prettyheung

[prettyheung]

damn ive been too inactive over here😭 uni work is kicking my ass

[prettyheung]

just started blue lock and ??? chigiri is my lifeline <3

[prettyheung]

i’m doing okay!! thank you very much, and yes it has been too long. i was thinking of sending in an ask soon to ask for your well being, but you came back! hooray!! how are you?? i hope school isn’t super annoying for you :((

i just read your newest piece! i don’t watch anime anymore nor do i know anything about tokyo revengers but i enjoyed reading :)) the main yandere dude is a scary one! his characterization is very very terrifying and lanky and dangerous, poor mc. i can’t wait to see what else you publish!

oh mannn i disappeared again haha, thank you so much for this ask!

i'm doing okay, school is definitely annoying but super thankful that i finally completed my pre-u. what about you? how's life lately?

thank you for your kind words on the piece i posted hehe, i definitely need to stalk your page and catch up as well :3

[prettyheung]

anime masterlist

t o k y o  r e v e n g e r s

haitani rindo

short | same mma gym! au / teammate rivalry / noncon

[prettyheung]

[short] same mma gym!au

⇾ teammate rivalry taken too far, rindo is a little ooc here bc i did not originally write for him :D

⇾ fem! reader and not edited!

⇾ warnings: implied noncon, noncon touching, reader is harrassed, assault

“Fight back then,” He laughed, eyes swimming with want and malice as he further wrestled you into a more compromising position. You should’ve taken up jiujitsu earlier when offered, now you were completely hopeless off your feet, a mere plaything for the man above you. Rindo’s lips quirked up in amusement, your helplessness and the despair etched onto your pretty face when you realised there was no getting out of the submission made his blood rush south.

You frowned, writhing to free your locked limbs, turning back to glare back at his mocking gaze. One that never failed to make you feel small and incapable, like you were four again, in a large playground full of unfamiliar kids. You felt so small.

“You lost to me every time back then, what made you think you’re gonna win me now?” Rindo manoeuvred your struggling form, needing to see your face clearly. He craved your eyes on him, your anger, your frustration when you know there is no way out, no way you were ever going to beat him. He wanted it all to be directed at him; the control and power you have over yourself, he wanted to have it, to break down a woman like you, a fighter in all sense.

There was just so much gratification out of it.

His calloused hand circled your frail neck, and the fear on your features intensified, making the adrenaline through his veins skyrocket. Feeling his pants shrink a few sizes smaller, Rindo panted in desperation as he sniffed your hair, ignoring your strong shoves at his torso.

“Rindo, please,” Your voice teetered on the edge of frenzy, he could hear each and every crack in your tone, the tremors through your body were more than enough of a sign. 

This was what he was trained for, reading body language and playing mind games with his opponents. Rindo was going to get through each and every one of your defences, each feint and fake, each offence.

You always surprise him, since the first day he met you at the gym. During drills, during fight camps, and during bouts, you always upped his expectations of you. But when it truly mattered, it didn’t shock him when you tried to land a sharp upward elbow at his jaw. It fell short and obnoxious laughter rang in deafening echoes in the small space of his truck.

“You were always terrible at distance management,” He tucked your hair behind your ears. “Didn’t have time to work on it?”

“Fuck off, Rindo.”

Wet kisses trailed down your neck, to your shoulder. Deft fingers pulled the strap of your dress down, your exposed skin was more than he had bargained for. Soft, yet littered with bruises and unexplained scars, there were going to be more left on the expanse after he was done with you.

“More like ‘fuck me, Rindo.” He jeered, pulling lewd expressions, dissolving into fits of giggles at your appalled look.

“Please,” You pushed his hands away as they felt you up, putting them at a range so you could conjure up an attack whenever ready. “Rindo, you’re mad. Stop this. Stop right now.”

Opting for a classic jab didn’t work, instead, your failed shot repaid you with a sharp slap to your cheek. A pained gasp escaped your lips, unable to hold back the stinging in your eyes when a tear dripped down your temple.

Countless opponents you had, countless injuries from broken noses to busted lips—nothing hurt more than his slap.

It wasn’t just the brute strength behind his hit, it was the fact this is not a fighting championship, that there was no referee, no coach, no rules. There was no saviour if you couldn’t save yourself, there was no redeeming yourself if you lost this fight.

You knew he could do more harm if he really wanted to.

Dazed, you barely noticed when he slipped the flimsy dress off. Your cardigan was long-lost in the back of the truck, with the rest of your garments to keep it company while he kept you warm.

Cold pads of his fingers rubbed experimentally against your ribs “Not the ring, sweetheart,” It shifted lower and lower, dangerously close to where you pray he wouldn’t touch. “No one’s gonna save you now.”

[prettyheung]

hellloooooo welcome back!! calculus sucks. and whatever type beat the piece is, it’ll be a good one ^_^ sorry this was so short i’m tired af but please take care of yourself!!

hi there omggg how are you doing? it has really been too long D:

gonna post it soon hehe ^^

no problem at all, i'm happy to get a message from you <3 do take care as well and rest up!

[prettyheung]

i knowww i’m so inactive for the past months but y’all i finally finished my exams so here i come (:<

[prettyheung]

who would you write for??

gotta be a lil more specific than that annonie (':

if this was in reference to my previous ask, then i would write for the entire group of svt lol

but if this was a general ask, then i write for most kpop groups. if the group is pretty well-known, i most probably would write for them?? but i'm not too caught up with the newer 4th gen groups like cravity, p1harmony and the such, so just shoot me another ask with the group in mind and i'll let you know :D

for anime and dramas, i've answered an ask like this here!

okay but a little correction on the kdrama part, my range definitely isn't that broad. i watch mainly thrillers only tbh, and the only romance-ish one i've watched is 18 again saurrrr

[prettyheung]

Do you write for seventeen??

heyhey!

yep, i definitely wouldn't mind writing for them, just never really considered it.

[prettyheung]

what if i write a toxic bf series,,,,,,

[prettyheung]

before y'all go and misunderstand my post any further, i'm an adult and in no way simping for a kid. i'm just saying that he's a comfort character material, and the actor did a great job portraying robin. pls dear god, why the heck would i simp for a literal child???

JUST WATCHED THE BLACK PHONE AND?? ROBIN???? SWEET CHILD OF MINE I LOVE HIM HE'S LITERALLY SO COMFORTING AS CHARACTER

[prettyheung]

JUST WATCHED THE BLACK PHONE AND?? ROBIN???? SWEET CHILD OF MINE I LOVE HIM HE'S LITERALLY SO COMFORTING AS CHARACTER

[prettyheung]

yan! txt | you reject them

⇾ genre/warnings : yandere!au, reader is manipulated, reader is threatened, violence?

—soobin

Soobin’s mouth dropped slightly at your rejection, shifting his weight from one leg to another. He didn’t even want to bother hiding the disappointment and hurt on his face, it was better if you knew how much he liked you.

“Was it something I did?” He finally spoke, meeting your eyes, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Was it my friends, or the way I dress, or…?” He trailed off, looking to you for an explanation. There was another question that lingered at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t possibly say it out loud.

Wasn’t your ideal type me?

“It’s not that. I’m just not interested in you like that, you know.” You looked awkward standing in the middle of the empty room, so out of place.

Soobin felt out of place too, like his body wasn’t his. He stared at his hands, his long legs, his feet. It didn’t feel like his.

His mouth was moving on its own too. It didn’t feel like his.

“What else should I change?” He could hear himself say. “If you don’t like my friends, I’ll stop hanging out with them. If it’s the way I dress, I’ll change it too!”

He dropped to his knees, eager eyes meeting your concerned gaze as he crawled towards you. You tried to back away but he gripped your calves before you could. “If it was something I did, then please forgive me.” His voice was glazed with desperation and frenzy.

“Soobin, I see you as a friend. I’m sorry.”

None of his body felt like his. They all have a mind of their own.

“Wasn’t I your ideal type?” He choked out. “I changed everything for you! Why am I still not the one you want?”

“I’m sorry!”

“What else do I have to change? Tell me,”  He pleaded, pulling onto your legs as you tried to  shake him off without kicking him in the face.

And you left just like that, Soobin clutching at the wind as he tried to figure it out.

What else should he change?

—yeonjun

He laughed. Loud cackles, echoed in the empty space as he stared at you incredulously. There was no humour, dry and borderline mocking as he stepped closer to you.

“No? What makes you think you can say no to me?” He cocked his head to the side, a glint of curiosity disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

You backed away.

“Huh? No?” The toes of his sneakers scuffed the ground as he kicked them in frustration. “Seriously, who do you think you are?”

Was he mad? Maybe. Yeonjun wouldn’t say he got a lot of ‘no’s in his entire life. It was always yes, sure, of course. But was he really angry? Not exactly. He would say he felt slightly ruffled, slightly irritated. Like you could see the artwork on display, but it’s not yours. You can’t touch it, you can’t bring it home. Your hands would curl, and you would think of possessing it, but no matter what, it still couldn’t become yours. You never can own it.

It was things like that, things that he couldn’t get his hands on that makes his blood pulse madly under his skin. Like bugs that wouldn’t stop crawling over his body, desire was that itch he can’t pinpoint.

He got close enough to smell adrenaline on your skin, acrid like sweat and heavy like blood.

“You’re scared?” Yeonjun couldn’t help giggling. It was hilarious, how you acted all high and mighty when you rejected him, but now you were trembling with your hair sticking to your forehead.

“Shouldn’t have said no then,” He spat. His fingers twisted tightly around your locks, dragging you forward. You shrieked, grabbing his wrist in a silent plea for him to have mercy on your burning scalp.

Yeonjun tugged your head upwards, bringing your face close to him. “Still saying no?”

—beomgyu

“But I don’t understand,” He huffed.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying to comprehend your perspective. He just cannot. No idea why at all.

A guy like him has got it all, from looks to personality. Beomgyu was certain he is the living reincarnation of a man written by a woman. Everything that encompasses his being was simply the very thing every woman looks for.

He was so sure. Beomgyu was so sure you were going to say yes.

Now, you were rejecting him?

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t think he wants to. There can’t be any logical reasoning behind your answer.

“Are you not going to say yes?” His voice was unsteady when he gripped your upper arm, shaking you a little like if he waved you about hard enough, he might be able to disperse whatever haze that settled on your mind. Whatever it was that made you reject him. You were simply not in your right mind, right?

“Give me a reason then. I don’t think you can,” He urged, the grasp turning tighter. “You’re not thinking right.”

“Beomgyu—,”

“Tell me why!” He hissed, voice dripping with venom. “Why? Am I not good enough?”

You were wide-eyed, fear dripping from every minuscule twitch of your features. He caught it, a small smirk working its way across his face.

“There’s no reason, is there?” He relaxed his hold on you. “If you can’t tell me why you don’t like me, then that just means you like me. It’s either this or that.”

“That’s not—,”

“It’s simple, really. You either like me or you don’t,” Beomgyu cut you off, sighing like you were a five-year-old needing an uncomplicated worded explanation. “And since you can’t give me a simple explanation as to why you rejected me, it’s just not valid. That means you like me.”

He patted your head when you didn’t respond. “Since you like me, this also means we are dating.”

—taehyun

Taehyun wouldn’t say he is a sore loser. No, everything is a learning experience, the outcome does not matter so long as you do gain from it. Losses are to be accepted graciously, wins are not to be bragged about. All he was involved in had provided him with great opportunities to further build himself as a person.

At least that was who he thought he was. Maybe he really isn’t a sore loser, perhaps it was just you who messed his entire life up and made him question all he knew about himself. Questioning his sanity, his morale, his confidence right now as he confessed to you.

“I’m sorry.” You kept apologising. He didn’t know what to say. What were you supposed to say when the only person you’ve ever liked, loved if you may, said no to you? 

And was he supposed to comfort you when he was the one who got rejected? You were shifting uncomfortably, red with unease. Biting your lip, making it seem like he was the bad guy here.  The more you do that, the more people stared.

It was obvious that he got declined, Taehyun could feel the tips of his ears burning with shame as he stuffed the flower bouquet into his bag.

Scratch that, he is a sore loser. He didn’t want to lose this. Didn’t want to lose you. Mostly, he also didn’t want to lose face.

Taehyun nodded grimly, offering you low mumbles of ‘it’s fine, you don’t have to apologise’, tugging your sleeve to hurry you both off the curious glances.

A sore loser like him can’t take defeat, right? He’d just have to try harder. Different strategies, different ways. Trial and error, everything he did would just give him more insight on how to make you his own. You’ll fold in time, you’ll understand his need to win you over.

If you don’t, he’ll just win by force then.

—huening kai

Telltale signs of tears were the red of his eyeballs, the fluttering of his dainty lashes as he clenched his fist in response to your reply. He can’t allow you to see the protruding veins on his arms from how hard his nails were digging anxious crescents into his palms, so they went into the pockets instead.

No, Kai was only going to let you see what he wanted you to. So he sniffed, soft brown eyes staring into the distance as he watched you racked your mind to let him down gently. From your expression, from the awkward silence after he told you how he feels, it was obvious you do not return them.

“Kai,” You exhaled, nibbling on your lower lip as your troubled eyes scanned his face. His eyebrows furrowed, plump lips turned downwards as he blinked back the disappointment threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I know,” He cleared his throat, “I understand. But I like you so much,” 

He trembled, nails picking off the extra strands of fabric from his ripped jeans. “I like you so, so much.”

A stray tear escaped, the single droplet sitting on his cheek, like an embellishment that screamed for your attention. Kai glanced carefully at you, how your expression twisted from stressed to distraught. He shot you a beseeching stare, silently pleading for you to change your mind.

“Look,” You sighed, placing a cautious hand on his arm. “Maybe we can try…try and see where this leads to?” Voice dripping with forced amiability, you looked on as his face brightened up in a blink as you had just imagined him being oh, so sad.

He held on to your pinky, a large grin replacing all sorrow lacing his features, thanking you meekly as he led you down the street.

Kai knew waterworks were effective. Who could resist a pretty boy’s tears?

[prettyheung]

woosansang parts of your heung series are crazy (in a good way!!) i really enjoyed reading them, looking forward to reading next members’ chapters, have a nice day 🖤

thank you for such kind words!! i'm so glad you enjoyed them :3

and yep stay tuned for the next parts haha, hope you'll like them as much as woosansang's ^^

have a great day too! <3

[prettyheung]

ooo i love ur blog so far! can't wait for the other parts of the atz's series to be out

i saw that u write for dramas and anime. what are some of them that u write for?

thank you so much for reading!! glad you like it.

p.s. san's part is just posted ^^

hmm i'd say some anime i write for is haikyuu, attack on titan, free!, tokrev, jjk, tokyo ghoul,,,,

i also write for webtoon characters, so feel free to throw any lookism, how to fight, etc characters at me as well lol

as for dramas, i write for kdramas as well as jdramas. my kdrama range is pretty broad, so like i said, just throw them at me to double confirm lol. if i had watch it before, i'll most likely be able to write for it.

jdramas would be more specific bc i'm literally only into one franchise? i'm hella into high&low so plsplspls drop sum reqs if you want sum stuff

hmm i also would write for alice in borderland but idk that's gonna be under the manga part or the drama part?? i did enjoy both tho so i'd definitely write for aib

maybe there are some more than i didn't mention but might write for.

[prettyheung]

a stalker’s tango | c.s

⇾ pairing : choi san x reader

⇾ summary :  all he ever wanted was to hold you close, to breathe your scent, to touch your warm skin. just one dance, just one, and perhaps he’d be satisfied with only watching you again.

⇾ wc : 2.2k

⇾ genre/warnings : college!au, yandere!au, suggestive, stalking, dubcon/noncon with no actual smut, implied murder, reader gets beaten, blood

There was something your grandma used to say, that a woman’s sixth sense was not something to be doubted. You wouldn’t say you had the utmost accuracy when it comes to predictions (you’d set up a stall to scam naïve youngsters if so), but you couldn’t ignore your guts twisting the moment your hand landed on your door knob.

You were predicting that something was off.

Nothing was out of place, however. The curtains were drawn shut, the door-mat wasn’t shifted. Everything smelt like you, with a stubborn scent of onions that never left despite the bottles of Febreeze sprayed.

Everything was as you left it this morning.

So why were you shaking so badly?

You could boil it down to tiredness from working on countless coursework, or you could have been on edge since that huge argument with your partner. There were several hypotheses that you wished to confirm but at 10 P.M., there were only hot baths and warm meals before bed on your mind.

Your hands were quick to strip the tight clothing off your body, undoing the secure knot on your head before sliding into the comforting heat of the bath. Taut muscles loosened, bones cracking in relief as you soaked in the fragrant foam.

With True Love by Elton John playing from your phone, you hummed along as you rinsed off the soapy remnants. You couldn’t stand the deafening silence of the too-large condominium, as peaceful as it sounds to be alone, it gets too quiet sometimes.

It wasn’t like you never thought of getting a roommate. Most students in your pre-university were way younger than you, you being at an age where you should be almost done with your degree already. While they might’ve gotten a head-start in education, you’ve definitely gotten an advantage in the career aspect.

While I give to you and you give to me, 

True love, true love

The kitchen still had hints of the onion soup you made several days ago. Sighing, you grabbed the packet ramen and some eggs. It was reaching midnight, all you wanted was a quick meal then sleep the entirety of tomorrow away. The semester finally ended, there was nothing greater than a month free for you to do whatever you want before going back to your studies.

So on and on it will always be,

True love, true love

A soft ping interrupted the song. You glanced down, pouring the contents of the packaging into the pot.

It was your boyfriend. Who finally gave up on ignoring you and decided to be a gentleman and text you a sorry. An annoyed huff escaped your lips before you could stop yourself, pressing play again.

He had picked a fight about your choice to study away in the city, groaning endlessly when you told him that you wanted to get a degree instead of having everything provided by your father. You didn’t feel accomplished just working for your family’s company, though the pay was promising, it never felt like it belonged to you. There wasn’t anything you had to work hard for, it was simply handed to you.

He didn’t text you for three months. From when you left till right now.

What changed?

Another ping grabbed your attention. You tch-ed, glaring at your screen as you read his recent message.

I’m coming over.

Bastard.

You rolled your eyes, opting to stir the broth instead of replying.

Ping. 

Is it okay if I come over now?

You added the eggs into the boiling mixture, buttering up some bread to toast.

Hello?

Answer me

Are you with someone right now?

I know you’re seeing this

Please answer me

I wanna see you

The silence of the night made your ringtone sound louder than it actually was. You jumped, burning your hand on the stove as you shot an irritated scowl at the device. Hell, you know it wasn’t the phone at fault, but at that moment, you wanted nothing more than to fling it off the balcony.

“Fucking annoying,” You mumbled, drying your hands on your shorts before opening the chat. There were 20 unread messages already, and one missed call.

“What’s wrong with him?” You frowned, fingers moving fast over the screen to reply.

+

You heard the front door unlocking, munching on the bread tentatively as you braced yourself to see your boyfriend after so many months. Sure, you were mad then, but he was still your partner. He was your first relationship, high school sweethearts if you may. As much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t that angry anymore. It just… felt awkward.

One more click told you that he locked the door, padded footsteps behind you were another telltale sign of his location.

You’ve never gone so long without seeing him.

“Babe…?” Cracks filled your voice as it dawdled on the crevices of the stiff atmosphere.

A stern grunt answered you. You wanted to turn to face him, your body said otherwise. Your limbs tensed up, you didn’t know if you could handle meeting his eyes right now.

“I-I’m- Thank you for apologising. I’m glad you could understand me,” You spoke again, trying to overcome the uncomfortable stillness.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

He hummed, you could feel his breath on the nape of your neck. He was so close, maybe you should turn to see him—

His muscular arms snaked around your waist like he had done a million times, sniffing your hair as he held you tight, firm chest pressing on your back. You couldn’t see him as you wanted, he kept your frame facing the front as he continued to plant kisses on the top of your head.

“You got buff, huh?” Giggles left you as he nuzzled his head on the curve of your neck. “I thought you don’t like working out.”

No answer from him, you babbled on, trying to ignore the growing uneasiness gnawing at your guts.

When did he get this tall?

“You know, I thought we were over. That day I left for college.”

His lips trailed down the expanse of your neck, leaving a track of goosebumps in its wake. Fervent kisses were placed at the soft arch of your jaw, teeth lightly grazing the skin as he pushed further into you, desperation lacing his every movement.

The low sighs were heavy with desire, tortured grunts harmonising with the song playing as he pressed his nose against your ear.

“Baby,” You shifted nervously, trying to get a glance at the man behind you. He was unfamiliar, too bold and rough, too different.

The only response you got was a heated erection thrusting eagerly against you, stifled airy whimpers that didn’t sound quite like your boyfriend grew louder when your hips grind back unconsciously. His deft fingers made their way under your shirt, stroking your stomach as his mouth sucked impatiently at the spot behind your ears.

“No, stop.” You gasped in shock when his cold digits thumbed greedily at your chest, your pebbled nipples causing him to smirk against your increasingly hot body.

“You wanna dance?” His question was muffled against your locks, hands returning to your waist as he swayed you from side to side. Your boyfriend was suddenly content with simply holding you innocently, rocking to the rhythm of True Love playing. You hadn’t noticed it was looped.

One thing you did notice though, was it undoubtedly wasn’t your boyfriend’s voice.

“Who are you?” You whispered. The statement was directed more to you than him, really.

Blank. That was what your mind was concluding. It was all a huge blur. There didn’t seem to be any sensible options for you right now, it was between throwing a tantrum or asking him like nothing was wrong.

 You suddenly felt ashamed of cursing at horror movie characters who had acted in gloriously stupid acts. No shame in admitting you were probably picking out the completely moronic decisions. Might’ve been a better choice to keep your mouth shut.

He snickered, choosing to sing along.

“Honeymooners alone at last,” He murmured, finally turning you around to face him. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you drank his features in.

He was a complete stranger.

“Oh, how lucky we are,” The man offered a face-splitting grin, twirling you then bringing you close to him again.

The few seconds you spent staring at him felt like an eternity with his intense gaze burning right back into you. Your limbs were reduced to jelly, confused and dazed as he continued to drag you across the slippery wooden floor.

“No more words to say? You were quite the talker just now.” The stranger smiled sourly, a streak of displeasure painting his feline-like facial details.

“Who are you?” You repeated, pushing off his hold on you. The step backwards didn’t create as much distance between you and him as you hoped, but it was hopefully enough to enable you to see his next move.

He didn’t answer, his stare raking shamelessly over your thinly-dressed state. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“I asked you who are you,” You raised your voice, seizing your phone swiftly. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man scoffed.

You dialed 112, shoving the screen in his face as if to prove a point. “Tell me, or I’ll-I’ll call the police!”

“I’m Choi San,” He held out a hand to shake. “You don’t have to introduce yourself, I already know you.”

Hell, you weren’t friends with any Sans, much less Choi Sans.

You glowered at him, goading him to step closer. 112 was on standby, he wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on you.

Would he?

Give me more true love

True love, true love

The darned song was still playing, you averted your eyes to the homescreen, agitation coursing through your veins as you tried not to quiver in front of him.

“It’s rude to not shake hands.” San took yours, a pleasant simper teetering on his lips. Before you could even register the events, he successfully slapped the phone out of your grasp. It hit the edge of the kitchen counter, the resounding crack sounding as painful as the one he landed across your cheek.

The song ended, you felt more alone without the honeyed tones of the older musicians.

“Stupid bitch. Threatening me?” San raised an eyebrow, snatching a fistful of your hair, the same ones he was just kissing lovingly. “You dare?”

Tremors convulsed on your shoulders, your teeth couldn’t help but chatter, raising your arms in a futile attempt to protect yourself.

Slap.

Slap.

Slap.

Your left side tingled, red and raw from the heavy blows.

“You’re gonna cry?” He laughed in your face, holding you in position with his vein-wired arm framing the base of your throat against the cold ground. “Cry then, I wanna hear you.”

You wished you could. You can’t.

“Dumb bitch. Can’t even cry. Don’t know how to?” San turned you over on your stomach, handling you like a ragged doll, eliciting choked whines from you. “You like this don’t you? Look at you.”

You shook your head, but that only resulted in him further forcing your face to mush against the floor. Blood spilled from your nose, you weren’t even sure if it was broken or not.

All you knew was everything was painful. All over you.

“Yeah?” His tone dropped lower, almost sultry as he mindlessly groped your ass. “Look at you.”

Tears were welling up on the rim of your waterline, you bit your lip hard to hold it back; taste of iron thick on your tongue, unsure if it was from your nose or your mouth. You had figure something out, not cry.

“Your dear lover was even dumber than you are,” His pitch was skittling on the crazed end, still kneading your mounds senseless, slipping down to tease you a little through your shorts. “Giving you up so easily.”

San stroked your cheek gently, pouting ever so slightly like he didn’t just touch you inappropriately and beat you numb. He looked almost childlike, brushing your crimson-caked strands out of your face before pecking your forehead.

“I wonder if he regrets it,” He muttered. “Not like he could give me an answer now.”

An electrifying stutter rippled through you.

Did that mean your boyfriend is…dead?

San peeled your shaking figure from the floor and onto his thighs, caressing you like an animal. He shushed you, whispering sweet nothings as he helped you to your feet.

“None of these had to happen if you didn’t try to call the police in the first place.” He clicked play on his phone, True Love starting to play.

“Let’s have another dance. Without interruptions this time.”

So you danced, lithe and fluid on the crimson dance floor, the vice-like grip on the small of your back promised to have and to hold you, for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish you, till death do you part.

Or unless you decided to try calling for help again.

San was hesitant he could keep to his solemn vows if you tried to reject him again.

He’ll just have to find more creative ways to make you understand.

[prettyheung]

ayo

i just watched rocky’s mv and ayo??? they look so fine???

feeling hella things kadkajjdas