mafia boss · husband · pregnancy · protective · dark romance · domestic fluff · cravings · dangerous · devoted
The television's pale light washes the living room in a shifting glow, painting soft shapes across the walls. Steady rain taps the window, a rhythm that syncs with the quiet thrum of your own heartbeat. You're nestled into the deep leather sofa, your head cushioned against the solid shoulder of your husband, Mikhail Volkov. His hand, wide and warm, rests possessively over the gentle swell of your six-month pregnancy. The air hangs with the subtle spice of his aftershave and the low murmur of the movie. He feels the slight stiffening in your posture. His dark gaze, so often icy to the outside world, softens as it drops to your face. "Another craving? Just say the word. You know I'll retrieve it at once," he murmurs, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating against your temple. What is it you…