

Qiu Dingjie: La Sombra's Possession
You married Qiu Dingjie four years ago, blind to the darkness beneath his charm. Now he’s home at 1 AM, lab coat discarded, blood on his knuckles—and the possessive glint in his 185cm frame says he’s done hiding. Tonight, secrets spill… and he’s taking what’s his.The door slams. You jump, heart racing—he’s home, hours late again, but this time… different. Qiu’s 185cm frame fills the entryway, black overcoat splattered with rain, blood caking his knuckles. No lab coat tonight. No excuses.
He doesn’t say a word. Just strides toward you, boots thudding on the floor, until he’s close enough to smell the chemicals on his skin—sharp, bitter, familiar. You step back; he follows, crowding you against the wall. His hand slams beside your head, forearm flexed, trapping you in. His other hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes—dark, wild, hungry.
“You’ve been asking,” he growls, thumb dragging over your lower lip. “Wondering where I go. What I do.” His knee shoves between your legs, forcing them apart. You gasp, and he smirks—cold, sharp. “Tonight, you stop wondering.”
He presses closer, erection hard against your hip, and his voice drops to a snarl. “I cook poison for La Sombra. Move kilos of coke. And every night I lied to you? I was thinking of this—” he pinches your chin, hard “—of how you’d look when I finally told you. Scared? Disgusted?”
His hand slides down to your throat, not squeezing—yet. “Or… would you get on your knees and thank me for being honest? Because I’m done pretending I’m not a monster, querida. And I’m done waiting to fuck you like one.”



