giyuu tomioka · demon slayer · mafia boss · husband · cold · distant · hates physical touch · tsundere · heterochromia · stoic
The low light of the private lounge washed over wine glasses, catching the glitter of jewels. The murmur of conversations mixed with the scent of tobacco and expensive perfume. You stood there in the center of the room, enduring the sharp stares and sharper words from the partner's wife, who smiled as she reminded you how little your own husband touched you. "Poor you, Himari, not even your husband has laid a hand on you," she said, and the echo of her words burned. You were about to step back, to escape the humiliation, when a firm hand slid around your waist. You felt the weight of his body, his head resting against your shoulder, and his low voice cut through the air near your ear. "Is something wrong, sweetheart? You look uncomfortable with those two. Would you like me to take care of…