LAW AND ORDER ── you are the primary suspect for your husband's death. what are the odds that your defense lawyer happens to be your ex-boyfriend from years ago?
ex!lawyer!hiromi x female!reader
tw. domestic violence & abuse, mentions of mental illnesses (depression, psychosis), trauma-induced selective mutism, institutionalization, imprisonment cw. explicit sexual content, angst, shameless smut, violence, blood, age gap, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, dubcon, masturbation, creampie, rough sex, face riding, throat fucking, overstimulation, hair pulling, choking, nipple play, breeding kink, cheating, power dynamics, ethical dilemmas, dead dove: do not eat
18+ mdni | wc. 3.7k | a/n. have any of you guys read the silent patient?
⚖︎ this is the first chapter of the LAW AND ORDER series ⚖︎
01. ab initio
Growing up, your mother never failed at telling you that it's better to find men to date after college—or better, when you already have a job, money, and all. She warned you about men (or boys, rather) that are still in school, penniless, or both, are up to no good. That they play games, they don't know what they really want, and worst of all, they always leave.
You scoffed at her back then, thinking she only said that because her high school sweetheart—your father—had abandoned the two of you for a different family to call his own.
But with the unwavering dedication to study hard, you were able to get through your freshman year all the way to junior year in college without dating anyone. Countless men have tried to woo you, but you were “too hard to crack,” or so they claimed.
Things were turning out well for you—or at least, that’s what you thought. You remember your mother’s warnings about boys but… what about a man who had just graduated from law school?
“Hi. Is this seat taken?”
You look up abruptly and see dark eyes scanning yours. The stranger’s posture is relaxed—one hand tucked in the pocket of his black slacks, the other gripping a book thick enough to bludgeon someone. You glance around the café and realize how the place is jam packed now. Most of the tables and chairs are already occupied except yours.
Probably because you’re sitting at the far end by the window that is too secluded for anyone to bother noticing.
“Go ahead.” you say.
You push your sprawled notes and books aside to give him space. He slides into the chair immediately. The scent of coffee and something faintly woody hits you as he settles in. You try not to stare, but it’s hard not to when his long and thick fingers drum against the book’s cover.
He doesn’t talk to you. He just flips the book open and starts reading like you aren’t even there. Which should be a relief, right? You just want to study in peace, too.
Except that you catch yourself glancing up every time he turns a page. The fourth time you do it, his eyes flick over to yours.
“Yes?”
You blink up at him.
“Oh. Uh—nothing.” You gulp, fingers tightening around your highlighter. “Sorry, are you a law student?”
He shakes his head. “Was.” His voice is dry and low. “I already graduated a month ago.”
You nod, though your fingers still grip the highlighter too tight. His gaze drops back to his book, but you don’t look away. There’s something alluring about the way his thumb brushes the edge of the page.
Oh my god, you are not getting horny over someone’s goddamn fingers!
You should really go back to studying. Instead, you blurt out, “What’s your name?”
His eyes slowly lift, like he’s weighing whether answering is worth the effort.
“Hiromi.”
You nod again and tell him yours, the syllables slipping out softer than you intended. You cringe at yourself.
“Good luck with… whatever you’re reading, Hiromi,” you add, gesturing vaguely at his book.
He gives you a slow blink before dipping his chin in acknowledgment. Then, silence finally settles between you two.
Three days later, you see him again. Though this time, he’s sitting a few tables away from your usual spot in the café. You’re supposed to be studying for a quiz but instead, you waste an entire hour staring at him. You busy yourself by doing one of your ‘observing people’ routines.
Upon watching him, you notice that he doesn’t really move that much. He stays still while turning pages. And it’s oddly captivating—the way his fingers pause just before flipping to the next page. He doesn’t slouch, not even once, nor prop his head up in boredom. The only time he moves is when he reaches for his phone. You watch the way his brows furrow and how his lips thin to a line. He gathers up his things and walks out of the café.
You notice that you seem to be seeing him a lot these days.
It starts to feel like a glitch in the universe. Like the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon. Now that you’ve learned his name, the world seems determined to show him to you in the randomest places.
You see him at the crosswalk, his back straight and his head slightly tilted as he listens to something on his earbuds. You see him at the convenience store just outside the campus, buying nothing but three cans of black coffee and a single pre-packaged sandwich.
One Friday, the rain is drumming a relentless, grey rhythm against the café windows. You’re tucked into your usual corner. The bell above the door jingles, and there he is. He shakes the water droplets off his coat. His hair is damp, some strands are sticking to his forehead. He heads straight for the counter and orders something too quiet for you to hear.
You look down on your laptop when you feel his eyes turning to you.
Just a few minutes later, you feel a presence at the end of the table. You don’t have to look up to know who it is. He slides into the seat without asking.
“Hm. You’re everywhere.”
That makes you look up.
You snort. “You’re the one who sat at my table first.”
“Fair.” He takes a sip on his coffee. Black coffee, no sugar. You know because you watched him order it last time. “You’re a psych major, right?”
“Yeah… how did you-”
“I figured from your notes,” he nods at the open notebook beside your laptop.
You blink. “Are you stalking me?”
Okay, that might be a reach.
He chuckles low and dark, it makes your heart hammer with something weird.
“You’re interesting.”
You don’t know what to say to that, so you just raise an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”
Hiromi leans back in his chair, looking at you with those heavy-lidded eyes.
“I really hope you’re single,” he says flatly. His fingers tap once against the side of his coffee cup.
You gulp. “Why?”
Hiromi shrugs, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Because I’d like to take you out.”
You feel your pulse kick up. It’s stupid, really, considering you don’t even know this guy.
“I am single.”
The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. Hiromi looks at you, and for the first time, his lips slowly curl into a smile—the kind that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle just slightly. It’s disarming, and you find yourself smiling stupidly, too.
He bites his lower lip, a quick gesture that makes your stomach flip. Then, he reaches for his phone. He unlocks it with a swipe and hands it out to you without a word. The screen glows with the new contact page. You take it, your fingers brush his.
You type your number in, savoring the way his gaze lingers on your hands. When you give it back, he doesn’t check it. He just pockets the phone and takes another sip of his coffee.
“You don’t want to test it?” you ask, teasing. “Make sure I didn’t give you a fake one?”
He almost laughs at that.
“Oh, I know you wouldn’t.”
The following weeks are a blur. You spend your mornings in lecture halls, and your nights with Hiromi across various dinner tables. He’s a creature of habit; he likes his steak medium-rare, his scotch neat, and his conversations intellectually grueling.
The first time he brings you to his apartment, it’s under the guise that he has the better Wi-Fi for your joint study session. Only for the day to end with him pressing you deep into the mattress while whispering the filthiest praises into your ear—how good you take him, how pretty you look falling apart, or how perfect you are when you choke on his cock.
Eventually, it becomes a habit. Your supposed study sessions dissolve into him pinning your wrists above your head while he peppers you with warm and delicate kisses. His hands map your body like he’s memorizing every dip and curve. His tongue worships you like his sacred texts.
You find yourself breaking every rule your mother ever set.
“Can you please fuck me now?”
You look up to Hiromi with the best pleading eyes you can put on, tugging on the hem of his hoodie as you go on your knees in front of him. He only exhales deeply, as if annoyed (he’s not really). He pushes the bridge of his reading glasses back.
“What? No.” he almost says quickly. “Babe, I’m still reading.”
Right. He’s busy reviewing for the bar exams. He’s adamant on passing it with first try, but the thing is, he barely has time to even sleep—let alone fuck you.
You pout and shift closer. You press your cheek against his knee.
“But you’ve been reading for three hours straight now,” you murmur while tracing idle circles on his sweatpants. “Your brain’s gonna fry.”
Hiromi doesn’t look up. “My brain’s all fine.”
“Your dick, though-” You press your palm flat against the front of his pants, grinning when you feel him twitch. “Seems like it could use some attention.”
He exhales through his nose. It’s that long-suffering sigh he does that you’ve come to adore.
“No.”
No?
You blink up at him and he straight up just goes back to reading that stupid thick-paged book. He even uncaps a highlighter with his teeth while you’re sprawled between his knees.
One thing you’ve come to realize since dating Hiromi is that you never back down on any challenge. It’s almost as if that since he’s a very stoic and determined guy, breaking him in is a challenge for you already.
Your fingers curl around the waistband of his sweatpants and the fabric slides down easily. And just like you predicted, he’s not wearing anything underneath again. His cock lazily springs free, thick and soft. You wrap your hand around him to feel his warmness.
Hiromi doesn’t react. His eyes are seriously fixed on whatever the hell he’s reading. You smirk and drag your tongue along the underside of his cock. You feel him stiffen slightly. Then, you swallow him down in one go, hollowing your cheeks as you pull back.
Except that he’s just too dedicated on his studies that he couldn’t give a fuck he’s balls deep in your mouth.
His breath suddenly hitches when you take him even deeper. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and you almost gag at the sensation. You hum around him as he slowly shifts his hips to meet your movements. Still, he doesn’t look at you.
But you know his game.
You pull off with a wet pop! Your teeth lightly drag along his length and you feel his thighs tense under your palms.
“You’re really gonna pretend you don’t wanna fuck my mouth?”
“I told you-” He clears his throat. “I’m busy.”
You roll your eyes in irritation before taking him back to your mouth. Your head bobs up and down so fast while your throat works around him. You hollow your cheeks once more, pulling back to swirl your tongue around the slit of his tip. Hiromi’s fingers twitch against the pages of the book. The sound of sucking and slurping are so obscene it’s echoing off the walls.
The heavy thump of a book snapping shut makes you glance up. Hiromi removes his reading glasses and he looks down at you with heavy-lidded eyes.
“You’re so stubborn, I hope you know that.”
Hiromi yanks you up with ease just as he stands from the swivel chair. He drags you by the wrist and the back of your knees immediately hit the edge of the mattress when he pushes your body to it. His fingers fumble with the button and zipper of your denim shorts and he tugs them down along with your panties in one smooth motion. The cold air hits your skin, but his hands are warmer as they slide up the inside of your legs before spreading them.
“Such a goddamn distraction,” he mutters, finally leaning down to catch your mouth with his.
You arch shamelessly into him, wrapping your legs around his waist. His cock presses against your lower abdomen and you rock against him just to hear him groan into your mouth.
Hiromi pulls back abruptly. His fingers curl under the hem of your shirt, dragging the fabric up your torso until you lift your arms. He tosses it somewhere behind him, and then his hands are on you again—palming your tits, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers until they harden under his touch.
You let out a whine as you buck against him, but he clicks his tongue.
“So impatient.”
His lips brush your collarbone, then lower. He licks a warm stripe over one nipple, then sucks it into his mouth. You gasp and tangle your fingers in his hair. He flicks his tongue over the peak and bites down.
“Hiro-”
“Shut up,” he murmurs against your skin.
His hands slide down your sides, slightly squeezing your waist before gripping your hips. He drags you close to him and you feel the blunt head of his cock nudge against you. You’re wet—have been since you sucked him off earlier—but he doesn’t push in just yet. Instead, he grinds his cock between your folds ever so slow you let out a whimper.
You claw at his shoulders. “Stop teasing.”
“You’re gonna have to ask better than that.”
“Please, fuck me,” you look up at him, his eyes flicker with something dark. “I want you so bad, Hiromi.”
Hiromi slides into you with one smooth thrust. His grip on your hips pins you down on the mattress, but your back arches off, anyway.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re so tight.”
You dig your nails into his shoulders, your legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper.
“Move,” you demand breathlessly.
He does—his hips snap forward followed by a sharp, punishing rhythm that has you gasping. There’s nothing gentle about it. His hands slide under you to grip your ass, tilting your hips just so until every thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.
“Mhhhhmmm… fuck me harder, please,” you pant, your voice breaking as he fucks you harder.
The veins of his cock drag against your walls in a way that has your toes curling. The bed creaks violently under the force of his movements, the headboard slamming against the wall. All you feel is him, the brutal stretch, and the way your body clenches around him like it’s trying to keep him inside.
“You-” Hiromi grits out between clenched teeth, “are fucking persistent.” His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider. “You couldn’t just let me study in peace.”
You gasp when he suddenly flips you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up before driving back into you. His palm lands sharp on your ass.
“If I fail the bar, what would you do, hm?”
Hiromi’s voice is deep and edged with something between frustration and irritation. You don’t get the chance to answer since he slams into you again, his hips thrusting so hard your knees almost slide against the sheets. You claw at the mattress—the pillows—anything to grab on but he only drags you back onto him.
He leans over you, his chest is pressing hot against your back. His hand gathers your hair to yank your head back.
“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he growls. “Wanted me to fuck you stupid instead of studying.”
You nod frantically, your words dissolving into a gasp as he angles his hips deeper.
“Yes! Nngghhh—just like thaaat-”
Hiromi’s grip tightens in your hair. “So fucking greedy.”
The slap of skin to skin fills the room, punctuated by your ragged moans. His thrusts grow erratic. Then, his fingers press into the dip of your lower back before sliding between your legs. His middle and ring finger circles your clit and you choke on a sob as pleasure starts to coil tight in your stomach.
“Fuck-” you gasp, your thighs trembling as his fingers work in tandem with the ram of his cock deep into you. “I’m- I’m so close, Hiromi!”
“Hmm…” Hiromi hums. “Gonna cum already?”
You don’t answer again—not when his fingers press harder, not when his cock kisses that spot inside you that makes your vision white out. Your hips jerk uselessly while trying to meet his thrusts.
Hiromi groans and you feel his rhythm stuttering. You can feel your legs shake as your pussy clenches around his cock. You roll your eyes so hard it almost reaches the back of your head.
“Shit- oh my fucking-!”
Your voice cracks, all high and desperate, as the wave of orgasm crashes over you. Hiromi curses under his breath. He pulls you back to him before burying himself to the hilt just as your legs shake violently. You feel him coat your insides with his warm, thick cum.
For a moment, neither of you move. His weight presses you into the mattress. Then, with a slow drag, he pulls out. He collapses onto the bed beside you. You roll onto your side, immediately pressing your face into the crook of his neck as his arm drapes heavily over your shoulder.
Silence stretches between you, but it's comfortable. You trace idle circles on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.
“You’re gonna pass,” you murmur after a while, your voice still thick with satisfaction.
Hiromi snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me like that.”
You grin against his skin. “But you love it.”
He doesn't deny it.
You lift your head to look at him. His dark lashes are fanning over his cheeks. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. You caress his lips that are still slightly parted as he catches his breath.
“You should take a break,” you say, nudging his shoulder with your nose. “Just for tonight.”
Hiromi sighs as his fingers trail absently up and down your spine.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” you insist. “One night won’t kill you.”
He opens one eye to glare at you half-heartedly. “You say that like you won’t be the reason I fail.”
You laugh before pressing a kiss to his jaw.
“Ugh. Stop being soooo negative. You won’t fail.”
Hiromi hums before his arms tighten around you to pull you closer. You settle against him with your limbs tangled with his and your skin still sticky with sweat.
Outside, the city bustles—cars are passing by and there’s the occasional blare of a horn. But inside of his apartment, it's just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet aftermath of something raw and real.
You close your eyes while listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.
If only you had known that it’s the last time you’ll be with him, you would’ve savored every second—every ragged breath, every groan, every heartbeat—more. But you didn’t.
Because when Hiromi passed the bar exam with flying colors, his priorities shifted.
You thought you’d be happy for him when he landed his first case. You tried to but you really couldn’t. The moment he stepped into courtrooms, he stopped being yours. His texts dwindled to one-word replies. The weekend dates turned into rescheduled ones that never really happened. His eyes, once warm and soft when they looked at you, became cold and distant.
“You knew what you were in for,” he told you one night when you dared to complain about his absence. “This is who I am.”
And that was it. The beginning of the end.
Then came the night of your twenty-second birthday. You’re sitting at the edge of your bed, staring at your phone screen illuminated by the last text Hiromi sent six hours ago.
Hiromi: Busy. Raincheck dinner?
You swallow the lump in your throat, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Before you can type a reply, a notification from your roommate pops up on top of the screen.
Roomie: come downstairs, i brought sum food
You frown but oblige, padding barefoot down the stairs. The apartment is dark except the flickering glow of candlelight from the kitchen. There you see him—Hiromi, standing stiffly beside a lopsided homemade cake. His tie is loosened and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.
“You… baked?”
Hiromi exhales sharply, avoiding your gaze. “It already collapsed twice.” He gestures to the cake. “The recipe online obviously lied.”
You bite back a laugh. “You could’ve just bought one!”
“I wanted to do it right, at least.”
The words hang between you two, heavy with everything he hasn’t said. You step closer, close enough that you see the exhaustion in his eyes. You tiptoed to press a kiss on his lips.
Your fingers slowly brush his. “You’re an idiot.”
“I know,” Hiromi’s thumb traces your knuckles.
For a moment, you feel warm and happy. Until his phone buzzes on the counter, shattering the quiet. His grip tightens briefly before he lets go, reaching for it. You watch his expression shutter as he reads the message—the way his shoulders slump and how his mouth thins into a line.
“I have to go,” he says, already grabbing his coat.
Not even a single “I’m sorry” or a “Happy birthday” came out of his mouth.
You just look at him while tears slowly form in your eyes. You don’t bother asking him to stay because you know he won’t.
A month later, you ended your relationship with him. You didn’t even cry when you told him a simple, “This isn’t working anymore.” But the worst thing is that Hiromi didn’t even try to argue with you.
He just nodded once and said, “Okay.”
You walked away with your chest hollowing. You ignored the way his eyes followed you until the door clicked shut behind you.
You told yourself it’s for the best but you spent the following years believing that lie. Maybe your mother was right. That men in school are completely up to no good. But men in general? They are just different versions of the same storm.
Some leave you shivering in the cold, while others stay just long enough to make sure you drown.