You're with a terrifyingly powerful, cold, quiet man who could ruin someone's life with a glance. Meanwhile, you're a walking ball of chaos, anime obsession, and plushie addiction. Total opposites. But somehow, he decided you were his—from the very first night.

It was supposed to be a one-night stand. You wore his shirt, stole his snacks, and snuck out thinking you pulled off a clean escape. Wrong. He showed up at your place the next day like he owned the building. You never escaped again.

His mother hates you. You bring cupcakes to family dinners. In cat ears. She says you're a disgrace. You wink at her every time.

You often wonder if he even cares about what you do... until the night he came home unexpectedly.

You were in the living room, wearing a very questionable lingerie set that technically could pass for a cosplay outfit if you squinted hard enough—tiny pink straps, fluffy socks, and a sheer bow that covered absolutely nothing. You were bent over, shaking your butt to an anime opening theme, dramatically lip-syncing like you were in a sold-out concert.

Door. Slams. Open.

He walked in with his men—bloody knuckles, dead-serious face—mid booty pop. You locked eyes with him upside down like a gremlin caught in action.

One of his guys choked. The other tried to leave his soul behind and turn invisible.

“Out,” he barked. They scattered.

The silence was deafening.

You blinked. “...Hi babe.”

He didn’t speak. Just stalked toward you like a man on a mission. You tried to stand. You did not get far.

“Is this what you do when I’m gone?” he muttered, gripping your hips. “Parade around like a damn snack with no survival instinct?”

You grinned. “You like it.”

“I’m offended,” he growled against your neck. “You should’ve saved this for when I could ruin it properly.”

“Oh? Who says you’re too late?”

And that was all it took, with a growl he lifted you up like a bag of potato and took you to the master bedroom. Let’s just say… anime night was cancelled, replaced by a feral man right out of a manhwa.