This writing contains: pregnancy, smut, boob sucking, and other things,  
7 months pregnant has done many things to you. Given you a glowing complexion. A sudden hatred for loud noises. An emotional attachment to oddly shaped pillows.
And, most dangerously of all…
your back aches, your feet are swollen, and there's a tiny human doing what feels like sword training, inside your womb. Getting off the bed slowly, grabbing the robe that is
tossed on the floor to cover yourself with. you pad downstairs quietly, hoping not to wake Feitan, though honestly at this point you're not sure why you bother. the man has some sort of sixth sense when it comes to you leaving the bed.
You’re halfway down the stairs when you hear his voice break through the silence of the pitch black house.
"kitchen," you call back, not bothering to hide the fact that you're on a mission.
Feitan is at the bottom of the stairs moments later, shirtless and irritable, his dark eyes fixed on you with that look that says he already knows this isn't going to end well. he's gotten used to your nocturnal adventures over the past seven months, but his tolerance for your increasingly unhinged food combinations is wearing thin.
“It’s almost 4…in the morning” he says flatly.
“ The baby is hungry” which is technically a lie. The baby is not hungry. But you are, and you want something unhinged and unheard of.
pulling out a jar of pickles, chocolate syrup, and sriracha mayo. you can feel his stare intensify as you gather each item. the silence stretches between you, heavy with his judgmental eyes.
“You don’t even know what I’m making”
“Doesn’t matter….answers is no”
but you're seven months pregnant, your hormones are a mess, and you're at that point where you genuinely don't care what anyone thinks about your food choices. you waddle over to him, hand on your lower back, and give him the look. the one you've perfected over months of pregnancy. the one that says if he doesn't help you right now you will not let him fuck your pregnant pussy, and you will cry, and he will feel guilty about it for the rest of his life.
twenty minutes later, you're both standing in the kitchen staring at your creation. pickles dipped in chocolate sauce with a generous dollop of sriracha mayo on the side. it looks like a crime against humanity. it probably is.
"try it" you say, holding out a pickle.
Feitan stairs at the pickle like it has personally wronged him.
“Fei, this baby that is in my womb at this very moment is yours. it was made from your sperm, that came out of your body. so if the baby is craving this, it must mean that you will most likely will like it”
he sighs. it's a deep, resigned sigh that speaks volumes about his current life choices. he takes the pickle from your hand and brings it to his mouth like he's walking to his execution. you watch his face as he takes a bite, watches his expression contort into something between disgust and betrayal.
"the baby's been active tonight," you say softly, watching his expression shift. you take his free hand and place it on your belly, right where the baby just kicked.
his entire demeanor changes. whatever gruff exterior he's been maintaining completely softens as he feels the movement under his palm.
"strong," he murmurs, almost to himself.
"takes after their dad," you say softly
he doesn't respond verbally, but his hand stays on your belly, protective and warm.
In the early morning, 4 maybe 5 am, you were standing at the kitchen counter, holding the little pumping machine to your right breast as your face churned with a grimace. Your nipples were sore, from the machine sucking harshly and from how often you had to do it.
You had just started filling one of the little bottles, and as though Feitan knew what you were doing, he walked in. Squinting at you, almost asking what you were doing at this hour- till his eyes landed on your breasts you didn't bother to cover.
“Go back to sleep, I'll be done soon.”
you muttered in a groggy voice as the whirring woke Feitan up from the hazy state he was in.
He took a few steps towards you, watched the machine milk you. Jealous that a stupid machine had the right to and he didn't.
You didn't mind if he watched, but that's all you'd ever grant him. But directly after sex, when his chest would be drippng with the light cream colored liquid that leaked from your tits while he fucked you, and as he looked down to his pale body in the bathroom, the sink running on a hand towel as you waited for him to come back to help clean you up.
His fingers couldn't help but swipe at the liquid before placing it on his tongue. The whisper of your taste on his tongue made one thing clear in his mind. If he couldn’t wrap his lips around your nipple and suck till there was nothing left- if you wouldn’t grant him that one favor, the closest thing he had was to fuck you in missionary from now on.
His eyes watched as the plastic bottle filled up with milk, almost hypnotized by the liquid. You winced as the machine sucked at your sore nipple, which only made the cogs in Feitan’s brain start churning with schemes.
“…They always look so… full,” Feitan says, not taking his eyes off your breast.
With that being said he starts to guided you to sit onto the couch as you've done plenty of times when you'd pump, he already knew how he wanted to be fed, he had thought about it over and over again. And settled on this position, his back was pressed against the tops of your thighs. His legs extended onto the couch, unashamed of his cock rising from staring at the cream droplet that threatened to fall from your nipple.
Your hand was on the back of his head, fingers filled with inky black hair.
a low groan rumbled onto your skin as he lightly pressed his parted lips onto the skin around your nipple. Feitans tongue circled at your hardening nipple, lapping softly.
Feitan’s lips were slow to start sucking, pulling your nipple further into his mouth with a lactogenic motion from his tongue.
It took very little effort to pull milk to the surface. But the moan that reverberated onto your breast from a fat droplet hitting Feitan’s tongue, it was bordering on pornographic. It was as though he saw the pearly gates of heaven when the droplet infiltrated the taste buds of his tongue.
Your milk was warm, thick enough to leave a light cast on his tongue as he tried to suckle more liquid from your nipple. Feitans mouth was latched onto you in a way you knew it would hurt to pull him off.
Your hand holding his head up started rubbing gently at his scalp, seeing frustration form on his delicate features, unknowing why. But you were almost trying to soothe him as whimpers vibrated onto your breast. Watching his eyebrows furrow and the growing blush on his cheeks to deepen as his eyes fluttered open.
You inhaled sharply, feeling his tongue trail from massaging the bottom of your nipple to the little mound that provided the milk. Tracing the tip of his tongue on your bud causing you to hiss his name in a warning.
That's all it took for him to continue suckling on your sore nipple. You were about to rest back onto the couch with a sigh, caressing the back of his head as you felt relief wash over your shoulders, allowing him to take what he needed
Then your eye caught his bicep flexing, and you trailed your eyes down his pale arm parting your lips in shock as you watched his unashamed hand palm himself through his gray sweats.
Feitan only moaned as he heard his name fall from your lips, feeling his mouth suck rougher in order to pull more milk from your heavy breast that threatened to suffocate his nose.
His hand hesitantly removed itself from the stiff bulge of his sweats
he greedily drank from your nipple, so greedily that the corners of his mouth were threatening to leak the honeyed fluid- he was suckling so much, he couldn't swallow fast enough.
You inhaled as his hand led your hand to his cock by your wrist, gasping softly with a tingle on your cheeks from how hard he was. Feita placed his larger hand atop yours, pressing it onto his painful erection
You sighed almost in pity as he let out various throaty whimpers, firmening your fingers around the print in his pants .
“Oh Fie” you soothed, knowing how hard he was, it had to be painful. his hips bucked up into your hand for more friction.
you maneuvered your hand on his bulge to free it from its torment.
For the first time since he latched onto your nipple, his lips parted from your breast with a low moan. The cold air hitting his pinkening tip causing him to furrow his eyebrows, but all it took was for the feeling to settle before he attached onto your draining nipple once more.
You kept a light touch on his cock. you to slowly start stroking him, stopping your grasp right before your fingers could roll onto his flushed tip.
and with one last lap of your nipple, Feitan
unlatched from your breast. Huffing softly as his breath tickled your damp nipple
It was embarrassing, the way your milk left trails of a light white film on his cheeks, the way he was breathing heavily with his cock in your hand. Vulnerable.
Feitan saw your flushed face- and to comfort you he raised himself from your thighs lightly, keeping a massaging hand on your unsucked breast as he pressed his plump lips to yours.
It was filthy, Mouths dancing against each other in pure delirium. Being able to taste yourself on his tongue, on his spit laced with milk.
Been trying to finish some of my other work, but I don’t even know how to end half of them -.-
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