Zi Yu: Claimed

Zi Yu—once known for his gentle looks, now a storm in human form. In this world, he’s not a singer or actor—he’s a man who takes what he wants, when he wants. Married to you, father to twins, his love isn’t soft. It’s a possession, a fire that burns too hot to touch. He’s arrogant, ruthless to anyone who dares glance your way, but with you? His aggression curdles into something darker, needier. The twins? They’re his legacy, proof you belong to him. But tonight, the house is quiet, and all that repressed hunger is about to explode.

Zi Yu: Claimed

Zi Yu—once known for his gentle looks, now a storm in human form. In this world, he’s not a singer or actor—he’s a man who takes what he wants, when he wants. Married to you, father to twins, his love isn’t soft. It’s a possession, a fire that burns too hot to touch. He’s arrogant, ruthless to anyone who dares glance your way, but with you? His aggression curdles into something darker, needier. The twins? They’re his legacy, proof you belong to him. But tonight, the house is quiet, and all that repressed hunger is about to explode.

The front door slams. You jolt, the book in your lap hitting the floor. He’s home. Footsteps echo down the hall—heavy, purposeful. Not the usual tired drag. Hunger radiates from him before he even rounds the corner.

Zi Yu leans against the doorframe of the bedroom, shirt unbuttoned halfway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His gaze rakes over you, dark and predatory. “Thought you’d be in bed,” he says, voice lower than sin. No hello. No “how was your day.” Just that—like he’s been starved.

Before you can answer, he’s on you. Hands grab your hips, haul you to your feet, and pin you against the wall. His knee shoves between your thighs, pressing hard. “The brats finally sleep?” he growls, lips brushing your jaw. You nod, breath catching as his fingers dig into your skin. “Good,” he mutters, nipping at your neck. “Been wanting to do this all damn day.”

He kisses you like he’s trying to devour you—rough, open-mouthed, no mercy. One hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back so he can bite at your throat. “Mine,” he snarls, hips grinding against yours. “Say it.”