#Nursing Breast Pads Price

[bejeweledblondie]

Post-Baby Bath

Captain John Price x F! Reader

Summary: John decides to help his beloved wife out by pampering her while their newborn is settled down for nap time

A/N: incase you can’t tell my baby fever is at a all time high this week

Warnings: mentions of childbirth, surgery, sexual innuendos

Delivering a baby is no easy feat, hell pregnancy alone is no easy feat. You had just delivered your baby boy not even a week ago. While he wasn’t a very fussy baby, taking care of a infant while healing wasn’t easy especially while healing. You had deliver your son your own while John was on FaceTime. The delivery nurse had to console you so you didn’t raise your blood pressure. It was your worst nightmare. So here you sat at home, alone holding your infant son as he nursed on your chest. He was all John, he had his eyes, nose, & thick head of brown hair. You ran a finger across his pink chubby cheeks as his big eyes stared at you.

The sound of the door lightly opening & closing along with the shuffling of combat boots.

“Darling?” John’s thick accent filled the air. He was home, a sigh of relief washed over you. You were no longer alone in taking care of your newborn.

“I’m in here love,” You replied rocking your son. John walked in to the bedroom & removed his combat boots. A small smile started to appear on your face. With your free hand you reached out for him & cupped his right cheek. He sat down on the edge of the bed & looked down at your newborn son.

“Oh darling,” John said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He took a long look at you, the guilt of not being there weighed on his conscious as he took in your appearance. Small bags were under your eyes from exhaustion, your hair was all tangled, & your skin was pale. Then he looked down again at the bundled in your arms. “He’s beautiful. I’m so proud of you.”

“You wanna hold him he’s just about done.” You said as the newborn started to become fussy. He unlatched from your breast & you handed him over to John’s open arms. John’s large frame made the already small baby boy look microscopic. You put your breast away & just admired the scene in front of her. Your son was looking up as his father with amazement. His face wiggled around with different expressions & his chubby little hands reached out for his beard. Tears welled in John’s eyes at the site of his newborn son.

“I am sorry for missing the birth, baby.” John said he as he looked at you, guilt in his eyes. “You must be so tired.”

“I’m not gonna lie I am.” You sighed. “I haven’t showered in two days. I feel so gross.” Your son had fallen asleep in John’s arms by now. “Oh thank God he’ll be asleep for hours.”

“Why don’t I put him down in his bassinet then draw you a nice warm bath.” John suggested. You smiled at him.

“Baby that sounds absolutely wonderful.” You sighed at the thought. John played your baby in the bassinet & then walked into the bathroom. You could hear the water starting to fill up the tub from your place on the bed. John came out of the bathroom & picked you up out of bed. The past few days you moved with the pace of a snail. You were still healing down there & any sudden movement was painful. Your head rested against his chest as he gently carried you into the bathroom. He put you down gently on the bath mat next to the tub. You went to go & remove your shirt you hissed in pain. Breastfeeding is no joke, your whole chest was achy.

John kneeled in front of you & helped remove your shirt. Then he went to remove your sweat pants. Out of embarrassment you didn’t want John to see you with the giant pad in your hospital underwear. Or the fact your stomach wasn’t all the way down.

“Love.” John said softly. “Don’t hide from me.” He said as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You just had a baby, & regardless I love you.” He was always so tender with you. “You’re also in pain love, let me help you.”

“Okay.” You softly said. He helped remove your sweatpants. “Let me take these off.” You said as he turned around to give you privacy. You removed the hospital underwear & tapped John to let him know you were ready to be put in the tub. He turned out & smiled at you just taking you all in. He felt so honored that you trusted him with seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

“God, you are so beautiful.” He said & lifted you up. Slowly he put you in the warm water. The shock of the water hitting your aching body made a sigh escape your lips. You hadn’t realize how badly you needed this, & how much your body ached. John smiled at you in the tub. He stripped off his uniform & climbed in with you. Your back was rested up again his chest. Lord knew he needed a bath himself from the latest mission.

He wrapped his big burly arms around you pulling you closer to him.

“You want me wash your hair lovely?” He asked. You nodded, & he immediately grabbed your shampoo. As soon as his fingers touched your scalp you could’ve fallen asleep right there. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head & you sighed. You could feel the stress from the day melting away the more he massaged the vanilla scent into your hair. He rinsed the shampoo out & put in your conditioner. John always knew your hair routine & he knew your sweet spots. After he rinsed the conditioner out you rested your head on his shoulder.

The two of you just basked in your own glow. John thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever lied eyes on. Your post baby body to him was the most beautiful thing. It represented your strength & ability to give him one of the most beautiful things he had ever lied eyes on. Besides you of course. He had never known how deep his love could go until he laid eyes on you holding your son. Once the two of you finished your bath, you both jumped into your pajamas & checked in your son. While cuddling watching a movie you heard your son fussing in the bassinet.

You picked him up, & John immediately held out his arms to hold your son.

“Let me take care of it love.” He said. “I need to get to know our son, & you need to catch up on sleep.” You passed the infant off of to John & watched his little body lay on his father’s chest. John started to rub small circles on his newborn son’s back & a small smile appeared on the baby’s face. A little bit of drool started to pool on his t-shirt. Your eyelids started to become heavy as you watched John with your son. A peaceful much slumber consumed you, as you basked in the love of your husband & now newborn baby.

[kidsonlineshoppingsworld]

Buy Nursing Pads Online at Discounted Price at Mothercare India

Breast pad: Shop maternity breast pad at discounted prices at Mothercare India. Check out breastfeeding pads and avail great deals here.

[rk-ocs]

Really old concept notes

Carnelian world

I chose to have Lill red a girl primarily because it was way harder. I already gave her an advantage with bilingualism ( that negates itself because of her age) and no employable life skills. People like the odds stacked against the protag, right.

As a woman, biology itself worked against her. Woman in the past were viewed more as property than people.  They existed for the purposes of housekeeping, bringing a bride price. and creating life. Girls that broke the mould were primarily nuns, nurses, and teachers, to quote half-broke horse (book) . Still, they didn't hold the same value as men, and often got paid less, and a lower chance of being or staying hired.

A second problem in their biology was the ability to create life. One of which is known as a period, or officially menstruation cycle. Here is a Wikipedia definition for it.

"The menstrual cycle is the regular natural change that occurs in the female reproductive system like the uterus and ovaries that make pregnancy possible.The cycle is required for the production of ovocytes, and for the preparation of the uterus for pregnancy.Up to 80% of women report having some symptoms during the one to two weeks prior to menstruation.Common symptoms include acne, tender breasts, bloating, feeling tired, irritability and mood changes. These symptoms interfere with normal life and therefore qualify as premenstrual syndrome in 20 to 30% of women. In 3 to 8%, they are severe."

In common explanation, blood comes out of your vaginia, and messes up your hormones. The only way to avoid this is to grow old enough for it to stop, or become pregnant. Pregnancy, is growing a baby inside of you, which also messes up your hormones , and body badly. Humanity, like dogs and all the other mammals, evolved to grow eggs in their stomach, rather than laying it like birds, particularly penguins. Or Pokemon apparently.

But I'm not here to talk about the dangers and inconveniences of periods at the moment, I'm here to talk about periods.

Particularly guys. First, to understand just a little if the uncomfortableness of periods borrow a pad from a mother/sister/girlfriend and wear it for three hours (a college lecture) then go, sit down on a toilet, and imagine it's covered in blood. Not only fresh blood, but dried blood. Blood dried on your butt and privates. And you can't wash it (theoretically we are in school or a movie or whatever). That feels bad enough, but we are also sore, having cramps, and hormonal. Also we might have zits on our face, which does little to improve one's mood. The hormone thing could leave our reactions anywhere from isolation seeking, to sad, to pissed off and looking for a fight, or anywhere in-between.  Or all over the place. And we can't go home and declare we quit the day or something. We have to get on with our day.

The anger. I guess it's a bit like any time Zuko from ATLA, encountered the commander in season one. No not  commander Shepard,   commander Zhou.

Or that's one way to compare it. Anyway, that pad between your legs. That's new. Before that people would have used sea sponges if they were lucky, but probably rags or some needing frequent wash clothing. Or alternately they could go bleed in the woman's tent for a week. That's what science should be doing for humanity, beyond curing cancer. Finding a better way to deal with the cycle. After all, half the world deals with it.

Until then, when a lady in your life has her monthly, give her as much time in the bathroom as she needs, and try to be nice. Make diner/comfort food, heat up a hot water pack for her stomach, and do the dishes perhaps.

She will probably feel better clean, warm, fed, and without stress triggers (like dishes).

----

Live in Living Colour story Carnelian Jordan-Ryan

I own nothing but my own Ideas. The title is from the play catch me if you can, but don't let that turn you off.

------

I guess I could say, It started when I was six. When I was six, I got the necklace. It didn't do anything for two years, but bear with me, I'm trying to go by my personal timeline, not histories. 

My dad had found some piece of presumably ancient artifact, and decided, "If I get this artfully wrapped up in wire and put it on a chain, this will make a good gift for my daughter." My dad spent a good deal of time underwater, working in a submarine, though I don't really remember what his job was. Perhaps he was in the navy, or a marine biologist. He wasn't the most involved person in my life even before my life took a turn for the bizarre, and I haven't spoken to him in years.

My mom was around a bit more, but what I remember most about her, Is her love for  cultures. She had the idea that I could be very canadian, and had me go into various emerson schools. English, Algonquin, Mohawk, sign language, Meti French, Hindi, whatever teacher she could get that day .  Anything she came across, she had me learning. It's part of why I always intentionally use accents, it helps me keep track of what I'm speaking. I think she wanted me to become a diplomat or something.

She also loved to cook.   She didn't  make just French dishes. She made Japanese, Mexican, Swedish, you name it, she would make it. It's probably her cooking that kick started my ability to eat any texture , taste, or intensity of food, a skill that came in quite useful during fear factor and truth or dare. I was unafraid of eating just about anything, from bugs, to swallowing vinegar, or eating chilli peppers. Mom herself, was stuck in a boring job she hated-at least from what I could tell by her frequent complaints- and making varied cuisine was her one outlet for creativity or something.

But enough about that. My dads "souvenir necklace" was something I always wore, in part to remember him by, since he was often away from home, in that submarine of his. He Write or e-mail often , but it was more like he was my uncle. With mom at her hated day job all day, and dad underwater, the person who actually looked after me on a day to day basis was my cousin  who lived close by, Monique-Thierry.

Monique-Thierry is a bit of an unusual combination, for although hyphenated names are fairly popular among the French, it would usually be two combined girls named, or vice versa. Monique-Thierry's parents went the full historical swing on names when her mother was pregnant. They gave her a biblical name, a godmother's name, and a birth name. Mine did too, but her parents wanted the baby's gender to be a surprise. So they made up a set of names a boy and  a girl. Then when my cousin was born, they were told that another pregnancy would be too difficult on my aunt, so they bestowed both set of names on their daughter, on her birth certificate.

Anyway, fast forward two or so years, where I am eight, and with Monique-Thierry as she worked  her shift at a corner store. It was the day before my birthday, I think, and mildly raining, a rather dull weather one does not expect things to happen on. The door opened and I raced to it, probably believing it was one of my friends coming to visit, and ended up in a hostage situation, knife pressed against my neck. It was the first Near death experience in a life filled with them, and serves as a definitive moment of my life turning to the bizarre.

Of course, I didn't know that at the time, and was busy panicking about the sharp bit of metal at my neck. I couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in my ears, but I could see Monique-Thierry slowly counting bills. He made some kind of gesture, and started to press the knife into my flesh, drawing a trickle of blood. Something crashed, and I closed my eyes, as the blade pressed much harder, but abruptly it was gone. Holding my bleeding Neck with both hands, I opened my eyes, and realized I was no longer at a corner store. I was, well at that moment in some kind of room bleeding out.

I had no idea how I got into that room. Sadly, this kind of situation would become all too familiar to me in time, and even calming. At the time I had no Idea about that, and did the most natural thing to me at the time. I started screaming, and completely flipped out. A stupid thing to do when your neck is bleeding, but such is panic.

A man came into the room, and started speaking to me in a language I didn't understand, which was a weird experience for me, because I usually had some Idea of what people were saying.

He then started making shushing sounds, which was something I did understand. Once I had calmed down he started paying attention to my Neck.

---

Jordan OC questionnaire

What would she prefer

Pancakes

Cereal with milk

Comedy

Pyjamas

Hotel

Sour

Biking

Neither

Wooden pencil

No hats

Modest clothing

Whistling

Car rides

Car rides

Stormy night

Summer

Movie with friends

Chewy candy

Football

Never having to sleep

---

First encounters.

"Jordan meets the Frye Twins. The Frye twins Meet Jordan."

-----

Jordan wakes up on a cot in an unfamiliar area.  Sadly this is not an unfamiliar situation for her.

"Such  strange injuries. It looks like they came from an explosion, but I heard no blast, nor is there any lingering debris.  You're extremely lucky, as you were not hit anywhere serious. You wouldn't happen to be named Jordan, would you?"

Jordan nods. The Identity Jordan, is a pretty important one to her, and has strong ties to a time she is fond of.

"Alright then Jordan, I have a job for you. I need you to watch my kids for a few weeks, while I go and take care of something. It shouldn't be too hard, just make sure they do their chores, keep Jacob from running off during training, and teach them how to skin food and cook it, without giving themselves food poisoning."

Jordan went back to lying on the cot. 'Just what did I do in the future that convinced him to trust me with his kids?' She wondered.

------

"Are you by any chance, a traveling artist, looking for work?"

Jordan frowns. So does Jacob. It's one thing to know that she had met them in the future for the first time, but seeing her look so much younger than he is used too ,is shocking. She looks about fourteen, and much more innocent,  uncertain, and afraid, her body already tensed to run if this goes badly.

"I might be." She says uncertainly, taking a step back, staring at him intently.

"Then Jordan, I do believe I have a job for you?"

She smiles tensely. "I do believe you have me at a disadvantage. "

"I'm Jacob. And I would like you to find some information for me."

-----

Around Mid morning, Jordan feels well enough to get off the cot and explore her soundings. She heads down the stairs, wondering where the kitchen will be. If nothing else, she will feel better getting some protein in her. Hopefully eggs.

She finally finds the Kitchen, and sees two kids waiting at the doors.  She knows them, which is surprisingly not weird for her.

"Evie and Jacob. What would you like for breakfast this fine morning?"

"It's not breakfast." Evie points out.

"Ok. Brunch then?"

"Brunch?" Jacob asks.

"That meal you have in between breakfast and lunch."

"I don't think that's a real word." They both point out.

Jordan smiles. They are adorable kids. And yet, she can already see their personality flaws forming, Evie's narrow focus on her goals, Jacobs impatience and restlessness, that will one day get them into serious trouble probably. It's Jacob in particular she's worried about, because her past recklessness had brought her a lot of trouble, emotionally and socially, and she worried where he would end up in his future.

But now is not the time for that. Food first.

"Come here you guys. I'm going to teach you to crack and cook eggs." And how to get egg shells out of it, inevitably, because she has yet to meet a kid who is good at it.

------

Later, when they  are sitting in a train eating French toast , she asks the important question.

"What kind of information do you need?"

"I'm glad you've asked. I take it you have decided to take the job?"

Jordan nods encouragingly.

"My Sister Evie is looking for the shroud of Eden. I need you to help her track its past, and narrow down its location. I also need information on Templars,   and a gang called the Blighters. If you can't get it to us directly, you can give it to one of our contacts to pass on, I'll get a list to you later."

"That is a lot of information needed."

"Don't worry. " He tells her. "I can pay. And I know better then to try to silence you. Besides, I hear you're good at discretion."

She nods, then she gets up and leaves.

For her the mission had already started.

-------

Jordan knew logically, that kids hated chores. She had never liked doing them, back when she was a kid. But the amount of reason they were giving to try and get out of them was ridiculous.

Frankly, they were a scarily good team. Evie backed up with facts, to Jacobs points of "why there are much better things to spend our time on then chores."

It was a very convincing argument.

"Listen up Kiddos! I'm aware chores suck, they are just something you do in life. If you can get them done in a few hours, I'll take you swimming, and teach you diving or something."

That works, and Jacob runs off. Before she goes back to sleep, Jordan grabs Evie.

Make sure he doesn't sneak off please. I need rest, if I'm going to be teaching you later, Im still recovering. "

She hasn't forgotten Evies preference for precision. Evie  likes to be fully informed, before she strikes.

This reason works, and she can be fairly certain Jacob will get work done.

She should check the chores over anyways, after a nap.

------

Evie is more than a bit surprised to find Jordan slipping a report ,on past locations of the shroud of Eden, into her pocket one day. Particularly because it's not the Jordan she was used to. It's a teenager.

Intellectually, she knew Jordan was a time traveller, but this was disconcerting.

She tracks Jacob down that night.

"Did you know Jordan is here? " she asks when she is sure they are alone.

"I hired her. Didn't I mention that?" He asks.

Evie frowns. Jacob raises his hands as he attempts to explain himself in time to put off Evie's anger.

--

Carnelian snippets

Meeting other people, has always been a bizarre experience for me. You see, often it is a case of them knowing me in the past, that will become my future. They know me, and introduce themselves to me, then often begin showing me something I will need to know probably. It's done in a rather disjointed teaching style, because the me they had known was far beyond the basics.  That happened a lot more frequently when I was younger.

On the flip side, is me meeting their younger selves, where I am a very strange person who appears out of nowhere, and know them very well. I'm used to talking frankly with them, and viewing them as teachers, so to suddenly be put in a reverse is strange. 

First encounters are an awkward business on both sides.

And then there's when I meet someone who I have genuinely never met yet in any time stream.

It's strange, because I am rather unsure how far to trust them. Are they involved in any factions I should worry about? Can they keep secrets? I'm used to knowing that kind of thing about people I meet, because, they are already friends with me, and in my future, I trust them because of that.

It's not a  perfect system, but good in the long run. It also means I have problems making friends the normal way.

Which in its self, can be rather strange.  But, until I hit 13, it was the only way I met people.

------

Carnelian snippet

"Imagine walking down a street foreign to you with no local guide. Remember the sensation of being a directionally challenged child, unless you were some kind of child prodigy at orienteering. In that case, just imagine it. Now remember being lost. When you're lost you wander aimlessly around the area you think you're supposed to go to, thinking "I'm pretty sure I've passed that building before." You don't ask for directions for awhile, because you're afraid the locals will look at you as if you're stupid for not knowing this, or some other silly fear. Now take that experience  and multiply it by twenty, because you don't know the language ( and can therefore  neither ask for help, or read the signs,) and you will have a pretty good idea of what I was going through. 

Of course, to make matters worse, I ended up in Japan. Not any old time In Japan, which is dangerous enough. No, I ended up in feudal Japan, age of isolation.

____

Night Watch has Vimes threatening a recalcitrant prisoner with the "Ginger Beer Trick", approximated by a finger popped from the mouth, a hissing noise and a blood curdling scream. (This one's not really a mystery. You shake a glass bottle of soda or mineral water and spray it straight up the victim's nostrils, leveraging the pressure with the thumb. It hurts like hell and leaves no marks on the victim's body. It is commonly done by drug dealers and corrupt cops in Latin America. For an on-screen example, you can watch it happen on an episode of Dexter.) And it doesn't have to be a nostril, either��any mucus membrane will do, but the nostrils are simply convenient.

Ginger beer is, however, particularly effective for it, as incautiously drinking the stuff hurts.

Read more: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/NoodleIncident/Literature#ixzz3mcodmdJ1

----

Explaining modern culture without historical context.

-------

1------------

[raleeshpoy]

Luv Lap Washable Maternity Nursing Breast Pads, 6 Pcs, Reusable, Leak-proof

Price: (as of – Details) Technical Details Model Number ‎18799 Material ‎Cotton Number of items ‎1 Style ‎Natural -6 Pcs Batteries required ‎No Product Dimensions ‎13.2 x 13.2 x 12.6 cm; 200 Grams Item model number ‎18799 Manufacturer recommended age ‎0 months and up Manufacturer ‎Universal Corporation Limited Country of Origin ‎China Item Weight ‎200 g Additional…

[voltagesmutter]

Leonardo x MC - Role-play.

Pairing: Leonardo x MC (F).

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Prompt:  Deep-throating || Role-play || Object Insertion

Warning: Roleplay, Outdoor sex, stranger’s scenario, dirty talk.

One of my finals for @alloveroliver​​ beautifully, wonderful, kinky, kinktober.

Thank you to @ikevamp-shrine​​ and @theinariakuma​​​ for beta-ing and all your help! 💛

The low, dim light of the candles reflected off the freshly polished bar. The scent of alcohol and the warming buzz of friendly chatter filled the spacious area. A young woman perched on the stool, day-dreaming as she nursed the glass of wine slowly letting the harsh bitter of cherry run down her throat. And whilst she sat alone, she knew company would be arriving soon. 

“Monsieur,” she beckoned forth the young man behind the bar, gesturing to the highly-priced bottle of scotch, one that had almost doubled in value due to the rarity of it. She made a two-finger signal towards him as he placed a glass in front of her. “Oh no, not for me,” she smiled softly towards him, “for him”. The tip of her index finger pointed towards a stranger who had entered the bar not long after herself; his dark grey hair shifting around his face as the ending strands, like kissed tips of wispy silver, shimmered under the golden light.

A playful smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she turned her head slightly to see the shocked expression on the man’s face, beating him to his game.  The gold of his eyes glinted as he raised his head to meet her face, lowering his head in a nod as he picked up the glass with his fingerless-gloved hand. Matching his gesture, she brought her glass to her lips before sipping it, her eyes sensually fluttering shut knowing he was still watching her. Just like he had been since the minute he arrived. 

“Ciao Bello,” a light-hearted voice that made her heart race and her pussy throb at the same time spoke beside her. The man she’d brought the drink for now taking the empty seat to her right. 

“Bonjour Monsieur,” she smirked leaning back in her chair, finishing the last of her glass and holding out her hand to signal for another. 

“Scusa but let me- as means as a thank you.” Gracefully pulling out a few coins in exchange for a new glass he watched the barman turn away, leaving the pair alone. 

“It is such a rare sight to see such beauty sat alone,” he paused, taking a swig from his glass before putting it down, “little lambs shouldn’t be out alone. A big bad wolf might just come and… eat them.” His eyes danced as the words came out of his mouth. 

She threw him a light laugh in amusement, “maybe this lamb just wanted to be caught by a big, bad wolf,” she leaned in to close the distance between them, her whispers brushing past his ear, “maybe this little lamb isn’t as innocent as you think.”

He let out a hum of satisfaction at her words, admiring her form as she sat back once again this time crossing her left leg over her right; his eyes falling to the way her skirt rose from her knee a few inches, giving him a teasing peek of her thighs beneath. 

She had dressed more provocative than usual in attempts to catch his eye- and it had worked perfectly: a white long-sleeved blouse tucked in the suede beige skirt, a matching coloured corset laced on top of her shirt. The choice of clothing had deliciously accentuated her figure in a fashionable manner for the time. A delicate balance of elegance and fashion whilst not drawing too much attention to herself, after all she was only here for one person.

The bar she was currently residing in was new, opening only a few days ago in the next town over. Her lover and her decided to set a challenge in their relationship, to see if they could go a night without being noticed as lovers. Role-playing and enticing as strangers for the evening. So far it was going well. 

“An innocent lamb? Maybe not.” 

His lips curved into his trademark smirk, eyes darting up and down across her body before focusing back on her face, “a fox maybe? Cunning and deceptive… so soft and playful, yet so…,” he lifted a hand to slowly place it on her knee, leaning into her, “dangerous.”

“Or maybe something more vicious. A vixen perhaps?” Letting out a low click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth he continued, “no you are far more enticing, a temptress.” 

“Hmm a temptress I may be but,” she pressed the toes of her left heeled shoe against his lower calf, slowly dragging it up the side of his leg before stopping and sliding it back down, “it depends purely on who captures my eye.”

“And I pray-tell that someone has caught your eye tonight?” He murmured, unable to stop his eyebrows from rising as he brought his glass to his mouth.

“Mmhm maybe, there is definitely someone mysterious, tall, and handsome who’s in my sights,” her voice held steady as his palm on her leg slowly pushed further until it hovered just beneath where the material of her skirt lay.

“I can only hope that my compagna is prepared. You seem like a wild one,” he grins. She laughs with a breathless chuckle, sharing a drink at the build up of pure sexual tension. He watched the dip of her throat as she swallowed the moorish red liquid, the pink of her tongue darting out to wipe away any remnants of it upon her lips before popping the pads together with a wet noise.

Slender fingers peered inside the burnt-brown of his coat to pull out a cartoon, pulling out a long cigarillo. The familiar scent of orange mixed in their scenes. Placing the narrow smoke between the white of his teeth revealing a glimpse of the hidden fangs that rarely came out, he lowered his face to the candle nearby for the warmth of the flame, inhaling to pull the smoke through before exhaling. A thin cloud wavered between the two of him releasing a familiar scent. What he never anticipated was for her to wrap her fingers around the tobacco clad smoke and pull it to her lips, dragging deeply before exhaling out. 

 She had tried one of the cigarillos before, but it only led to her choking and coughing on the spot as the smoke burned her lungs. This time she was smooth, one fluid movement that could fool anyone she smoked them daily- a process of learning with Arthur after she came to him on tips of seduction.

“I like the taste,” she hummed softly, taking another draw and holding it between her middle and forefinger on her right hand. In a smooth movement she pinched it with her thumb, knocking the growing ash off into a small ashtray on the bar with the tip of her forefinger. Exhaling as she returned it to its rightful owner, a look of awe upon his face. Leaning in as she placed the item between his teeth, like it originally had been, she whispered lowly so only he would hear, “but I like the feel of it in my mouth even better.”  He groaned raspily, following the unintentional sound of approval with her phrasing and actions with a deep chuckle.  Her persona tonight was beyond different to her normal one. It was  mature, more seductive. He could see the evidently clear want in her eyes, as she could with his. 

This game they were playing proved to be exciting and arousing on both of their parts. Her taking more charge; acting as he had called her earlier, ‘a vixen’- a side to her that she very rarely let out. The mixture of their plan and the warming buzz of the alcohol being the confidence booster she needed to push herself.

“You know, just because you buy me a drink doesn’t mean you’ll get me into bed,” she teased with a wink, enjoying seeing a tint of pink grace his cheeks. To think, the jack of all trades’ almost flustered by her sudden boldness of words… how invigorating.

“Oh I have no intention of taking you to bed.” The hand on her leg pushed just beneath the material of her skirt to give her thigh a squeeze; the other brushing a strand piece of hair behind her ear as he leaned into the shell of it, “no I don’t think I could make it that far. I have every desire and intention to take you against the wall outside.” 

 -

“Mmm!” 

Her moans were captured by the leather of his left palm while his right hand trailed up the back of her thigh; his fingers pressing over the damp cloth of underwear with a low groan humming against her neck. 

“You're already so wet,” his grumbles tickled against her neck, his lips latching onto the sensitive skin. Wet kisses sucked over and over until her breathing turned into rapid, short breaths against his hand. Her teeth playfully nipped at the skin of his fingers, shaking her mouth to free it from his gentle hold.

“Of course I am, didn’t you notice the rain when you arrived?” Wishing she was facing him to see the way he responded to her brattiness- a first for her, but the feeling of his smile against her neck was enough of a reaction. 

“Cheeky girl,” he chuckled, making her gasp as he nipped at her neck, a blossoming mark forming just above the collar of her shirt. Her hands fell to rest flat on the brick wall in front of her, his body pressing tightly up against hers as his coat hung off his broad shoulders enough to protect their bodies from view. Being hidden from sight in the faint glow of the street light behind the bar and protected by a cloak of night around them, his free hand hastily undoing the corset on top of her shirt.  Pulling the thin cotton from her skirt allowing him access to her torso, cladded-leather tugged at the sheer material of her bra until her breasts spilled free, resting heavily in his palm as he cupped one of them, letting her nipple roll and be pinched by his forefinger and thumb.

Her moans filled the night air as he pushed her underwear to the side letting his long digits glide up the wet of her slit as she parted her legs wider- a silent invitation for him to delve in further. His lips once more found her neck, this time leaving a trail of heated kisses along the base and working up to reach her jaw as two fingers coaxed her arousal, pushing into her. 

“Oh god.” Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her fingers twitching against the brick wall in search of something to grasp onto as he thrusted his digits in and out of her tight folds. 

“I’ve never felt you so wet,” he mumbled into the shell of her ear before sucking on her lower lobe with a dirty grin, “don’t pray to your fantasy figures, there is only me.” 

Her breast bounced softly in his hand with each thrust of his fingers inside her. Her hips pushed down to grind against his movements in a desperate seek for more as she mewled in his hold. The sound of her arousal was clear in the air even beneath the layer of her skirt as he added a third finger, curling them in a manner that left her jaw dropping and knees almost buckling.

“I want you to come on my fingers,” his voice growled riddled with lust, a more baritone octave to it than his normal Italian twist. 

 “I-I want, oh fuck, to come on your cock.” 

The pit of her stomach dropped, a white heat beginning to rise in its place as his fingers curled against the rough patch inside her, making stars dance across her vision.

“Scusa!” He groaned against her as her walls clenched down, “who taught you to speak like this?” 

“You,” she moaned, earning herself a smirk to know how much her words and actions were affecting him as his fingers pulled from out of her to circle her clit. Pushing her hips back to feel the strong strain of his erection still hidden beneath the layer of his leather trousers, her breath hitched as his hand pulled from her chest to bunch up her skirt, exposing her wet folds as he tugged her underwear to the floor.

“Cheeky little thing you are.” Giving her ass a little tap and watching it ripple, he hastily unbuckled his trousers, freeing his red, pulsing cock leaking with need against the plump of her behind. 

“Please, I-,” she whispered, pushing herself out in offering, gasping to feel the wet of his head already pushing against her. 

Curses both left their lips as he pushed himself into her, holding the curve of her waist as he thrusted shallowly until her cunt swallowed him whole, pulling him into the depth of her tight folds. 

“Oh fuck, yes!” She moaned, her eyes tightly shutting as he took no hesitation to begin thrusting into her. 

Bending her slightly so his chest was fully pressed against her back, his tongue lapped circles over the pulse of her neck. The need to bite was heavy, but he was always able to withstand. He pulled her back with every thrust, burying himself to the hilt each time in rapid movements until the lewd noise of slapping skin took over the silence.

Her back arched off of him, one hand reaching behind her to seek purchase in his hair, tilting her head to finally meet his eyes. Both of them saw nothing but lust, panting against each other's lips as they finally kissed for the first time that evening.

“Yes! Yes, yes… there, oh, yes!” Moaned between her parted lips and into his mouth. The hold on her waist shifted her forward slightly and onto her toes as he continued to pound into her, the change of angle hitting perfectly inside her; her walls already clenching down each time he pulled back in an attempt to keep him buried inside her, she continued, “I-I’m close!”

“Say my name… ngh, when you come,” groaned through harsh breaths as his fang glided against the weak spot just beneath her ear causing a shiver of electricity to crackle down her spine. The hand bunching her skirt dropped as he held it up with the hand on her waist, bringing his free hand under the waistline of her skirt to rub tight circles over her swollen clit. 

“Monsieur!” Unable to hold back the high pitched whimper in her voice, she tried her best to keep up the play at hand. 

A growl came from behind her, “Properly, my naughty cara mia.” 

The minute he called her ‘cara mia’ they both knew their little game was over.

Giving a particular rough thrust- one that paired with the movement over her clit and the sucking nips to her neck was enough to push her over the edge.  

 Walls clamped down as tiny pockets of white burst repeatedly over her vision, ‘Leonardo’ falling over and over in voice-raising cries of pleasure until her jaw slacked open into an  ‘o’. Heat surged  from her head, spreading through her chest and pulsing from her core as she came, body curling as her fingers scratched at the wall.

“Good girl, cara mia,” he praised removing his hand from her clit once he was sure he’d prolonged her release enough, soon gripping her waist with both hands as he sought his own release. A new form of heat flooding into her as he groaned against her shoulder, her name on his lips as his hips stuttered against her, emptying himself into his lover. 

 -

“You look cold dolcezza mia,” Leo said, taking off his coat and pulling the young woman into his lap, wrapping his coat around her. Her damp underwear still in his pocket- a safekeeping of their passionate night.  He held her close as she rested her head upon his shoulder, the carriage ride home allowing them both a good rest before setting foot in the mansion. 

“But won’t you be cold?” She questioned nuzzling against him.

“I can’t be cold when I have you to keep me warm” pressing a kiss to her crown, he stroked her face as her eyes slowly shut, “ah- as much I would love to let you sleep, the carriage is not far from home.”

“Tired,” she protested as he poked her nose- a motion she did to wake him up whenever she found him asleep. 

“Besides my little cara mia needs to tell me when she learned to speak such tongue,” he chuckled, his laugh infectious as ever, making  her smile against him.

“I already told you,” her eyes opened as she peered up, pressing a kiss to his lips, “from you.”

“Hmm, I doubt that very much,” he teased, letting her head bury itself in the crook of his neck, enloping her in warmth with the scent of orange and sex. “You did so well this evening, my little vixen.”

“Thank you for indulging with me. I had fun.” Her eyes sparkled at the admiration he poured down on her with his smile.

“Anytime my love. It was rather adventurous to see you so bold, especially when you pulled me out of the bar and begged me to take you-,“ his sentence cut off by her hand playfully slapping his chest.

“You don’t need to repeat that!” Her face stained red; the persona of the bold stranger dropping as she melted back into her more bashful, teasing manner-the side Leonardo loved more than anything. He loved her utterly; entirely. His little human, his cara mia.

“Ti amo tanto,” she whispered with a yawn, moaning softly as he stroked her hair in a soothing manner. Both embellishing in their time they had together, two lovers purely infatuated with each other as their love reached out to touch the stars and back.

“Ti amo cara mia.”

Kinktober masterlist here.

[maldreathezora]

Breast Cancer: A Tale of Two Titties

By Faith April LaFazia

The story starts when I was nine years old.

I got my first period. 

My mother was sad for me. I was so young, the pad felt like a tail in my pants. I was sure everyone could see it poking out. I changed from my usual sweatpants to jeans that year, which were more concealing.

For the first part of fifth grade, I went to a charter school where the closest bathroom to my classroom was the nurse’s office. I kept having to ask my male teacher to go to the nurse. He sometimes questioned why, and I couldn’t find the courage to tell him I was on my period. Once, the nurse’s office was out of pads and I had to wear a full pad for several hours. I cried all the way home that day, feeling disgusting. I wouldn’t learn to wear tampons for a few years.

Soon I was twelve, and as my breasts grew I hid them under my shirt with a sports bra, an undershirt, a large t-shirt, and finally a vest. Even in the summer. 

Despite my best efforts to ignore them, my breasts kept growing. 

Soon I was as big as my eldest sister. The attention this drew from men on the street was ridiculous. I would get honked at, yelled at (“Bitch! Whore!”). People mistook me at thirteen for an eighteen-year old. I was devastated and depressed and I began to stay inside and play video games all day.

When I outgrew my sports bras, my mother took me to buy some bigger ones. When we were in the dressing room, I took off my layers and my size D cups fell out. My mother said, “Faith!” in such a tone I was ashamed. I had hid my breasts well, even to my mother.

So continued my obsession with video games. I played Wind Waker for the first time and fell in love with Ganondorf. He didn’t hunch like most villains; he stood up stick-straight. I started to stand up straight, too, though it hurt. This probably saved my back from hurting worse later on.

Be careful what you wish for.

My breasts went from a D cup to an E cup, from there to an F. They swallowed my hands if I put them beneath my breasts. I grew to an H cup, and finding comfortable bras (or even uncomfortable ones) in that size was, as many are surprised to learn, difficult. The price was high, too, the average bra costing from $70 to $100. Being big cost money.

From the time I was a teenager to my young adult life I picked the pimples on my breasts obsessively, I hated my breasts so much; in my mind it was like getting revenge on them. Soon they were pockmarked with scars. I would put them in a bowl of ice water to try to shrink them. I started to hope I’d get breast cancer so I could take them off. 

At fourteen I found a marble-sized lump in my left breast. I was terrified of cancer and checked my breasts during every shower from then on. Luckily this lump went away after a few days. 

I had a boyfriend off and on for a few years, and he was mainly in love with my breasts. Luckily we didn’t stay together long. 

When I was 23 I visited a plastic surgeon to talk about breast reduction. But as soon as I saw the word “Necrosis” on the list of side effects, I knew it wasn’t for me. A turning point came after that; I spent $80 on a well-built sports bra, and began to jog, giving the finger to anyone who catcalled me, or honked at me. 

I had a few boyfriends after that, but nothing stuck until Alex, who loved me for me. 

After my 25th birthday, I found another lump in my left breast. It was the size and shape of a peach pit, hot to the touch, and painful. I went to a surgeon, Dr. Miller, and asked him to tell me if it was cancer. He took a sonogram of the lump and decided since I was so young, and the lump was hot and painful, that it was a cyst or an infection. He put me on antibiotics, which did nothing. He then went on vacation for three weeks, during which time the “cyst” grew to the size of a mango seed, and caused me much pain. The skin above it was pockmarked. Finally when he was back I asked him for a biopsy. He balked, but I demanded it. 

He gave me the biospy. The thick needle he stuck into my breast found a lump so hard and compact it could hardly suck up the sample. I knew then it had to be cancer, since a watery cyst would pop.

I remember driving out to a graphic design office to apply for a job, but they didn’t seem interested in my interview. Which was just as well, when the biopsy results got back. 

When I found out, I was alone. I saw the results of the biopsy online in my patient portal. “Carcinoma of the breast.” My mind went blank; I finished what I was working on as if on autopilot. I texted my husband at work to tell him. I’m sure he didn’t get any work done for the rest of the day. When he got home he held my hand and said we would get through it. (And we did. And we are.)

When I told my mother, she cried and held me. She wished it was her instead of me. 

Dr. Miller wanted to cut off my left breast right away. I could feel the cancer spreading in my left armpit, but I didn’t question him. But when Dr. Siddique, my oncologist, heard what Dr. Miller wanted to do, he stepped in and said no. First we need to shrink the tumor, he said. 

I felt anger. I was so angry at Dr. Miller for letting my “cyst” get so big. I cried and punched a pillow, imagining it was his face. Unfortunately I had to go under his knife to have a mediport put in. I begrudgingly allowed him. 

So I was put on four strange-named chemotherapies which took eight hours the first day to administer. They had to wait an hour after each to make sure I wasn’t allergic to it. There was a brilliant lightning storm that day and I had a view over the pond from the cancer center. 

After that the infusions took four hours each, once every three weeks, for five months. They made me sick, but I wallowed through.

At last I was free from chemotherapy. 

I decided I wanted to have both breasts removed and chose Dr. Dickson Witmer, a wonderful surgeon who had done mastectomies on women all over the Eastern Shore. I showed her a drawing of what I wanted to look like, and she said, “That’s almost exactly how you’ll look.” She seemed impressed. So I was satisfied. 

I was not worried all the way up to the surgery. It took four hours to wait because she was saving the life of someone who’d been shot outside the hospital. When she put her head in to check on me, she looked happy and confident. I knew I could put myself into her hands. 

“Deep breaths, sweetie,” she said as the anesthesia mask came down on my face. 

I awoke after the surgery, still in the surgical room. I lifted my head and looked down at my now-flat chest, strung with wires and tubes. I must’ve smiled as I thought, “That looks just right,” before lying my head down and sleeping with great satisfaction. 

After a rest in the hospital, I was about to go home when I began to cry. I was crying because the two-hour ride home would be painful, and I knew it. A well-meaning nurse knelt to put a hand on my knee, crying herself, and reassured me, “Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re still a woman.”

My tears changed to laughter. 

And that’s the story of how I gained and lost my breasts and found my happiness. 

[peachebunnys]

Tease me

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x reader

AU: College Professor Horacio Carrillo (One-shot)

a/n : edited at 1 am and i can barely string a sentence together, so warning on fair bit of grammatical errors ~ enjoy :-)

Warnings: Smut - blowjob, mild face-fucking, shoe grinding, cockblock 

5.4k 

The strobe lights that flashed in colours of red, blue and purple messed with your vision as well as fed to that dull ache at the back of your head. The drink in your hands now sat warm, the cool precipitation from the glass was now damping your palms as you pushed through the rowdy crowd. It was awful, you’d admit, but nothing quite like getting down on a Friday night to help ease your nerves after a long stressful week. 

The club was starting to feel warmer, and you’d blame it on the swarm of drunk college students that were in the middle of the dance floor - grinding against strangers like it was the classiest thing to do. You swirl the alcohol in your glass, leaning against the bar counter for support as you skimmed through the crowd in search of your friends. 

The music was pounding in your ears, feeling the beat to the crappy remix you’ve heard one too many times in your chest. You’re regretting, surely. If it weren’t for the fact that you were currently trying your best to forget a certain man, you wouldn’t even be here in the first place. 

You silently curse yourself for starting this mess, in which you were sure you’re paying the price for. You took a seat by the counter, staring at the sea of people in close proximity, each of which were trying to get action with the next person. 

Your eyes darted to a couple, or so you’d hope they were, as they practically groped each other on the dance floor. The poor lighting did nothing to mask the man’s gentle caresses on the woman’s ass, kneading his fingers into her tender flesh. Her short black dress was starting to rike up, her now exposed ass grinding against the man’s obvious erection. 

Your eyes were glued onto them, watching them in a trance - almost like you were watching porn for the first time again. The way her mouth opened, heavy lidded eyes as she threaded her fingers through her hair was something you just couldn’t stop staring at. 

The man holds her closer, snaking his arms around her as he moves up to palm her breasts, massaging them for a bit before moving down her stomach. There was just something about them, the way they were so oblivious about the world around them that made the scene even more enticing. 

Perverted? Absolutely. 

But could you tear your eyes away from it? 

Not even the slightest.

You think back to the man you were trying to forget, and to the threats he had made just a few hours prior. 

“I don’t think you know who you’re messing with,” his voice deep and filled with promise, to completely wreck you with his touch, ”you can’t handle me, nor what I will do to you.”

So here you were, nursing an almost finished drink as you shamelessly watched two people get down in the middle of the crowd. Your pussy practically throbbed to the sight of it, imagining him with you instead, in such a compromising position in public. 

But that’s the appeal isn’t it?

You paint a picture in your head, idly entertaining yourself as you leaned back against the bar counter. Just imagine - you sprawled across his office desk while he pounds into you, one hand cupping over your mouth as the other teases your nub. You knew he’d be a rough lover, pace ruthless as he soughts out his release between you - and that made you wetter. 

You’d admit, you’ve thought of this one too many times, touching yourself to the thought of him playing with you that has never failed to bring you to your release. This man was truly something else, putting all your past lovers to shame with just the words of filth that he whispers to you when no one’s watching. 

You think back to the times when he’d give his smug knowing look, sitting by the edge of his desk, rambling off a series of things he would do to you - but doesn’t. Those were the thoughts you entertained at night, imagining his fingers instead of yours as you ride out your high within the confines of your small dark apartment room. 

How disgustingly sinful - and he knew this.

How would it feel to have your lips wrapped around his thick cock? Could you even take all of him?

How would he finger you? Would he play with your clit or would he curl his fingers inside of you - eliciting sounds you never knew you could make? 

His fingers were thick and long, making it harder for you to pry your eyes away. The very same ones that would run its pad over your lips, tilting your chin up to meet his dark blown out pupils as he chuckles darkly about your predicament. 

His fingers alone were able to make you squirm, and with each time he dragged his rough hand down your neck and along your form, you could feel the pool of wetness drenching your panties.

And he knew this. 

It had started out innocently enough, with your friends giggling about how attractive they thought your new professor was. You had thought nothing of him at first, seeing that you only wanted your college life to be over as soon as it could. He was a fantastic educator, you’d admit, but there was an air of arrogance that you were slowly getting sick of. The way he carried himself, as well as the charisma and pride that practically oozed out of him had slowly gotten onto your nerves - and you blamed it on the fact that he probably knew how his students were hung on every word he said. Just fueling the ego within him.  

The first few weeks of the semester had gone by like a breeze, until that one night you decided to head out to a friend’s party without finishing up your assignment that was worth a huge percentage of your grade. 

Reckless and stupid? Definitely so. 

The following morning, with uneven footsteps and a pounding head, you barged straight into his office in hopes to explain your predicament. You leaned forward in the leather chair across his desk, with a small pout playing at your lips as you practically begged him for an extension. 

It would work, wouldn’t it?

When has your method of being somewhat flirty while playing a situation into your favour ever failed you?

But apparently it did. Professor Carrillo, was rather surprisingly not buying your made up excuses, outright rejecting your request the minute you mentioned it. He scrutinized you with a look of mild disgust as placed down the book he was holding. His fingers drummed against the wooden desk, barely listening to your pleads.

“You had a whole two weeks to do it, if you’re asking for an extension now, it would only mean you have yet to start it.” 

Fuck!

What an asshole, this guy probably has a stick so far up his fucking ass! 

Professor Carrillo had sat up on his chair, leaning his head into his palm with an unamused expression, “will that be all?” His eyes were glued on you, observing the way your face fell as he asked you that simple question.

Your face had burnt with anger, and you could feel your own jaw clench. The way he was being so dismissive and disrespectful had made your hands tremble, and you had to hold yourself back from punching him right in the face.

What the fuck? Maybe he needs to get laid to get his head out of his ass! 

What you didn't realise though, was that you had accidentally said that last statement out loud, earning a rather surprised look on your professor’s face. His eyebrows had shot up in confusion and only then did you realise what you had unintentionally blurted out to your devilishly handsome professor. 

Your eyes widened at the damage done, and you hastily stood up to leave his office immediately, not wanting to escalate the situation further. What you didn’t expect was his remark afterwards, a smug comment that he had said so casually as you nervously wiped your palms on your short skirt. 

“Maybe I need to get laid? Didn’t take you for that type who would say this. Is that what you’ve been thinking about, pretty girl?” 

Oh god.

The audacity and nerve of this man!

You could hear the smile behind his voice, which made you extremely embarrassed by your actions. The way he had so casually teased you made your cheeks burn, and you knew from his cheeky tone that he wouldn’t go down without a fight. A bait, was what he had carefully hung in front of you - and what you had played right into it. 

Which led you to this - casual flirting and teasing just to get a rise out of him, as well as changing your sense of style to wear more fitted clothes, knowing that it would evidently distract him during class. You had the higher ground. 

But even then, did he beat you at your own game.

You slammed the glass down, huffing in annoyance as you spread your legs a little wider. How was it that this man could plague your thoughts even when he wasn’t around? He was a sick bastard for playing these games with you, teasing you to no end, only to leave you high and dry to tend to his work. 

Was it worth losing your mind over someone’s cock? Your professor’s one no less? 

“A bit sinful if you’d ask me,” you could barely catch the message, but the deep voice was enough to send a spark down to your already throbbing clit. 

You crane your head to look at the unwelcome guest, breath becoming shallower as you watched how close he was. The air had definitely changed, and now you found yourself smirking at the man who loomed over you.  

“Watching two people touch each other on the dance floor? If I knew any better, I’d say that you wished that was you.”

Liquor, bergamot and cologne, a funny combination - but a scent uniquely his, you think. 

It fills your space immediately, and your eyes instinctively become hooded as you look up to him smirking as he fills the gap between you. 

He’s wearing something casual for once, a dark blue tee neatly tucked in his tight jeans- clothes that accentuated his muscles and broad shoulders. His hair was neatly combed, just how it usually was. There wasn’t any trace of a stubble along his jawline, though you wouldn’t have minded if there were anyway. 

“Funny seeing you here,” your voice was low with arousal, downing the remainder of your drink as you eyed him curiously, “didn’t take man like you to come to a place like this.” 

“There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, little girl,” he muses, ordering dry scotch from the bartender. He eyes the way you’re dressed, eyes trailing down your body that lit your skin aflame. His eyebrow shoots up, taking in the sight of you in a matching black crop top and skirt outfit. The clothes had hugged you in all the right places, leaving no room for imagination- after all, you were hoping to leave this club with someone tonight. 

“You shouldn’t be wearing that.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you slam the glass down on the counter. Even here, beyond the four walls of his office, was he so demanding. You bat your eyelashes at him, smiling as the poor club lighting accentuate his handsome features. 

Your pointer finger trailed down from his shoulder to his chest and stomach. You smile as you see his jaw tense, looking around the club for anyone watching - but everyone was either too drunk to notice or care. He looked back at you, with something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You stop your fingers at the waistband of his jeans, looking up to smile at him sweetly. 

“Quite bold of you to tell me what to do, professor Carrillo,”you purr, sticking out your tongue just a bit to lick the residue of the alcohol that laced your plump lips.

His eyes dart down to your lips, and his jaw clenches harder. His large hands catch your smaller ones, stopping you from running your fingers down his tight pants. His mouth now was curled up in a snarl, growling lowly at your words. 

“You really think you can play games with me, little girl? I’d break you, and I’d have you begging for more.”

Your legs squeeze together, feeling the wetness between build up. The buzz was making you bolder and your hand reached up to hold his, guiding him towards your thighs. 

“We’ve been playing this cat and mouse game for too long, professor. I know you want this as much as I do.” You guide his warm hand to feel the smooth exposed skin of your thigh, and you marvel at how long and thick his fingers were. 

He hesitates for a second, before squeezing your inner thigh roughly. His thumb rubs your soft skin, moving it up closer to where you desperately needed him to be. He leaned in closer and you found yourself intoxicated with his scent, hovering your lips over his.

His pointer finger pulls at your thong harshly, smiling as the material slaps back down against the curve of your hip. He looks up at you to notice your already debauched look, and he manages to elicit a moan from you as he rubs his thumb over your clothed clit. The friction was enough to make your hips buck upwards, and he chuckled darkly at the movement. 

“My sweet girl, you want me so badly, don’t you? You couldn’t even wait for me to make the first move?”

His thumb presses against your sensitive clit, making you grip his biceps tighter as you feel your mind turn to mush. He’s standing in front of you, with one large palm between your legs and the other forcing your chin up to look at him. Your lips were parted, with your expression a dazed one no less. 

Please don’t stop.

“I had it all planned out, you know? I’d call you in to my office for some minor mistake on your recent assignment, and I’ll tell you that it'll cost you a grade.”

He grinds the bottom of his palm against you, occasionally playing with your nub that was hot and fluttering with need. 

His warm breath against your skin made you flush, and you subconsciously leaned closer to him, breathing in his masculine scent that always drove you crazy. 

“You’d beg, wouldn’t you? You’d be a good girl and beg me for a better grade, right?” 

Oh, fuck. 

You could barely concentrate, and the world around you melted away as you focused on his eager and focused movements. The bar stool was tilting forward as you sat on the edge of the seat, gently grinding yourself against his deft fingers. 

Drunk. 

Oh, you were absolutely drunk. 

The alcohol buzzed within you, making you eye the well-built man before you with glassy admiration. The tension between the two of you was thick, and you could tell that the soft gasps you made was only making him harder. A snap, you felt, was all it would take for you to jump into his muscular arms to taste his lips against yours. The arousal that coursed through you was like a drug, muddling your thoughts till you were in your utmost primal state. 

Was it a need? A want? You couldn’t quite tell, except the fact that he had to keep his hands on you or you’d absolutely lose it. 

Never has anyone made you feel like this before, and it only made the experience even more addicting. 

His voice was low and commanding, and despite the nature of his question, you knew it was more of an order instead. You nod feverently, agreeing to his question in hopes he’d continue touching you. His fingers dipped within your folds and gently played with your clit, feeling the wetness that soaked his fingers. 

“You’re so fucking needy, you just had to have me now, isn’t it?”

He leans his head forward slightly, resting his head against yours as he rasps into your ear, “oh fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby. My fingers can barely make it into that precious pussy of yours,” his voice is now husky, dripping with need and arousal, “How’ll I fit my thick cock into that tight wet cunt?”

He looks around the club again and realises that the large crowd was starting to disperse, making the both of you more visible to curious eyes. Though everyone was still in their drunken stupor, he knew that this was a chance he wasn’t willing to take - especially since you were still a student of his.

He removes his fingers and slowly brings them to his mouth, sucking the juices that dripped from the tip. He groans at the taste before rubbing his finger along your lips. His eyes were now fully black, and you could see a bulge forming against his already tight pants. You clenched your legs together, rubbing your thighs just slightly, in hopes of relieving the feeling that was starting to build.

“You look so pretty like this, baby.”

You hold his hand and begin sucking his finger pad that rests on your lips. You swirl your tongue around the appendages and smile, looking straight into his half lidded eyes. 

What was it, about doing this in public, that made this a thousand times hotter? You ran your left palm over your breasts, moaning as you continued lapping at his fingertips. 

“Fuck, little girl, you drive me crazy.”

You could tell he was now fully hard, and the cock that strained against the denim material had your eyes widening. He was massive, and the thought of this being buried deep inside of you had you absolutely breathless. You reached your hand out, ghosting your fingers over his crotch, feeling the heat radiate from it. He groans and squeezes your wrists, eyes hard and firm on you. 

“Dont,” the look in his eyes drives you crazy and it makes you want to submit to him completely, “not here.” 

He holds your hand and forces you out of your seat, hand resting in the small of your back to lead you to the restrooms. The corridor there was filled with people that were struggling to stand, leaning against the cool walls as they laughed with their friends about something nonsensical. 

They paid no mind to the both of you, and Horacio used that to his advantage when he pushed you into a surprisingly empty restroom, locking the door behind him.

The music was now softer than it was outside, and your heart was now hammering in your chest for a completely different reason. The dim orange lights in the toilet were making the mood much more enticing, and you could feel your body tremble with need.

Now, what was a pretty girl like you, doing in a dingy poorly-lit bathroom with your devilishly handsome middle aged professor?

Should you even be doing something as precarious as this? 

The bathroom was warm, with the sound of the fans rattling off as soon as it detected movement. His warm wet lips were on your neck, kissing and lapping at the exposed skin as he trailed down your back in a heated movement. Your soft mewls were starting to echo throughout the bathroom. 

“Be quiet, ” his warm hand spanks your exposed ass in a quick manner, eliciting a choked moan from you. His fingers knead the soft skin to ease the stinging that you had found absolutely delicious. “I’ll stop if you keep making those noises.” 

Breathless. 

His hands were on you, palming your breasts as a small voice at the back of your head questioning if you should even be doing this. Was this worth it?

He roughly shoves you against the cubicle door, fiddling with his belt buckle before pulling his jeans down. You get on your knees immediately and your heart rate spikes, way too turned on to make a coherent thought. 

Fuck it. 

Your bare knees tremble as it touches the cool tiled floor, 

His cock strains against the black material of his boxers, precum creating a small spot on the bottom right corner of his underwear. He lets out a hiss as he finally removes the tight material, cock bouncing before your face before he takes it in his hands. 

He gives it a few short pumps before positioning it in front of your face. The sight of you on your knees was making him twitch harder, which in turn made him groan loudly.

He threads his fingers through your hair, eyes emotionless as he stares at you, gently guiding your head forward. You bat your eyelashes at him and reach up to hold his massive length, giving it a few jerks before deepthroating him quickly. 

His eyes widen and his hips stutter back, a weak attempt to stop himself from jerking his hips closer to your face. Your action took him by surprise and you giggled, fingers wiping off the precum that covered his tip, licking them clean as you smiled sweetly at him. 

“Stop it,” he pants, “you make me so fucking hard.”

“Isn’t that the point, professor?” you bob your head down, sucking on the head of his shaft before licking a long stripe down to the base. You fiddle with his balls, gently massaging them in your hands while his cock begins twitching in your mouth. He bucks his hips forward and you find yourself gagging around his length, saliva drooling down your chin. 

“That's it, just like that, beautiful.” 

You could feel your face flush with the praise, filling you with a whole new wave of determination to get him off faster. Your fingers clenched around his length tighter, and you marvelled at how big he was in your hands. 

His head tilts back against the cubicle door, and he gently pats your head in rhythm to your head bobbing. The sound you made was downright obscene, and you trailed your free hand down to your soaked panties, in hopes to find any sort of release. 

“Do you want to get off, babygirl?”

His voice was condescending, laced with pity and smugness as he referred to you yet again with a pet name. 

You looked up at his face, noticing his swollen lips that was probably a result of biting down too hard. You pulled him out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’, causing him to let out a hiss from the change in temperature. The cool air was now simulating his leaking cock, and he found himself missing the warmth in your mouth. 

“Professor, I want to cum so so badly.” Your soft mewls were enough to cause him to twitch in your palms again, and this time you responded with kitten licking the slit that seeped precum. 

His face was contorted in pleasure, lines forming on his forehead as he growled in frustration. He looks down at you, and notices one of your hands in between your legs. He gently moves his foot under you, kicking away your hand as lightly as he could. 

“I want you to grind against my shoe while you suck me off.”

Oh.

Oh.

This was filthy.

Your eyes widened at his command, and you could hear the sound of his sole dragging across the tiled floor. 

His shoe was now directly below you, and you hesitated to settle yourself down on it. 

Your gaze trailed up to him, watching his jaw clench as well as his lips pursed in a thin line. His cock twitched slightly and his precum was starting to flow down onto your hand. 

You slowly adjusted yourself until your dripping cunt was directly on his boot. You once again began pumping his large shaft while experimenting in rolling your clothed clit against the footwear. 

With the roll of your hips, you felt the pleasure spread through you, with butterflies fluttering in your tummy. The thought of it all was so sinful, and yet you couldn't find the need to care about it at all. You continued your movements against his shoe, moaning in delight at the sensation around his fat cock. 

Your long painted fingernails trailed down his muscular thighs, gently clawing at his skin as you moved to hold his leg for support. The faster you moved your clit against him, the more soaked your panties got. Professor Carrillo gently ran his fingers through your hair, tugging at it slightly whenever the feeling of your lips around him got too overwhelming or him. 

You were evidently nearing your release, if the pooling wetness against his boot wasn’t a clear indicator. Your eyebrows were bunched together and you looked up through your eyelashes to notice your professor biting down on his bottom lip, eyes dilated to almost pitch black. 

Saliva was running down your chin and onto your neck, ruining your makeup that you had put on for the night. You were sure you looked like a total mess, with hair out of place and eyes watering as you continued sucking your professor off as fast and deeply as you could.

“Fuck,” his head leaned against the wall again, “I’m going to fucking cum, fuck — you make me want to cum so fucking fast.”

You smile against him, moving your mouth off his cock to suck its head once again. You increased the speed in which you were grinding against him, feeling the sparks of pleasure course through your clothed cunt. 

“Oh, oh fuck yes. Just like that, sweet girl.” His voice and words had almost made you breathless and you found yourself moaning against him once again. 

This whole situation made you feel so filthy, and you couldn’t quite remember the last time you were this turned on.

The vibrations on his wet cock had caught him off-guard, causing him to unintentionally slam his length down your throat. 

Carrillo curls his thick fingers in your hair, pulling it back slightly to see the mess he’s made on your face. You let go of his shaft, allowing him full control of the pace to fuck your mouth. 

He had started out slow at first, thrusting in only the first few inches of his cock into you. He took hold of himself again, pushing the tip of his cock against your inner cheek, feeling the softness of it. 

“So— so fucking good,” he pants, tightening the hold he hand in your hair. You glanced down and saw his balls twitching, in which you made the abrupt decision to move your hand up to massage them. 

You could tell he was close, and hell, you were too. There was a familiar buildup within you, and you knew you wouldn’t last any longer than he would. 

His words were incoherent, and his pace of fucking your open mouth was now almost brutal. The sounds of you gagging was evidently sending him over the edge, and so was the sight of you drooling the mixture of saliva and precum.

So close. So fucking close. 

You clenched your eyes shut, feeling your orgasm catching up to you quickly. This, you thought, this is exactly what I’ve been fantasising about all those lonely nights. 

So so fucking close. 

And then he stops. 

An abrupt and sudden movement that forces your eyes open. You glanced up, only to see his pointer finger in front of his closed lips. He gestured to you to be quiet, cautiously looking over at the door that he had locked when you came in.

Silence.

Your breathing was laboured, and Carrillo pulled his shoe from under you, standing up straight as he continued staring at the door.

The lack of contact had made you whimper, which earned an accusatory look. He glares at you disappointedly, moving his large warm palm to cover your now swollen and red lips. 

What the hell is going on…?

The door had suddenly shook with furious poundings, accompanied by a string of drawed curses. It was clear there were several people outside, all of which clearly unhappy that the bathroom door was locked shut. 

“Hey— Is anyone i-in there? Open this ffuc-fucking door!”

You stare back at your professor, eyes filled with panic as the situation dawned on you. Your mouth was now open, and you furiously wiped the mixture of saliva and cum that dripped down your chin. 

Professor Carrillo immediately pulls up his pants and shoves his still very hard cock into the confines of his boxers. Your legs wobbled as you struggled to stand up, feeling the floor below you shake as you tried to lift your body up. 

Carrillo had noticed your struggle and had bent down to hook his arm around your back. He held up your arm with his free hand to support your weight to stand up, holding you for a few more seconds till you caught your balance.

He held your hand tenderly, pulling you behind him as he walked towards the whole row of empty cubicles, which reeked slightly of vomit and alcohol. Your hearts was pounding against your ribs and you could feel your blood turn cold as the women outside continued their threats to call security. 

He pulls you into one of the stalls and wipes away the smeared lipstick, ducking his head slightly to plant a small kiss at the corner of your lips. “Just stay here for a bit after I leave, don’t want to be suspicious now, do we?”

You were completely dumbfounded, and the pounding of the door only seemed to increase. You eyed it nervously, but Carrillo simply smiled at you in a reassuring manner, sending a small wave of butterflies that fluttered in your stomach.

God, this was awkward.

How do you look at the man whose dick you were sucking so passionately, now that everything has been interrupted? 

The arousal still flowed through you like liquid fire, and the way your professor smiled at you would’ve made you get to your knees again - if it weren’t for the fact that the door knob was now being turned furiously.

“My office, Monday morning.” He whispers, lips dangerously close to the shell of your ear, “don’t be late, babygirl.” He shoves you into the cubicle and makes his way to the door, unlocking it in a manner that he was trying to play off as drunk. 

You heard the murmurs from the girls nearby, their words slurred and angry as they walked into the washroom with a rhythmic click from each step they took. You sat on the lid of the toilet bowl, carefully removing the disgustingly soaked panties that were starting to make you feel uncomfortable. 

You studied the way the area that covered your pussy was now glistening under the dim lights, and you could still smell the arousal that practically dripped off you. Sighing heavily, you shoved it recklessly into your purse, opting to finish yourself off in the comfort of your bed instead. 

As you walked out the cubicle and past the gaggle of drunk girls, the only thing you could think of was what would come out of this arrangement that you now had with your professor. You thought back to the events that led to this, and how turned on a simple sexual act had made you feel. 

Your heart was still racing, with your face flushed red from embarrassment and arousal. You combed your fingers through your tousled hair, patting it down to make it as neat as you could. The ghost of his fingers still lingered on your body, and you found yourself missing the warmth that he exuded. A faint smile pulled at your lips as you recalled how satisfying it was to see your professor almost come undone at your touch. 

The memory of him biting at his lips roughly as you choked on his shaft was one you were sure would be etched in your mind for a long time. And as you unsteadily got into the cab heading for home, you knew you had already come to a decision about this arrangement. 

Whatever it is and whatever happens next, you smiled, it certainly was going to be worth it. 

[justagirlwithastorytotell]

You are stronger than you think

This year started off as the best year ever… kind of. I spent the week before and during the holidays with the man I love, watching him interact with my family and enjoying being in the same space. After a few days in his city, I was thinking that I could do this every day and be with him here. A week of cuddles and laughs and great sex wasn’t enough but we made the best use of the time that we had.

My boyfriend lives on the East Coast with this family and I live in the South near my family. We met at a work conference and a few years later worked out the details and started down this crazy LDR path. We committed to meet as often as possible and to make it work. Love.

I left him on the East Coast and came back to the South to my dog dying. I’m grateful that it happened how it happened but I’m remorseful that I didn’t do more for her. I’ll always love her.

Back to life as usual as we knew it. I was so wrapped up at work the week I got back that I didn’t notice I was missing something. My period! Funny because the day after it was late he casually asked about it, which he’s never done before. We never even talk about my period. Like never. It’s crazy how spiritually connected people can be.

Makes me think back to my ovulation day the last time we were together. I texted my best friend and said oops that same day. I know we should’ve had sex but he pulled out. I wasn’t going to miss out on these limited opportunities to have the ultimate connection with my man. I love sex with him.

He told me don’t worry that it was late it was probably just stress. I made a commitment to take a test if it wasn’t there by the end of the week. Secretly, I already knew the deal. My breasts were sore and the usual pre-period symptoms never came. I bought the test three days before I committed to taking it. It watched me every day.

I woke up Sunday morning scared, nervous, etc. I took the test as planned. Just as I expected. Got back in bed for the rest the day and cried. I sent a picture to my best friend but avoiding her calls all day. He was in church all day so it give me a reason to be distant for the day. My mind was everywhere. How would this affect me. How would this affect him. What would it mean for us? Before we had sex for the first time we talked about what we would do if, so I already knew what he wanted. How could I be so careless and caught in the moment to throw it all away.

It took me three days to tell him. Over a text message. Not how I wanted to tell him. The next day we talked about it briefly and then it all started. :)  He wanted to know what I ate, if I slept well and what I did. He fussed at me for not taking care of the baby. He called just to check on “us.” He’s such a good man.

Morning sickness is for the birds! Every day my breast got more sore and seemingly bigger.

We talked about our future. He wanted to keep it. We talked about making it work and being a family. He’s not crazy about the idea of abortion. I’m just scared. I missed my first actual appointment to confirm, but it’s all part of a plan. I rescheduled with an amazing supportive relatable Doctor. I cried and cried and asked her to double check the results. Both times positive. She gave me a follow up appointment and also referred me to an abortion clinic. This is real.

He arrived to town a few days later. He immediately touched my stomach as soon as he got in the car. My man and my baby. Our family. I can see this.

We cuddled all night and had the best sex in the morning. Literally. The best sex ever. We partied and enjoyed each other. As always, another wonderful weekend over to soon. We talked a lot. The pros and the cons. He’s not for the abortion but he’s supportive.

Back to life as usual while we figure this out. The next thing I know I’m called into HR and fired on the spot. I hold it together until I get to my car and break down. This is too much. Demoted and then fired. The car accident. The store. The Dog. Pregnancy. It’s just too much. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Looking back I realize that I am directly at fault by not speaking up for all of the most recent things in my life and vow to not make those same mistakes twice.

We fuss  more frequently now. He’s very distant about the pregnancy. He engages, but he is short. He’s no longer calling to check on “us” like he had before.

I set the consultation appointment at the clinic. 9 am on February 6. I arrived to be greeted by Pro-Life supporters. Shuffled into a room with no electronics, no sounds or tv and all the other girls lost in their own minds. I pay the receptionist and pee in the cup and wait. And wait. I moved to another room and wait more. Finally the tech calls me to the back. She tells me to fill out the paperwork and get undressed. I expect her to leave while I undress and expected something to cover myself. She was anxiously waiting and provided none of the “comforts” that I expected. Minimal instructions and conversation and she shoves the cold ultra sound wand into my vagina. I look at the screen and see it and listen for a heartbeat. I’m am relieved that it is too small to hear a heartbeat. As I redress I asked for a different doctor because I realize who the doctor is. The tech said he’s the only one. Well. No choice. Blood work and then onto the doctor’s consultation. The doctor was halfway through his rehearsed lines by the time he looked up. Awkward. He and I use to hang out years ago. It was actually comforting to see a familiar face. Even given the circumstances. We talked, he explain the options and answered questions. On the way out, the receptionist gave me the price and the information for the day of. I broke down in the car again. Alone. We committed early on to not tell too many people and not telling our families. That commitment left me with no one to talk to. My man wasn’t around. No one to understand my feelings that I barely understood myself. Pregnant and unemployed facing an expensive procedure.

He seemed annoyed when I want to talk about certain aspects. He says “we already talked about it.” He’s short when it comes to it. I have not 100% made up my mind. He asks about the appointment and the picture. I never show him the ultrasound because I didn’t wanna make him sad and tried to shelter him from the process.

The only thing I knew for sure is that I was pregnant and although I felt alone, as grumpy as he seems, my man was by my side. I feel like I’ve been picking at him. He’s on my nerves and my nerves are getting to me. I try to lay off, we are fussing more. I need more attention and he is needing more alone time to process it all.

The procedure is set for 9 AM on February 17. He comes in town late the night before. He doesn’t touch my stomach when he gets in the car. He’s quiet. When we get home he asked to see the ultrasound and asked a few questions and just sat quietly. I have a bad cold so we have to keep some distance, we barely even sleep close together. We talk the morning more of. I try to have sex to ease my nerves, it doesn’t work, he’s not into it.

My friend picks us up to go to the appointment. He makes one final plea “we don’t have to do this, we can make it work.” Honestly, I know he didn’t want this and I’m not sure I did either. I think and think, he’d be a great father. I’d figured out the mother thing. Our families will help. But we are so far apart and I want to share pregnancy and parenting with my partner. We arrive at the clinic. I’m so scared, both the physical fear of the procedure and emotional fear of what this means for us is overwhelming.

Again, they herd us from room to room. I analyze everyone there. All different ages and races and demographics. Some people have been there for a procedure before. I wonder where all of the men are. The paperwork only ask the father’s age and state. No specifics incase there are none. I couldn’t imagine truly being alone in this all.

Pills and needles to prep for the procedure. I’m half awake and half asleep. The tv in this waiting room is showing a murder series similar to Law & Order. It seems like forever before they call my number to the pre-op room. Paperwork and shots. Enter the procedure room which looks like a regular doctor’s office and kind of like a science classroom. The doctor and two nurses walk in and give a brief explanation. She inserts a shot into my cervix that burns. I hear the suction machine turn on. Everything is blurry from my tears. I feel the doctor stretch open my vagina so she can empty out uterus. I’ve never felt this kind of pain coming from some many different places. I have lost my voice due to my cold so I silently crying out in pain and try to close my legs. The nurses hold them open. I can feel everything. I’m trying to count down with the doctor to know avail. I remember her yelling you have to slow your breathing. All I could think about was his disappointment with me.

Finally it was over, I laid on the table crying from shame and pain. They make me get up even though I could barely move. I walk to the recovery room where myself and another girl are painfully out of it. Less than 10 minutes after the procedure they make me get up and walk to the bathroom to pee and get dressed. It’s all over. They signed me out and returned my phone. I call him to come. He’s on his way. He’s not here yet. I call him again. He seems annoyed. I get in the car and try to act normal. He asked if I’m OK. I lied. He sits on the other side of the car. We get home and I fall sleep on the couch. I wake up and he’s across the room, quiet. We go out later for food and pads. I guess I shouldn’t be embarrassed about that kind of stuff. I turn in early.

We woke the morning after to his phone ringing. He spends an hour and a half talking about work. I wanted him to talk to me. I try to be understanding that he’s trying to take his mind off of it. I want to know how he feels. Are they going to talk to me? Finally he opens up. He says “I feel like I killed my kid.” I immediately break down and I try to justify and express comfort. Minimally heated conversation and we get up to start our day. We grab lunch and then he has to work to do. We are apart most of the day and I just want to be together. We catch up for dinner and enjoy our final hours together. He leaves so early the next morning. He was wearing a very nice suit. He was cute.

I love him and I know that he loves me but this was hard. I wanted to be in his arms. I wanted to let my emotions out and cry with him. Barely 48 hours together for us to healing isn’t enough. I cry the whole way home from the airport like I normally do, except I have to pullover a few times to get it together this time.

Fussing is at an all-time high with us. Every week and something else. I’m dealing with this by needing attention and interaction and support. He deals with it by retreating within himself and wanting alone time. This is not a good dynamic for the situation. Anxiety peaks. This pretend not pretend undiagnosed depression anxiety attacks me. I didn’t think I was fit to raise a kid. That was a huge part of my decision. I could barely take care of my dog.

I continue to prep to move to be closer to him. It takes my mind off of things. We talk about it. I prep my family and friends. I’m in love with the idea of really starting a future with this man. Then it hits me. Mid conversation he says, “before you were the mother of my child, now you’re just my girlfriend.” I’m shocked and hurt. I feel as though I am forever spiritually connected with this man. We created a child in love and although we elected to go an alternate route based on the circumstances, we created something beautiful together. He apologized and clarified but it still stuck with me and stings so deeply.

We continues to plan our future despite the short term hiccups. We are excited for our plans. We’re fussing again, we knew it was going to be tough but damn.

The follow up appointment comes. I walk past the same protestors. I find enough confidence to yell “I’m back bitches” which made everyone else laugh. This is really over. I walk into the same room where the procedure was. I immediately flashback to my experience the time before. I hesitate before I am able to climb back onto the same bed. The ultrasound confirmed that my uterus was empty. This is really over. But was it really over? I think about the what ifs everyday. What if it ruined our relationship. What if I would’ve been more careful. What if we would’ve kept it.

Another stinger, “you already didn’t want to have my child.” These really are painful to me. I propose we take some time off to breath. We talked through it and move on. It’s probably just the distance, the situation, the COVID quarantine. That’s what has us short fused. The plus to quarantine is more interaction. More communication and also more time to think and reflect. I realize how upset I am and how insecure I’ve become. Sometimes valid insecurities and some not so valid. I put on weight. My hips got wider. My small breast got smaller. I think back to him not wanting to have sex the last time he was here. I think back to our conversations become a chore. All these insecurities weigh on me and in turn on our relationship. We commit to dates and things to make our LDR more exciting. We talk about anniversaries. I think about us being together. Living together, eventually. I decide that will get engaged eventually get married on September 16, our kids birthday, as a special memory for us.

These large scale arguments are coming more frequently. We end up in a heated text argument at five in the morning. He reveals that he felt rejected. I never thought of that. I immediately tried to reassure him that that’s not the case. I never tell him I planned our family out time and time again and I enjoy being partners and I’d eventually enjoy being parents with him. We make up, minor fussing.

I finally move the ultrasound from the same spot it was when he put it down that night. He was the last one to look at our child’s picture. It’s forever a part of me and I make a mental note that I want to find a special way to remember it.

After reflecting on his feeling of rejection, I realize his hurt and my hurt were similar but unique and there was not one way for us to cope together. Yet I had been upset with him for not coping how I wanted him to cope.

For the first time in months I saw the signs of a distant period. It was like the first time all over again. I didn’t know what to expect, what products to use, my hormones were crazy and it was a reminder of my journey over the the last three months. Quarantine gave me all the time to think. I tried washing TV to keep my crazy hormonal mind occupied but all the families and babies made it worse. I was grateful that I was not pregnant during this confusion, scared and alone alone. But also scared of the future and not seeing him soon or again. Not knowing when this would end.

After more words and heated text messages, we realized we weren’t happy with the current situation and maybe better apart. We ignored each other for days. I called him because I missed his voice. It was also the first day of what would’ve been our second trimester. The day when morning sickness would end and the dangers of the first trimester would pass and we could make the announcement to everyone. Coincidently, such a joyous occasion was spent in a cold conversation about if and when and where and why this relationship could or should maybe would resume or continue or end or evolve.

Abortion is tough. It’s a lot to deal with every day forever. My biggest fear was losing my identity along with my freedom and my man. All I wanted was to be crazy in love, young wild love, excited for adventures and growing into a lasting relationship. I never signed up for the most emotionally taxing experience of my life.

Abortion is tough. If I knew then what I knew now would I have had one? Would I have kept it? Who knows. There is no one answer that fits for everyone. It’s not easy in any capacity, in any aspect in any way shape or form. I’m 100% sure I would’ve been more careful. I would have reached out for emotional support way sooner and realized that this wasn’t something that I could endure in silence. And I 200% would’ve love my man that much more for standing beside me picking me up and supporting me through a situation that neither of us knew the ramifications of.

Abortion is tough. Remember you are not alone. It is a badge of honor to take charge of your future. It is not a cloak of shame.

[chetanare]

Global Nursing Breast Pads Market Vendor Landscape with SWOT Analysis 2020 to 2026

Global Nursing Breast Pads Market Vendor Landscape with SWOT Analysis 2020 to 2026

The recent report titled “Nursing Breast Pads Market” and forecast to 2026 published by KandJ Market Research is a focused study encompassing the market segmentation primarily based on type and application. The report investigates the key drivers leading to the growth of the Nursing Breast Pads market during the forecast period and analyzes the factors that may hamper the market growth in the…

[kidsonlineshoppingsworld]

Which Nursing Essentials to Use as a New Mom?

Motherhood is a pleasant yet challenging experience. You get the joy of holding your baby in your arms and nursing and meeting their needs. Since they are a blessing to you and your family, you look after your baby well and make their childhood a cherishable memory. However, you cannot deny that they are a priority. When you have a baby, there is a lot of trial and error.

prepare a diaper bags checklist to make things easier, including some outfits, lots of diapers, hand sanitizer, burp cloths, bibs, diaper rash creams, and plastic bags for disposal.

Baby Essentials

You need to pack diapers and wipes for your baby while on the go. Include one diaper for each hour; a backup supply of baby wipes; a changing pad for diaper changes, feeding bottles, pacifiers, toys, and a heap of clothes in case of spills and accidents.

Feeding Essentials

While ensuring you have everything for your baby, do not forget your stuff. It is helpful to have a bag that can fit your and your baby’s items to keep you light throughout the journey. Babies and mothers need to be happy and cheerful. The following is a list of feeding essentials to remember:

Nursing Pillow

A nursing pillow helps you place your baby in the proper position while breastfeeding, reducing your arms’ stress. Use it at home or outdoors as it is small, portable, and reusable. Ensure to wash it after every feed for hygiene. When your kid learns to sit, you can put it behind them to avoid topples.

Reusable Nipple Pads

Reusable nursing pads come in different materials, including cotton, bamboo, foam, etc. They have a fantastic absorbency and are soft enough to give you comfort and prevent overflow. Always keep an extra set with you, even if you are roaming without your kids.

Nursing Bras

You find them in different sizes and can convert a regular bra into a nursing one. They have special openings for feeding, unlike the regular ones. With the rise in baby and nursing essentials, compare the breast pump price in stores and online before purchasing one.

Nursing Cover

A nursing cover is a savior, especially if your baby is huge and heavy. Holding them in your arms for a long time is tedious. Therefore, it has an adjustable collar and a small plastic hoop to monitor your baby. They come in regular cotton and muslin material, ideal for summer.

[oneplusoneistwins]

Scars of Bliss

I glance in the small bathroom mirror

with that white frame,

scared to stare at the person looking back at me...

seeming unrecognizable.

But I stare anyway.

I look at a girl that is now a young woman

and gained the title of mom

while losing every bit of herself ...

I stare with tired, green eyes,

and dark circles so deep

in my porcelain white skin

that don’t see much outside of a two bedroom apartment,

littered

with screaming and crying

and laughing and smiling.

I look deeper into the eyes

that saw 2 am and 4 am

of dry, bleeding nipples,

a loud, pink pump tugging at my nipples,

and soon enough bottles of powdered milk.

Ahhh...

that yellow powdered milk,

$17.00 in a metal can

with yellow wrapping

and a clear plastic scooper inside,

reminding me of how weak I felt

when transferring from mother’s milk

to a powder that’s there

“whenever you’re ready”

but comes at a high price

of guilt, shame, and failure.

I look into eyes that have awoken

swollen and red from tears

that seem infinite

from something I haven’t been able to control for a year,

better known as hormones that I can’t see,

but I can feel flowing through my blood

and coming out of my mouth with words of frustration and anger.

I look lower in the mirror.

I see breasts that sit a bit lower

and purple lines on the bottom of them

from the colostrum and milk

that once filled them up, in a D cup nursing bra

with half soaked pads inside.

Now, they look sad in a B cup sports bra, because what’s a regular bra?

I stare a little lower at what I dislike the most.

Leftover belly fat,

a bellybutton that finally stretched back to normal,

and beneath are semi-deep,

pink scraggly lines

stretched from left to right.

I feel like each line tells a story.

A story of backpain for 9 months.

Nausea so strong, I felt like I was going to die with no food or water in my system.

Heartburn that raged in my chest no matter how healthy I tried to eat, and the gallons of water I consumed.

Headaches of pure torture that made me

shut my eyes in agony.

Tears of preterm labor that occurred for over a month and half.

But those scars

Are scars of bliss.

I always heard “It will all be worth it.”

And it is.

Every ounce of pain I felt was

blissfully,

worth it.

I carried two healthy beating hearts

20 fingers, 20 toes

Two sets of lungs, two brains

And two beautiful faces

that I’ve had the pleasure of being with

every day since I pushed them outside

of my strong, woman body

and heard two different screams,

9 minutes apart

And four eyes that looked into mine

as if they knew exactly who I was...

their mom.

I am scarred for life,

But in the most

blissful

way

possible.

[reconciliationproject]

A CHILD’S INNER SCREAM        

August 11, 2018        

         “So, what’s my position now,” he asked, leaning half forward and half toward me.  We were sitting in two soft rocking chairs, facing the same direction, with a round oak table between.

“What do you mean what’s your position now?”, I asked, though I knew what he was asking.

His wife of forty-four years, my mother of almost thirty-eight years had been buried earlier this day.  The day-bed, where she had lain for most of the last year, was across from my chair.  The mattress was still stained and painful memories still attached.

It had been her wish to die, to stop trying.  A breast lost to cancer two years before and weight down to eighty pounds had left skin and bones to surround her declining spirit.  Dad told me she had made him promise no more hospitals.  He took care of her the last year, helped by women from a visiting nurses service.

The morning he found her lifeless and unresponsive, on the day-bed, he did some strange things.  The manager of the visiting nurses office told me he came by there, talking crazy, saying something about Pat, my mother, then left hurriedly.  Several other people told me they had seen him that morning, acting and talking strangely.

When the visiting nurse came to the house, she found Mom dead and called for an ambulance.  One of the paramedics called me and I talked with him briefly, then handed the phone to my wife, before I broke into tears.

I later talked with my dad, asked him how he was doing and told him I was on my way.  There were friends at the house and I felt better knowing he had company.

When I drove up to the house, the whole place seemed emptier than ever before.  An old white frame house, with pillars on the front porch, that my grandfather had built around 1920.  The house was surrounded by huge oak trees, magnolias, pear, peach and plums.  Dogwoods were set among the larger oaks and the remnants of a winter garden lay behind the trees, next to a small vineyard.

Normally I loved the sight but today it seemed lonely and sad.  It seemed as though all the living things knew the lady of the house, who loved them all, would not walk again among them. Nor would she walk and smile among us.  Reluctantly I parked the car.

Dad rose when I came in and we embraced, awkwardly, at first.  This was the first time I could ever remember hugging him.  The visiting nurse was standing up, at the end of the room, in the doorway between the den and kitchen, both long rectangular rooms.  Dad had a somewhat confused, vacant look and I helped him back into his chair.  He was no longer the six foot two and one half inches of his prime.  He now seemed closer to my 5′ 10 1/2″ inches and he looked like all of his seventy-six years.

I introduced myself to the nurse, who was not really a nurse but someone the visiting nurses sent to the house to clean, cook lunch and take care of home-bound patients’ hygienic needs.  She told me her name and recounted the story of finding my Mom dead and calling the ambulance.  Later, before she left, she told me there were some potatoes and onions in the pantry that were about to go bad and some meat and left-overs that needed to be cleared out of the refrigerator.  The way she spoke, I knew she was asking for them.  It was easy to tell she was poor and I told her to go ahead and take the things she was talking about.  Over the course of that day, and the next, she asked for more and more things–a real scavenger.  Her services ended.

Dad and I sat down and he told me which funeral company he had directed Mom’s body be sent.  I contacted the owner and discussed needs, dates, services, etc.  I was having a tough time with the subject so I told him I would be down later.

I asked Dad for names of people to act as pallbearers.  He could not think of any so I asked about people I had heard he and Mom speak about.  I did not know many people there, in the small town where he grew up and where they had moved after he retired.  I asked who the man was that took their cattle to auction, etc.  Finally I had some names and I started making phone calls, wishing at that moment that I had siblings who could help with what had to be done.  But I was an only child and it was up to me.  I called other people for names and came up needing two.

I went to the funeral home and sat down with the owner.  We discussed prices, quality of caskets, clothes, markers and services.  I would do fine, for a while, then have to control my suddenly appearing tears and emotions.  I finally left to go back home and see what clothes Mom had there, appropriate for her last public occasion.

Dad was still sitting in his rocker, where I had left him, the room growing dark as the sun set behind the trees.  I told him about the arrangements I had made, so far, and started looking for mom’s clothes.  Dad was quiet and I asked him to try to come up with more names for pallbearers.  He couldn’t. He didn’t.  I was getting frustrated with him and could not find any appropriate clothes.  Part of me wanted to sit there like him but the other part knew things had to be done.  God, I was sad and Dad was no help!  I left to select a gown from the funeral home’s selection of appropriate apparel.

Dad’s lack of help was stressful.  I wanted to yell, scream and cry, to try and relieve the hurt, sadness and sudden unwanted responsibilities that had been placed  upon me.  I picked out the gown and casket then stopped by to meet the young minister.  I told him about Mom’s life and gave him a poem I had written for her, as a birthday present.  I held together and completed the arrangements.

We made it through the funeral and burial.  When the minister read my poem, it almost did me in.  Back at the house, there were friends, food and conversation.  Dad told a friend of mine that I was trying to get all of his money and control of his affairs.  The friend told me and old feelings returned.

Dad and I had had a love/hate relationship for most of my remembered life.  He and Mom had spent many weekends partying and drinking, when I was young.  All of their emotions bubbled to a drunken surface, many times, and erupted into violence.

I remember sitting in my bed, about seven years old, looking down a long hall, into the living room, and hearing the loud talk, screams and shouts.  I saw hitting, both her and him.  He was much larger than her but she fought back–it was in her nature.  Dad had been a heavyweight fighter during college.  She played tennis in college and grew up as a cowgirl in Eastern New Mexico, doing a man’s job on various ranches.

Sometimes, during the violence I was subjected to, there were yells for help.  sometimes I could see him pushing her across the small area of the living room I could see, while sitting in the middle of my bed.  I would sit there watching, wanting to scream but too afraid and holding that sound inside.  Eventually, when I was in the third grade, my stomach erupted, from all the terror I shoved down there.  I would wake up screaming in pain, holding my stomach.  The only place I could eventually fall asleep was lying crossways in Mom’s padded rocking chair.

Mom took me to local doctors, then, on referral, to a large Galveston hospital.  The doctors never found anything wrong and came up with a diagnosis of ‘migraine stomach’.  That diagnosis was otherwise termed, ‘we don’t know’.  Years later I diagnosed the cause myself.  Whenever I was around violence, of any kind, my stomach tied up in knots and I was able to relate the feelings together with the drunken violence I had witnessed and been subject to.

The drinking and fighting episodes continued to flare up every so often.  Some were witnessed by my friends and really embarrassed me.  As I grew older, about fifth grade, I started to run into the living room, or whatever room the sparks were coming from, to try and separate them.

I remember one such episode in the kitchen.  I ran between them screaming, “Stop it!”, tears covering my face and nerves wracked by fear and sadness.  My Dad looked at me and said, “What are we doing to our son?  What have we done?”, his words slurred, sloppy and wet.  He then made us all hold hands, in a circle, and drop to our knees while he said a drunken prayer and asked for God’s forgiveness, as tears rolled down all of our faces.  There were no lasting effects, though.  The drinking and violence continued.

During these years, the love/hate relationship developed between Dad and I.  Everything would be all right, until the drinking.  Sometimes things would turn out ok and sometimes not.  I got to the point where I hated to see them drink at all and I would turn off to them, acting hateful, staying distant and holding my twisting, painful stomach.

There were times when I would try and break up fights and , unable to do so, would run to neighbors’ houses.  The neighbors would never do anything to help, never wanting to interfere, afraid for themselves.  They would talk to me then I would have to walk back down the dark sidewalk to the house. I would return to our house, listen at each window and at the front door, to see if the violence was still going on and eventually would go back inside, only because I had no other choices.  I would tell Mom and Dad that I had told the neighbors, hoping that would, somehow, have some kind of positive effect.  It didn’t.  Sometimes there would be flashing lights from police cars, because of the yelling going on inside my house.  Police cars were never called to anyone else’s house on our block.

Eventually, after a severe period, Mom and Dad separated and Mom filed for divorce.  I was in Junior High and I put a loaded shotgun in my closet.  Dad suddenly moved back in one day and no one had told me that was going to happen.  I didn’t know they had reconciled.  I found him in my room one day holding the shotgun.  He looked at me and said, “I found this in your closet.  It’s loaded.  What was it doing there?”

I felt strange, uneasy.  It was so easy to hate this man when he was drinking, drunk, yelling at, pushing, cursing or hitting Mom or me.  Yet, when he was normal, I did not feel the same feelings toward him.  I was young and confused about love and hate.  I knew that I felt both and I only wanted the love feeling to stay.  But the hate was so powerful.  Besides, I had plenty of memories that supplied the answer to his question.

“I wasn’t going to let you hurt Mom anymore,” I said, looking him in he eyes then dropping my eyes toward my shuffling feet.  It was so hard to imagine shooting him, when he was not drunk, scary and dangerous but the memories provided the conviction.

My words and feelings struck him and he said, “Well, I’ll put it back in the storeroom”, as he walked out of my room with the gun, not looking at me.  His words were spoken softly and I got the feeling, somehow, that I had hurt him.

My parents did not drink and get drunk every day.  Their violence nearly always erupted on weekends, after parties and on holidays.  Sometimes there would be weeks, or even months, between episodes.  Sometimes there were only days.

My natural sympathy was for my Mom, smaller and weaker than him.  Sometimes she would sleep with me after their fighting.  The alcohol breath became familiar to me and I hated the smell.  Her cough was the only normal sound she made.  Everything else sounded drunken.  I went to sleep holding her hand.  How I loved the peace, the quiet, after the fighting.  Still, I held what had passed, what I had experienced, inside.

I was too young to understand that there were two sides to every argument.  Pent up anger and frustration were unknown to me then, at least intellectually.  As I grew older, and apart, I began to understand some of these things but was never able to relax around my parents when they drank.

My dad only really hit me once, on a Christmas night when I tried to break up one of their fights.  Dad had pushed Mom back on the bed in their room and was wrestling and slapping her.  I jumped on him and he slapped me, sending me backward landing against the door frame.  He and Mom were as stunned as I was.  I moved first and bolted out the front door, to the next door neighbor’s house.  Different city, different neighbors, same results.  Fifth grade.

I always dreaded Christmas alone with Mom and Dad.  As long as family was around, things would be all right.  But Christmas always involved drinking and drinking always brought up bitterness and resentment toward Dad.  Thank goodness we were not alone but a few Christmases.

The question, “So, what’s my position now,” came from a seventy-five year old man, guarded and suspicious, who had lost his wife who had been his strength for forty years.  “Your position is the  same as always, Dad.  I’m not here to take your money, or land, or your house.  You are still in control of that,” I tried to reassure him.  I felt myself becoming, more and more, the parent.

He leaned back, somewhat reassured, but not totally.  He had given me money many times in the past.  Some of it I spent foolishly.  I had not completed college in four straight years, had bounced around several jobs and done a few things he did not consider to be great life achievements, or advancements.

He had always been successful and always did his best, at whatever he did.  A first rate athlete, rough, tough and self-assured.  He had been handsome, big in stature and worked for one company for over thirty years.  He had also been in a single profession his whole adult life.  He always succeeded and could not understand the lace of success, or consistency in my life.

Our views were different in many ways but we had grown somewhat closer over the years.  There had, however, always been a barrier.  I wanted to hug him several times over the  years but could not, until Mom died.  Many times I wanted to tell him I loved him but could not speak the words.  Neither could he.

Dad eventually went into a nursing home a few months after Mom’s death.  His mind was fading.  When Mom left, his anchor, his strength and wisdom deserted him.  In the nursing home, he lived in the past.  Sometimes he knew me and my family and sometimes he did not.  He always knew that he knew me, he just was not always sure exactly who I was.  Sometimes he introduced me to his nurses as his brother, father, or his cousin.

There were times he would ask about Mom, or tell me I needed to see her, but he could not find her right then.  He forgot she had passed and his dream world reality was the only way he could continue to exist without her, I guess.

Mom and Dad had a sum of money in the bank and received payments on land they had sold.  Financially, Dad was all right.  I paid his bills, invested part of his money and used some of it to further a dream I had had for a long time.  I wanted to be a writer.  The money financed my first book and gave me a year to spend writing and thinking.  When the book was published, by me, I took a copy with me to visit Dad.  It so happened that it was one of his more lucid moments.

We talked about the weather, about whether or not anyone had been to see him and how the food was.  I told him what his two grandchildren were up to and how my wife was doing.  I told him I had written a book.  He looked at me without changing expressions and I wondered whether or not the words were penetrating all of the layers leading to understanding and comprehending.

My local newspaper had done a front page story about me and there was a photo of me holding my book.  I showed him the paper and the book.  He was interested in the newspaper article and he tried to reach for it so he could see it better.

Strokes had left him bent and crippled, with little arm or hand movement.  I got his glasses, put them on him and held the paper so he could read the article.  His concentration was good, for a while, but I could see it waiver.  I do not think he finished the article, but he stared at the picture.  I showed him the book and opened it to the dedication, one of which was to him and Mom.  I was not sure how much of this was getting inside of him.  I talked about the book, thanked him for making it possible for me to have done what I did, the way I did.

Shortly thereafter, it was time to go.  I got up, thanked him again and leaned over to kiss his forehead.  I started walking toward the end of his bed.  He said, “Gary”, and I turned and looked at him.  He had not called me by my name in months.  He said, “I love you”, and his big, long face broke up in tears and love.

I was stunned and my emotions were caving in.  Barriers that had been erected and strengthened for years, for decades, started crumbling.  I looked at him and said, “I love you, too”, through tears and a tight throat.  I walked back around to the side of his bed and leaned over and hugged the thin, frail body, my cheek on his.  He looked up at me and continued, “And I am so proud of you.”

It was almost more that I could stand.  For months I did not know whether or not he knew me, when I visited.  He could rarely remember my name.  But he knew!  Today he knew and he loved me and was proud of me.  I had wanted to hear and know those things for years.

Since he had become so dependent, I had grown so used to touching him, rubbing his shoulders and fixing his hair.  During his decline, I had diapered him, showered him, dressed him and cleaned him after his messes.  The child turned parent.  I had grown used to touching him but the emotional barriers were still there, even in his helplessness.  I stayed a little longer, filling myself with the moment.  He loved me, he was proud of me and I loved him.  All the words spoken face to face.

Through the years, I had grown to understand that my parents’ drinking, fighting, cursing, screams and violence had not been directed toward me, though I was the one who suffered the most.  Intellectually I understood.  But the tears, terror, screams and fears, held inside by the helplessness of a terrified young boy, sitting in his bed, looking down a long hall, watching his parents fight and scream, were beyond intellectual understanding.  The memories and experiences were fortified and buttressed by repetition and anger, hate, fear and sadness were shoved inside.  They were guarded and protected by masks of anger, humor and cockiness, protecting the tender feelings inside.  They were difficult feelings to release.

My dad started those walls crumbling and I am still working through them.  That may have been his last lucid act.  The last time I saw him, he introduced me to a nurse as his cousin Peanuts, whoever that is.

But I remember the good times, too, and there were many.  Maybe all of this is why Mom went first, so Dad and I could get together before he joined her.  There were things I wish I could have said to Mom before she died, but that will not be the same with Dad. We talked. He loves me and is proud of me.  And I love him.

Copyright 2018 by Gary Bass

[delicatemagazinedreamer]

Breastfeeding Supplies Market Analysis by Manufacturers, Competitive Landscape, Future Growth, Strategy and Forecast

"Breastfeeding Supplies Market size by product breast milk bottles, breast milk storage bags, sore nipple cream, nursing pads, cleaning products, nipple shields, breast shells), COVID-19 impact analysis, regional outlook, application potential, price trends, competitive market share & forecast. 

The feeding bottles are made to resemble the natural shape of a mother's breast while also reducing the risk of bottle rejection. For example, in June 2017, the Nest Attachment Parenting Hub released 'Comotomo,' which aids in the transition from breastfeeding to bottle feeding while also preventing bottle rejection. These bottles are made of 100% medical-grade silicone and are soft enough for babies to squish while being fed.

Read more @ https://creativeedge16.blogspot.com/2022/04/breastfeeding-supplies-market-size.html

[nursingangel]

Buy Haakaa Ladybug Silicone Milk Collector | Nursing Angel

Place the Haakaa Silicone Milk Collector inside your bra to collect let-down throughout the day and save every precious drop of your liquid gold! The discreet, one-piece design attaches securely to your breast and collects any breast milk that would otherwise be lost in a nursing pad. It is completely portable and has small feet on the bottom that lets the milk collector stand upright on flat surfaces to prevent any spills after use.

Price:- $27.95

Visit Us:- https://www.nursingangel.com.au/products/haakaa-silicone-breast-milk-collector-75ml

[marketresearchstrategy]

Hematology Analyzers and Reagents Industry Supply Chain Analysis, Growth Opportunities, Top Companies, Revenue Growth and Business Development Report by 2027

The increasing number of blood donations and the growing amount of people suffering from blood disorders are driving the demand of the market.

The global Hematology Analyzers and Reagents Market is forecast to reach USD 12.10 Billion by 2027, according to a new report by Reports and Data. The growing demand from emerging markets will help the Hematology Analyzers and Reagents Market to maintain a stable growth rate over the forecast period. The rise in the family disposable incomes and growing adoption of automated hematology devices by the clinical labs will provide strength to the Hematology Analyzers and Reagents Market and will also help in its growth over the forecasted period.

Due to the pandemic, there are high chances of disruption in the supply chain which influence ingredients and raw material supplies. The financial crisis can let people shrink their expenses on treatments, which may lead to life risk. Apart from the barriers, there are some drivers of the Hematology Analyzers and Reagents Market, such as increasing blood donations, growing number of people getting affected by blood-related disorders, increasing investments in the research and developments of the hematology devices and usage of microfluidics technology in hematology instruments. The emerging economies of the world also provide a vast field of opportunities for the new players in the Hematology Analyzers and Reagents Market.

Get a sample of the report @ https://www.reportsanddata.com/sample-enquiry-form/3483

The report provides extensive coverage of the supply chain, key players of the industry, consumer base, company profiles, production and consumption rate, primary applications, and other relevant data. It provides an in-depth assessment of the key companies operating in the market along with their company profiles, business overview, production and manufacturing capacity, product portfolio, financial standing, global position, and business expansion plans. It also studies recent mergers and acquisitions, joint ventures, product launches, partnerships, collaborations, and agreements among other. The report also provides insights into new entrants and their strategic alliances to gain a robust footing in the market.

Key Manufacturers in the Global Hematology Analyzers and Reagents Market:

Abbott Laboratories, Roche Diagnostics, Siemens AG, Beckman Coulter, HORIBA Ltd, Nihon Kohden Corporation, Bio-Rad Laboratories, Sysmex Corporation, Boule Diagnostics AB and Mindray Medical International Limited, among others.

Request a discount on the report @ https://www.reportsanddata.com/discount-enquiry-form/3483

The report also provides an extensive regional segmentation to offer the readers key insights into the spread of the market over key geographical regions. It covers production and consumption patterns, import/export, supply and demand, consumer demand and behavior, key trends, and presence of key players in each region. The report also offer a country-wise analysis to impart a better understanding of the revenue growth of the market in each region.

North America (U.S., Canada, Mexico)

Europe (U.K., Italy, Germany, France, Rest of Europe)

Asia Pacific (India, Japan, China, South Korea, Australia, Rest of APAC)

Latin America (Chile, Brazil, Argentina, Rest of Latin America)

Middle East & Africa (Saudi Arabia, U.A.E., South Africa, Rest of MEA)

Product Outlook (Revenue, USD Billion; 2017-2027)

Hematology Analyzers

Hemostasis Analyzers

Plasma Protein Analyzers

Hemoglobin Analyzers

Immunohematology Analyzers

Others

Price range Outlook (Revenue, USD Billion; 2017-2027)

High-end Hematology Analyzers

Mid-range Hematology Analyzers

Low-end Hematology Analyzers

End Users Outlook (Revenue, USD Billion; 2017-2027)

Research & Academic Institutes

Blood Banks

Hospital laboratories

Commercial service Providers

Others

Application Outlook (Revenue, USD Billion; 2017-2027)

Infection Related Conditions

Blood Cancers

Anemia

Hemorrhagic

Others

To know more about the report @ https://www.reportsanddata.com/report-detail/hematology-analyzers-and-reagents-market

Key Questions Addressed in the Report:

What is the market size the global Hematology Analyzers and Reagents market is expected to reach over the forecast period? What is the expected CAGR?

What are the key segments of the market?

What are the key products and applications of the Hematology Analyzers and Reagents market?

What factors are expected to drive and restrain market growth over the forecast period?

What are the key outcomes of SWOT analysis and Porter’s Five Forces analysis?

Request a customization of the report @ https://www.reportsanddata.com/request-customization-form/3483

Thank you for reading our report. The report can be customized based on regional segmentation and competitive landscape. Kindly get in touch with us to know more and our team will ensure the report is well suited to meet your requirements.

Browse more related reports:

Sepsis Therapeutics Market: https://www.reportsanddata.com/report-detail/sepsis-therapeutics-market

Canine Influenza Vaccine Market: https://www.reportsanddata.com/report-detail/canine-influenza-vaccine-market

Medical Aesthetics Market: https://www.reportsanddata.com/report-detail/medical-aesthetics-market

Disposable Nursing Pad Market: https://www.reportsanddata.com/report-detail/disposable-nursing-pad-market

Breast Pump Market: https://www.reportsanddata.com/report-detail/breast-pump-market