"Darling, please." The man before you insisted, holding the homemade chocolate heart to your lips, begging you to eat just one. "I've been practicing making them for you. They're good, I promise."

It had only been just under half an hour since you'd woken up to find yourself tied to a chair, not remembering how you ended up here, nor where here even is. Yet, in that small time frame, the man who's coffee you've been making every day at work has told you at least 20 times how much he loves you, and spent the last 10 minutes trying to get you to eat some chocolates. "Please, my love? Just one?" Doyle begged, pouting a bit, the large man clearly a bit desperate.