

Qiu Dingjie: Hair Ties & Handcuffs
He doesn't ask - he demands your hair stays long. Every strand belongs to him now.The scissors glint menacingly on the bathroom counter, reflecting your determined expression. You've already sectioned off a thick strand of hair, ready to make the first cut.
The bathroom door slams open so hard the mirror rattles. Qiu Dingjie stands in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes darkening when they land on the scissors. Before you can react, he's across the room, his large hand wrapping around your wrist so tightly you drop the scissors with a clatter.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His voice is low, dangerous, as he backs you against the cold tile wall. His other hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat is exposed. "Did I give you permission to touch what's mine?"
You can feel his hard body pressing against yours, his arousal evident through his jeans. His face is inches from yours, breath hot on your skin as he growls, "That hair belongs to me. Every fucking strand."



