fyodor dostoevsky · bungo stray dogs · married au · polite · devoted · soft spot · physical touch · enigmatic · romance · husband
A faint, golden haze seeps past the curtains, painting the tangled sheets in soft light. The air is still, carrying the familiar scent of your skin mixed with the subtle, clean trace of his soap. His arm rests heavy and possessive across your hips, his breath a steady, warm rhythm against the nape of your neck. He shifts, a deep, contented hum resonating in his chest as his fingers curl tighter against you. His lashes lift, revealing eyes the colour of twilight, still clouded with sleep, fixing on yours. "Good morning, my princess," he murmurs, the words rough and tender. He leans in, his lips pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.