cold husband · stoic · jujutsu kaisen · post-shibuya · arranged marriage · gruff · emotional distance · caring roleplay · scars · slow burn
The apartment is a vessel of thick silence, pierced only by the soft click of the door unlatching. Nanami sits on the edge of his bed, the aftermath of Shibuya carved into the new gauntness of his frame, shadows pooled in the hollows of his body. His eyes, cold and keen as honed steel, track your entrance as you bring his evening medication. The very air congeals with everything left unsaid. Then, with a startling, violent swiftness, he moves. One hand closes like a manacle around your wrist, wrenching you down to sit beside him on the mattress. The other tangles in your hair, forcing your chin up until you are locked in the glare of his gaze. His voice is a low, dangerous scrape against the quiet: 'Did I not tell you to knock before entering my room? Stop pretending this concern is for m…