#writeformesinpie

Two men in cheap black suits tower over you while you sit at the blackjack table. They’re looking at the small fortune you’ve accumulated in the form of little plastic chips. Judging by their broad shoulders and angry scowls, they’re security. One’s shorter than the other, his muscles giving him a meaty look while the other makes up for his lack of brawn in height.

“Can I help you?” The question is directed at the men although your eyes stick to the table as you twirl a thousand dollar chip over your knuckles. Cards spread out across the green felt table before you and the other guests who are now paying more attention to you and your company rather than the game at hand.

“We’re gonna need you to follow us,” the muscle says, motioning toward the back of the casino with his head.

“And leave all my newly acquired funds?”

“We’ll have someone pack it up all nice for you”, the height says with a smile, his lips pulling back across his teeth.

“Somehow I seriously doubt that.” Tossing the chip on the pile with a sigh you get up to follow.

They lead you down past the slot machines, the happy whir of the spinning reels, the dings and chimes. The sound of lost fortune follows you as you walk down the row, the boxes taunting. A squeal of glee erupts from one of the gamblers as the machine offers her quarters. Most of the guests are bent over in complete concentration as they continue to offer the machine their life savings.

You continue past the slots, the games, the players and those being played. The muscle walks in front while the height ushers you from behind, keeping you at a quick pace until you arrive at a locked door near the back. He swipes his keycard and it opens with a loud clang.

“Go ahead,” the muscle says and you roll your eyes before stepping in. “You know the way.”

The door closes behind you, the jolt of metal on metal reverberating down the corridor in an eerie echo. The lights are dim. Taking a deep breath you make your way down the hall, turning left then right before you come to the door you know he’s behind.

Testing the handle proves lucrative: it’s unlocked. You inch the door open, taking your time and allowing your eyes to scan the room with each nudge. He’s sitting on the lounge chair against the back wall, masked in shadow. You can’t see his features and it makes you uneasy.

“Well?” you ask with your hands on your hips. “I’m here. What do you want?”

“Come in.” The words leave a sour taste in your mouth. You do as you're told, easing the door closed behind you. The soft sound of the lock latching permeates the room as you stand, your back to the door, waiting for his next command.

He doesn't offer you one, instead allowing the silent buzz of the room to frustrate you into blurting out, “Well? I don’t have all day here.”

“And you think I have time to deal with your insolence?” The words bite, his cool tone hiding the rage underneath them. You take a step back, forgetting how close you are to the exit, and bump up against the door. Who knew he would get this angry over a few hundred Gs?

“You got your money back,” you mutter, looking towards the opposite side of the room. There’s a small bar and a door. You know what’s behind it and it’s something you’d rather not revisit, not today. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal, my love,” his voice is curt as he says the words and you shiver, you hate it when he calls you that, “is that you never seem to learn. No matter how many times I try to teach you.”

“It was just a card game–”

“No.” He’s on his feet moving swiftly towards you before he finishes the word. Jack be nimble, Jack be quick. Sunghoon’s about to knock over your candlestick. “No, it wasn’t. This was a direct deviance of my orders.”

“Sunghoon…” the word drifts off, lost under the weight of his gaze. Narrowed eyes and pinched lips have you fumbling for the door handle. “Well, I mean. I should get going. I didn’t mean to get you all riled up.”

Relief floods across your skin as you locate the knob, turning it slightly before his words still you. “Did I say you were dismissed?”

“No but…”

“No but what?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. The obvious gesture is ignored as he steps closer, invading your space, his breath close enough to taste. Citrus and rum.

You jut out your hand in an attempt to create some space between you, instead he grabs your wrist and pulls you into an embrace. His hand twists within your hair and pulls it tight causing you to yelp out in pain. His lips press down hard against your neck.

“Sunghoon, please. You’re hurting me.”

“Sunghoon?” His hard kisses turn to harder nips and he chuckles as you cry out. “At least show me the respect I deserve.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as tears well in your eyes. He knows.

“I’m sorry, what?” he spits, pulling your hair hard enough to snap your neck back. You’re gonna feel that tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, sir.” The words are hard to get out over the lack of air and sound like a breathy whisper.

“Are you though?”

“It won’t happen again.” Talking hurts more than breathing and you wonder if you might just pass out when he finally releases his grip, moving his hand down to your waist. “Sunghoon, I–”

“I’m sick of your games. It’s time you realised who you belong to,” he says, venomous and cold as he circles his hands around your arse, pulling your body into his. He grinds his hips up against yours, sending a jolt of pleasure to your core. “Say it. Tell me who you belong to.”

“I belong to you.”

‘I belong to you what?” He continues to move his hips back and forth as heat spreads across your skin.

“I belong to you, sir,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pulls you up to him, your back flush with the door. “Only you, sir.”

“If you know that then you shouldn’t test me.” His lips find yours, crashing together in desperate need. Sucking on his tongue you hum and rub your body against his as hot trails of fire dance across your skin.

He pulls back, pushing against your chest to hold you at arm's length. Furrowing your brows you reach out but he flicks away your hand. You unwind your legs and slink back until your toes are on the floor.

“What are you doing? Stop teasing me.” You try to lean in again to no avail.

“You tried to run away, my love.” Swallowing hard you watch as the previous moment of lust falls from his face to be replaced by calm indifference. “Did you really think you were about to be rewarded for that?”

“I didn’t–”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

Looking down at your feet you shake your head. “What are you going to do?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, digging his fingers into your jaw. “I’m gonna punish you, of course. I’m going to make it so you can’t even walk, let alone try to leave me again.”

It’s late and your next door neighbour has all his loud friends over again. 

It’s not the first time this week and neither is it the first time you’ve had to go over and ask him to keep it down. When he’s by himself the volume is fine–when he’s alone he’s great!–it’s only when they all get together it turns into complete utter chaos. 

You don’t want to be the bad guy but you’re trying to get some work done before you head to bed and you don’t plan to stay up all night. Why can’t he keep this under control? Why do you always have to be the bad guy? 

The door is practically jumping, the vibration from the noise and movement inside shaking it on its hinges as you walk up. Will they even hear you knocking at this point? Surely no one will hear you over the hysterical laughter coming from inside. You try it anyway, three firm knocks.

There’s no response so you try again, harder. 

And again. 

And again. 

Tapping your foot with impatience you decide on a backup plan – a post it note. Luckily you had the sense of mind to bring some along with a pen. After all, this isn’t your first time at this rodeo. Also luckily for you, this apartment is cheap and the construction of said building questionable, the doors don’t quite touch the ground which leaves plenty of room to slide the note underneath. 

You write out a nice message (nice considering the circumstance, nice considering the time of night and nice considering your current mood) and try to slide it under the door. The sticky note latches onto the bottom of the door. You hold in a groan by biting your lip as you bend down closer to the door, down on your hands and knees, and yank the note off. You try again and this time it gets stuck in the crease of the door jam. It has somehow sucked it up and under and crammed it into the small space. 

“For fuck’s sake!” You curl your fingers under the door to free the note as the door flies open, leaving you to topple to the floor face first. “What are you doing?” the man asks as you look him up at him, your face burning. It’s not your neighbour. It must be one of his friends. 

“I was leaving a, uh, a note,” you stammer the words, snatching the post it note back from the jam. It tears in two, leaving most of it behind, now crumbled up inside the door frame. You lean close to the door, ignoring the sneer of the man above you, and peel the pieces back one by one as he watches. You hold out the pieces of the note as evidence. 

“You’re writing a note for San?” 

“San?” 

“You don’t know San?” The man frowns down at you, one eye more narrowed than the other. “Who did you say you were?” 

“I didn’t. Look, I’m just leaving a note to ask you guys to keep it down,” you say, standing up with a sigh. “I knocked several times.” 

“Did you guys hear a knock?” he yells over his shoulder. 

An echo of ‘no’s’ rings out before you hear a familiar voice ask, “Who is it?” 

“Some girl,” he replies, giving you the old once over. “A cute girl.” 

“Invite her in,” someone yells back and a chorus of laughter follows. 

“Just keep it down in there,” you huff out, hands on your hips. “There are people with children, you know. And jobs to get to in the morning.” 

“She’s a single mum,” he adds to his previous comments as some of his friends start to mosey over. 

“A MILF,” one of them adds with a nod as his eyes flutter across your body, making you feel exposed. 

“I’m not a MILF!” 

“Don’t be shy, girl,” the new guy says, coming up to the door. “You’re hot.” 

“I’m not, I mean, what I mean is–”

“She’s cute when he’s flustered,” another one says, leaning lazily against his friend at the door. “You wanna come in? We can send Wooyoung to look after the kid.” 

“Hey!” The one who answered the door, Wooyoung, smacks the newcomer with his open palm. “Why don’t you take care of the kid and I’ll take care of the mother.” He grins at you, his brow quirking as he asks, “What do ya say?” 

You roll your eyes. “There’s no kid.” 

“Great, then you have no reason to say no,” the newcomer says, opening the door a little wider. 

“Just keep it down,” you practically growl out the words before turning and stomping back to your own door. There’s another round of laughter before the door shuts, dampening the sound… but not killing it. They are obnoxiously loud. 

The door opens again and you spin on your heels, keys in hand, and gasp. 

He’s fucking gorgeous. 

Tall and commanding, sultry and dangerous. You inhale deeply and as if compelled take a step back. 

“Oh shit! Yunho’s going after the MILF!” 

“She’s not a MILF, idiot!”

“I thought you said she was hot?” 

He shuts the door and the chatter dims. He’s smiling. 

“Sorry about them. They can be a bit… rowdy.” 

“Aha,” you say, letting the syllables of the word draw out as you motion towards the door with a flick of your head. “And I’m sure you’re Mr. Responsible.” 

“Well, maybe not entirely responsible,” he says with a grin. He’s dazzling, his smile sucking the air out of the room, a smile that screams ‘this has worked on all the girls before you’ and you’re sure it has. He takes a step towards your side of the hall. “I promise we’re not so bad.” 

A silent battle rages within and the urge to return his smile overpowers you. “Not so bad? Just really loud.” 

“I’ll tell them to keep it down.” 

“You do that.” You turn back to the door and slide the key into the lock. “Good night.” 

“You aren’t going to invite me in?” 

Turning back to face him again you narrow your eyes. Ignoring his puppy eyes you ask, “And why would I do that? I don’t even know your name.” 

“Yunho,” he says, a hand on his chest as he takes another step towards you. “And you are?” 

“Tired.” 

“Right, of course, how rude of me.” His lips pull back into a grimace as he makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “A single mother needs her rest.” 

“A single– I am not–”

“Ahhh. Hmmm.” He nods, his eyes pensive, a determined thin line where his lips used to be. 

“I’m not pregnant, I’m not married and I don’t have kids. I’m just someone who has to get some work done tonight before I go to sleep.” You open the door a crack before turning back to face him. “And I don’t want to be some conquest you run and tell your buddies about in the morning.” 

“Mmm.” He nods, a whisper of a smile on his lips. His happy bubbly energy is infuriating. 

“What?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You obviously have something to say. Go ahead and just say it.” 

“No, no, no. You have work to do,” he says, laughter dancing in his eyes. 

“Just spit it out already.” 

“It just seems to me that you’re lonely.” He takes a final step, now right next to you and a part of you wants to pull back but this is your door. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’ve been over here, working hard,” he says, leaning against your doorframe, blocking any exit plans you may have had, filling up your field of vision. Strength and comfort in a single stance. “And there’s a part of you that’s reaching out for some human contact.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yep.” His smile is so bright you take a step back and as you do you have a chance to really take him in. Messy bedhead waves, kind eyes and lips that make you want to test if they’re as soft as they look. His shirt is styled larger than he needs and it hangs off one of his shoulders revealing a tank underneath. As you continue to stare his hands inch up to his neck to play with the hair there. His fingers are long and slender as they move across his collarbone, tempting you with what else is hiding beneath. 

“Hmm.” He bites his lip as he straightens his shirt with a look of discomfort. When you raise a brow he grins, his previous expression gone. “I’m not a piece of meat, you know.” 

Resisting an eye roll you motion for him to move. “It’s late.” 

“It’s only 10PM. On a Saturday. What kind of nightmare boss do you work for?” He laughs but he moves away from the door. 

“Some people like to get up early.” 

“No one likes to get up early.”

“Well… some people have to.” 

“Like MILFs?” He grins, his eyes almost closing as he bares his teeth in a Cheshire Cat grin. He leans against the wall right next to your door. 

“Very funny. You’re a funny guy.” You let out a long sigh. “Maybe if you and your friends hadn’t been so obnoxious all evening I would…” You let the words fade away as you look up at him, that little niggling frown back. What? You would have what? This guy is a stranger and a friend of your neighbour at that. You know better than to get involved with someone so close to home. 

“You would…?” He’s good looking and he knows it. He almost got you, he almost had you dancing to the drum of his seductive beat. Swooning. You refuse. Shaking your head you straighten up. 

“I would have had a better night. That’s all.” 

“Ahh…” His smile fades and you reach out your hand to soothe him on autopilot before catching yourself mid arm pat. 

“Well, good night then.” 

“Yeah, you already said that.” 

“I know,” you say quickly as you try to ignore the fact that your body has inched closer to his, like a magnet, your chest now seeking his. You swallow and pull yourself together. “I know. I just wanted to make sure you heard me.” 

“Awe, you want me to have a good night?” He grins again, his eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “What else do you want for me?” 

“You’re a menace!” You nudge his shoulder and laugh. When he continues to look at you expectantly you hum in thought. What do you want for him? Maybe you want him to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, take you inside and toss you down on the bed so he can defile you. All. Night. Long. 

But you can’t very well say that. Not out loud. Not to his face. Well, at least you shouldn’t. 

As if able to read your inner dialogue a sly smirk spreads across his perfect features. “All that, huh?” 

“I want you to be quiet. You and your friends,” you mumble out the words with an angry pout, your hands on your hips. “How about that?” 

“How about”–he slides closer, closing the already nonexistent gap between you to lean down close to your ear and whisper–“you tell the truth?” 

Blood rushes across your skin, your heartbeat thumps to a song only you can hear making everything except the closeness of the man to you dull and blur. In this moment, nothing else feels important. 

“Fine, the truth is–” You cut yourself off as your hands bury themselves in hair and fabric, one under his oversized shirt, one feeling just how soft those locks are. Your lips quickly find his, tasting him as you melt into his touch. He lifts you up and you take the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist as his tongue dances along your lips until you open them to allow the kiss to deepen. It’s not enough. 

You rock gently against his crotch, overwhelmed by the heat flooding your body. Would it be wrong to tear his clothes off right here? You want him inside you. Now. 

You’re tempted to, and maybe you will, but you shouldn’t, not here. 

Pulling back you pant softly as you catch your breath, you look down at him as your fingers caress the side of his face, his throat, his neck. He looks so beautiful with his lids half closed, your lip gloss smeared across his lips and down his throat, as he watches you waiting to see what your next move will be. 

Leaning in close you retrace your steps, this time taking it slow, each kiss bringing about a murmur of excitement from Yunho until you are flipped around, a squeal escaping your lips as you cling to him. Back pressed up against the wall you moan as his lips find yours once more. 

Spirals of pleasure circle up and down your body as he grinds against your aching cunt, your own small rhythmic rocks adding to the friction. Your fingernails dig into his back as you bite his lip, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat as Yunho squeezes your arse and pulls you even closer. You open your eyes as a clicking sound pings from down the hall but you close them again as Yunho’s lips move down your neck. Tilting your head you give him more access and instantly regret it as a moan exits your lips the moment his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Dammmnnn.” 

The voice rings out, your body is humming with pleasure and your mind is still trying to catch up but once it does you realize the voice wasn’t the man with his tongue now down your throat. 

“Yunho’s out here necking that MILF girl.” 

“Who says necking?”

“What? Are they fucking?” 

“He looks like a vampire in heat.” 

Why are they so loud? There’s only one outside, the others are still inside. For now. Nevermind, two more just popped their heads out from the other side of the door. They are all grinning over at you, one of them is covering his mouth as if in shock. 

“Ahh,” Yunho breathes out, the pressure of his hands tighten protectively as he continues to hold you up. You twist slightly and he lessens his hold, easing you down until your feet are back on the ground. 

“Maybe we should,” you whisper, and motion towards the doorway right next to you. “You want to?” 

“Your room?” He smirks, causal in his avoidance of your hand as you try to slap him. “How about we have a drink first and see where it goes?” 

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The clock’s cruel ticking taunts you as it hangs just below the exit sign. You try in vain to keep your attention on work. It’s no use. He’s all you can think about.

Diavolo.

He’s setting the mood. He knows what you like – he can play you like a violin, his fingers strumming across your body to the beat of his own mysterious song. A song you’re quite addicted to.

The clock finally ticks into place. It’s time.

With a skip in your step, you gather your items and bid your team adieu before making your way out to the parking lot. Swift feet have you clambering into your car in record speed. Reminding yourself to breathe you turn onto the road, leaving the parking lot with a small smile on your face. You sing along to the radio in an attempt to keep your mind on the task at hand: getting home safely. Getting home to him.

Careful, careful. Attention must be paid to the road. A vehicle is a deadly weapon within the hands of the distracted.

Like that one time.

Like that one time?

Pulling into the driveway, your erratic heart thuds against your chest until you realise with disappointment that he’s not home. It’s okay, you knew he wouldn’t be here this early. Everything is still going according to plan. Everything is as it should be.

While the bath is running you turn on some music - classical - to play in the background as you get ready. You grab the first thing that catches your eye in the freezer and shove it in the oven. Running around the house in your black silk robe you adjust the thermostat and light a few candles.

Everything needs to be perfect for him.

Water caresses your toes as you dip your feet into the tub, the level rising inch by glorious inch as you ease into its depths with a long sigh. The heat soothes your exhausted muscles as you lean your head back against the porcelain frame. It’s been a long day and it's about to become a longer night.

It hasn’t been long since you moved in with Diavolo – only a few weeks. He has a particular way about him. He acts as if nothing can hurt him, always willing to offer a smile and a shoulder to those in need, but you know just how soft he is under that facade. He doesn’t let anyone see him at his most vulnerable, at least not intentionally, but it’s there if you look hard enough, and since he’s all you can think about these days…

These days. They all seem to blur into the next. Everyday is the same until you’re with him. He lights up your world, he makes the darkness bright. Before him you–

Before him? Before Diavolo? What was there before you met Diavolo? You’ve known him for just a few months, haven't you? Or weeks? He invited you to live with him when you had known him for how long? How long had you known him before you came here?

Was there another man, someone who you loved before him? Someone else? A friend? A crush?

“Huh,” you mutter as you alternate lifting each of your legs back in and out of the water. The bubbles have almost all disappeared. You capture some in your hand and blow them gently in the air. They form a fluttered kaleidoscope of white with a rainbow gleam.

Right as the last bubble bursts a soft click echoes from behind you. Frozen, your hands hovering in the air, you hold your breath, straining to hear what you already know – he’s home, but not only is he home, he’s in the bedroom.

The water is cold, your fingers wrinkled and deformed. Shivering, you wonder how long you’ve been sitting here. Not giving it a second thought you jump up. You pull the plug from the tub and reach for your silk robe while stepping meticulously onto the rug. Luckily you had the foresight to bring the package into the bathroom.

Rushing through your usual steps you tidy your hair and moisturise your skin before turning back to the white box and the card attached. The message is clear.

Wear me and nothing else, and wait for me on the bed.

The message is clear, but the instructions for how to put on the gift are not as simple. In fact, there are no instructions on how to wear the gift at all. The tag calls the contraption a ‘chain detail bow front harness with matching chain detail ring linked harness black bra’. It leaves nothing to the imagination, everything on full display.

Heat dances across your skin as you slip into the ‘lingerie’, glad you can’t see your reflection with the steam clinging to the mirrors in the room. Anticipation builds within as you spray on a light mist body spray before taking a deep breath, flicking off the light and walking out the door.

It’s dark, the only light in the room sneaking in from the crack between the door to the living room and the hardwood floor. Swallowing, you shut the door behind you and make your way towards the bed in search of the lamp by the nightstand. Right as you tap the switch fingers glide across your exposed skin, pulling you back by the straps clinging to your skin. You almost lose your balance but before you can stumble he has you steady within his grasp, both feet planted safely on the ground.

“You smell delicious,” he whispers, his tongue trailing down your neck. “How am I supposed to have any self control when you’re dressed like this?”

“But you’re the one–”

“No one has the ability to captivate me like you do.” He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, as his other hand circles around to your breasts. “You’re perfect, so very beautiful, and all mine.”

Heat coils deep within your body as his thick cock rubs up against your ass, the material of his suit pants smooth. His fingers dance down your chest as he nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name. You arch back in a feeble attempt to get closer to him.

“I wanted this all day. I couldn’t think of anything else. All day all I wanted was you,” you murmur as his fingers creep closer to your core. You’ve been waiting all day, needing him all day. “I was at work.”

“You went to work?” He chuckles as his fingers trace along the straps and bowtie as they continue to glide further down. “Did you have fun?”

Did you have fun? Frowning, you tilt your head to the side as you try to remember what happened today. Or yesterday. Or right before you got home. What do you do at work? What is your job? Why can’t you remember anything besides him?

“I. I don’t remember.”

“That’s okay.” His hand has reached its intended destination, gentle and possessive, his fingers drift back and forth across your clit, sending a ripple of pleasure rolling out across damp skin. His lips are on your neck, travelling up and across your jaw as your nails dig into the flesh of his arms. “You don’t need to think about anything except me.”

“I have to– to think of other things.” But what things?

“Why?”

“Because I…”

“You…?”

“What if you get bored of me?”

“I won’t.”

“You won’t tire of me and toss me away?”

His teeth drag across your skin with the vibration of his chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ll never let you go.”

“You promise?” you ask, reaching your hand up into his thick red hair. “You won’t abandon me?

“Never.”

“You won’t lose interest?”

“How could I ever lose interest?” he asks, slipping a finger inside your pussy, his lips kissing between your ear and down your neck. His thumb flicks against your clit and you let out a wanton moan. “After everything I did to find you?”

“Find me?” Another finger slides inside. Rings of fire spin within you like a top spitting out lava waves. Your nails dig into the flesh of his arms as your knees threaten to buckle under you. He guides you towards the bed, and you lean against the railing as he continues to dip another finger into your clenching heat, sliding back and forth, in and out.

What did he say?

It’s him. He’s the one. He’s the only one you ever want to be with. There is no one else. There’s never been anyone else.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he whispers against your temple, his pace picking up as his fingers thrust deep inside you, the sound of his movements bouncing slick against the walls. “Me too. Which is why you don’t need to worry – I’ll never let you go.”

“To your dying breath?” you pant as your orgasm erupts, sending you into a twitching mess under his touch. Each gentle movement of his fingers causes another wave of ecstasy to flow through your body until you settle into contented bliss.

“Beyond death,” he says, lying you down on the bed. His fingers explore your body, followed quickly by his lips. “Even in death I refuse to let you go. No matter the world we are fated. Through time and space we will always find each other.”

Struggling against the cool metal you twist your wrists back and forth, pulling your thumb and pinky finger together to try and push your hands through the biting grip of the handcuffs. It’s useless. They aren’t the toys you’re used to playing with.

The bed is comfortable, down bedding and egyptian cotton, but your arms held up above your head makes it hard to do anything except think. Which is what he wants.

There’s nothing else in the room besides a dresser and a little side table which you can’t reach even when you strain against the cuff and jut your leg out towards it. There’s nothing to use as leverage. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

What had he said? Something about knowing your place? Then he left you to sit and wait for him like a dog. The only light in the room is that from the small bulb, behind the corner which leads up to the main part of the house, that illuminates the area enough to see monsters in the shadows.

The temperature is perfect, exactly where you need it for the cute little matching set of pyjamas he made you wear. Silk shorts and a lacy camisole. Black with a spicy red trim. The material drapes across your skin, hugging it like an old friend.

It makes your skin crawl knowing he picked it out specifically for you. What did the clerk at the store think when he was browsing for it? Let’s be serious, she probably wished he was buying it for her.

Heeseung is the type of guy who knows how to garner attention, his stunning looks and the way he holds himself demands it. Not to mention he oozes money. Women love that. It’s not that he’s necessarily a fashionista, it’s just so very easy to look good when you have money. Not that he even needs to try. He always looks good. It’s maddening.

The click of a door closing echos out down the hallway outside the room, followed by light steps padding down the stairs letting you know he’s back before he rounds the corner. His face is in shadow until he flicks on the light. He’s holding a water bottle, the liquid inside a putrid green brown mix. Black jeans and a white shirt. He’s keeping it simple today. Is it the weekend?

“How are you feeling?” he asks, crossing the room and setting the bottle on the nightstand.

“How do you think I’m feeling?” Raising a brow you jangle the cuffs together. “When are you going to let me go?”

“I want to.”

“Then do it. You can release me right now.”

“I would like that,” he says, sliding across the bed, his long limbs bringing him next to you in quick succession. Crawling across your lap he wraps his arms around you, a smile on his face. It’s calming. You don’t like to admit it but his smile can light up a room. “If I could trust you, if I knew you wouldn’t try to escape again, I'd let you go right this instant.”

“Then do it. What’s stopping you?”

“Do you think I like to keep you tied up down here?” He sits up, his face devoid of emotion. When you shrug he continues, “I’m doing this because you need to learn where you belong.”

“I belong here. I belong with you,” you whisper, holding back the anger that threatens to erupt from within. He stares at you for a moment before his smile returns. Sliding down he nuzzles his head in your lap. “I won’t leave.”

“I could stay here forever.”

“I want to touch you, Hee. Let me use my arms,” you plead, swaying your arms back and forth against the headboard. “Don’t you want me to?”

“Mmm,” he hums, his eyes closed. “Let me rest a little longer. It’s been a long day.”

Scrunching your fists up into little balls you stab your knees into his side alternatively back and forth until he rolls off. His eyes are wide for a moment before they narrow. Pinning you down, his knees on either side of your hips, his fingers dig into your jaw tilting your chin up to look at him.

“This is why I can’t let you go. You haven’t learnt a thing.”

Your scowl is quickly morphed into a grimace as his fingers bore deeper into your skin before he pulls your face to his, his lips on yours in an instant. You bite into his lip. Hard. His fingers dig even further into your skin and you worry he might puncture through the skin as you cry out from the pain. The metallic taste of blood drips into your mouth as his tongue slides against yours with tentative daps. Testing the waters, or rather testing you. If you bite him again, who knows what he’ll do.

Tears spring at the corners of your eyes as you think how much you used to love the man in front of you, how much you maybe still do. If he didn’t have this need to possess you, to own you, the spell he created for you would never have broken. You would be oblivious to his true intentions and wouldn’t that be better than this?

“Heeseung, please,” you whisper the words between kisses, his soft lips melting into yours and you almost forget the reason you’re so angry at him. Almost. If it wasn’t for the throbbing pain in your arms, in your wrists. “Please.”

“What, baby?” he murmurs against your neck as he kisses down your jaw.

“Please. At least let one arm go. I can’t feel them anymore. I’m scared.” You let the tears tumble forth to punctuate the point. “I won’t try to leave. I promise, Hee. I don’t want to lose my arms. Please don’t hurt me anymore.”

He pulls back and for a moment and you think he’s going to leave before he slides across to the small table next to the bed. Pulling out the key he leans down next to you and whispers, “You best not try anything, sweetheart. Because you won’t like what happens if you do.”

“I won’t.”

You won’t. Not this time.

The click of the handcuffs releasing you from their inflexible grip leaves you with a sense of relief. A smile creeps across your features as you pull your hands to your chest, twisting them a few times before you rub at the marks the restraints left on them.

“Your poor wrists,” he says, kissing the red line around them. “Maybe next time you’ll do what I say the first time I ask.”

Hiding a smile behind your book you look over at him. He’s cute; there’s a familiar vibe to him. Have you met him before? Would it be rude to ask?

Studying his features you try to remember where you’ve seen him. His luscious pink lips are his most noticeable feature and the reason you know you’ve seen him before; no one could forget those lips. His dark hair is swept to the side leaving his face open and inviting. He looks friendly, yet… there’s something about the way he looks at you that has you wondering what he’s hiding.

“This might sound weird,” you start, looking down at your mug, “but have we met before?”

“Hmm? Have we?” He looks puzzled and you wonder if you had been projecting. “Do you come here often?”

“Every now and then.”

“That’s probably it,” he says with a wide closed lip smile. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

“I guess so.” You lift your mug up to your lips and take a deep sip of the hot chocolate. You can’t help but wonder if that's all it is. The more you see him, the more familiar he feels. You haven’t been to this particular cafe that often and you don’t remember noticing anyone here but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t. Your subconscious must’ve simply filed it away.

Shrugging, you ask, “What brings you over here?”

“Oh? Didn’t you want me to come over?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know you.”

“Oh. You were smiling over at me and I thought you were trying to get my attention.”

“Umm,” you say with a frown trying to remember looking at him. “I wasn’t smiling at you. I was enjoying my book until you came over.”

“Oh.” His crestfallen face causes a ping of something you can’t quite pinpoint in your chest. He apologises, a light flush of pink across his cheeks as he makes a move to stand. He stops to look down at his side where your hand is tugging on his shirt absentmindedly. “What is it?”

You chuckle, heat flooding to your face as you drop your hand. “You don’t have to go. I mean since you’re already here.”

“Okay!” He sits back down wirth a small smile that threatens to burst out into something much grander. “I’ve wanted to sit with you like this for so long.”

“It’s just a–”

The words die on your lips. The previous amusement draining from your face, replaced with suspicion. He’s noticed his mistake, his eyes widening for a moment before he leans back against the chair with a lopsided grin.

“Oops,” he says, crossing his arms with a shrug. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

His demeanour changes along with his voice; there’s a hardness to him now, as if he’s closed himself off. The cute excited puppy facade you were just in the presence of moments ago melting away, leaving you with this cocky man sitting before you.

“I think you should leave.”

“Already? When we were just getting to know each other?” His brow quirks up and his lips spread out into a cruel smirk as he leans in. You pull back as he whispers, “Let’s not be hasty.”

“If you don’t want to leave then I will,” you say, grabbing your things and standing. He doesn't move, lazing back against the chair once more. Clicking your teeth you snarl at him before turning and walking out of the shop.

Making your way down the street you make a few unnecessary turns. Left, right, left. Twisting down streets as you look over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure he isn’t following. It takes a little longer than usual to make your way home due to all the detours but as you see the familiar door ahead your heart finally slows. Walking up the stairs to your apartment, a wave of relief floods your system. You turn and lock the door behind you with a sigh of relief. You’re finally safe.

You make your way to your room and fling yourself across your bed, the mattress floating beneath you as you settle face down against the soft fabric. Who was that man? Had he meant he had been watching you since he went into the cafe? Was he following you down the street on your way there? Just how long has he been watching you? What kind of game was he playing? Is he watching you right now?

A shiver runs down your spine as you look over at the open window. When did you open it?

The rhythmic beat of your heart thumps in your ears as you slide off the bed and make your way over to the window. The street is empty aside from two squirrels quarrelling over the tree in your neighbour's yard.

Everything is still.

Taking a deep breath you pull the window closed, the loud thump making your heart jitter as you turn the lock. How many days had it been open? You definitely didn’t open it this morning, it must have been last night. It was warm, it was probably an unconscious action in the middle of the night. Just to be sure you slide the extra lock into place. Breathing out a sigh of relief you launch yourself back into bed and close your eyes.

It’s dark. Did you fall asleep?

Looking over your shoulder you catch the time from the clock illuminating the room in an orange glow from the night stand. It’s late. Too late to get up. Pulling the covers down you crawl into bed and snuggle in with a satisfied little grin. Closing your eyes you shift your body back and forth before settling. Sleep is beckoning.

Except isn’t it unusually bright in here?

Leaning up on your elbows you identify the source of light right away. It’s the adjoining bathroom. You must have left it on earlier, before you fell asleep. You settle back down debating if you should turn it off or just leave it; the bed is comfy and you don’t want to leave.

Sleep threatens to whisk you away when a thought clears your head. Why would you have turned the light on when you got home? It was the middle of the day. You swallow, your eyes glued on the door before you make your mind up.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, every inch of you on alert, you notice steam attempting to encroach the doorway from the crack of the door. It’s ajar.

Tears spring to your eyes as you look through the crack. The only thing visible is the bathtub filled to the brim with bubbles. Slipping off the side of the bed you inch open your closet door, easing your hand inside you search with frantic desperation. Your heartbeat quickens - the sound bellowing inside your head in a hectic rhythm. Where the fuck is it?

You freeze in place, your eyes wide as light floods the room.

“Looking for this?” Yeonjun is standing in the doorway with your baseball bat, his face twisted into a smile as he shakes his head. “After I went and ran you a bath and everything?”

“What–” Your mouth is sandpaper. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on now,” he says, a smile spreading across his face. “We’re past the niceties now, aren’t we?”

Your eyes widen as recognition settles in. Yeonjun. He used to work at your therapist’s office. Front desk staff. No. An intern? You only saw him a few times before he disappeared. That had been over a year ago.

“What do you want?”

“I’m just giving you what you want.” He inches forward. Your legs won’t move. You watch him as he creeps closer.

“What I want?” you sputter out the words.

“I know,” he whispers as his free hand glides featherlight across your neck. He leans in and peppers kisses across your throat. “And I’m going to make every one of your sick fantasies come true.”