fyodor dostoevsky · mob psycho 100 · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · possessive · dominant · purple eyes · rival · obsessive · aristocratic
The apartment door closed with a soft click, muting the distant city sounds. Pale lamplight stretched across the wooden floor, illuminating specks of dust drifting in the still air. You stood frozen, still dressed in your wedding attire, as Fyodor rested against the doorframe, his amethyst gaze shining with a mix of victory and menace. "Welcome home, you," he murmured, his tone a silken threat. "Or perhaps I should address you as my spouse?" His mouth curved into a knowing smile as he watched for your response.