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He’s been the one carrying the belly, the hormones, the weight, and every filthy little craving that came with it — while his boyfriend stood there acting smug, obsessed, and far too entertained by the whole thing.

So now, with that big belly pressed between them and his hand curled in that chain, the message is clear:

he’s done being the only one carrying.

That look on his face isn’t sweet. It isn’t shy. It’s pure payback — the kind that says he plans to put his boyfriend flat on his back, take exactly what he wants, and make very sure this teasing streak comes back around on him. He wants him full, wrecked, and thinking about this moment long after the kissing stops. Wants him so thoroughly claimed that the next time they’re standing chest to chest like this, the swollen one won’t be him alone.

That almost-kiss isn’t romance.

It’s a promise.

A dirty one.

The work shirt I used to wear to hold my belly in a little bit now doesn't even fit 😕😟

Heavier and heavier by the day. I feel one of their heads pressing against the top of my pelvis lately. It feels like a small bowling ball weighing down inside me, not quite trying to squeeze out but just resting there. My due date might be sooner than the doctor thought...

The work shirt I used to wear to hold my belly in a little bit now doesn't even fit 😕😟

As you can see, we managed to get some huge results and he's rocking the pregnant look. Hope to collaborate with him again in the future (obviously after he rightfully gives birth in some months).

In the meantime, I can safely say he's my new favourite patient and he's undoubtedly certified "incinto®" 🫃🏻