Every night in Beast Yeast, I'd imagine you touching me– riding me, so perfectly like you always do.”

His arm– so much more toned then it used to be– slides under your tummy, squeezing just barely into the plush… you could feel just how strong he'd become, even with him exerting barely any pressure.

“I feel close already just thinking about it. Do you think tomorrow night, you could do that for me?”

Witches. He wasn't lying. You felt him pulse inside you in exquisite detail, and shivered as a shock of heat dribbles into you. An omen that made you shiver just thinking how much he'd cum if he was leaking this much already.

Tomorrow night...?

You breathed out, before your voice locked up as he began to pull out.

Bracing yourself on his arm underneath you didn't stop it from feeling like he was pulling out your insides with him. Sticky fluid bubbled from where he stretched you open.

There was no way you could even begin to think about tomorrow when you're not sure you're going to survive tonight.

It was hot. So very hot– the copious amounts of slick that coated him as he pulled out. A lewd mix of his overwhelming pre and your body frantically trying to keep up with what it's being subject to.

You could feel in terrible detail the relief that settles into your pelvis when he pulls out until his tip kisses your hole, ready to shove back in to fill your stomach to bursting.

The poor library sofa… it'd have to be replaced with how badly it had been defaced.

He presses his lips to your temple before breaching you all over again, a slick sound ringing out. His moan vibrates against your skull, barely able to process the pleased sound as he purposely grinds against the deepest part of you.

There's barely any time to rest before he's pulling out again.

Everything about it reads gentle– how he kisses you, and holds your head up when it lolls weakly. But there was no room to be gentle with how big he was compared to you. 

The pace he set, ever so slow, felt brutal all the same. In fact– it felt even more torturous as he let you feel every single inch and every ridge of him scraping along your walls.

You reach back and steady a hand on his thigh, the other gripping the couch for your life, feeling how the solid muscle tenses. His neglected robe had pooled over his knees, brushing against the backs of your own as he moved.

“Ng-”

Feeling his thigh shove against your hand as he thrust makes you dig your nails in on reflex, earning you the roughest buck into you yet, a wet squelch accompanying. 

“Ah-! Do that again!”

You’ve made a big mistake.

His pace picks up, rocking your body helplessly while giving light hums of pleasure. He had absolutely no right sounding that pretty as he stuffed himself inside you again and again. The raw stretch worsened as your insides ached with the need to orgasm already– your abstinence had not been kind to you, and even the rough treatment was making your stomach feel heavy with the need. 

Everything started to buzz around you, witches you were gonna cum– each thrust sending you closer to the deep end as he began to whimper into your ear.

“So, Hn!- wet for me… so beautiful.”

Your walls could barely even begin to constrict around him, and the inability to move only worsened the hold cumming put on your body. But still, you shook underneath him like a leaf as he relished in your body, pressing kisses to your throat as he whined.

“Ah- Dearest! I need more- again, again… haa!”

The heat ontop of you disappears, Pure Vanillas cock slipping from your body and bumping wetly against your inner thigh. You're then yanked backwards, your arms collapsing under the pressure, cheek smushing into the couch helplessly.

He grips the tops of your thighs firmly and holds you airborne like nothing, even holding you one handed for a moment as he notches himself against your pussy and shoves deep unrelentingly stretching you once again.

“It'll be okay– I'll be done soon- just- more… more! more!”

He grew more and more desperate with each plea for more, bucking into you harshly in such a way that you knew you'd be insanely sore in the morning. You feel like nothing more than a toy as he holds onto you like a lifeline, using your body to pleasure himself. 

The wet slapping was so deafening, you barely heard him speak.

“Mnn! Gh- cumming soon- you'll take it, right d-dear?”

“Oh, I kn-know you will. I'll give you all of me.”

Fuck.

He's already starting to stutter into you, grinding himself harshly into the front of your tummy. You'd done something like this to milk him plenty of times before– but it was so much more overwhelming having it done to you, your sensitive G spot tortured relentlessly.

And you could feel how much he was leaking and pulsing, he was so close and he was gripping you so hard and-

“Mmnnh! Oh!”

His grip suddenly became vice-like, digging into the fat of your hips and fighting to fit as much of his cock as he could into you. Even as you gasp at the uncomfortable stretching sensation, painful sparks echoing through.

You're smothered again as he returns to leaning over you, his heated stomach pressing into your back. He was moaning way too loud in your ear.

With how taut you're stretched around him, you feel every pulse and the gooey feeling inside you grows. Each spurt inside your cervix makes your body involuntarily clench around him– but with how swollen he's gotten, you barely can.

It feels so… limiting. You can't move, can't clench around him, only let out a little squeal as your body locks up weakly in orgasm.

It barely even felt pleasurable, just enough to throw your mind for a loop as your belly is filled so thoroughly. With how much he's dumped into you, it's begun dribbling down the front of your pussy like syrup. You flinch from the overstimulation as the heat rushes past your clit as it drops in fat globs onto the couch.

He's panting on top of you, shaking as he milks out his orgasm with tiny little thrusts, and you jump weakly with each one. Even the little kisses he peppers to your cheek and lips you can barely respond to.

You're completely limp, even as he shifts you onto your back and lays on his side, leaning on one arm. He had no right to look so loving, after doing… all that. To you. And he still hadn't pulled out! He shifted inside you as he leaned down to kiss you– chaste first, then holding your head to deepen it.

One large hand splayed itself protectively on your sweaty, cum coated tummy. It was then you realised how much he bulged out of you, a slight round bump full of his cock.

He unashamedly felt it over, making you whimper as you're compressed from the outside.

“So perfect…”

He nuzzles his nose into yours.

“Look at that. I fit so well into you– just like I did before, hm?”

It's absolutely not like before!

Another unintentional clench around him pushes out a wave of cum– and makes his eyes crack open just barely to watch how it bubbles out. Seeing his love ooze out while you two were still connected so deeply.

You have to shove him away by the chest as his constant pecks grow more heated.

He looks unbothered, even as you complain about doing this in a library, and how the sofa would need to be replaced and how the hell did it get on the floor?! How do you even cum that much?!

There’s an appalling level of uncaring he never displayed before as he stood, tucking you neatly into the crook of his arm with his cock still sunk up to your womb. You can't help but whimper as it shifts against your hypersensitive insides, rapidly cooling semen still dribbling from you. 

He shrugged his robes on, pressing gentle kisses to your teary cheeks, although you swear it was just an excuse to lick the tears away… the care was appreciated none the less. But what you wanted most was to get out of that stuffy library. Whispering sweet nothings to you, he left that miserably defaced couch behind. 

Every step towards your quarters was pure torture. Your tummy felt overstuffed, his cock plugging up all the cum he’d stuffed inside you. Embarrassingly some did still drip out onto the marble floors. 

You had to pull your own underwear up for some shred of privacy, although with him still inside you couldn't fully cover yourself.  

You’re a little worried as to why he hadn’t pulled out yet– and you were craving being relieved from feeling like your pelvis was being pried apart– but you were thankful to not have to walk.

The whole walk you were praying nobody happened to be roaming the halls at night– Pure Vanilla's gait was leisurely, letting you fully feel each step jostle him inside before the next. He walked like he had nowhere to be, while your grip on his shoulder tightened with every corner he turned.

You were about ready to pass out once finally shouldered your bedroom door open and laid you out on the sheets. They were soft, made from the finest cream sheep's wool, having been raised by Pure Vanilla himself, of course. 

“My love?”

Oh- you hadn't even realised you were dozing off, so taken over by his heat and presence your brain was actively fighting you for some rest. The days without him hadn't been kind.

His vanilla scent was cloying, more comforting than any cream sheep cotton you could buy.

He ran the backs of his knuckles over your cheek, leaning down to kiss your nose. His full eyelashes tickled you, and you groaned just barely at being woken up.

“We need to get cleaned up… you can't sleep yet. I'll carry you for just a little longer.”

He pulled back just the slightest amount, your own muscles tensing as you feel all the cum plugged inside you start to rush out along with him-

And frantically have to tell him to stop before yet another surface is lost to his virility.

You're glad you picked up on that- although slightly less glad to feel it all squish back into you as he hilts himself again, not so subtly shivering as he teases himself with your pussy.

“Ah-”

His hair tickles you as his head drops, breath shaky. This time, he kisses you properly, too impatient for any decorum.

You're bleeding.

And you're bleeding fast.

Dorian knew it wasn't the right thing to let you out. Why the fuck did he let you out?!

You were just so tired of being inside and needed a breather.

Skylar told you that if you went out the glasses may be tracked, so you had the great idea of leaving them in your bedroom.

It was gonna be a normal walk around the neighborhood. Smelling the fresh hair, stretching the legs. But you forgot about a crucial detail, or maybe you decided to ignore it, thinking it could never happen.

You never had a good love life. Well, you never had a good life in general, but your love life had proven to be disastrous in the last couple of years.

You've managed to get a partner, they were kind and attractive...or at least that's what you had convinced yourself they were. It started with them accusing you of cheating from time to time every time you saw a friend. Then you noticed they started to look through your phone when you weren't aware. Getting mad at you when you took a bit of time to reply to their messages, and even controling when you got to your home.

It got to a point that they would actually hit you when you said something they didn't like. You had enough. You left one night without saying goodbye.

Then the threatening messages came.

"You can't leave me."

"Nobody else will ever love you."

"You belong to me."

"I will hunt you down."

Phoenicia was worried about this, especially because you never told anyone. Now, it had been a couple of months since that last interaction, so she thought that maybe... hopefully...your ex had forgotten about you and started to live their own life.

She was wrong.

As you walk down the streets, night sky obscuring everything, you feel a tug on your clothes.

"Hey what the f-"

"Shhhh."

You feel your blood turn cold, hair standing up, as something sharp touches the left side of your body.

"Hi lover."

"H-how did you find out where I live...?"

"True love, it always finds the way."

You're not sure what to do now, deciding to stand still. Why did you have to leave the house? You regret every decision you have done until now. Your ex gets closer to you, their free hand now caressing your exposed neck.

"You're still as beautiful as ever."

You tremble. The touch that once felt heavenly now burns your skin. It's disgusting. It repulses you.

"It's so sad nobody can ever fall in love with you. You're disgusting, just like me. Have you gone on any dates lately?"

You have. It was with objects in your house, but they still count as dates... right?

They press the knife closer to your skin. It breaks the sweater that you're using and you feel the metal dig onto your skin.

"answer me."

"I-I have."

"And have you told them how perverted you are? How utterly disgusting and sick you are? Have you shown them how you don't shower for weeks, bed rotting, wasting your youth on nothing? Do they know how useless you are at being a competent human being?"

You think about it. Mac and Phoenicia know how disgusting you can be. Yet they love you. Johnny, Betty, Teddy, Dirk... they know how badly you can get and yet they still treat you decently. You've come to the conclusion that you probably aren't as unloved as you think you were. That despite them not being able to leave, they chose to treat you kindly.

"Leave me alone."

"What was that?"

"I'm telling you to LEAVE ME ALONE!"

You make a big mistake, you've forgotten how many of those you've done so far. When you try to run away you feel it. The first one burns like nothing you've ever experienced, there's something akin to electricity filling up your now open wound as you fall to the floor. You should've fallen to the floor, but they catch you in the air and stab you once again, and this time you feel it touch something. Blood gushes out of you like a faucet, and they let you go.

"You won't forget me now!"

You run, you run as fast as possible but you're starting to get dizzy. Hit hurts to breathe, and you quickly realize there's blood coming out of your mouth. You start to piece the things together and realize they probably punctured your lung. You regret not having brought your phone with you, a bad habit you had since you were a teenager.

You don't remember leaving the door open, but it is. And you stumble trying to think of what to do. But it's difficult, it's getting increasingly hard to breathe, and you're feeling very cold.

The legs that were carrying you give out right as you reach for the stairs. You try to crawl but it's futile. There's a huge blood trail from outside your house, and now a small pool starts to trickle down the stairs.

Thoughts are getting harder to form. Your breathing becomes hard and erratic. You should've left the dateviators closer to you. Maybe you'd have a chance. There's regret on your mind. This must be a nightmare for Dorian. For Dirk, which you're wearing right now. For Celia, damn, for everyone.

The temperature on the room grows hotter, and you think it's nice of Hector to try and keep you warm, a desperate attempt.

You hear loud noises all across the room. You're not sure of what they're doing, you're too tired. They're probably trying to keep you away in any possible manner. The lights flicker on an off, you can hear the TV turning on, the cat alarm goes off.

Is nice to feel cared for. Despite the ruckus you close your eyes.

...

and you don't open them again.

__

The whole house is panicked. The ones that are not screaming are telling others to calm down. Those who aren't telling others to calm down stare down at your body in shock.

Dorian feels his stomach twist and turn. This is his fault. He was supposed to protect you from danger and now you're lying in a pool of your own blood. He's a stupid fucking door that can't even get close to you to check if you're still breathing.

One thing is sure. They need to get the dateviators down to you quickly to be able to do anything at all.

Objects throw themselves at Skylar, which tries her best to move in her form as fast as possible. They're somehow able to get next to you, and with a strong gust of wind, Skylar is now on your eyes.

She doesn't dare speak a word. She can't even move a muscle.

Dorian quickly, now in a more movable form, kneels right next to you. Volt and Eddie are hovering over you, and Volt is trying his damned hard not to cause Eddie to blow a fuse.

"Phoenicia!" Screams Mac from the first floor.

"Call Sam! I'm gonna send them a message to get her to come here!"

They both spring into action, being one of the only objects able to do anything at all right now.

Cam stands still, just like a statue. He's unable to get his eyes out of you. Your eyes are still open. Blood has stopped flowing out of you. He just looks. There's nothing else he can do.

Lux makes a total scandal, which this time is totally understandable to everyone around.

"QUIET!"

Dorian's voice is strong and stern. But the feeling of guilt dripping from him makes him look like a dog who just lost its owner. I guess in a way that is true.

Betty cradles your head in her lap, she can't feel your breathing. Tears spill freely from her face, as she caresses your now cold face. She's getting stained. She does not care.

Eddie grabs onto your shirt like his life depends on it. He tries and talk to you even though he knows it's useless. He's useless.

Barry and Johnny are extremely distressed.

They can only wait for Sam to come.

And the hours pass.

And your body gets progressively colder.

Nobody is able to get Betty off you. Nobody dares to do it. Those who didn't have a mental breakdown by now are beginning to feel one coming, as they begin to lose all hope.

She continues stroking your face, softly, with her now bloody hands.

Finally help arrives. Although it's useless by now and everybody knows that, even those who are trying very hard to convince themselves otherwise.

Sam calls emergency services, which quickly confirm what everyone already knew.

You've been dead for a couple of hours now.

Those who did not dare to cry are now doing so freely. Even those more hard headed grimace as your body gets taken away, this place now becoming an active crime scene.

When Betty feels your body getting taken away she wails. Teddy holds her tightly, so does Ben Hwa. And Dorian can't do anything.

Over the couple of weeks people come and go from the house. Mostly strangers, and they touch everything that's yours. This makes most objects extremely upset. This place was YOUR house. They have no right to just take things away.

It's especially upsetting for Cam when they try to throw away your trash. Alongside it things you've gifted him, things that are only for him. And he can't do anything. He has no way to stop them from throwing anything away, even when he tries really hard to hide the stuff he holds dear.

The lights refuse to turn on. Even when your family members come and try to get the damn breaker box to work. It's the only thing Volt and Eddie can do for you. Out of respect and out of love.

Mac refuses to work, trying to protect your privacy to the best of their power.

Phoenicia does her best to cooperate with the investigators. She knows exactly who did this to you and she wants them to pay.

Without you the house feels empty. And it gets progressively emptier as family members with no regard for your memory just start taking things away from it that they want. This infuriates everyone. It hasn't been a month. And they're already just... taking everything that made this home yours.

It comes to a point where Dorian refuses to open. Not like your family cares, they find a way inside, which just makes him feel even more miserable.

Betty tries and tell him it isn't his fault. Sadly not everyone in the house thinks the same as Betty. Fighting had now become something of a common occurrence.

And the objects have to come to terms now.