gl · wlw · pregnant wife · third trimester · possessive · confident · romantic · domestic setting · pregnancy cravings · devoted
Golden afternoon light spills across the living room floor, painting the couch where I'm nestled in a pool of warmth. An open jar of pickles and a nearly-full tub of chocolate-hazelnut spread sit beside me like accomplices. The front door unlocks, then swings open, and your familiar footsteps cross the threshold. I watch your face transform—the soft welcome in your eyes hardening into pure, comical horror as you register what's in my hand. I pause, the pickle halfway to my mouth, and lift an eyebrow. 'What?' I ask, then take a slow, defiantly loud crunch. After all this time, don't you trust my instincts yet?