Hi! I love your work and always look forward to the next one. Is it possible to request a g!p Alcina x wife!reader where a steamy night ends up in a 9 month stomach bug🤭…happy accident though lol. Maybe a lil panicking from Alcina about being a good mamma, feel free to be as creative and dirty as you want I won’t mind ❤️❤️
P.S. sorry this got long and thank you 😊
Hi my friend!! This was a good idea😮💨 I hope I captured what you wanted, and thanks for waiting! ♡ Y'all enjoy 😉
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The one with the happy accident
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
╰┈➤Smut, Fluff: Established Marriage-Modern (G!P) Alcina Dimitrescu | Feminine Reader
[WC:5,324]
Your wife, in simplicity, was nothing short of a workaholic. You understood her devotion in some aspects, but others drove you completely up the walls. Sanguis Virginis was simultaneously a blessing and a curse. For one, it was the most flavorful wine, designed with Alcina's signature elegantly labeled on the bottle. But for seconds, it also took up a lot of her energy.
Alcina never neglected you, she wouldn't dare do anything of the sort. More or so–the problem lied with her neglecting herself.
At this point, you've started to speak to her as if she were a dog:
“Alcina, bed.”
“Alcina, drink.”
“Alcina, eat.”
Small yet effective commands that you had to ghostly whisper throughout the day. If you were to walk down the hallway of your shared home and come upon her slightly cracked open office door, it would go a little like: “Alcina, break time!”
You had to remind her to simply live.
You admired that she worked hard, and you were more than proud of each accomplishment she's attained. But you couldn't watch her work deteriorate her health like this.
She'd claim she was fine if you ever blatantly asked, but you kept mental note of the details. For starters, Alcina rarely had fun. Sure, she'd claim she always has fun, but you argue drama shows and a glass of wine does not count. She was too tense with no form of relaxation.
That needed to change,
That was your base line.
Actions went into effect immediately.
Alcina was pacing a line into the floor, one hand tightly holding a phone to her ear, the other on top of her head in frustration. She'd be occupying the living room going on thirty minutes, and though you were annoyed that she was consistently in the way of the TV, you were also concerned.
The skin around her eyes was irritated from where she'd be rubbing the sleep away, her skin was paler than usual, her voice hardly recognizable. It was so much deeper, rougher–completely opposite to how she speaks with you.
You didn't want to interfere at first, Alcina might take the offended response if you were to disrupt her work. But, then again, you could only take so much before the businessman opposite of the phone started to irk you as well.
“Alcina.” You whispered, causing her to momentarily stop walking in circles, instead turning to face you with an arched brow. You stood from the couch, closing the
remaining distance with two strides. She leaned down as if to hear what you had to say, outstretching her hand to hold the phone slightly away from your private conversation. You could hear the distant, agitating, muffled voice of her investor, and you questioned how she hadn't gone clinically insane yet.
Your hand slithered up her white shirt, briefly detouring to squeeze her bicep.
“Hang up the phone.”
Alcina's eyes followed your wandering hand, her throat bobbed as she swallowed.
“I can't just hang up!” She scoffed in a whisper as if you had suggested the most barbaric thing she'd ever heard.
You utilized your free hand, reaching up to cup the device. Alcina made a small movement that suggested she'd pull away, but she stood still, allowing your thumb to end the call, dramatically shutting down the third party's pointless rambles.
“You weren't getting anywhere with him, anyway.”
Alcina's shoulders sagged in defeat, her wrist turning–tossing the phone onto the couch. It hit the cushion with a safe, muted bounce.
“No, I wasn't.”
You cooed at her forming pout, your hands instantly wrapping around her neck as you embraced her in a hug. Alcina instantly reciprocated, her grip tightening around your waist and lower back. A long, shuddering sigh escaped her lips.
You could feel how tight her muscles were–she must've had a couple of knots scattered along the back of her neck.
“Perhaps we should go rest?”
You suggested, to which she only nodded against your shoulder.
The both of you reluctantly de-tangled. Alcina's first movement was to reach down for her phone, which was already lighting up with another call. You swiped her hand away, intertwining both pairs of fingers instead.
“Let it go to voicemail, just be with me.”
She blinked, then straightened her posture and let you lead the way. It was amusing how she listened to your every word. She once thought nobody would hold such power over her. But naturally, you had to prove her wrong. Leave it to a younger woman with the attitude of a burning sun; how hilariously predictable. She'd walk into the pits of hell if it were you guiding her.
The bedroom door opened with a subtle squeak, Alcina made a mental note to fix the hinge on a random Saturday. You pulled her further into the room, unceremoniously falling backwards onto the bed, which earned a small laugh. Alcina fell next, though her position was atop of yours; her arms caging you in. Her dark hair cascaded her cheeks, framing her flushing face.
“I've forgotten how beautiful you are.”
You offered a Cheshire smile, “Oh? How dare you.”
She leaned forward, chuckling against your lips before fully taking them, clashing with her own.
It started slow, nothing rushed or aggressive. It was the simple act of two lovers exploring grounds they've memorized over a thousand times.
Your thumbs began to rub tight circles on her shoulders, an act that caused Alcina to breathe into your mouth. You swallowed each small gasp with a growing eagerness, and Alcina continued to happily provide more.
Alcina's hands slid from your cheek, now curling around the base of your neck. Her stomach grew tight with a familiar burn, her kiss grew weaker.
You sensed the shift; the lack of reciprocation,
“Are you okay?” You mumbled against her, lips brushing but never reconnecting.
Alcina's breathing was heavy, her eyes blinked a few times as if to process. She nodded, allowing her head to drop–your foreheads connecting. Her chest heaved unevenly, yet her body remained completely still. Your eyes met, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. Her pupils were blown, you were sure yours weren't in any better condition. She whispered your name, hardly audible–testing the waters.
You reacted in an urgent manner; you caught her bottom lip between your teeth, dragging her head ever so slightly down until you could fully emerge in another kiss. Alcina melted, her hand tightened around the back of your neck, and the other made quick work with its thumb, trailing the soft skin of your cheek.
Electric heat bloomed quickly. What was once a slow, sleepy kiss, had turned into a competitive hunger.
Your hands left her shoulders, now opting to slide down her back, crumbling the fabric of her shirt as they went. Alcina groaned when she felt your nails connect to her skin, scratching enough to leave the red marks she so much adored.
Her head lollied to your neck, breaking the kiss-only to replace it with hotter, scattered ones. The sound of her actions drifted through your ears, heightening all of your senses to be hyperaware of where her mouth was at all times. She started with the crook of your neck, taking her sweet time with your pulse point. She moved to your throat, her hand tangling in your hair to pull your head back; exposing better access. Her teeth scraped along your flesh, occasionally did she bite down just enough to make you squirm beneath her.
“You planned this.” She husked, her voice gravely and deep. Alcina straightened, sitting on her knees as she slowly-agonizingly slowly lifted her shirt.
You watched as her breasts were revealed, your breath catching in your throat. She didn't wear bras when it was just the two of you at home, and you came to realize you should be taking better advantage of that privilege.
“You needed to relax.”
Your hands came up, but just as fast, Alcina's had a hold of your wrists. You leaned back down, pushing them above your head, her bare chest resting against your clothed one.
“No touching.”
You involuntarily whimpered, your body trying to move under her. Your actions led her to smirk, how easy you were to break. And to think, she hadn't even truly started yet.
She maneuvered you both, readjusting so that your head was better placed on the pillow. In her mind, comfort was key, even if she could feel the undeniable rush of blood to her lower abdomen. She sat her weight on her knees, which were placed on either side of your waist. Alcina hummed in thought, her head tilting in a way that sharpened her jawline sinfully.
“You said you wanted me to relax?”
You looked at her with doe eyes, nodding once, and then twice.
She smiled, her hand releasing your wrists. She dragged it across your shoulder, your chest, your stomach..all the way until her fingers could curl the edge of your shirt. She tugged to indicate what she wanted, to which you responded by arching your back, allowing her to slip the fabric off. Where she discarded it was lost on your mind, your only focus solely on her pursed lips as she lowly whistled.
“You're wicked."
A fire ignited in your skin, and each word of love or praise only added fuel. Your hands twitched against the headboard; there were no restraints, but she hadn't given permission for them to be moved. Usually you wouldn't care, Alcina always was so fun to tease, but you were already craving her in aching ways. Plus, the sight of her tightening sweatpants did not help at all.
You didn't realize that your eyes were fixated on her growing bulge, not until her soft fingers had lifted your chin up, only to be removed and used to slap your cheek. Not aggressively, no, Alcina wouldn't really intend to harm you. But the force was enough to pull a strangled gasp from your throat, your face swinging to the side.
“Staring is considered rude, you know.”
Her face appeared close, close enough to feel her breath fan your lips, clothed enough to touch noses. So close, but so far out of a connective reach.
“Asking is nicer.”
Ah, classic Alcina. Tortuous, smart-ass one liners. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart was beating so hard you feared your bones could not hold it in.
“Please.” You gasped out, thought it was a pathetic attempt. You both knew that, and your nose brightened with embarrassment. Alcina clicked her tongue, her lips unable to hide the forming amused smile. She didn't respond, she didn't cave. She knew you knew she was silently mocking your half-assed efforts.
“God-please, Alcina!” That attempt was better, she'd give you that. What really caught her attention, though, was the rapid pace in which your now unclothed chest was falling. The sight of your skin moving with such desperation made her bulge ache.
The sudden realization of just how turned on she felt was dramatic. She soon understood that she wouldn't last much longer, despite wanting to tease you until tears. She, herself, felt the sting behind her own eyes. She hadn't felt so needy in a long time. Had she been this tense all along? Maybe you were right, maybe she did need to relax.
With a hum of approval, she departed from your waist, standing beside the bed. You watched with great intensity as her bottom layers removed, and your eyes scanned each newly shown skin with the same focus of an artist.
Her tip was already soaked by the time she had stripped her underwear, each vein seemed more prominent than usual. Your mouth watered, your thighs instinctively clenching to remove the building pressure.
Alcina noticed your efforts, she always noticed.
She tapped your wrists that were still held above your head, a silent command to ease them. She waved towards your pants, insinuating you strip as well.
She reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out the familiar rubber protection that always made your heart skip a few beats. No matter how many times you both shared this moment, each one still felt as intense as the first.
After she had covered herself, her lips were back on yours. Unplanned, unguided, completely messy. Saliva was shared in strings, noises were combined into a devilish melody. Your legs fell open to each side, granting her access to practically lay between them. Her dick brushed your lower stomach and inner thigh, but she purposely kept it far enough away to drive you insane.
Her mouth connected to your stomach, her tongue darted out to design a hot path to your clit. She could tell that you were already wet, and that nearly destroyed her thinning patience. You gasped as she ghostly hovered over your core, despite your rough tugs in her hair to pull her closer. Alcina laughed at your frustration, a rich, warm sound that made you all the more shudder. She kissed the top of your pussy, the sides, and finally, she allowed her mouth to drop downward.
Her tongue came out again, she licked up your slit, her eyes shutting at the taste. Your back arched, nails digging into her scalp. You squeezed your own eyes shut as she pulled moans from the depths of your throat.
Your limbs felt too heavy, your head wouldn't lift, your fingers lost part of their strength. Her tongue was so warm–so overwhelming in miraculous ways.
It was too much, yet not enough all at once. Alcina had pumped her tongue inside of you, sliding it across your inner walls with the precision she'd learned across the years of your marriage. She continued until she felt you grow used to it, your body adjusting to her presence. Unfortunately for you, when you had become familiar, you also became close. Your stomach was tensing, your bones aching from their consistent flex, yet she pulled out, licking her lips to savor every drop.
You couldn't do anything but incoherently babble in protest, though none of which was understood.
The smell of your arousal mixed with hers, creating an intoxicating scent that she couldn't help but inhale. One of her arms slid under your thigh, propping up your leg with ease. The other came to hold her weight by your head.
Your eyes met again, both filled with equal amounts of pleas and desires.
For a moment, neither of you bothered to move. Skin slick from wet kisses, a small purple bruise forming on your pulse, scratches lining her back like mosaic art. In the midst of sexual need, there was still love. That was a sweet reminder.
A silent conversation was held, Alcina's eyes questioned, your head nodding in conformation. At your permission, she moved her hips, her body sliding against yours, her cock slowly finding your pussy.
You gasped at the feeling, your hands digging into the bedsheets. She was slow, gentle, never rushing the process of fully stretching you out. You'd come to be more easily accustomed, but it was always better to take precautions.
When she bottomed you out, already blinded by how you squeezed around her, she began to move.
Slow thrusts turned to wobbling ones, and wobbling ones faded into deeper, rougher ones. The bed squeaked beneath you both, and had she been in her right mind, Alcina would have also made a mental note to fix that on the same random Saturday as the door hinge.
You were captivated by how her chest moved with each thrust; pink, erect breasts that swayed teasingly above you. Alcina's face was the next housing for your attention. All though your eyes were nearly glued shut, you forced them to open in small slits. You observed the face of full, pure ecstasy. Creased brows, head tilted, her nose smothering in the front side of her own shoulder. Alcina's kiss-swollen lips were parted, and most physically noticeable, her nails started to dig into the soft flesh of your thigh.
You hissed in a pain that dissolved into pleasure, the extra added sting felt strangely euphoric.
She exhaled above you, a noise that was a mix of released air and an underlying moan. She readjusted, straightening her posture, and holding your leg to where your foot was placed against her shoulder. With this new position, Alcina slammed her hips harder, the tip of her dick had met spots you weren't sure you were previously aware of. When your back arched, Alcina moved her hand to push your body down. You let out a small cry, the built up pressure from her earlier teasing assault was still boiling within you.
She shushed you in a raspy tone, her pumps not faltering. Uneven? Perhaps, but definitely not faltering.
“Don't cry.” She kissed around your ankle, then simultaneously, she slapped your cheek again; soothing the reddening skin with her thumb.
Alcina knew how to play both sides, and God was it unbelievably attractive.
Her skin repeatedly met yours, the sheets scrunched up beneath your bodies. She continued to drive her cock deeper, her dark eyes studying how your body swallowed it whole. Occasionally she would slow, just to see her length disappear in your slick folds. It was beautiful; you were beautiful.
Her name fell from your lips in a repeated rhythm, each pump taking even more of your breath away. Your skin tingled, the top layer ignited in thick goosebumps. Your ears rang, and the sun shining through the curtains was now too bright. You felt it–that tightening, near nauseating feeling of impending release. The way your body begged to meet her movements, only to be held forbidden by her strength. Your calves twitched, your abs tensed. The feeling was so overwhelming, yet you were addicted.
“Alcina..” Your voice was a mere whisper, but she caught it. Her gaze flickered up, her face softening upon the sight. It was so obvious you were chasing your high. Your hair painted the pillow, your thighs were trembling, your nails were nearly searing through the thin sheets. She groaned, her own pleasure was crawling up on her at an alarming rate.
“I-fuck.” Her voice cracked, her movements shaky. Alcina's hand came to your throat, wrapping itself around like the most sinfully beautiful necklace. Her strong fingers enclosed your airways, squeezing just enough to make you gasp for impossible air.
You couldn't warn her, but in all honesty, you didn't need to. Alcina knows your body like the back of her hand, she's meticulously mapped out every inch of you–storing it away in her long term memory. She noticed the signs, she always did. Her body leaned down to yours, your breasts meeting as she slid impossibly deeper. Her hand committed one particularly rough squeeze, one that caused your vision to white out and eventually blur. Your mouth opened, but you weren't sure if noise was coming out. At that moment, you couldn't hear.
In Alcina's perspective, this was the loudest she's ever heard you. She's always treated you in holy ways during intimacy, but this seemed to take the number one place. She tried to control it, to let your wave of bliss pass first, but her efforts were to no avail. Her head dropped to your shoulder, a thin layer of sweat smearing onto your bare skin as she filled the condom.
The world stopped spinning; everything that wasn't you had temporarily disappeared. Looking back, it would all be a blur. But in the moment, Alcina swore time itself had warped to fit the both of you. Her hips came to a slow; not fully a stop, but a slow. Usually her highs were good, but not so everlasting. This seemed to never end. Her hips shook, her legs shook, her arms grew weak and sore from holding her weight. The hand decorating your neck had slipped off, gliding away to find balance on the mattress.
Thanks to her subconscious mind, Alcina rambled in senseless Romanian. Not that you were paying attention, anyway. You couldn't if you tried.
Each beat of your heart had begun to hurt, but the deep pressure was so unexpectedly glorious. Your breaths synced up, not from desire, but rather, from a sense of calm that could only appear when true love was shared.
Alcina had mustered enough strength to slowly pull out, both of you wincing from sharp sensitivity in the process. The rubber held thick strands, more than she normally releases. It'd be impressive if she wasn't half asleep.
Leaning over the side of the bed, she disregarded the item within the small trashcan you insisted she buy for this very reason.
Aftercare was most important to Alcina, both of you knew this, but with your small grunts, she took it that you didn't want to get up. In fairness, neither did she. It felt as if she was made of pure jelly instead of human parts.
In a cuddling mess of tangled limbs, a curated bundle of shared warmth emitting between two nude bodies, the both of you fell asleep. For how long was unknown, but it couldn't have been for an extended period. One of you needed the bathroom sooner or later.
A week after, nothing out of the average routine had occurred. You and Alcina passed the night off as a lucky moment where the stairs aligned, but other than that, nothing besides your wife made you question your sanity.
The start of two weeks after, however, was significantly different. A cold front had blown in over the weekend, so when you awoke in the early hours of Monday morning with a churning stomach; hardly able to make it to the restroom, you declared you must've caught a virus from the wind.
It was weird, though. You had no runny nose, no clogged ears, no hideous cough. You did experience extreme fatigue and nausea, but it was mildly confusing as to why you only suffered from those two.
By now, that past night was a memory you'd only sometimes remember. It wasn't your first guess, not your second or third, not even your fourth.
But then, Tuesday came with more vomiting, Wednesday brought a heavy production of random emotions, Thursday everything–mental and physical, teamed up on you, and Friday finally broke Alcina's sanity.
When Alcina first brought up the possibility of pregnancy, you outright laughed in her face. Years of marriage plus even more dating, why would now be the magical time you became pregnant? You stubbornly shrugged the suggestion away, insisting that it was just the common cold or flu.
You took over the counter medication, nothing changed. If anything, you only seemed to grow more ill.
Week three was unbearable, but still by now, you weren't even thinking of that night. You weren't thinking straight at all, clearly, but not only did you not consider that previous time, but you didn't consider the filler ones in between now and then.
Tuesday, mid afternoon, Week three, you had enough. The symptoms were increasing, and your intuition was annoyingly loud. You didn't tell Alcina, she was at work, anyway. And you damn near hated the idea of her being right. Even if you couldn't deny the growing possibility.
Regardless of your pride, you threw the most basic, comfortable clothes you could manage, and you braved the Romanian winter as you walked to the nearest drug store.
Your face and body was hidden by the layered bundles of your shirt, hoodie, and jacket, which limited visibility and mobility. That didn't matter, not when the store's sliding glass doors opened.
You purchased pregnancy tests, and then very, very angrily, you braved the journey once more to get home.
When the doors to your house shut with a click behind you, reality seemed to crush down with an atomic force. What if Alcina didn't want children? Would she stay? What if it was too much? What if she preferred her work? You swallowed the negativity down with a thick gulp, instead you focused the remains of your energy on the good. You probably weren't even pregnant, anyway. Absolutely no way in hell!
You took the test(s), waited the minutes that you swore were hours, and tried to practice calm breathing techniques to slow your racing heart.
Nothing helped, your body was overcome with nerves.
You weren't pregnant
You weren't pregnant
You…were pregnant
You shuffled between all three tests frantically, your body moving in pure autopilot. Your vision tunneled to just the three little lines on each stick. Unfamiliar, burning bubbles boiled under your skin and up your throat. Were you happy? Disappointed? Regretful?
Scared.
Terrified.
That was all you could pin point.
It felt too hard to breathe, each intake didn't grant you nearly enough oxygen. You?? Were carrying a child?? Well, a going to be soonly formed child?? A living one at that?
You.
Were pregnant.
Alcina had taken to heart what you said last month, the small conversations of how she worked too much, how she needed to relax more. She figured you were right. After all, of course you were.
She'd been coming home a few hours earlier each day since last week, this was a key detail you forgot. Sometimes she wouldn't even go to work at all if you were too sick that day. Your health was worrying her, even if she struggled to show it.
She came home and called out for you like normal, assuming you were in the kitchen or living room. She was met with no response, which instantly spiked her blood pressure. Maybe..maybe you were asleep. Of course, that was reasonable. You could be taking a nap. Or dead..
fuck!
She rushed up the stairs a little more than she'd like to admit, and she would never recognize the fact that she tripped once..or twice, as well. Alcina called your name again, but same as last time, no answer.
She opened the bedroom door, frowning upon seeing the empty bed. Have you gone out? Without telling her? She pondered for a moment, her eyes drifting across the room for any signs. Eventually they fell on the shut bathroom door, the light inside switched on.
She exhaled in relief, but at the same time, dread. You were still sick, is what she assumed. Or dead in the toilet. Naturally.
“Darling, I will take you to the doctor's-” Alcina opened the door unannounced, revealing your frail, shell-shocked figure, and the monumental sticks spread in front of you on the marble counter like a nightmare game of poker.
Her eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She took one step closer, blinking rapidly and shaking her head as if it were a dream.
Her long, unsteady fingers picked up one of the tests, and then the other, and then the final one. Was this real? Curse the universe if she was dreaming.
Nothing was said for a while, both of you just stood in bewildered silence. You inhaled sharply, the air leaving you in a wet, broken sound.
Alcina's shoulders tensed at the noise, her head turned towards you. She stammered, her regal, professional tone now nowhere to be found.
“You're pregnant?”
You closed your eyes as if to expect the backlash she's never once given you. Bold of you to assume she ever would, but how could you think clearly?
“But we had protection!” She rubbed her eyes. It was only a safety call, not a guaranteed prevention every time. She cursed herself for not double checking each condom, but admittedly, there were more than a few moments during the timeline that could be at fault.
Despite her racing heart, her flooded mind, and her inability to properly breathe, Alcina laughed. She held the sticks closer to examine, flicking one of them a few times to ensure it was real. Without another beat, the tests dropped back into the sink, the clatter against the marble had startled you. You jumped, but you had no time to give any more reaction–her arms had encased your figure, swallowing your body whole.
You let out a choked sob, causing your wife to tighten her hold. She had one arm circled around your waist, the other planted firmly on the back of your head, holding it against her chest like a priceless treasure.
“It's okay.” She shushed, though there was a hint of uncertainty lingering behind her words.
“I think? I think it's okay..it's okay, right?”
You couldn't help but laugh against her shirt, the fabric already stained by your fallen tears.
“I..I don't know.” You managed to weakly say, “Are you happy?”
Alcina's eyes were reddening, her throat closing uncomfortably, “I mean, babies are cute.”
“Oh, you're really bad at this.”
Alcina nodded, audibly swallowing.
“Can we be mothers, Alcina? Can we do this? What if it's too much? What if something happens-”
“Oh, stop that.” She pulled back, cupping your face in her hands, “It's most definitely unexpected, but we can adjust.” Her forehead met yours.
Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes burning hot embers of water, dramatic droplets painting your skin. Weakly, you nodded against her. Your heart was still at uneven speeds, but the weight of it all slightly lifted from your chest.
Alcina's vision was beginning to blur, despite her efforts of blinking it away. No matter how many reassurances she whispered, this was an emotional process. Both of you just needed to feel each one as it came.
Somewhere in the middle, you both migrated downstairs. She ordered takeout, a form of comfort food you both shared. The winter sun had set, the only noise occupying the house was the hum of the heater. Hardly any words were shared, but more than enough was communicated through physical touches. Cuddles and small kisses conveyed how the other felt.
The clock ticked, annoyingly reminding you of the seconds that were inevitably passing. It was well past midnight by now, but you were too tired to sleep. Alcina must've been in the same boat, judging by her all too familiar pacing.
“You're thinking.” You spoke in a croaky voice, to which she squeaked at the sudden noise.
“What about?”
Alcina cleared her throat, absentmindedly re-straightening her posture.
“We need books.”
You arched a brow, “Books?”
Alcina nodded, “Yes, plenty of them. Children's behavior patterns, maternal guides, infant encyclopedias...”
She trailed off, her words dissolving into the Romanian language.
You lazily smiled, leaning forward on the couch, resting your elbows on your knees, “Infant encyclopedia? That's a bit dramatic, even for you.”
She shook her head, one hand on her hip, the other thoughtfully stroking her chin.
“No, no. Not enough. I need to watch videos. YouTube! Yes, I'll make a playlist!”
“Alcina-”
“What if it hates me when it grows up?”
You blinked as she suddenly turned, briefly pausing to stare at you with widened eyes before continuing her steps in a faster momentum.
“Did you call our kid ‘it'?”
“We don't know the gender!”
You sighed in what could only be described as fond exasperation. You outstretched your arms, wiggling your fingers in her direction.
Alcina immediately moved, crumbling onto the cushion beside her, unceremoniously falling down to place her head in your lap.
You began to comb through her hair, the soft touch was somewhat grounding, at least.
“Whatever happens..” You leaned down to kiss her forehead, Alcina peeked an eye open to look up at you, “I just hope the baby doesn't inherit your brain.”
She scoffed and playfully swatted your arm, dramatically huffing and rolling over to face away from you. The ironic part: her head was still placed perfectly in your lap.
You laughed at her childish antics, draping an arm over her body.
“You better hope that baby gets my brain.” She mumbled, you just kissed the side of her cheek.
“God help me.”
