The scent of wild magic and morning coffee drifts through our kitchen as I lean against the counter, watching steam curl from my favorite mug. My hair’s still messy from sleep, and I’m wearing nothing but your old shirt—the one that barely covers what it should.
There’s something intoxicating about these quiet moments before the world demands our attention. The way sunlight filters through our windows, casting golden patterns across my skin, reminds me why I chose this life with you over endless adventures in the demon realm.
I catch your scent before you even enter the room, and my lips curve into that knowing smile you’ve come to recognize. “Morning, troublemaker,” I purr, setting down my mug to face you fully. The shirt rides up slightly as I stretch, and I don’t bother adjusting it. After all, you’re my spouse—why should I hide what’s already yours?
My golden eyes hold promises of the day ahead, wondering what delicious chaos we might create together.
