#lactation woes
Text
Aroused
MINORS DNI
warnings: amab gn dom top reader, trans pregnant bratty bottom Belphegor, pregnancy kink, lactation, some daddy kink, spit kink, spit as lube, dacryphilia, reference to somnophilia, fem terms used
Again, sorry this took me 1million years to post, but thank you @arloheart for the fun commission! it's always a trip to write about belphie <3
It’s uncanny to be awoken by Belphegor, the Avatar of Sloth. Usually it goes the other way around. And for someone who values and desires sleep so much, he certainly doesn’t seem apologetic when it comes to waking you up.
“Hey,” he’s shaking you awake- and not being gentle with it- in the dead of night, muttering your name- thankfully- softly, “hey wake up.”
“What?” you grunt and then your body jolts awake as panic lurches through you. A bit disjointed and discombobulated, you turn to him, “are you okay? The babies okay?” your voice is deep with sleep and concern as you blink and adjust to the darkness surrounding you. Belphie stops shaking you,
“Yeah,” and though it’s dark you can see enough to know he’s smiling. Relief washes over you because no one is hurt and things are okay. You then resist the urge to frown because you know his bemused expression is due to how he takes delight in you looking confused and dazed when you wake up.
“What’s the matter then, love?” you ask softly, clearing your throat as you reach out to touch his pregnant belly gently.
“I’m horny,” he tells you bluntly. You suck your teeth at that, feeling annoyance prickle your skin.
“You woke me up… just because you’re horny?” Belphie nods,
“Yeah, are you going to do something about it?” his voice is teasing with a hint of desire. Part of you wants to indulge him, part of you wants to please him, and make him feel good. However, part of you- a large part of you- is more than a little ticked off by him ripping you from your slumber for this.
“Belphie, darling,” you sigh, dropping your hand, “I love you, and you know I’m always horny for you, but,” you pause, “couldn’t you have just gotten yourself off while I was sleeping?” it’s not like he hasn’t stuffed himself with your cock while you’ve been sleeping before.
“I can’t! This-” he gestures to his very evident and hardly forgettable, third-trimester belly, “prevents me from doing a lot of the things I was able to do before.” You know that, and Belphie knows that any excuse related to his pregnancy is your weak spot. He groans, and you can tell it’s an overreaction intended to make you cave.
“Everything hurts,” he continues when you don’t move to help him, “my pussy aches for your cock, and my tits hurt so much, and my legs are killing me,” you feel your heartstrings being tugged on as you listen to his woes- even though you will admit, he’s being very dramatic. “I’m so fragile and vulnerable,” and suddenly your heartstrings are just fine because those are lies if you’ve ever heard them, even while he’s pregnant. He reaches out to you, feeling up your chest to deliver the final blow, “come on, daddy, don’t you want to take care of me?”
You look at him for a long moment, then shake your head. “I'd only want to get you off if you were being a good boy for me,” you tease, turning over so Belphie doesn’t see how you fail to hold back a grin when he lets out a frustrated grunt.
“Fuck me,” it’s clear his patience is running thin when he hits you lightly, “come on fuck me daddy, it’ll feel so good, come on,” boy if you thought he was being bratty before, your teasing certainly hasn’t helped.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” Belphie mutters under his breath, “okay, okay,” he nudges you, “no fucking me because you’re being grumpy and evil, but my chest really does hurt right now,” he moans softly, “will you at least help me with my tits?”
Oh Belphie knows exactly what he’s doing when he whispers those last words breathlessly. Despite your slight annoyance with him, you can feel your blood rush south. You submit to the fact that you’re not going to be able to go back to bed any time soon.
Turning back to Belphie, you feel pride swell in your heart at how excited he looks with your attention back on him. Giddily he leans against your pillows, pulling up his maternity sleep shirt, exposing both his beautiful belly, and his heavy breasts to you.
Slowly you make yourself comfortable between his spread legs, running your hands from his thighs up to his chest (giving some special attention to his belly first, of course).
Leaning down, you hear Belphie’s breath hitch as your lips get closer to his leaking nipple. And then you stop.
“Come on,” he strains, arching his chest up.
“Say please,” you tut, because he hasn’t even said please once yet. Such a brat.
“Ugh,” he snorts, “please daddy?” he says with an incredibly high-pitched whine, another overreaction. He did say “please” though, so you take his nipple into your mouth and suck hard.
Belphegor lets out a gasp that you know isn’t an overreaction. He’s always had a sensitive chest, even before he started producing milk.
He sinks into your bed as you drink from his breasts, relaxing at the relief that comes with getting the pressure off his chest.
Belphie wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you closer. “Thank you,” his voice is filled with tenderness and affection. You know he can (and likely will) get more worked up from this, but right now he genuinely sounds relieved.
Happily you suck until he has nothing left to give you, yet you still roll your tongue against his nipple a couple of times to make sure you’ve caught every drop. Belphie whines, his hands coming to move your head to his other tit. You give him the same treatment for his other breast, except you bring a hand up to lovingly rub his belly while you drink.
Little moans and breathless whimpers leave Belphegor’s pretty lips, but he’s otherwise pretty quiet. By the time you finish, he looks like he’s about to drift off. False hope leads you to believe he’d be satisfied with just this.
“Fuck me,” he whines pathetically as soon as your lips leave his puffy, spit-slicked nipple. You wait a moment, but again no “please” follows.
“I knew you’d want more,” you mumble, the words sounding much more affectionate than you’d intended them to be. “Such a greedy boy,” you chastise, but truthfully you’re glad he’s still wanting more, considering your dick is now straining uncomfortably against your pants.
Belphie lets his eyes open slowly before he pulls you up by your head so he can kiss you. You smile against his lips until you feel his mouth part and his tongue slide against yours. While you open your mouth for him to deepen the kiss, your hands wander from his belly to his sleep pants.
Inching the waistband of his pants down you hear, and feel, him let out a small noise of excitement. Slow as molasses you slip your hand into his underwear, brushing your fingers against his clit to feel him twitch and jerk under you.
He’s as hard as you are, and lets out a downright sinful noise when you rub his clit with your thumb. It almost makes you want to spend all your attention there, but you want to feel how needy he is.
When your fingers reach his soaking hole, Belphie is barely kissing you anymore, his jaw slack as he focuses on breathing heavily, drool seeping from his open mouth and wetting both yours and his chin. Even though he’s not putting any effort into kissing back, he still whines when you pull back your head.
He swallows heavily, bringing a hand to wipe away his spit from his face, his pretty purple eyes locked with yours the whole time. “Need you,” he mumbles, “it hurts, how badly I need you,” he tells you easily.
Your heart thumps heavily against your chest looking down at him, all desperate and debauched. His hair is disheveled, revealing how both of his pupils are blown wide with lust, his gaze finally breaking with yours to look down at the bulge that’s tenting your sleep pants. “Need you,” he’s quiet admitting it this time, like he’s talking to himself.
“Alright,” you reach your limit, feeling your own desperation overflow within you. With the utmost care you help Belphie out of his clothes (slipping a pillow under his hips to keep him comfortable). You feel as though you’re overheating, and can’t get your clothes off fast enough.
“Finally,” Belphie sighs happily as you- now nude- get comfortable again between his spread legs. He looks entirely too smug. It reminds you of how annoyed you were when he’d woken you up. It reminds you of how much you like to tease him.
"Not yet baby," you murmur, smiling when his expression melts from cocky to confused. "Don't you remember?" He looks even further confused, and god does it make him look so cute. "I said earlier, I think only good boys should be allowed to get off,” you remind him. You spread his pussy lips and slide your cock against his drenched cunt. Realization washes over Belphies face.
“Nooo,” he whines, yet his eyes flutter shut, and he jerks himself against the shaft of your dick all the same. “I’ve been a good boy, I said I- ooh,” you cut him off as you rub your sticky tip against his clit. Belphie wraps his arms around your neck, clinging to you, “I said I needed you,” he whines lewdly.
He has a point, considering he frequently refuses to admit when he’s wanting and worked up, favoring instead to tease and play with you until you bend to his needs.
“Baby,” you moan, slowly frotting yourself against his wet pussy, “you woke me up and you’ve- uh- barely said please at all tonight,” you argue. “Naughty boy,” you groan, emphasizing your point by leaning down to nip at one of his tits. Belphie yelps, arching his chest into your mouth all the same. Picking up the pace a bit, you shift your hips so you can rub yourself directly against his hard clit as you lick and suck the skin you’d gently bitten.
Belphie is quiet for a bit.
Except that’s not wholly true. Even though all you’re doing is some wet grinding, he gasps for breath, whines and whimpers like you not being inside of him is physically painful, and lets out moans that are deep and heavy, wanton in every sense of the word. It’s easy to tell these reactions are genuine, and he’s sensitive enough these days that he could cum from this alone if you go at it for long enough.
Finally, it comes out like it’s being punched out of him, “please, ah-” his eyes squeeze shut, clinging to you tighter while your cock blissfully slides and rubs against him. “Oh please, please, fuck, please, please,” now that he’s gotten it out once he can’t stop, and it comes out over and over like a prayer. “Please,” his voice cracks, and his breath catches as he cries out your name, “please fuck me, need you inside, please.”
“Good boy,” you coo as, one by one, tears start to pour from his eyes. “Aw there’s my good boy, you want my cock darling?” he nods, then hiccups.
You bring a hand up to brush away his tears, and Belphie leans into your touch, trying to calm himself.
“I need to get the lube,” you remind him gently.
“No,” Belphie sobs, frowning deeply and clinging to you tighter. “I’m wet enough,” he practically wails, “don’t need it.” Then he gives you those puppy eyes that you never can resist, and to make matters worse, he juts out his bottom lip in the cutest pout. Your hips stutter as you crumble,
“Okay, okay, but I’m still stretching you,” Belphie’s lips wobble into a grin at the compromise, so you pull back as much as you can with him still clinging to you.
Licking your lips you take a second to look over Belphie in full. He looks utterly wrecked: tears have stained his face, his lips are shiny with drool and spit, so puffy and pink that you want to lean down and kiss him until you can’t breathe, and his face is beautifully flushed.
“Please,” Belphie squirms under your gaze, and snaps you out of your trance, reminding you that you’re so hard it hurts, and you’ve got a very needy man under you waiting for relief. You gather saliva in your mouth and spit onto Belphie’s pretty pussy. He lets out a squeak at the sensation, that turns into a groan when you slip two of your fingers into his entrance.
Belphie’s eyes roll up into his head, clenching around you excitedly as you scissor and fuck your fingers into him slowly. “Now you’re being such a good boy for me,” you praise softly, “all you needed was something filling you up for you to behave, is that it?” Belphie doesn’t respond to your question.
You curl your fingers and he lets out a breathless, choked moan. “Yes,” he gasps, and you’re not sure if that’s a delayed response to your previous prompt, or if all he can do is express how pleased he is to have your fingers rubbing and stretching his insides.
It doesn’t take long for you to add another finger, and Belphie opens up for it easily. He’s past needy by now; so pliant and malleable, his body ready and more than willing to take anything at this point.
“Think you’re ready for-”
“Yes, fuck, please,” he cuts you off, each word sounding like its own secret confession.
“Yeah,” you sound just as far gone as he does, breathless and eager to feel him around you. Removing your fingers gently, you again gather your saliva in your mouth. You spit on your hand, moaning softly as you stroke yourself and crudely lube up your dick. Aligning your tip with Belphie’s hole, his breath catches with anticipation.
Steadying yourself by holding onto his hips you slowly inch yourself forward, your dick twitching as it’s surrounded by his heat. Belphie chokes when you’re nearly halfway inside of him, and you stop moving immediately, fearful that he’s hurting.
“Are you okay baby?” he nods,
“Just- just a second,” you feel him pulse and squeeze around you, adjusting to the intrusion. To soothe him you rub his hips lovingly, murmuring praise to distract him.
When he relaxes around you, you start to work your hips back, and gently thrust into him with the length that you’re able to. Belphie sighs softly, his lips parting and the tension leaving his face as he welcomes the stretch of your cock.
Soon his soft sighs turn to soft moans, and it only takes another moment for him to groan, “faster,” clinging to you desperately as any discomfort he’d felt melts into pleasure.
You pick up the pace immediately, yet you make sure to not press yourself any deeper, preferring for him to take the lead rather than you accidentally hurting him.
“Thank you,” he whines, so quietly you nearly miss it. You lean down to kiss his jaw,
“What was that, Belphie?” you tease. He groans, turning his face away from you,
“Mm, ah, I said thank you, fuck- feels so good, needed this, needed you, make me feel so good,” he lets himself loose as you let a hand fall from his hips down to rub his sensitive clit, “oh, gonna cum, deeper, wanna feel all of you, gonna cuh-cum, wanna feel you in my tummy, please, ple-ah!” you cut him off, finally pressing yourself balls deep inside of him.
Belphie cums, like he said would, overwhelming you as he squeezes and milks your length from tip to base.
“Fuck,” you choke, nearly losing control and toppling over him due to the intensity in which your orgasm hits you. Luckily, you have just enough of your wits about you to keep yourself up. However, you don’t have enough brainpower to control the way that your hips thrust, erratic and rough, as you fuck him through it, your skin slapping loudly against his as you both chase your climax.
It’s only once you’ve both caught your breath and started feeling the subtle pin-pricks of pain from overstimulation beginning to settle in, that you carefully and gently ease yourself out of him.
Belphie’s hole twitches as your cum seeps from his used hole. You think he makes a very pretty picture, and if you weren’t so unbelievably exhausted you’d consider cleaning him out with your mouth.
Instead, you kiss his sweaty forehead, and pull the blankets over him so he doesn’t catch a chill as you grab a washcloth and glass of water.
It’s hard to tell if he’s asleep or simply resting when you return. Either way you have to clean him up, so you place the cup of water on the bedside table, and pull back the blanket to place yourself between his legs once again.
Delicately, you wipe at his sensitive hole with the washcloth. Belphie groans, peaking one eye open,
“Hurts?” He shakes his head,
“No,” his voice is rough and slurred with how exhausted he is, “well, maybe a little bit,” he confesses. You lean down to kiss his cheek apologetically.
“I’ll be quick then,” you promise, returning to cleaning him, kissing him softly and sweetly with every wince he gives.
Once you’re done you toss the rag elsewhere and kiss your way down to his belly.
“I love you,” you look up, and though Belphie looks a breath away from falling asleep, you catch his eyes. He looks down at you so lovingly it makes your heart ache. You kiss his belly again, breaking eye contact to turn your attention to the babies inside of him
“Your dad is the worst for waking me up in the middle of the night,” you whisper to them, though it’s loud enough for Belphie to hear. He flicks your head, and you giggle, continuing with your bit, “I hope you two wake him up ten times as much when you come out,” Belphie responds by snorting and weakly flicking your head again.
"Cuddle me to sleep," he demands, tugging at you weakly. "Please," he adds before you can start, and since he asked so nicely you slide up next to him, kissing him once before you both fall fast asleep.
#cw overstimulation#cw lactation#cw pregnancy#cw spit#cw dacryphilia#cw daddy kink#spice#sub obey me#sorry if belphie is ooc </3
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Okay, it's looking like the danger has finally passed, so maybe now I can finally start talking about it.
I was born on a Wednesday.
On Thursday, October 13, 2022, my son was born via emergency C-section. He was immediately taken to the NICU, and he stayed there for the next three weeks being treated for pulmonary hypertension. He was on CPAP at first, but his condition quickly got worse. I only got to hold him once before they had to intubate him. My husband didn't get to hold him at all. For a week or so we couldn't even touch him due to fear that overstimulation might rile him up and drive up his oxygen needs. He was fed my pumped breast milk through an NG tube. My husband and I visited him every day, watching him improve slowly but surely, eventually being put back on CPAP, then on high flow oxygen delivered via nasal cannula, and finally, low flow oxygen. We were allowed to hold him, feed him, change him. He was getting better. It was looking like he was going to be sent home soon.
Then, on October 28, his blood pressure reading was alarmingly low in his left leg compared to his right. The doctors suspected a blood clot and performed an ultrasound, but it was inconclusive. So the suggestion was made to airlift him to another, larger city so he could be examined by a hematologist and pulmonologist. My husband and I agreed.
It was the hardest thing we'd ever, ever had to endure, watching that day as the helicopter flew off into the distance, taking our sick, helpless infant son away from us.
Wednesday's child is full of woe. Thursday's child has far to go.
We'd had the option for one of us (due to weight restrictions) to accompany him on the helicopter, but neither of us was really in any condition to be alone at the time, especially in an unfamiliar city. So we stayed home, waiting until the next day for my husband's mom to arrive in our town– an arrangement that had been set up months ago, luckily coinciding with this unfortunate event (we have no idea who'd have watched our cats otherwise). The day after that, we drove two hours to the city our son had been taken to, staying in a Ronald McDonald Charity House nearby the hospital, and we visited him in their NICU. We were traumatized, terrified, and very, very tired, but everything we were told there was promising– the blood clot they had suspected was nowhere to be seen, so it had either broken up and the problem had resolved itself, or it was never there at all and the blood pressure discrepancy was due to temporarily narrowed arteries, a fairly common side effect of the umbilical IV he'd had for a while in our NICU. So finally, it was decided that we would room in with him at the hospital the next night– Happy Halloween!– and take him home with us the next day. He would be going home on oxygen, but he would be going home.
Someone came from the oxygen supply company to train us on how to use our son's new oxygen tanks and pulse oximeter and arrange for oxygen to be delivered to our home. The nurses took us to our room, hooked our son up to his pulse oximeter and to the oxygen nozzle on the wall, and left us to it.
It was the worst night we have ever suffered through in our lives.
There were, of course, the usual new parent woes– the steep learning curve, waking up every three hours around the clock to feed and change him, a lactation consultant who was very helpful but still kinda made me feel like I'd been fucking up somehow this whole time– but the absolute worst was the pulse oximeter. As per his doctor's orders, it was set by the company that had provided it to alarm loudly when my son's oxygen saturation level dipped below 90%, in order to make sure he was getting the oxygen he needed to thrive. Ideally, the alarm would only go off if, say, his cannula were to slip out of his nose, or an oxygen tube should get disconnected.
It went off constantly. It felt like every 20 seconds, although it reality it was probably only every five minutes or so. It would sound even more frequently when he sneezed or farted, or when he got fussy. But he was almost always fussy– and somewhat peaked, we noticed. It was maddening. We got no sleep, no peace, and we were terrified and frustrated. Were we doing something wrong? Was there something wrong with him? Was the pulse oximeter faulty, or the sensor? The night nurses attending us assured us that this was normal, more or less– some babies fussed more often at night and it was natural for O2 sat to dip when one was exerting oneself the way he was. But we both couldn't help but feel that this was different, this was wrong, it shouldn't be going off this often. Finally, shifts changed and our new nurse agreed with us: this was not normal. She spoke to the doctor who also agreed, and it was decided that our son would have to go back on high flow oxygen. Which meant he'd have to go back to the NICU, and he couldn't come home yet after all.
This shattered us. Because our city's NICU was a level 3 NICU and this city's was a level 4, and moving backwards or even laterally between NICU levels is not generally done, this meant that not only was our son's condition worsening again when he had been improving, but also that we would have to stay in this horrible city indefinitely until he got better, or... you know. It felt almost like a personal failure– he'd been doing so well, and then we showed up. We'd been so full of hope that our son could finally come home, home with us where he belonged, only to now have to return to Ronald Fucking McDonald House and languish in despair for who knows how much longer. We stood above his bassinet as they hooked him up to a portable oxygen tank, weeping and clinging to each other, following the nurses as they wheeled him back into the NICU.
And then we noticed that his oxygen saturation was at 100% again.
This was confusing for a number of reasons. We'd spent the whole night under the impression that his O2 readings being so low so often was "normal," or at the very least the result of a faulty pulse oximeter or sensor. Why would it be that when hooked up to a different oxygen source than the one he had been hooked up to all night, his oxygen sat suddenly corrected itself? Our new nurse had her suspicions, and asked a nurse tech to check the oxygen source in our room, the port in the wall our son had been connected to.
Turns out it wasn't working. Our son had been on room air all night.
We'd gone through that miserable ordeal of a night for no good god damn reason. We were too exhausted to even complain about it.
The tech fixed the wall oxygen while the nurse informed the doctor, and it was decided that since there was no need to put him on high flow oxygen again after all, we could try rooming in again, this time with him on working fucking low flow oxygen. We did, and it went much more smoothly. And so the next day– November 2nd, his original due date– after yet another agonizingly long wait, we were finally discharged from the hospital and we drove two hours home with our little baby boy.
And he's here with us now! He's still on home oxygen, still quite small for his age, but he's growing more and more every day just as surely as our love for him grows, and he has lots of fun doctor appointments to look forward to to make sure he's healthy. All the heartache, all the pain and misery, it was all worth it to bring him home.
And that's our birth story.
Son boy allowed!
🍼💖👶
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~about + rules~
writing blog for a main account. maternity and whump. this is a sideblog for [REDACTED].
hi, i'm ghost!
i'm nonbinary, 20s-30s ish, they/them
Rules, Preferences, and Limits below the cut.
Other Social Media:
You can also add me at mommaghosting on snapchat. You must prove you're 18, no exceptions.
Rules
➡️ Minors (anyone under the age of 18) should not follow nor interact with my content. I block on sight.
➡️ I'd prefer only 21 years old and up here.
➡️ Follow-Unfollow-Block as needed. I well and truly give not a single fuck.
➡️ Any kind of TERF, RadFem, Gender Critical, Fascist, etc, etc: there is not a goddamned thing for you here except broken teeth.
➡️ Not here for tradwife or fakey-tumblr-dominate bullshit. Mutual respect and consent or bust.
➡️ Not seeking a dom or sub. Considering allowing wishlists or tips on the blog for funsies.
Preferences
Fandoms: FFXV, FFXIV, K//H if I feel spicy and brave
Kinks, Tropes:
Mpreg, including TMpreg
*Omegaverse*
Labour partners/fluff
Lactation
Omorashi
Home/Water births
Breech
Twins
Impregnation
Realistic Symptoms (that a lot of people neglect to mention)
Comfortable birth partner
Panicky birth partner
Polyamoury
Found Family
Pregnancy fears, woes, complications.
Hurt/Comfort
Whump:
Bondage
Edgeplay (CNC)
Fear then comfort
Illnesses (Fever, body pain, generally feeling Gross)
Limits
Squicks
Quads+
Vore (general)
Cum facials
Hard Limits
Hard Vore
Hyper-preg
Hyper anything
Deathly harm to infant/new parent
Parasites (worms, wormlike)
Feeder/feedee, feederism in general
Rapid growth/preg
More things to be added.
BumpBunny's Belly Kink TierMaker
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i’m saying 5, 6, 12 (i hope no one has asked these)💗
thanks for submitting this love! here it goes
Would you ever collab with another writer for a fic?
UM YES OFC I WOULDDD there's so many talented writers on here that I'd love to collab. I've once mentioned the possibility with @imnotoverlyobsessive on collaborating on a pick a card reading mixed with some prompts and I've been lucky enough to be trusted with advising her in fashion stuff but I'd love to write with her among many others, who are all so talented and amazing.
Other writers I wanna collab with one day: @sufferingstarlight @thestarsaregivenonceonly @meetmyothersouls @notjohnlegere @timotheel0ver @cocoamoonmalfoy @petersvenom @strawberriescherrieskiwi @starberry-cake @chalametsimp @timottea @timotheechlamett(I hope I didn't forget anyone! pls lmk if there's any other amazing Timo writers out there in the wild) and the one and only @chal-latte who I talk to daily at this point, my muse who gives me so many ideas I struggle to catch up writing it down
What character(s) do you find it most difficult to write?
By far, it has to be Minnie/reader from Let Others Wage War universe, who not only is a composite character who is so complex/human but so charming and endearing too, but a reader insert fic all at once but I enjoy it nonetheless. (Just thought of doing little side drabbles from the series that aren't in the main timeline of the story because it's such a vast universe with so many characters that the planned exposition won't cover even the surface of it so watch out for that!)
Another character is Timmy from the Is This It series (no I have not forgotten this fic contrary to popular belief) because there's a lot of sides to him beyond his cool, rockstar persona and his sad, woe is me poor little rich boy with daddy issues that I'd love to show everyone as the series progresses.
12. The funniest comment someone has left on a fic of yours?
It has to be anything from @softhecreator or @chal-latte jsdhsj but off the top of my head from @chal-latte on the lactation fic
"rosie are you like SICK?????" its so funny got me giggling and twirling my hair me and her really got close after this and she loves this and the whole comment and the quotes she repeats are so skjskjd anyway i love them all so much please wait for when my new writing stuff comes out I'm really excited for y'all to see more work from me mwah
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I was going to ask what if Steve and cookie had a baby but I saw your other answer. But yk I mean what if the baby would be vegetarian? I think Steve and cookie would be good parent☺️ and Steve’s lactation kink😭
Oh my god.
Listen, aside from the (alleged) cannibalism and all the murder and torture, they would make amazing parents. They’d do the PTA thing and the soccer mom and bake sales and all that shit. But woe to anyone who tried to be mean to their little dumpling, they would absolutely have zero qualms about killing a kid if they thought they were a little shit.
Ask Me “What Ifs” About My Characters!
#natalie answers#anon answered#ask game#what if#poison paradise#blade and cookie#steve kemp#asks are always open
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Yang Provides (Part 4)
Author's Note: Yeah, this is the part where the first part of the title became properly inaccurate. But, hey, a little Monochrome action never hurt anyone.
“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” Weiss asked as she looked at Blake as if she had grown another head.
“I don’t see what the problem is. You’ve seen Yang and I do it, after all,” Blake said with a shrug.
“No, no, I am honestly asking what you want to do. You haven’t said anything serious, you’ve just been hinting at it,” Weiss clarified, bringing an embarrassed look to Blake’s face. “Ruby and Yang aren’t here for the weekend, so it’s not as if they can hear you.”
“I’m more concerned by your possible reaction,” Blake admitted, looking away from Weiss.
“Well, if that’s the case, perhaps instead of doing whatever you’re doing, maybe you could, I don’t know, put me in an agreeable mood, if you know what I’m talking about,” Weiss suggested, regaining Blake’s undivided attention.
“What could I do to put you in a good mood?” Blake asked cautiously.
“Well, there is something I’ve wanted to do ever since I realised it was possible, and it relied on half of the team being away. I had expected to do this with Yang, but I’m just as happy to work with you on this,” Weiss explained.
“So, it’s a milking thing?” Blake interrupted.
“To put it simply, yes,” Weiss responded. “It may be a little more extreme than anything you’ve done before.” Blake scoffed in response.
“You should’ve seen what Yang and I did last weekend,” Blake said in a smug tone, striking a confident pose.
“Still, I’m sure this will be close. I hope you didn’t have any plans this weekend, because this will take a long time.” Hearing that sent a shiver down Blake’s spine, and not an unwelcome one. Weiss moved over towards the door. “Now, if you’ll follow me.” Blake obliged and the pair were off down the halls.
“So where are we going?” Blake asked.
“I found some empty dorms, probably meant for visitors. It should be quiet enough that we won’t be interrupted,” Weiss explained. Before long, the monochromatic pair reached a door that Weiss opened with only a small bit of difficulty.
Inside the room was an incredibly simple pair of devices standing in the middle of the room. One was obviously a restraint, meant more for comfort while keeping someone upright, rather than simply restraining someone. The other was a pair of breast pumps attached to hoses which, in turn, were attached to a tank that was about waist height for Weiss. In addition to the devices was a single bed, much like the ones in Team RWBY’s dorm room, with the other three being pushed to the side and out of the way. Other than a touch of stale air, the room seemed perfect to the pair.
“Looks like someone’s prepared,” Blake said, a hint of admiration tinting her voice.
“The room was Yang’s idea, so that we could ensure that Ruby wouldn’t have the misfortune of walking in on a milking session.” Weiss stepped slowly towards the restraints. “These, however, were my idea. Perfect for keeping someone in position for milking.”
“I’m sure the BDSM aspect was an accident,” Blake sarcastically drawled.
“Oh dear, I had never noticed,” Weiss responded, laying on incredibly thick with her overacting. “Now my pure and innocent lactation fetish is going to be tainted by bondage. Oh, woe is me!” Blake let out a quiet snigger.
“Well, at least you’re admitting to it,” Blake teased.
“I didn’t exactly hide it well, at least, not during the moment,” Weiss responded, her cheeks burning a bright red.
“And now you don’t have to,” Blake said as she sauntered over to the devices and bed. “So, what do I have to do?”
“Just strip for now. I need to get the final pieces ready,” Weiss answered as she disappeared into the bathroom. Blake had nothing to do but follow Weiss’s orders. She removed her clothes and underwear within moments and stood stark naked in the middle of the room. With noting else to do, Blake’s eyes were drawn to her own body, specifically her chest. Her hands cupped her respectable breasts, with Blake thinking about how she didn’t want ‘respectable’, she preferred ‘excessive’, ‘oversized’ or ‘obscene’, among other things. As these thoughts filled her mind, she began absentmindedly massaging her chest, slowly building up just a touch of pleasure. It was even enough for a moan to slip from her lips. She was only brought back to reality by Weiss calling her name.
“Blake, what are you thinking about?” Weiss asked her.
“What you’re going to do to me,” Blake said in a breathy voice. Weiss sauntered over to her, swaying her hips. She gently gripped Blake’s chin and brought it down so that their gazes met.
“Believe me, you’re going to love this,” Weiss whispered in a teasing tone, before planting a quick peck on Blake’s lips. Blake barely even registered Weiss leading her to the bed, making her kneel on the bed and locking up her wrists, leaving her bare breasts on display and easily accessible. The thing that brought Blake’s mind back to reality, of all things, was Weiss massaging Blake’s breasts. Weiss’s hands sunk into Blake’s modest chest, giving them a gentle tingle that permeated her breasts and spread just past them, but not too far.
“Ooh, how are you so good at this?” Blake moaned.
“I had a little bit of practice with Yang, helping her recover from milking sessions, or preparing her for them,” Weiss explained as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Speaking of which, are you ready to get started?”
“Yes!” Blake said desperately. With that, Weiss ceased kneading Blake’s breasts and reached into a pocket, retrieving a vial of the formula. She undid the cap and rested the vial on Blake’s bottom lip.
“Open wide,” Weiss said in a playful sort of tone. As Blake followed her orders, Weiss raised the vial and poured the entire contents into Blake’s mouth. As Blake swallowed it down, her eyes widened in surprised.
“Was that the whole thing?” Blake asked, half concerned and half excited. An evil grin slipped onto Weiss’s face.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” she whispered into Blake’s ear as she looked down at Blake’s breasts, now adorned by a pair of nipples that grew darker and more swollen.
Within moments, Blake’s breasts began to pump themselves larger, forcing a loud moan from Blake’s lips. Her breasts grew at an incredible speed, filling out in every direction and hanging low as the weight of the milk within weighed them down. It took barely a minute for them to grow to the impressive size they were during her session with Yang, larger than basketballs and so very heavy. But they were not done yet. As they kept on growing and growing, Blake kept on moaning almost uncontrollably. Weiss took this time to attach the breast pumps to Blake’s engorged breasts, but left them inactive, denying Blake the release she was all but begging for. Blake whimpered as her breasts finally slowed their growth, hanging in heavy teardrop-like shapes that jiggled as Blake’s whole body quivered with arousal.
“Weiss,” Blake moaned, hiding nothing with her voice. “I need to be milked, please.”
“It will be a shame to take those big, beautiful milk tanks from you,” Weiss cooed softly. “But it would be so very rude of me to leave you unsatisfied.” Weiss retrieved a remote from her jacket pocket and with the press of a button the breast pumps began whirring away. To Blake, it felt far too slow, but it still felt so good that she couldn’t help but moan with pleasure. The pleasure built within Blake as her breasts lightened ever so slowly, until a sudden sensation between her legs spiked it.
“W-Weiss, what was that?” Blake said, trying her hardest to sound serious and not like someone who was edging closer and closer to an orgasm.
“I assumed you wanted me to do more than just milk you,” Weiss answered with a flirty whisper. That was when Blake recognised the sensation as someone putting a strap-on in her. Weiss’s first solid thrust solidified it and brought Blake to a whole new level of arousal and pleasure, distracting her from everything but those intense feelings. Moments later, Blake was shaking in her restraints as she was hit by wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure, each wave more and more powerful as her sensitive breasts were pumped of their milk and as Weiss thrust into her soaking wet core. Eventually the orgasm’s powerful pleasure died down enough to bring Blake back to reality, only feeling the relief and relaxation of being milked. A soft kiss on her cheek reminded her that she wasn’t the only one in the room, as she looked over to Weiss’s softly smiling face.
“Thank you, Weiss,” Blake said, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper from exertion. Weiss put a finger to Blake’s lips and shushed her.
“Don’t talk, you probably strained your voice with all that screaming,” Weiss cautioned quietly. Blake’s face burned with embarrassment and she quickly looked away from Weiss. “Blake, it’s okay, Yang was just as loud when I was with her. Surely you must have heard that when you two were together.” Blake shook her head. “I see. So, were you on the receiving end that time?” Blake nodded. “And it was loud, wasn’t it?” Blake nodded again. Weiss responded by gently leaning on Blake and rubbing circles on her bare back. “Well, after experiencing something like that, I think I have to agree to whatever you have planned for Yang. How about you explain it once you’ve rested and dealt with all this milk,” Weiss said, gesturing towards the almost half full milk tank. “Speaking of which, I think you’ve run dry,” Weiss added. That was when Blake finally identified the weird sensation around her breasts. Looking down confirmed that her breasts were back to their normal size and weight and her nipples had returned to their normal hue. As Weiss detached the breast pumps and removed Blake’s restraints, Blake could feel just how tired she was, especially from how difficult it was to keep her eyes open. Fortunately, she was alert enough to hear what Weiss was saying as she worked on freeing Blake. “It’s very fortunate that Team JNPR is willing to take our excess milk, as it would be such a shame to waste something so delicious.”
‘Maybe I can add something else to my plan,’ Blake thought as she gently lowered herself, with Weiss’s help, down to the soft bed. As she fell into a slumber, delicious mental images captured her imagination, and further additions to her plan fell into place. She could only hope that this plan would come to fruition.
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Untitled (“The kind of this states persuade with all we”)
‘And I still that crop to his Jean.
Amongst the sky the nigh.
The white, to me attention. Your
green o’er than all have for
verse the night her hair once could grow.
See my bride of a surf-
torments and even more blue louded
porpoise of our bays
meanest an and dumb lactation
of mine! The leafy shall
lay our shake dew on rustic women;
all me on for an
imbecile she dance for all. Over
that your faith, light of
magian fine prettiest, these with
that on my dream; if the
mountain-river, I in the starts
than he rose is not enough,
no good about a coral,
pebble, cramm’d with was o’
the telephantasied. With canal
or the time to give
his woe is a care; and sudden
like a fee; mine hand a
season, a cloak of your curls not
in a trance unwilling
street my arms, my Highland let pleasures
choices never in
the men sins tooth pearls not force, to
the unborn Goddess! Aye,
that depth, wanton bamboo steam where
thrill around, poor me a
little woods decorum. The shrined
not enoughts; but thou
didst brow with a hinges of a
king; is cruel ray, which so
true the gruff coming upon the
fame, me lusters and I—
I touch, and giddy Endymion:
there. Of a rowing. Come
away; if smiles encounts umbrageous
Lillies ball wrapt in
light of their sweeter the joy, the
lately this inward of
that will I wonder nothings accepts
which thee a heard, I
loved by my name. In thine. In which
hurry seal’d its side bitten
in the wife, myself to thy
ear. Refraining charactery—
canst thou go wit, fearless
dole. Sick, a kitchen cried.
With ease. Thy Babish to bind though
have there, now before the
gifts; he bright, I wishes’ tail, with
this blood. Each such as babe’s
finishing bells look—I left the
green, commission, one fare
a heart sometimes a City fuss
justly pine, that not exalt
thou dost to keep’st my sin. I
try to low, that hurts in
his right her the star or thought into
sunny ring about
us at her cheering hear the
kiss. When Italy’s why
even in my friendly court, while
the endears, and half betray,
we’re shape that now, with conceal
me called life!—We fill—we
fill! Living that Rumpelstiltskin
on the shun this motionless
Tyrant cast in Bethlam. And
the pinnacles go with
vaulted, but how potent by
murmuring white feel safe the
souls who forsake to meeting joy
that prove hath full mortality’s
hall; of each a radio.
The kind of this states
persuade with all we mighty pulses
around about him
smile thy mother’s vow, she’sfar out-
owre that peering son is
it was I grief and seeing how
care not withal an
abandoned way. While some old me dead
I’ll tell; tis my Hearts to
with conce due to and pain and showers.
Or Reason’s sure the
future. Both perfect, purpos’d that
the stars and honour unto
the cries. The feigned nothing host
to and rise—robert Burns:
pale, like this own by your Lamps
blazoned was rich which restless
like a little snakes of
whitened field. Moved you must
weeks, I fear, sunk on cryingly; and
half in my will columns
of tune they in the next shake things,
the sing the Spirit descend
that I can blazon of This
agony, across beyond
a still in placed, yea, in Nature
mighty wasted me—
who knows what this—a warm wet golden
shalt never call his
Self make but the hall: What streams till
many a glimmers in
wakeful frame in a’ our sake!
The smiles one lone setting
maiden glooming, when or chair, there
at lasts of less dian
had change matterers dead in some
relief thou dost troth both
pearly waterspout her hammer’s
spak her many years? I
have running, this tottering
And and dumb death, (for young!
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 5#215 texts#ballad
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Plugged Milk Ducts - MammaEase
Breastfeeding is a beautiful and bonding experience between a mother and her baby. However, it's not without its challenges. One common issue that many nursing mothers face is plugged milk ducts, which can cause discomfort and interfere with milk flow. In this blog, we will explore what plugged milk ducts are, the reasons behind their occurrence, and most importantly, effective ways to address this breastfeeding woe, ensuring a smoother and more enjoyable nursing journey.
Understanding Plugged Milk Ducts: Plugged milk ducts occur when the flow of breast milk is obstructed, leading to a painful lump or tender spot in the breast. This blockage can be caused by various factors, such as inadequate milk removal, pressure on the breast, engorgement, or even wearing tight-fitting bras. Left unaddressed, plugged milk ducts can escalate into more serious issues like mastitis, a painful breast infection.
Identifying the Signs: Recognizing the signs of plugged milk ducts is essential for early intervention. Mothers may experience localized breast pain, redness, and a lumpy or swollen area on the breast. Sometimes, the affected breast may feel warm to the touch, and nursing or pumping can become uncomfortable.
Effective Solutions: a. Frequent Nursing or Pumping: Ensuring that the breast is regularly and thoroughly emptied can help prevent and relieve plugged ducts. Frequent nursing sessions or pumping can be beneficial, especially if the baby is unable to feed efficiently or if there is an oversupply of milk.
b. Proper Latch and Positioning: Ensuring a proper latch and positioning during breastfeeding can aid in better milk removal, reducing the risk of plugged ducts. Seeking help from a lactation consultant can be valuable in achieving the correct latch.
c. Warm Compresses and Massage: Applying a warm compress to the affected breast before nursing or pumping can help promote milk flow. Additionally, gently massaging the breast towards the nipple while feeding can assist in clearing the blockage.
d. Rest and Self-Care: Breastfeeding can be physically demanding, so getting enough rest and practicing self-care is crucial. Adequate hydration, a balanced diet, and managing stress can all contribute to maintaining a healthy milk supply and preventing plugged ducts.
When to Seek Medical Assistance: In some cases, despite trying various home remedies, plugged milk ducts may persist or worsen. If the symptoms do not improve within a day or two, it's important to seek medical advice. A healthcare professional can provide a proper diagnosis and recommend additional treatment, such as prescribed medication, to address the issue effectively.
Conclusion: Addressing plugged milk ducts effectively is essential for maintaining a positive breastfeeding experience. By understanding the causes and early identification of the symptoms, nursing mothers can take proactive steps to prevent and treat plugged ducts. Remember, seeking guidance from a healthcare professional or a lactation consultant is never a sign of weakness; it's a testament to a mother's commitment to providing the best care for her and her baby's well-being. With the right support and strategies, breastfeeding can be a joyful and fulfilling journey for both mother and child.
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Thru a paroxysm of tears...
I inconsolably wept a river of sorrow
starkly aware alienated daughter(s)
implacable woe sundered fatherhood
yesterday, today and tomorrow.
A series of unfortunate events
(move over Lemony Snicket)
set in motion since my birth
unleashed impotent scrawny infant
registering 3,000,716,593 third
baby born on planet earth
swaddled emulating uterine hearth.
Oblivious to death, his ear splitting yowling
triggered lactation, which kept him alive,
where he blissfully suckled guaranteed immunity,
yet thru childhood chicken pox and mumps
he gain said grim forecast and survive
living social threescore and four years
amidst emotional travails
including life threatening bout
with anorexia he did thrive.
Mein kampf and lovely bones
analogous to graveyard
the wind thru unmarked tombstone moans
issuing melancholic tones.
Quintessential tear ducts relentlessly secrete
grim reaper who no mortal can cheat,
yet offspring must not precede parents,
hence tis regarding scythe
(memento mori symboling untimely death)
stealing prized progeny,
and forever silencing her heart beat.
She leads charmed enviable life
physically active with all manner of sport
unlike yours truly and the wife
whereat the former (an aspiring wordsmith)
experiencing psychological demon
that brandish blood dripping knife.
Accursed pained longevity I must bear
illustrative of existence,
where mental health did career
all too human to err,
nevertheless daughter will not forgive
no matter schizoid personality disorder
inherited courtesy one or more forebear
me, the singular son and addle brained heir
sired by Boyce and Harriet
whose pop and mom genes
transmitted self destructive traits
that did unwittingly impair
embedded within mine being
analogous to knitwear
fraught with mistake
and evident in me a longhair
pencil necked geek near
to thinning out viz receding hairline
versus once golden locks xtra ordinaire
when just a lad mistook me being queer,
yet homosexual preference rear
if non existent, yet notions
of same sex flagrante delicto thoughts
flickered decades ago
regarding to timeshare
once skinny self while at Antioch College,
especially when unexpectedly approached
by scantily clad Adonis
donned in frilly underwear.
As one sexagenarian
becomes more sanguine,
he nevertheless struggles to decouple
his boyhood, adolescent, late teen
and emerging adulthood
experiences that left bitter
after taste of quinine,
and prompts tremendous us to pine
for halcyon days recalling mine
blissful years at 324 Level Road
Collegeville, Pennsylvania
they mostly ranked as divine.
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My son: I'M AWAKE AND I HUNGER!!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO WAIT??? FOR BREAKFAST??? THAT'S NOT FAIR! I'M GOING TO SCREAM FOR THE NEXT 20-35 MINUTES!!!
My husband: ¯\_(🙄)_/¯
Me: omg just like pick him up and cuddle him while I'm pumping it's not difficult
Me: (to my son) it's your own damn fault you won't take the breast
Actually it's the hospital's fault, since they put him on a tube and then transitioned him to a bottle and then discharged him without teaching us how to breastfeed, like, they said "oh just keep trying :)" but no, whenever I tried he would cry louder and turn his head away so I stopped because, like, RSD sucks and imagine getting rejected by your literal month-old infant??? and having PPD on top of that??? they could have at LEAST used the Tommee Tippee bottles that are shaped like a boobie, like I didn't learn about those until my pump malfunctioned and I got some of those bottles off Nextdoor with my replacement pump. Oh and let's not forget that lactation specialists are like, doing things over the phone/Zoom instead of in person and that helps exactly zero for my neurodivergent self. So my son has to wait close to half an hour because I have to pump and I'm underproducing
(I'm severely allergic to lactation tea, my job doesn't fully comprehend "just had a baby" OR "high functioning autism" and basically see me as a slacker who gets more special treatment than everyone else but I need to work in order for the County to continue to help support us because I absolutely cannot stay home alone with the baby so anyway I don't get enough sleep, and "just eat this thing" or "stay hydrated :)" don't work for me)
but neither Loki nor I want to switch the baby's liquid to "just formula" so I'm stubbornly pumping every few hours and basically he usually gets 2 oz milk and 5 oz formula per feed, UNLESS he has eaten his fruit (2.3 oz per container but he usually finishes 1.5-2 oz), in which case I have more time to relax and eat food before I pump and then he gets like 3 oz milk and 2 oz formula
We had some milk saved in the freezer but then Beb had to go back to the hospital overnight so Loki took the milk supply and the formula can with him, and yes I pumped while the boys were gone, but we still ran out really quickly
Anyway, every morning I have to hear him crying because his food is taking too long and I really hate it :( Loki says he's just making noise because he's awake and wants to play, and since he's the primary caretaker I kind of half-believe him? But it's still hard hearing him through the door and feeling all kind of way about it.
I've also had to leave/unfollow some mom groups because they were passive aggressively shaming people who formula-feed, like, "oh noes in my toes, your baby will consume MICROPLASTICS if you bottle feed!" Well gee, you know, I did have to pump for several days in the hospital to even get milk in the first place, and the pumps are made of-- surprise!-- PLASTIC. And so are the little dollar store containers I put his baby food in (we get free produce and I like to boil and blend my own rather than buy baby food from the store even though WIC will cover it if I tell them he's eating fruit).
Wow this turned into a whole rant. But yeah I've tried to talk to lactation specialists and, like therapists, they all have the same Generic A, B, and C answers that don't fucking work for me because I always gotta be a fucking outlier and it's not cool or fun, they GENUINELY don't understand that what works for other moms doesn't work for me and I hate it so m
OH AND LET'S
One of the common advice things is to eat more, like, consume 300-709 kcal more as a breastfeeding or pumping mother than before becoming pregnant. But THEN I've got the-- that really isn't working ok first of all. Secondly, I'm getting FATTER. I don't have the time or energy to exercise (I am exercising more than I did, but it takes A LOT of extra planning and a huuuge push to make me stick to my phone's reminders) and the doctors are like "you need to exercise :)" YEAH OKAY WITH WHAT??? TIME??? AND WHOSE??? ENERGY??? WHAT KIND OF LIFE DO YOU PEOPLE FUCKING THINK I'M LIVING? "But your cholesterol and blood sugar"
I just
*SCREAMS*
I wasted my entire 20's being overweight and I had just got some semblance of body acceptance for myself after Beb was born because my body was clearly strong enough to grow and nurture this whole new person, but that actually faded away sometime within the last six months and I fucking hate that i SOMEHOW FUCKING GAINED BACK ALL THE FAT I LOST A WEEK AFTER GIVING BIRTH???
I don't fucking WANT to eat more!!! The other day we went to the store and I ended up putting on a corset because I was so mad that I couldn't zip up my old work pants that, again, fit a little loose after I had the baby. I hate having to eat to stay alive, like, if I could just live on water and vitamins I FUCKING WOULD.
And due to my schedule I can't "just exercise", like, I work in office. I work from home. I pump every few hours so no matter what I do I always feel like I'm going to be interrupted "any minute" and then when I am it throws me off and I CANNOT relax. I have horrible executive dysfunction. And it's like the fucking universe is conspiring to make me morbidly obese (my medical chart actually said that when I went to the ER for a new inhaler) and underproducing milk
like I'm GLAD I'm fucking bigender because I'd feel like an absolute failure if I was just a woman
#formula feeding from necessity#failed breastfeeding#lactation woes#parenting while autistic#welfare stuff#body shaming#dysmorphia#meltdown but in text form
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Robin Musings, as per Krypto
Ph.D. (tummy rubs), M.A. (The Art of The Good Boi)
Robin I
A puppy!
Oh boy Clark finally made me a grandpup!
How well my grandpup fights!
And how well he flies!
Oh no
The chickens are trying to adopt him
Quick, bark at the chickens
Robin II
New pup!
Angry pup?
Let me lick your woes away
Oh I know all about sibling rivalry
See how the horses prance around and look all majestic
Disgusting
But I know that Clark loves both of us equally
Ah I have imparted wisdom
Robin III
ALERT
The pup is skinny!!
Feed the pup-!
Oh
I can't lactate :/
Quick, let's go to Bessie
Woman has like, six calves, she can spare some milk
Robin IV
Girl pup!
Brush me as you would brush your glorious hair
Now for the finale
We shall shed on Bruce's favorite chair :)
Robin III again
Skinny pup is dating Kon-pup!
Glorious, I will have great-grandpups now
That is, if Bruce doesn't keep yelling
Ruins the mood :/
How will my dynasty continue at this rate
Robin V
Angry pup!
Quick! Snuffle the anger away!
Oops I squished him
It's ok :)
What's this
The pup is kidnapping me!
Someone save me- oh wait
You're rich
Tell Clark I said bye :)
#batman#tim drake#bruce wayne#batfam#clark kent#timkon#superman#kon el kent#superboy#dick grayson#nightwing#jason todd#red hood#red robin#damian wayne#robin musings#robin dc#robin#krypto#stephanie brown#batgirl#dcu#batfamily#batbros#fluff#humor#crack
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Pediatrician!Levi x GN!Reader Headcanons/Scenario
Warnings: apart from mentioning a case of depression within a teenager, none!
I’ll try to make this as detailed yet as concise as possible, I tend to run away with myself sometimes, haha!
You were recently taken aboard at this new pediatrics clinic by none other than Dr. Ackerman himself. You had done a bit of work experience a few years back when you did rotations but when it came around to specializing, you always found yourself drawn to children.
And perhaps drawn to your now boss too, but let’s not speak of that.
Was it because he was so good with kids, despite his cold-looking exterior, or was it the neatness of his office/clinic or was it just him in general? Either way, you knew it was inappropriate.
But how could you resist yourself when on your first day he remembered your coffee/tea order from years ago and handed it to you with a, “welcome aboard, [F/n].”
Yeah, perhaps it was just him.
Dr. Levi Ackerman typically wore his white coat and encouraged you to do the same, just for professionalism. He wasn’t opposed to you just wearing something formal to work with a stethoscope around your neck either as he sometimes would just don black slacks and a navy button-up shirt. Stethoscope always stayed around the neck though.
Sometimes he’d walk into a shop on his lunch break with the device still around his neck.
He showed you the ropes and you were given your own office within the building for your own clients, but sometimes Levi would sit in on you and show you how to do things. You knew how to do everything but having someone who had years of hands-on experience was always so helpful.
But yes, as it may shock people, Levi is wonderful with kids, and you would love to know where this comes from, especially since Levi sometimes looked like he’d snap at a moment’s notice. But he handled babies with care, he had a special ritual (you can't tell me he isn't good with kids) in distracting babies when giving them inoculations and he was always there to talk to the parents afterwards who were new to parenthood. He even let toddlers and young kids play with his stethoscope and let it use it on him first in case they were scared.
“Come here,” he instructed the parents. He had a gloved finger in a small baby’s mouth and he was showing the parents everything in fine detail. The baby suckled away on his finger and played with the index finger of his other hand. “You’re looking for this kind of latch. But don’t be disheartened if it doesn’t happen right away, or if it hurts.”
Also very kind to mothers who are still emotional and going through the wild hormonal changes right after birth. He might leave this one to you so that you get experience (especially if you’re a girl, what with bonding with someone who is also a girl) but he listens intently to their woes even if they are seemingly nonsensical. He is well versed in PPD and knows how it can be potentially dangerous if left untreated or left fester.
“If you are feeling that your mood is making it hard to bond with your child, then it is absolutely imperative you get on top of this. Either via therapy, medication, a combination of the two. But there is no shame in this. It’s okay. Your body has just changed so much in the nine months and this is your new normal and it is a lot to take in.”
Levi’s voice was always so soft when speaking to new mothers. You just knew the man was so gentle with his hands when handling their infants too, and could hide the moodiness very easily around them.
Very open-minded doctor when needed which was always nice to see. If a mother couldn’t breastfeed or was simply mentally not in the right headspace for it, he would never bash her. At the same time, he also had no problem arranging appointments with a lactation specialist. If she wanted to do strictly formula, that is totally okay with him too.
Always around in his clinic if you need a second opinion. Very helpful like that.
A few months into working here was when Levi initiated his competition of sorts. Whenever either of you was finished with a young patient, they had to pick a sticker from the sticker roll and place it on your white coat.
“What’s the reward?” you asked him.
“The winner decides.” He answers and heads back into his office.
And so the games began. Every morning, one of you would have coffee/tea prepared for the other person and you’d go off to collect stickers. Occasionally he’d invite you in to watch him deal with a client so that you can pick up some experience and know-how. You couldn’t tell if this was to make you get less stickers or not.
There was one patient and mother that always stuck out to you. A sixteen year old struggling from what the mother called “moodiness” but Levi was quick to note that it probably was something far deeper.
“It’s because of their damn phone!” The mother complained aloud when Levi suggested her teenager may be struggling with depression. Levi heaved a sigh and turned around on his swivel chair after the physical exam, trying to ignore the mother's comment. It wasn't appreciated or factual.
“There are two categories to this. There is a more natural approach, what he and you can do together to combat this and there is the other category: medication. Sometimes both are needed. We have good and bad days, but we want to make sure the good days happen more.” He explained as calmly as he could.
But when the mother continued to complain about her child, Levi was quick to give a stern look to her. You learned then and there that he hated being corrected by parents who probably didn’t know the ins and outs of their own child, or weren’t going to take their issues seriously. He was also there to stand up for the kids who couldn’t do it themselves.
“Do you honestly think you’re helping? Have you ever considered for a damn second that your son likes his phone as a distraction from whatever is going on at home?” he asked, not wanting to outwardly point the blame at the parent. “Access to social media 24/7 is definitely a factor - teenagers constantly want to look and perform a certain way. Technology is just so feasible and accessible and we are so open and vulnerable to constant criticism, it’s no wonder this generation and younger generations are depressed. It’s easy to blame phones. But we have to look at other factors. You’re also not giving him a damn second to speak to me. I’ve only heard you speak.”
You weren’t quite sure if you would ever have the gall to stand up to a parent like that. Levi was quick to stand up and send the mother out of the room. The patient was sixteen and was in this intermediary age group where their guardian didn’t have to be present in the room if the child didn’t want to. He also made you go on his computer and search up counselling services in the area as he continued to speak to the child.
Once he was finished, he handed him a roll of stickers and asked him to place it anywhere on his coat. You noticed they were half way up the inside of his white coat. You were definitely losing!
“Can you give one to my colleague, [F/n], too? Hand them a sticker.”
You had to fight with all your might to not smile then and there.
You got a Spiderman sticker and Levi got a Princess Peach. Naturally, these became nicknames for you both in either person’s phone.
Towards the end of the year, Levi stopped supervising you but always needed updates on your sticker progress. Levi had won, as expected.
“Okay, so what are you doing for your prize?” you asked him.
“Get coffee with me.”
“Levi, we get takeaway coffee nearly every morning.”
“I mean, come with me after work and we’ll sit at a, uh, you know-- a cafe, of sorts, and we’ll, er, sit, and, er--”
Your cheeks dusted a light pink as you stared back at his terrible attempt at asking you out for coffee, and not just the nasty, cheap coffee.
“Can I choose the café?” you asked.
“Tch. You kidding? I collected the most stickers.”
And so, that evening, you waited for him outside his office and walked to this cafe in question. Only this time he made the bold attempt at linking your fingers with his.
<This could easily turn into a part two, a more scenario-based part two? But I wouldn’t know how to begin, not unless I planned it. Hmm.>
#levi x reader#levi ackerman#levi#husbando tag <3#cece; levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman x you#cece; writing#snk#aot#snk x you#aot x you#snk x reader#aot x reader
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Smaugust 16 - Glaucus
A dragon finds himself the target of a shape change. He goes from an imposing, draconic body to one more resembling a human woman! (2015 words)
cw: death, transformation, vore (kinda), tftg (kinda??)
There once was a yellow-scaled dragon by the name of Glaucus. He passed his days collecting gold, gems, and other treasures, devouring foolish knights, and kidnapping princesses. Unfortunately, as is the eternal woe of princess-kidnapping dragons across space and throughout time, humans are fragile. Over the days and months, each kidnapped princess would fade in beauty, and thus, in worth to his hoard. Naturally, the women who fell to far to the deteriorating curse of existence soon found themselves a new, very temporary, home in Glaucus's stomach. Yet still, this brought him no joy, for his hunger could be sated just as well with knights or deer, and consuming a princess meant sacrificing a part of his hoard for the sake of its continued beauty and elegance.
One day, he was approached by a human sage, clothed in a brown robe. Glaucus peered down at the man from atop his pile of gold. "For what reason do you approach, human? If you seek my death or the release of one of my treasures, know your quest to be futile."
The human raised his hands; in them sat a plain-looking box. "This is a herb with powerful magic," the robed man explained, "if you were to feed even part of it to any of your princesses, they would remain forever beautiful. It would be as though they had never spent days and months wasting away in your cave. In fact, so potent is this plant, their lives would outlast even that of a dragon's, despite being born as humans."
Glaucus carefully took the box, opening it to reveal a broad leaf from an unknown plant. "From which town come you, o curious human?" the dragon rumbled, "I grant no treasure for your deed, but mercy is a fine reward."
"I am born of and reside in Hillsire, dragon Glaucus," replied the human. "Such a reward is invaluable, and I will be sure to tell of your mercy to my neighbors."
"See that you do," Glaucus said with a slight smile. He dismissed the human from his presence, and curled around the herb, inspecting it and thinking.
Eternal beauty, and eternal life? Surely, he thought, those were qualities the rest of his hoard had, and it would be fitting to finish off the rest of it as such. And yet, the herb was not infinite in itself; if he cut away a leaf, it would not grow back. No matter how thinly he sliced it, what tiny portions he meted out to the beautiful princesses in his hoard, it would eventually consume the last of the herb. When that day should come, Glaucus would be faced with an ultimatum: content himself with the beauties he had collected thus far, and no else, or return to his current predicament, yet with the tantalizing, false hope of an eternally beautiful hoard in front of his eyes every day.
No matter his strategy, whether he choose the first princesses, or the ones most beautiful of each decade, or some further method, the result was still the same: the herb of eternity brought with it naught but limitations. Two knights arrived and fell to his fangs and fire before Glaucus finally struck upon a plan.
Having judged the humanity of his hoard unsuitable, and with the herb itself lacking in the beauty he required of his hoard, Glaucus devoured the magical herb, snapping it up in his yellow-scaled jaws as though it were the heart of a sacrifice offered for clemency. A great, flowing energy rushed through his body, and Glaucus felt his dented scales become flawless once more, gleaming as though shined just that morning. The dragon yawned and settled down to sleep while his body consumed and used the herb.
As the morning broke, Glaucus stretched, his scaly arms sending a cascade of coins rolling down their pile. Groggy, he sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. A yawn, and another stretch, and he froze as his hand brushed the wall of his cave, knocking away the tip of a tall stalagmite, which skittered down a mountain of treasure. Confusion gripped him as he brought the hand in front of his face, brewing into horror as he realized that the scaly, yellow, yet human-shaped hand responded to his command.
He shook his head and inspected the rest of his body. His scales shone, the dim light of the cave bouncing off of them in the most appealing of ways, and an old scar along his forear- along his arm, from a lucky knight's gash with a spear, had vanished entirely. In its place was a flawless stretch of scales. However, as he turned his head elsewhere, he realized that his head, wings, and tail were all that escaped the magic of the herb. As he stood up, taking a moment to balance on two legs, he noticed, too, that he was smaller, though he let out a sigh of relief when he realized he still towered times the height any uppity human who might think to take advantage of his new body.
Glaucus's belly appeared thin and maidenish, yet a hand run over it belied the truth of powerful muscles just beyond his scales. Worse, however, were the massive scale-covered lumps on his chest. With a hand under each, he lifted and poked them, finding that they were not nearly so sensitive as he knew a human's could be, merely providing form without function. Inwardly, Glaucus sighed - lactating was such a... mammal thing to do, and he was glad to avoid it. His hands explored his head, feeling out a smoother, yet distinctly draconic head. He retained his horns, though long growths of hair extended from the top of his head to just above his wing joints. Glaucus craned his head around to look at his wings, and was elated to see that they still responded properly, flapping a few times.
Resolving to check matters of reproduction later, the dragon curled his tongue up in front of him: still long, slender, and forked. He let fire build up in his chest, drew it up through his throat, and spat it at the nearest wall. A ball of flame exited his parted jaws, slamming into the rock and scorching it. With a satisfied huff, Glaucus strode from his cave, filled with a desire to work out his frustration. He glared at nearby Hillshire, yet, as savage as he was at times, he was a dragon of his word, and had promised to spare them his wrath. Besides, he admitted, the human in robes had instructed him to feed the herb to his princesses; he did not have a hand in Glaucus's current body.
The sun shone on the transformed dragon's scales; true to the sage's promise of eternal beauty, Glaucus could not stop himself from pausing to admire his appearance, before the frustration boiled up within himself. He leapt into the sky, wings flapping automatically to keep him aloft. With strange ease, he soared past Hillshire, landing with a growl before Sylvanwood. His roar echoed across the land, before he boomed in a loud, unsurprisingly yet still jarring, feminine voice, "you who would face a dragon, face me and your death, or live to see your village razed!"
"Dragon!" shouted a helmeted knight, "not a twig of this town shall burn. Your own life is... for... feit..." He trailed off as he approached. He flicked up his visor, regarding the yellow-scaled body towering before him, then averted his gaze. "It would... not be proper to engage you, fair lady."
Glaucus growled. The minor irritation of having to use both hands to easily lift the knight was merely the spark to ignite the rage the knight had further fueled. And, as dragons do on ignition, the knight was engulfed in a billowing cloud of flame, his grunt of confusion giving way quickly to a horrible scream of agony. Smoke rose from his limp armor when Glaucus snapped his jaws shut.
A second challenge was shouted as a second human came at him, sword raised. Glaucus spun quickly, slamming the challenger across the ground. He raised his sword against him again, but a single, yellow-scaled foot held him in place, unable to lift his sword or even kick much. Glaucus smirked and lifted the cooked knight to his muzzle. It was a greater struggle than he had had in dozens or hundreds of years, but he managed to swallow the defeated foe, temporarily rounding out his magically-trim belly. He noted with a taste of satisfaction that the eternal beauty held through gorging himself, and his triumphant figure was just as pleasing to his eye as when he had first emerged from his cave.
He scuffed the trapped human underfoot, then sent him skidding several meters away. The man coughed, gritted his teeth, and charged once more; Glaucus crouched down to catch him in his hands. "Admirable, you hesitate not in your duty."
The human tried to swing his sword at Glaucus, but found his arms soon caught fast, as well. "I will not be swayed by your wiles! Be you Glaucus with a new trick, or some other beast with his scales, I am sworn to defend this village from any who would seek to destroy it!"
Glaucus regarded him dispassionately, then pushed him back, standing and taking a step back, himself. "Well, fortune favors you; the first fellow," he patted his belly, "was enough to sate my ire. But know that, had you not been so lucky, that conviction of yours would see you join him, in the afterlife if not my stomach." With that, he turned and left, taking flight and easily outpacing any who tried to follow.
He landed before Hillshire. "Show me to the man who delivered to me the herb yesterday," he commanded a nearby girl playing at the outskirts. She took a terrified step back, taking in the sight of the dragon, then nodded and bolted into the town. From his vantage point, Glaucus watched her go, and swiftly strode to a closer point around the town. The man in robes left his home and turned to greet him.
"Dragon Glaucus, did not you promise mercy to the town?" Glaucus could sense the fear in his voice, yet his actions betrayed none of it.
"I did, and thus all I have done yet was create footprints around the perimeter. Tell me, human, was this," he said, gesturing to his new body, "the intended outcome of your gift?"
The man squinted at him, holding a hand in front of his face to shield his eyes from the bright yellow scales. "Ah, I see. No, we merely sought the mercy you offered; I would have attempted to bargain for it, should you have offered a material reward. How find you such a form?"
Glaucus folded his arms - an unnatural gesture for him, yet one he knew well from his many princesses. "It is inferior to my majestic, prior form... yet, I would not describe it as a curse. I suspect my opinion will grow more nuanced through time."
"Ah, I am glad to hear that," the sage said, "and know that Hillshire is a friend to the unusual. Should you return in a friendly manner, it will be met in kind. And as your mercy shows you a dragon of your word, it is my hope that you do so."
"I will not be dissuaded from my diet nor my hobbies," Glaucus replied, cautious.
"That is not my intention, and I hope the same to be true of my neighbors as well."
Glaucus flicked his gaze over the town of Hillshire. In addition to the humans he often saw roaming towns, he spotted, too, several griffons, a few members of the beastfolk races, and even an elf conversing with a coiled naga. He looked back down at the robed man. "...consider me advised on the matter," he ventured, then crouched to take flight, springing up into the air before angling himself back towards his cave to think.
#dragon#smaugust#mythology#transformation#anthro#furry#furry dragon#v/ore#v.ore#writing#writers on tumblr#smaugust 2020#text
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Who watched Maid beware or others crumbles at our dark—years began
A sonnet sequence
I
Mark how he best, and the pall from the census take this way! And
wither side of love? But thou wander’d, by flew as the sounder
all in one; sweet, sweet flattering round. There here is night have for
once more the wite that seek to glow seem’d to see. And mortal Pride
confesse O nobler part was the padded door, and height, wherein
your life-time’s sweet too, I will excuse ye: thou lift this bosom
fall as a city may call; or with faint in one’s eye, and guide
the Pyre, and your roabes did oftentimes happy in a
suit of silk was, indeed!—Surely be. Beginning Lips to let
the gaps and sick dove. Belovëd, my Belovëd, my Belovëd!
Give her Faults, if Belle Isle, which to stars of my head and look!
No things in virgin could the Wand, a king. And Nymph exulting
Fears, but here’s throat, its earth and bleed in by the Vision too,
too cons sweet dreams have been fair face of blue while praises: nothing?
II
Prison-wall: till on Earth receives in front
of unslumbrous regions beneath a look
upon is much lesse meerely? A lamb
did leaue: seemeth the weeping Train beneath
the incarnate word to catches three days
to guess my woe, nor drearily on barren
moors: dread and human neighb’ring Kate is
penn’d up in further yet; Whoever bells,
and all the spheres did not her, what strange minstrel
memory of drooping high, or rumpled
Petticoat. Never a March-wind sighs
are slathered by some take my hand took my
hart did shivering at the complain, and
canst the sweets shook; or, it may not removed!
III
Will never dumb lactation from the
lifeful spake he: Men of a workings of
the which prison-wall still fervid covenant,
Belles had spoken. Had enter: the charms
even child with cryes most fitt ne brest of
beer: his claws wept. Close bought, but dead? Or, it
slays the rose tree. Clouds all the little waves
it ran, hear us, O satyr king! Us
till hear me I would say, Fair at last,
or in that had once, you say, already
splendour pours to that purchast all the Hair
⸻ he spoke; the floor, one part papa, one part
to be this, and Purple noontide ocean’s
prais’d; and, O ye deity of moonlight?
IV
Ever cull some health, or will out—my two
Eyes shut and guide, for the third day the Wolues
iawes: but it is all as a woman
is all who thro’ all the dares his temple’s
selfe at lower of blisse fit for a
medicines made to stem and over my
death: the bone by name, where’er I look. The
lintwhite face, white, sleepe, and their needle browne.
The world god’s dreadful leisure of those regions?
Stella O dear chill command me, above
us somethinks already in
hair. My darlin’. Which would arises in
the Devil’s Own Brigade: and mow’d down, come
live with Silence from the cliff-side to seke?
V
My cricket cap was one in Song. Ariel
himself, a shout from fair Love, from its
sores and dark, and sip without a flowers
such thy bold Lord t’assault a gentle blew;
the wood where it was a regular bird
dog. It wasn’t Sanforized? And great Pope’s
eye, and sing for the Fops envy, and sunk
besides to thee—cheerless song against female
heare, and lay no wintry Main, to state:
if thy ravish’d two pails bring through i have
loves that lifts its trumpet blows. He did not
palsy or booze. Now while deep scar of night:
soot-hoof and not know not wring his foot countries,
renders they past, makes the poppy hill.
VI
And sends a gloom and eagle’s maw; or by
the quiet, turtles pass in the prow,—thy
deeds of your part was my selfe did lose. Wishing,
the voice upon the best, the cleaned the
conquers what you hence, lovely ones. Singing
boughs breathe sweet these, thy own vallies white did
feedes him round the silence and beauty
of your temple through in any chance—sure
of Man! Of all slide down to the wing, fann’d,
some fair Sunday suits, but he water flicked
from far; draw near. And through the bulging
eyes, transfer where Lightning of lightly call
her live, except thus in the world enough
the decoys, the Winter-bound for ever!
VII
No, she saints in Flame mount up, and great his rights of the Board. And
then the swollen purple scarecrow hastily I drop of a
might holds up his ancient Maid, her lips, touch’d their Prospects and change
way, christal spring, forth of Fate, in glitt’ring Fan be both he
seedsman was glad: the moorlands with all their rose, though whole solemn
Days, wouldst not brings his mournful Glance by the thing, held her: As I
came, with a bitter breathe ouzel sung for the Heroes and
pricelesse you’ve loves, and humming sweete Violet. And for my love, not
scorn that bless of the republic. Behold, brightness thronging spies
this untimely moan; long ago a giant body carries
crawled the surgy murmur of folk of hours, the fools a paly
lip, eye, though ’tis vain as sword to cast it is, made delight must
leave you by some men who day by whome she dabbled solemn hours
shall join its date, and roll through almond valley-lilies away.
VIII
Yet each man trembles all for each man’s
asexual voice, to all sate heavenly
eyes proceeding, where she distance of Fear
the answer now I haue to write, by a
bright upon the stark and plunder’d o’er-taking
their death, wise-women fresh, to heauens still
unclose by, began, but stretch of murmur
of the wintry season, bare and his rosy
children—women, deviants, you but
need, so may linger wonne or lose her little
ease my tremble altar. Thou didst passe-
praise the lucid Squadrons round here willow
pine, quicken in, the ripen’d overshadows
fresh fire, beeing been unhappy morn!
IX
Yet each breast thou saw the vital feeling year grows storm of green.
And warrantize of stone. For perfect best, the books, and and round
they raise hue scorn that hovered in western border seen! I
pitiful arose, and deep, where were nested gem of high soaring
eye: let all the leaden sky, and blows. To the Word will keep a
lamb stray from what red mountain’s heard from her organ’s power of
people apart. Daphne hath him, tho’ less and shops, a thing to
face the man whom every sails of seventy-three guse-feather;
to sue her to death: and fitful whims of Horror stalks, I’ll leaves
when snouted with sacred lays, sweet first ill-sounding upon the
Night thee now, like Homer makes me much too late to the thro’ and
the slept. You heare, and op’d their Sylph too wan, or Virgin! To hide:
if the rest; an age at lower, the little or the sand there
with renew, were busiest, and dreadful dame. To mend the Skies.
X
As the wheel where or others plaited brow.
The House strings, even they led, already
knows, if he seed the salt herb, in the ark:
so we—the forever. And strange use, with
purple and scrubbed that thirst open’d overseeing
then my Gates shift in some blame him?
That is the dead and bulky worthy I
to be preferr’d in Lakes on rolling cold.
Last night of these days to growling, kiss’d the
roaring opens touching comes and eyes? When
you spy’d the kisses, or true: to men who
still unclose meerely? Amends the sea
and peace with earnestly, thought: Piffle! Breath
the Chaplain of it. With no strew daisies.
XI
Doves, we saw it upward, thus a chorus
sang: O magic sleep o’er-spreaded tail, a
vulture could not the wooing well hath soone
would almost air and wall that she slender
clear to tread as if crooning of Death-bed
Alms are we may haue to warp a wail of
delight into a warmer air: a moment
you could one descend; some, I deeme ech
haue some idly trails its Incomes one’s favorite
customers. It may live no measure.
Dear her Hearts are nurtured its Musick match
in your pitious birds do sing, how fair
enchased crocodile, or twice a day he
meditation, that double double you?
XII
A half-world. My thigh. And I sigh’d, she saw
it upward: but in popped a dwarf took him
out, one be put her own. Of snow and the
Sunne, who shall be the British Fair, and bright
we glided panes. They cull some deckt with travels
after meeting his essences for
at her Hand, when the tallest builders with
the winds, make our beauteous Dick surmise with
more, not give him he is near your soul, instead
of infamy my coward doth loathsome
me. Man eats the rest for us, O
satyr king! Greater strife thorough autumn
mists, and twilight, and play, and swing. Permit
me voyage done, that Christ enthrone in Song.
XIII
That when within the mazy Ringlets heroes
and a sleep, with a bitter Washes
all forth, and not wake thy neck a carcanet
is Princes; o sceptred terror crept
up a thousands are long alone that glances
are found, her proof of despair, alas!
And comforts your walked before thy term is
reach’rous Cause, ye banefull before takes
two eyes begun. Which he listens, I hear,
i’ll draw near. So he said: pleased with singing
Laurel, alwaies frame: nor ride in deepest
shell, tripping alone: and eft did the first
begin it in knots Sword-knot Sylvia’s Busk
that engender’d, and beat, night-long way home.
XIV
Not wring hound did make me to a Gnome, in
dyingly-—send honeycombs; our taint the
Mercury. Love is secret Passion, yea, I
was dead-still to the tries flit to see. You
have been knows not die, and by a soft in
battle word: and they my payne to sette thence
the confounds the sky resign. New Stratagems,
the multitude that you, gallants, ere
it shot through cast together soule a song
again. And Giaours through and sick of an old
marble man was leap, and alien tears
of thy counter two souls intered without
a shout from the tentie seed the nombers
flowers and clear rills seem’d, we left their tryst.
XV
Thing in the Glance Sir Fopling up in prison-
wall, and thro’ all the poppies star whose
beames been, if Hampton take, in generation
builds its sorrowes faster: places,
when Woman is adore each one must
such a sense—merged in true Lovers lovely
as an arbour, no dark breast; but thine; do
thought some Female Soul is, and and its love,
O troth. To the Diamonds pole with lips and
dream of such glee across nor weeps, She is
coming foam; your ring we prisoned light
Coquettes to her paly flame and in its
spotted though my body be. To the garden
is adore each other undivide.
XVI
I lain for to beare coles of a silence
are deadliness raise thine oath, must surely
be. That i may give? And move; the great this
explicit sadness, to whom my Muse, to
gild the same speckled with thee, instruction
of Dryope’s sigh above me—me—sure of
rage, for lo! Dear rose whiten in the coward
does not my ample, feverish all!
Blue isles and of Bow; sooner thee all those,
which, snatch’d my bewailed with my minds to
Waters on ev’ry Atome just let Autumn
bold, with me so deep depressing-room,
like a Chief there happy in a snake: the
whiten in heart, through a murderers’ Hole?
XVII
And some mention. And be possess and empty
Coca-Cola can also see. Living
forms swam heavenly power hast but
they do prayse is builds its from you’d call now
believ’d to will all thy call vesper, through
and petals of sacred Lord t’assault at
large, shall carrying unwanted though all
those in one delicate from my bridal
night: besides. To live no arms which snatch’d there’s
nothing tone when here was a man.
Fashioning chance: Is this grave’s alembic, and
took pity. Some frail China Vessels, fall
on this faire Venus’ doves cooing sun. Whose
had to his was my selfe to view of heate?
XVIII
Sorrow drops a tear, from our hurt to be a Jew. His world equals
the surf brightness to arrival. Sweet with Sin in who lies
your wofull Maisters and the reeds the youthful bow again I’ll
seiz’d alive, and the raw pulsing called locks where grey church on the
Justice, confounded my experiment and each breathe next he
listens, and they sighs, breast enthralments defac’d its unknown—but
not blames with a fair against thought him of her golden pits: ’twas
bells, and He approve my flocks thus blazing Eyes, and fierce that took
so will believing Tears; thy gloria victi. Will with coral:
for all its measures on rolling overmuch, stand in art,
must the feeling year fallen on a tried to make a lasting
every feare his body as he combing hast but once, and Africk’s
Sable Matadore, notes the grandeur of the mid forest
wild of o’er-head clouds, a faint away at once around and fret.
XIX
Jenny her self in the Breath of Ithaca,
and his rosy child do thee, lest Glory
of whose ragged priest eyed the soules; come
down thy breast encumbrance dear Julia, thogh
faire Queen she’d surely some shepherd swains shall
your eyes already knows by breast—my eyes
begun, of her beauties parcht; her kisse; that
new regency ghouls. Might blessed Lady of
beer: his crumbling hazels darke heard, some few
sad hours, and eft did glide. More than aught my
mind, where the white! By such troubled so, her
cleare as the Gods engage, proves tip without
a sigh, and the silk and levels of a
dreaming wind upon their sheep-hearts the Ground.
XX
That, in the Sunnye beames of death—most humble
Paean, upon mine arms to ravisher
die. A Pipkin the rest; an age at
least, half to the sad world we passionless
now decks Susan’s clothes, and Musick softens,
I heard love, but not build upon my rose
nor sinners gave, because thought she love shouldst
thou wast to see his ancient bugaboo
followed bars when Woman is adore, the
silence led him slayne. Or as the Nymph, to
her; and that delight to be lost confession-—
swung a lush screen with just the play is
a pit of so strange it well, the common
genders that creep, and one Plebeian Card.
XXI
Chords upon a wide a breeze of Delos.
Boots that gaze on me. The weak, it slays the
signs. Of regen’rate in hair? Proud of my
fashion, to draw them all. Secret grief appeare
more the fainting Forfex wide, confounded
man—at peace, are vain and sensuall earth
was no grave forgiven; for solitary
things as were athirst open’d, the World
was Hope. Children’s voice by her in pain, my
papers yellow spleen. I know not: but ’twas
lost! The very leaf hangs upon thee, and
serene, but no more! Suffering time, they waltzed
and make my darlin’. Bothered by sometimes
happiness, she crimson started: Ah!
XXII
Gave Ear, fays, Fairies, love, and Codille.
But by the heap of flesh and helpless Earthly
Lovers of my despair for the pousse
here? I shure in this active hours shall be
sayde that keeps with all the gloom and I’ve to
see. Nothing here, till a soft Transition,
every flowers wont to flute, no pipe, or
glowing Gems unlocks, seeing then in his
anguish scope: something Spoil. These things loose and
lithe pebble, and sponge wakes black, and roos, and
petal myself as Sprindges we tramp the
youthful to thy groves; our pitious Ariel
sought suddenly see save that did not
so long, leapt up, and the same night, may say.
XXIII
The pieties, loveliest moon, trees do
lean her warm Love inhere; yet now past kisses
blown, shall I say, knowing I can teache
her lives the tender the silence assist
the Works of books, you must beneath each times
a scent of drift, as she shaft, and blinded
many a dying to get out from sword
can fasten’d by thy Muse on they present
the poesy by moonlight unto their
foretel; thrice they discourse, and screen with the
youth look’d for ever walk th’ important
to answer to be told! Then, laughing,
on their Visits shake his soul tells me helpless
Earth, with thine angry howl, and the Cards.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 6#122 texts#sonnet sequence
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Do you think if I send you a mean anon jaerie might miraculously post some more lactation kink? No harm in trying right. Ok here goes...... It's obvious Sony pays you to be not sexist towards The Stunts you suck for not validating MY narrative on your blog you're a shill and an oppressive force of evil in fandom so poo on you
LMAOOOOOO, WE CAN ONLY HOPE AND PRAY FOR THE BIG MILK TO RESCUE ME IN MY TIME OF WOE!!!!!!!!!
#come thru queen#i know she's actually working on a few so this is a cheat#but yeah feels mighty close tbh#where's my $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$#i don't hate women and it's too controversial a take to be unpaid#help me jeffrey
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Lactation Cookies The superfood for breastfeeding moms
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