Shadow Milk is purposefully OOC
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From his nipples, dark blue and sore, are beads of pristine white milk. The white of the milk— his milk— is a stark contrast to the blue of his skin. He watches, hypnotized, as the secretions drip down his breast onto his chest, the cool air turning it into a freezing sensation. He shivers as the now-cooling milk hits his stomach, and squeezes to make more pool on his dough. Who would’ve thought, Shadow Milk, the very essence of deceit and poise himself, would have his resolve crumble at the sight of his breasts producing milk. He should be concerned, he thinks, but that’s in the far recesses of his brilliant mind. All he’s focused on right now is expelling the milk and releasing the tension in his upper half. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice Pure Vanilla Cookie’s presence until he was kneeling in front of him.
”Shadow Milk Cookie? Can you hear me?” A voice gently asks, shocking him out of his stupor.
—AKA I put the Milk into Shadow Milk Cookie.