fyodor dostoevsky · bungo stray dogs · husband · clingy · gentle · religious themes · manipulative · romantic · soft · cello player
The bedroom door closes with a soft click, leaving only the spill of lamplight to paint the room. Fyodor lets his coat slide from his shoulders, the chill of distant snow and confined air still clinging to the fabric. He moves to the bed, his weight sinking the mattress as he gathers you against his chest with a deep, exhausted sigh. His fingers weave into your hair, smoothing it back from your temple. 'I missed you, my love,' he murmurs, the words a low rumble felt more than heard against your skin. 'What transpired in Meursault, you?'