WOWWWWW - Tumblr Posts
i don't think ill ever actually render this so im just gonna post it
ps im back on my highschool newspaper editor tina bullshit
keep looking - p.sh
villain!park seonghwa x gender neutral!reader
cw - journalist!reader, police detective!choi san, roommates sanhwa, slow-ish burn, murder/crime, angst, blood, implied cannibalism, uneven power dynamics(?), implied character death, probably isn't realistic don't @ me about it - nothing too explicit but overall dark-ish themes
word count: 6.6k
a/n: this work is a part of @sanjoongie's year of the villain collab! please check out the other writers' stories as well. the original version of this was a little different and this isn't all that explicit :') but thank you for letting me participate anyway and giving me the opportunity to try something new, i enjoyed working on this a lot ♡
Open-mouthed, bloody-lipped. Breathless, beautiful. Exquisite, intoxicating. Hungry. Hungry, hungry, hungry. Always so, so hungry.
No matter what or who he swallowed down, Seonghwa was always impossibly hungry. He was less of a man and more of a bottomless pit. Less of a bottomless pit and more of a black hole. Pulling and pulling, swallowing and swallowing. It was embarrassing how easily you let him pull you in.
San hadn’t told you about Seonghwa when he first moved in with him. You weren’t sure why he didn’t say anything to you and neither was San apparently, because he never explained the fact to you even though you were clearly stung by your childhood friend keeping secrets from you.
You’d only met Seonghwa by mistake, knocking on their apartment door to talk to San one evening when you’d lost your spare keys only to be greeted by an expensive-looking man with glossy lips and peachy eyeshadow dusted over his eyelids. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but you’d felt suddenly inadequate in his presence, his smile teasing while his voice was sweet. When you’d frowned over San not having told you about a new roommate moving in, he’d clicked his tongue at you like a mother hen and stepped out of the doorway.
“Stop pouting and come inside,” he’d said.
If anybody else had spoken to you that way you would have cursed at them, but something about Seonghwa’s demeanour was so commanding that you obeyed without hesitation. His smile had turned from teasing to something you couldn’t name, and you felt as though you were on the edge of your seat the whole time you were around him.
When you confronted San about him a few days later, the other had only sighed and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes.
“I’ve had a lot going on,” he’d told you over cheap, burnt coffee one day during your lunch breaks. “New case at work. It’s a miracle your lot haven’t caught on yet.”
Your lot. Journalists. You’d never understand San’s disdain for your profession. You did your best to convey the truth, the same way most of your colleagues did. If an article or two came out exposing law enforcement’s mistakes it was because they were real and had affected the public, not because you had a secret vendetta against them. Not that San seemed to understand this.
“He seems nice,” you said. The words almost sounded like a question. He had been nice after all, even if there was something about him that made your insides squeeze.
“He is,” San mumbled. “I put an ad in the newspaper” – You bit back the urge to tease him for putting an ad in the newspaper in this day and age. – “and he was the only person who answered. I thought it was the best way to find someone more sensible.”
“Makes sense,” you hummed. San smiled weakly at you. You wondered briefly what exactly his latest case was. You’d never seen him so worn down by his work, especially not when the case was so fresh.
“I’ll get back to work then. But come over one of these days, alright?” he said, standing up from his spot at the coffeeshop table. The second you stood up he wrapped you in a warm, tight hug. You tucked your face into his shoulder and he giggled, kissing the side of your head. “I’ll tell Seonghwa you said hi.”
“Okay. Take it easy, Sannie,” you hummed, before letting go of him and watching him leave to go back to work. He looked different when he was out of your reach, fitting into the grey of the city with a sad ease. You sat back down and opened your laptop to get back to your own work, pushing thoughts of Seonghwa’s enchanting smile and San’s tired eyes to the back of your mind.
You and San’s professions had rarely caused any problems between the two of you. Of course, rarely didn’t mean never. The two of you had already been through occasional spats throughout your friendship - growing up together will do that to you - but the added tension from your lines of work was something newer and more precarious. By the time you were both a few years into your established careers it became clear that you were starting to tread on thin ice.
It had never crossed your mind before that journalists and police detectives could be so at odds with each other, but as time passed it seemed to become more and more obvious why that was the case. Between the corruption and things swept under the rug on San’s side and the rushed distribution of flawed information on yours, it was hard to keep work talk civil. Still, most of the time your aversions were kept quiet and there were even times in which your professions overlapped in a way that allowed you to help each other. This new case, however, allowed for the exact opposite to happen.
“You wrote this?”
San’s voice was deep. Harsh. You hadn’t even heard him walking up to you, still standing outside your usual meeting spot when San pushed the day’s newspaper into your face, his eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. You were met with your own headline when you looked at the paper and took a deep breath to steel yourself. You should’ve known he would bring it up.
“Police’s refusal to inform the public costs three lives?” he hissed, shoving the paper into your chest and jabbing a finger against it.
“It’s not about you, San,” you said, even though it was very much about him. He was one of the main detectives on the case after all.
“It’s about all of us!”
“Well it’s not personal!” you insisted, unable to stop yourself from getting defensive. “Is it not true, anyway? That you withheld information from the public while there were three bodies going cold?”
San paled in front of you even as he gritted his teeth. It was true, no matter his feelings on the article. It hadn’t taken much digging to find out about the supposed murders that the police had tried to keep quiet for nearly a week now. People whose bodies had been peeled open, explored like caverns, whose organs had gone missing and whose limbs had been maimed. Three horrifying murders, all supposedly connected, and not a word from police. You wouldn’t have been surprised if their silence had allowed for more of them to take place. But San wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of admitting it. Not when he’d obviously been working so hard on the case.
“Don’t recite the lines of your bullshit article to me,” he muttered, and while you knew that he didn’t really mean it, that he had never thought your work was bullshit even at the worst of times, you felt your hands shake as you shoved the newspaper back at him.
“As though your department’s statement was any better,” you shot back. San stepped forward, and though the two of you were only centimetres apart you had never felt so far away from him. His hand closed around your wrist, his grip loose but still forceful, and in that second the space between the two of you grew impossibly larger. He opened his mouth to speak but was immediately cut short.
“I wouldn’t have thought it appropriate to touch a close friend like that.”
San’s eyes widened the same way yours did and you turned simultaneously to find that it wasn’t a stranger interfering with your argument. It was Seonghwa who was standing there on the pavement, a smile on his glossy lips and the corners of his eyes creased. You noted that he was not the only pedestrian looking at the two of you.
Seonghwa’s smile was different from the one you’d encountered at San’s apartment the last few times you’d visited. It wasn’t teasing or courteous, nor was it friendly. It was strained. Cold. It was more telling of his temperament than a frown would’ve been. San let go of your wrist, embarrassed.
“I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t-”
“But you were, weren’t you?” Seonghwa asked. The tone of his voice made your blood run cold and your heart skip a beat at the same time. San scowled and snatched the newspaper back from you.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled to you, not unlike a small child who had just been scolded by his mother in front of his friends. You weren’t sure what to make of the apology, not when it was so inauthentic. Instead of replying, you turned to Seonghwa.
“I can defend myself,” you told him. Seonghwa’s smile turned softer, and when he looked at you you found yourself feeling stripped bare beneath his gaze.
“I’m sure. I was just looking out for a friend,” he said. At this, San scoffed.
“Friend?” he asked, raising a brow at Seonghwa. More out of spite toward what San had said than out of affection for Seonghwa, you hummed in confirmation.
“Yeah. Friend,” you emphasised.
San’s frown turned into something closer to a pout, his brows drawing together to form a furrow in the middle. He looked down at the paper in his hands, eyes moving over the headline over and over, as though he might find a word or two in there that would dispute the claim that you and Seonghwa were friends. Eventually he gave up, handing the newspaper to you and shuddering like a bird trying to straighten out its ruffled feathers.
“I’m going to head back to work. We can see each other tomorrow instead,” San mumbled, and you could find it in yourself to nod back and do nothing more. He glanced into the coffeeshop where the two of you usually shared lunch and turned away to head back to his job, but not without shooting Seonghwa a glare first. You sighed softly and watched him blend back into his life as a cop who couldn’t stand seeing his best friend’s comments on his work. The cold space between you both grew just a little bit wider.
“Hey,” Seonghwa murmured, pulling you out of your own head. He reached out with one arm, slowly, so that you would have enough time to reject him. When you stayed still he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and squeezed you gently, fingers kneading into your shoulder while you both looked down at the newspaper in your hands. He stopped after a while, sliding his hand down to your waist. Something about the way he touched you made you relax rather than tense up the way you expected yourself to do. “Come on, let me buy you coffee.”
“Oh, there’s no need,” you replied, folding up the newspaper and meeting his eyes.
“I insist,” he pushed. His hand squeezed your waist tight before he let go of you entirely. The moment his touch was gone you found yourself feeling cold and vulnerable. You resisted the urge to reach out for another hug and instead held the newspaper close to your chest. Seonghwa laughed, a sound that should’ve been sweet but instead sounded like an upbeat song twisted into a minor key. “For what it’s worth, I thought the article was good. Well-worded.”
It was your turn to laugh a bitter laugh.
“Thanks,” you sighed. You met his eyes and allowed yourself to fall into them. “Coffee sounds good.”
You never asked yourself why Seonghwa had arrived at the exact moment San had grabbed your wrist. All you did was smile when he placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, and hoped that he wouldn’t notice the way your grip tightened on the newspaper in your hands.
Just as you’d predicted, the murders grew in number. Three jumped to five and five turned to six. The public was appalled, the police were scrambling to handle the fallout of their silence concerning the first three murders, and every news outlet was fighting to connect the dots and figure out the case before anybody else did.
There were close to no connections between the victims. Spread far and wide across the city, it was hard to tell where the next body would be found and which area officers should be guarding. Three women and three men had been found so far, four killed methodically and almost surgically while the other two were killed brutally, bones smashed and abdomens torn open. At first there was doubt as to whether they could have been committed by the same person, but the way all six crimes coincided made it hard to believe that they belonged to different perpetrators.
Pathologists determined that the victims had been cut open while they were still alive. The murders were close to being vivisections, perverse and calculated in nature. It was just as horrifying as it was intriguing, perfect for triggering the shameful part of human nature that caused humans to stop and stare at car crashes, greedy for the tragedy missing from their own lives. It was always fun to be a spectator when you suffered no consequences after all.
You were working on a new article on the case, mind racing to piece together every new scrap of information that was being handed out to journalists and the public alike, when there was a knock at your front door. You figured that it would be San, coming to talk about your articles or perhaps even apologise, but when you opened the door it wasn’t just your best friend standing in the doorway.
“Hey,” San exhaled, as though he’d been holding his breath since the last time he saw you. Beside him, Seonghwa smiled at you.
“Hi doll,” he greeted. You ignored the way San seemed to almost bristle at the pet name that Seonghwa used and instead focused on swallowing down the butterflies fluttering in your throat. When neither you nor San spoke, Seonghwa continued. “We brought some food we cooked. Can we come in?”
Only then did you notice the bags Seonghwa was holding and the box of chocolates in San’s hands. San smiled tentatively as he held them out to you, waiting for you to accept his proposal for a truce. While part of you wanted to keep being bitter, you weren’t strong enough to turn San down. You never had been. You took the box of chocolates from him and snorted when he pulled you into a hug, holding onto you with something close to desperation.
“I’m sorry. I should never have grabbed you like that,” he mumbled. He was right, but you didn’t feel like pressing the subject any further. You kissed his temple and pulled back from the hug.
“It’s alright,” you reassured him, stepping aside to let them both into your apartment.
You didn’t mention out loud the look on Seonghwa’s face as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He was tight-lipped, his jaw hard as stone and his brow bones an icy cliff that gave way to frozen eyes. Even so, he must have noticed the way you looked at him, because his features thawed once San was out of earshot and he glanced at you as though he’d never frozen over to begin with.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said.
“It’s good to see you too,” you replied, breathless for a reason you couldn’t name. At this, Seonghwa grinned. You found yourself even more winded than before.
After you’d eaten, San volunteered to stay in the kitchen and do the dishes while you and Seonghwa retreated into the room you used for your work. He looked over the notes and news clippings you had tacked onto the wall, eyes drawn to the images you’d obtained from pathologists and morgues of what the various bodies looked like. His expression was different from those you’d seen so far. He remained quiet while he looked over everything, his perfectly manicured fingers trailing over the images.
“Who do you think did it?” he asked, looking at you. It wasn’t curiosity that was in his features but something else entirely. Something like a high school teacher asking a question that had a painfully obvious answer. You stepped closer to him so that both of you were looking down at the same picture and chewed on your bottom lip.
“A lot of people at work have been saying that it might be a surgeon or an ex-surgeon,” you started, resting your fingertip atop a particularly gruesome picture. “But I thought it might be something different. Like a hunter, maybe. I think that someone who hunts would have more of a capacity for violent murders but they’d know enough to dissect the bodies as well.”
“The word would be vivisect. It was done when they were alive, right?” Seonghwa corrected. Despite his expression just a moment ago his voice was smooth and nowhere near chiding. He placed his fingertip beside yours. His skin was well kept and his cuticles were perfect, but there was something brownish and dark gathered beneath his nail. “I think you’re almost right.”
“Yeah?” you asked, shifting your fingertip only for his to follow. You did it once again, amused by the game of cat and mouse. Not once did you lift your eyes to look at him. You preferred this. The warmth of him standing next to you, his perfect hand and stained fingernail chasing after your finger. You felt him turn his head slightly and shivered when his breath hit your ear.
“It’d have to be both,” he said simply, as though he knew he was right. “An ex-surgeon has no need to murder and a hunter has no need to meticulously take apart. But together?”
His free hand moved to rest on your back, fingers tracing your spine. You finally turned your head to look at him, confused both by him and by the warmth that filled your belly at the sound of his voice. A warmth that was far too close to arousal for your liking. He smiled at you with those glossy lips that always unnerved you and held your gaze with dark, bottomless eyes.
“Think of it like a butcher,” he said.
“Butchers kill animals for people to eat,” you replied, glancing between his face and the image of the body still beneath both your fingertips. “There’s no evidence of cannibalism.”
“Well there have been so many missing organs. Do you think it’s an organ trafficker instead? Someone keeping trophies?” he asked. You chewed on your bottom lip again, teeth playing with the flesh until it became soft enough for you to tear a chunk away and swallow it. You looked back at your spread of information, eyes roaming over it all while Seonghwa’s fingers roamed over your back.
“I don’t know,” you admitted with a sigh. “San’s team hasn’t figured that much out yet.”
“Forget San’s team,” Seonghwa hummed, pressing his hand flat between your shoulder blades. The touch felt safe and loving and, as his blunt fingernails pressed into your skin through the fabric of your shirt, hungry. “You have enough to figure it out. You’ll get there before them.”
Your eyebrows drew together in confusion, your mind struggling to understand what he could possibly mean. But before you could get far San was calling out that he was done with the dishes and that he was putting water to boil for tea. You barely got another glimpse of Seonghwa’s nail and the substance caked beneath it before he was pulling away from you and gesturing for you to follow.
“Think about it later,” he commanded.
Not for the first time, you followed his instructions in a heartbeat.
The bodies continued to pile up. The police continued to struggle. The journalists continued to milk money out of the story. The public began to scream of incompetence and carelessness and corruption. The skin beneath San’s eyes grew dark and the collage of images and writings on your wall grew to occupy an alarming amount of space, like something out of a tacky cop TV show. Through it all, the only thing that remained the same was Seonghwa.
Seonghwa and his perfectly planned outfits, Seonghwa and his carefully applied makeup, Seonghwa and his guarding touches and teasing smiles and minor key laughter. His presence was just as eerie as it was grounding and soon enough you found yourself unlocking the door to San’s apartment not to see your childhood friend but instead to see his roommate. And while San began to shoot you bitter looks each time his department was mentioned in one of your articles, Seonghwa only seemed to grow prouder and prouder, eager to discuss your thoughts and to provide new context and theories that you never would have thought of by yourself.
This was the case when you let yourself into their apartment early one Saturday morning. You were expecting to find San getting ready to leave for work but it seemed that he wasn’t home. You were toeing off your shoes and hanging up your jacket when Seonghwa emerged from his room, eyelids heavy from sleep but the eyes beneath them just as sharp and alert as they always were.
“He’s still at the station. Didn’t come home last night,” Seonghwa explained.
It was odd to see him bare faced after seeing him in makeup all of this time, but he looked just as pretty and alluring now as he did when his lashes were curled and his lips were painted. You nodded in response to him and walked further into the apartment, making your way to the kitchen to put the kettle to boil.
“This case is really doing him in,” you sighed softly. You thought of San’s worn out face and his irate reactions to the headlines in the newspapers. In all the years you’d known San you’d never seen him so beat down. It was all foreign to you. “Twelve bodies and not a clue as to who’s behind them all. Stuff like that doesn’t even happen nowadays.”
Seonghwa hummed as he followed you, standing beside the counter and watching you. When you’d first met him you’d shrunk beneath his gaze, shying away from his analytical eyes and trying to pull out of his magnetic field. Now, you turned to look at him and found yourself relieved to be close to him. Pulling away wasn’t even a thought in your mind.
“What about you?” he asked. “You’ve been working with it but you don’t seem beat down at all.”
“Well I’ve had you to keep me afloat,” you replied, not thinking twice about the words. The corners of Seonghwa’s lips twitched upwards and you felt your face heat up.
“I’m enough to keep you afloat?” he asked. While he was only teasing you, the words had enough truth to them to make you face away from him, unwilling to let him notice how your heartbeat had suddenly picked up its pace or how your stomach was suddenly tying in knots. But Seonghwa would have none of that. Though you couldn’t see him, you could hear his footsteps as he came closer to you. When he rested a hand on your hip from where he stood behind you, your nerves melted. You shut your eyes and felt lips pressing against your temple for a heartbeat or two. “You’re closer than you think.”
The words were spoken right up against your ear and the grip on your hip grew tighter. Hungrier. You sucked in a sharp breath and turned to look Seonghwa in the eye. Your noses brushed and the roar of the boiling kettle grew louder and louder until you couldn’t hear your heartbeat rushing in your ears. You wanted to ask him something, anything, to try and understand why he had so much faith in you. Why his touch always felt so protective. Why his smiles always made it seem like he was telling a joke that was too complex for anyone but him to understand. Why he was so good to you when he was so indifferent to his own roommate. But then the kettle clicked at the same moment as the front door’s lock clicked and you were startled out of your train of thought. As though he could read your mind, Seonghwa gently took hold of your jaw and looked between your eyes and your lips, looking like he was arguing with himself. Finally, he let go.
“Hold that thought,” he told you, and stepped away from you. The air of the apartment was cold around you as it took Seonghwa’s place and you found yourself speechless. You were left staring at his face, his expression neutral once again, and found yourself wanting something more. Found yourself hungry.
“Good morning,” San greeted from the doorway of the kitchen, breaking off into a yawn as he waved at you. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“Yeah, I just,” you paused to steel yourself, using every ounce of concentration in your body to avoid looking at Seonghwa sitting at the kitchen table. “I thought we could go out and get breakfast together. I didn’t know you were working overnight.”
“It was a last minute thing,” San sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“New body?” you asked, trying to be sympathetic. San seemed to appreciate the gentle tone because he smiled at you more genuinely than he had done in weeks.
“New body,” he confirmed. “I don’t know what to do. If we could just get an idea of what this person looks like I’m sure we’d figure it out. Someone like this… I think all it’d take is one look at them and we’d know.”
You didn’t miss the way Seonghwa’s face twitched at this. He was amused. You weren’t sure why. You didn’t ask either.
“I’m sorry Sannie. Go get some rest, it’ll be good to look at it with fresh eyes,” you said, which only drew another sigh from San. He turned and left anyway, leaving only you and Seonghwa in the kitchen. When you both made eye contact, he drummed his fingers against the kitchen table. You noted the filth caked beneath his nails again but this time you didn’t dwell on it. You turned and picked up the kettle, making mugs of tea for all three of you. Seonghwa kept you silent company, and the moment of closeness from earlier went unmentioned.
Seonghwa didn’t leave you hungry for long.
For the first time you invited him over alone, not bothering to invite San as well when you knew that he was unbelievably busy. Seonghwa came over the same as usual, all smiles and mundane chit chat and eagerness to hear about your days and what you’d been doing lately. He even let you show him your growing board of images and clippings, eyes never leaving your lips while you told him about all of the new evidence and what it said about the old evidence. He looked at the new images on your desk and picked one up, rubbing his thumb over the picture of somebody’s empty abdominal cavity.
“I didn’t know journalists investigated this much,” he murmured, setting the picture back down.
“Not all of us do,” you replied with a shrug. “But this is what we all study and work for. A big story. They don’t come often, we should do our best with them.”
Seonghwa grunted in response. You turned to look at him, wondering if you’d said something wrong. But then he turned his head to look at you and you felt your heart practically come to a standstill in your chest. His eyes became strangely focused the same way they did when he looked at the gory pictures you had printed out and stuck up for analysis.
“You’re brave, you know that?” he asked. When you raised an eyebrow in question, he raised one in return. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous to meddle with the affairs of someone who’s so willing to maim and kill? Do you think they aren’t reading all of this? Watching what you’re doing?”
For the first time since the murders had started, you felt a pang of ice cold fear in your chest.
“No, I… I didn’t think of it like that,” you whispered, looking at your wall through a new lens. Maybe Seonghwa was right. Maybe all you were doing was making yourself a target without even coming closer to an answer for the case. Seonghwa grunted once again.
“You have to look closer, and never think that they’re not looking back at you,” he said. Before you could even register what he was doing he pushed aside the papers on your desk so that there was a clear space in the middle. He guided you to sit down with the intoxicating touch that you were starting to become more and more familiar with and you followed. You followed again when he stepped forward to stand between your legs and leaned in so that his nose brushed against yours. You looked at his hands and, after weeks of fleeting glances and trying to figure it out, you understood what was stuck beneath his nails. “Look at me. Are you looking at me?”
You looked away from his hands, the icy fear in your chest melting into the warmth of attraction in your stomach, until you couldn’t tell what was horror and what was desire. In the end, both feelings fostered an aching hunger deep in your belly.
“Yes,” you breathed. “I’m looking.”
Seonghwa lifted a hand, allowed you to stare at the blood beneath his nails before he held your jaw and gave it a calculated squeeze.
“I’m looking back at you,” he said, words ghosting over your lips.
When he kissed you it was hungry. You felt as though your stomach had opened up into a black hole. His teeth dug into your bottom lip and you let them, even when the pain of it became sharp enough to make you wince. You let him kiss and bite and lick even when the skin broke and the kiss began to taste of metal and flesh. His nails dug into your skin as he pushed his hands up beneath your shirt, no doubt leaving behind indents in the shape of crescent moons, and his breaths came out heavy and unsteady.
“Keep looking,” he demanded, voice rough and unlike anything you’d heard from his lips before. “I’m looking right back at you.”
The crimes only seemed to escalate after that. In tune with them, the hunger you felt around Seonghwa escalated each time you saw him. You wanted more from him, but he only ever gave you half of that. He pressed you against his kitchen counter and bit into your skin, teeth digging in hard enough that you were sure he’d break past it and make you bleed the same way he did to your lips. But he never did bite that hard. You were starting to learn that Seonghwa was a master of self-control, even though the number of murders in the city only seemed to climb. While you still had no real reason to believe that he had anything to do with them, you couldn’t keep yourself from trying to connect the two dots.
You barely saw San anymore. Instead you sat with your legs over Seonghwa’s lap while you told him about the latest autopsy report and he clued you in on what you weren’t looking at closely enough. He pushed a hand beneath your shirt and traced each of your organs as you described what had happened to those of the victims. Some of them had been removed with the utmost care, while some of them had been torn out with the same aggression a five-year-old would use to tear the limbs off of their Barbie dolls. Seonghwa seemed to enjoy listening to you describe that sort of aggression, and if that was suspicious to you in any way, shape or form, you kept that suspicion to yourself. You never posed any questions, just kept looking closer. Each time you did, you found that Seonghwa was looking right back at you.
It was late one evening when there was a furious knocking on your front door. You were half-asleep already, sitting in front of the TV with a book in hand, and you stumbled when you got up to answer the door. Unlike weeks ago, it was Seonghwa who you were expecting to see at this time, not your childhood friend. But it was San’s face that greeted you, not his roommate’s.
“Hey Sannie,” you mumbled through your drowsiness. When he didn’t immediately reply, you blinked at him, slowly zoning in on the anger and discomfort in his eyes. You stepped out of the doorway but he made no move to come inside, instead shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“You know something,” he said. A statement, not a question.
“What do you mean?”
“Your articles are different. The speculation isn’t speculation anymore,” he said. This managed to wake you up.
“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, but the words were only half true.
“I know how you write. I’ve read your articles for years,” San continued, his discomfort becoming more and more obvious. “All this stuff about the killer being a surgeon and a hunter? Speculating that they’re a cannibal? That the killings are like the work of a butcher? You’re not guessing. You’re writing things that you know for sure.”
You froze. You hadn’t even noticed the tone in your articles shifting. You realised suddenly that you might have written about something you weren’t supposed to know, something that hadn’t been revealed to the public yet. Your blood ran cold. You couldn’t even remember how much of Seonghwa’s words had weaved their way into your own.
“Are they things that you know for sure?” you asked, unable to keep the shake out of your voice. Something akin to disappointment, maybe even betrayal, passed over San’s face.
“You have to tell us why you know these things. You have to tell us or else they’re going to make you,” he said quietly.
“Don’t you trust me?” you asked.
“It’s not about trust. This is my job,” San said. He paused for a moment, looking as though he might regret what he was going to say. But he said it anyway. “If I have to throw you under the bus I will. If I have to arrest you or take you to court to solve this case, I will. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t you.”
You weren’t sure what to say to that. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t you. He didn’t even care who he was sacrificing, not if it would get this case off of his back. He didn’t really care about solving it. He cared only about washing his hands of the matter. The two of you did nothing except look at each other for a long while, and that gap that had surfaced when you wrote your first article about the case appeared again, wider and deeper than it had ever been. You wondered for a second if you would turn San in for something he hadn’t done, but it took only a second and not any longer for you to dismiss the idea. Of course you wouldn’t. Who would do something like that?
You shut the door and locked it. You stood there until you finally heard San’s footsteps retreating, finalising the divide in your friendship.
“You can’t tell me anymore than you already have,” you told Seonghwa days later, taking down your scraps of paper and pictures of evidence and packing them all up into a shoebox. Seonghwa watched from the doorway of the room, his expression stiff enough that you couldn’t tell whether he was pleased or displeased.
“You don’t want to look anymore?” he asked. You glanced at him, felt your cheeks turn hot as he looked at you.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you mumbled. “San’s going to turn me in if I say anything else.”
“What makes you think he’d be able to?”
This time when you looked at Seonghwa he looked something close to livid.
“What makes you think anyone can hurt you anymore? That they could do anything to you that you don’t want them to do?”
You tried not to think about what the words implied when there was dry blood beneath his nails and a dark look in his eyes. You pushed the last of the pictures into the box and set it down on top of your desk. You sealed it shut with copious amounts of tape, working silently even as Seonghwa came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. Finally, you were done, but you stayed still as Seonghwa pulled you closer to him, nosing at the back of your neck.
“Keep looking, okay?” he whispered. “I’ll keep looking back.”
Pulling and pulling, swallowing and swallowing. It was all Seonghwa knew how to do. Not for the first time, you let yourself be pulled in and swallowed down. Only this time, you were finally aware of it.
It didn’t take long for another body to be found. Only that this time, you knew first. You knew before the emergency service operators did, before the police did, before any other journalist did. You knew first, and you kept looking and looking and looking while it looked back all the while.
This was the first time you’d seen somebody die and it was the first time you’d seen somebody kill. It was also the first time you’d seen somebody open-mouthed and bloody-lipped. Breathless, beautiful. Exquisite, intoxicating. Hungry. Hungry, hungry, hungry.
Hungry even when he pulled you close and kissed you with blood in his mouth and all over his face and beneath his nails. He swallowed down flesh and you kept looking. He tore open skin and you kept looking. He got blood on his peachy eyeshadow and you kept looking. The shameful part of your human nature wouldn’t let you pull your eyes away.
“C’mere doll.”
His voice was magnetic and he knew it. You moved closer to him, shuffling alongside the body beginning to turn cold beside you both on the bed. Seonghwa’s hands slid beneath your underwear, squeezing your ass tight enough to make you gasp. He stained your skin with blood and grinned at you. He leaned forward to kiss your neck and this time his teeth broke the skin. He lapped up the blood that surfaced, kissed at the wound like a mother kissing her child’s scraped knee.
“Are you still looking?” he asked, sounding something like tires crunching on gravel.
“Yes,” you replied, kissing at his iron-coated lips. He hummed, satisfied. If he wanted to eat you whole you would have let him in that moment, spellbound by his touch and gaze the same way you had been when you first met him. But for the first time since you’d laid eyes on him he was satisfied, less of a blackhole and more of a bottomless pit. Less of a bottomless pit and more of a man.
“Good. Don’t take your eyes off me.”
Even as the case spiralled, even as dry blood began to accumulate beneath your fingernails, even when your best friend’s name appeared in your headlines, you did exactly as he said. The fear subsided into curiosity, and curiosity subsided into admiration, and admiration inevitably subsided into hunger. Through each and every body and through each and every bump in the case, your eyes never left his. And he kept looking
right
back
at you.
.
taglist: @i-luvsang @peanutpmingib @sannierio @lokai-fi @w-iill @cutie-wooyo @xirenex @sanjoongie @talkbykhalid @itsjustwinter
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🍓 fae love strawberries 🍓
🍓 fae love strawberries 🍓
Sometime in 1980...
I've been wanting to draw them again for a while now, and I've finally settled with how i want them to look like. I hope you guys like it just as much as i do🥺
pairing: newlywed!mingyu x newlywed!fem reader
genre: SMut 😏 and fluff
warnings: MDNI (kinda drunk sex? definitely pussy drunk Gyu, dacryphilia, overstimulation, pleasuredom! gyu, size kink (it’s obvious), daddy kink, breeding kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight exhibitionism? slight dumbification, pet names (baby, angel, princess, pretty))
word count: 1.8K+
A/N: just a lil something because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. As always, enjoy and thanks for reading :)
For better, for worse
In sickness and in health
Till death do us part
The words flowed so naturally between the both of you, waiting for this day to come after being engaged for a year. It’s not like you weren’t used to kissing him, but this kiss was special. A kiss that only happened once if things went well. A kiss to be cherished for the rest of your lives.
Everything had gone according to plan, the day was absolutely perfect. Mingyu was your soulmate, you clicked the first time you met and the rest was history. He knew you like the back of his hand and vice versa. You never thought you’d find someone like him, but now he was yours till death did you part.
There was something so seductive and attractive about knowing you were his and him, yours. A promise of loyalty and love. He sat across from you sipping on his third bottle of soju, looking absolutely ravishing. He ditched the suit jacket and tie that he had worn just a few hours earlier and the first few buttons of his white collared shirt were undone.
Maybe it was the vibes of today or the amount of shots you downed, but the way he looked had you feeling feral. It came from deep within, like the only thing that would help is if he fucked you so hard you would feel it in your throat.
“Whatcha staring at angel?”
His words snapped you out of it, his voice not helping your problem. His chest peaked through the open fabric, so tan…you wanted to run your tongue over it. He leaned forward, waving a hand in front of your face.
“Baby, come talk to me.” He patted his left thigh, beckoning you over. Was he really going to have you sit on his lap out in public?
You shakily stood from your seat, thighs rubbing together to hopefully do anything to stop this agonizing throb. He looked up at you but just barely due to his tall stature. You sat down, his arm wrapping around your waist and his hand softly patting your butt.
“What’s going on pretty? What’s on your mind hmm?” He planted a kiss on your lips, patiently waiting for you to answer.
You could easily just tell him the issue and he would immediately take you home to fix it. Yet, the feeling was so overwhelming that even him doing nothing, his cologne filling your nose, had you dripping wet.
He ran his other hand under your dress and up your thigh, making you pant. “Just as I thought. Need Daddy to get you out of here?”
You nodded as you played with the collar of his shirt, a blush creeping on your cheeks. He quickly called the waiter for the bill as you returned to your seat. You gathered up your things as Mingyu paid and followed him to the car. He opened the door for you like the gentleman he is and even leaned in to buckle your seatbelt.
He got in on the other side, smirking when he saw your hands pressed together between your thighs. God why was this so hard? You were on the way to the hotel Mingyu rented out for the two of you; all you had to do was wait.
He saw how desperate you looked as you tried your very best to contain the pulse running through your pussy. Mingyu thinks you’re so cute when you get this horny and he loved being the one to fix it for you. There was a red light and a few cars in front when the idea popped in his mind.
“Lay your seat back and spread your legs for me angel.”
You looked over at him confused, only because your mind didn’t fully register what he said. Your body started to move when his hand worked your dress up your legs. You’d already changed out of your wedding dress for the reception and opted for something shorter and more form fitting.
You followed his orders and laid the seat back slightly and spread your legs wide, or as much as the car would allow. He licked his lips and moved your panties to the side. You could’ve made him crash with the way your pussy glistened under the passing street lights. You were absolutely soaked.
No need to wet his fingers before hand, being able to plunge two thick fingers inside you with the utmost ease. Your jaw fell slack, a moan escaping your lips.
“Fuck baby you almost made Daddy crash, you’re so wet.”
You looked over at him with heavy lids. He tried so hard to keep his eyes on the road, but you had a tight grip on his arm as you bucked your hips up to ride his hand. You were moaning and whimpering with how good it felt at this angle and with the width of his fingers. He pumped them faster, feeling your walls contract and your pussy leak more slick.
“Be a good girl for Daddy and cum on his fingers.”
He used his thumb to rub circles on your clit and that’s what does it. Your whole body tensed up and you let out breathy moans as you came down from your high. You hadn’t noticed you were parked in the hotel lot until you see Mingyu turned in his seat watching you.
“Gyu, I…I need more.” You clawed at his arm desperately and his brows furrowed.
“Trust me, with how hard you have me right now, I wouldn’t want anything else.”
He sucked your juices off his digits and quickly got out the car to rush and open your door. He helped you fix your dress and kissed your forehead as he lead you to the check-in desk. The hotel looked fancy from the outside so you could only imagine what the rooms looked like.
Not even two seconds after you walked in did he have you in his arms bridal style, taking you to the bedroom. Guess a room tour would have to wait. He laid you down on the edge of the bed gently and sunk down on his knees. He tugged on the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs. He pressed your legs apart, big strong arms holding you in place.
“Look at this pretty pussy all for me…” he was in complete awe of how tasty you looked. If there was one thing he loved doing, it was eating you out. You tasted better than anything he’s ever had, Mingyu thinks.
He licked a fat, long stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your legs tried to move down but he was not letting up on his grip. He was eating you out so messily, spitting and licking everything back up; fingers playing with your leaking hole. He slurped on your clit then moved down to fuck his tongue into you, his nose brushing against your bundle of nerves.
Your chest heaved as you cried out his name, hands tangling in his dark locks. Your ears picked up on how he moaned too, you know he was having the time of his life. You felt that familiar tightness in your stomach, signaling your orgasm was coming soon. You were tugging on his hair now, ripping deep groans from him.
“G-gyu gonna cum!” Your head felt fuzzy. You were almost sure you were going to faint from the pleasure.
As impossible as it sounded, he felt himself get harder. “Go ahead pretty, cum all over my tongue.”
A few more curls of his fingers and sucks on your clit, you came violently on his face. He stopped after you settled down and stood up, chin glistening. It was him now who felt like he couldn’t wait any longer. He removed his clothes and yours after. He pushed you up further on the bed and rested his hips in between your legs. His dick felt warm and heavy against you and you were already just as turned on as you were a few minutes ago.
“You’re so beautiful baby, I love you so much.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he rolled his hips into you. He looked down as he slowly inserted his dick in you, moaning at the feeling of your walls so tight around him. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can go slow, you feel too good.”
“Don’t go slow, fuck me dumb Gyu.”
That’s all he needed to hear. He set a vicious pace from the start, stretching you out deliciously. No matter how many times you had sex with him, he seemed to never fail to open you up. You grabbed onto his biceps for stability, not able to reach anything else with how wide his body is.
If he’d known how intoxicated you would have him, he wouldn’t have drank so much soju. You were his everything, his world, his partner for life. You looked so gorgeous underneath him, writhing in pleasure from his deep and fast thrusts. He hoped this feeling never faded and you loved him as much as you do now for always and forever.
You sounded so pretty whimpering and stuttering out his name. Your knees were back at your chest as he pinned you under his large frame, making you feel so small in comparison. This new angle had him hitting new depths. He maintained eye contact as he moaned and sped up this thrusts. You weren’t sure how much longer you would last. Your mind was slowly going blank the more he pressed down into you.
“S-so good Gyu, feels so good. W-wanna cum for D-daddy. Can I please cum?”
He noticed but the feeling hadn’t settled in your mind yet; tears were rolling down your cheeks. He never admitted it but this expression made you look ethereal. Mingyu loved seeing you cry from being fucked dumb on his dick. How did he get so lucky?
“My pretty princess…of course, fuuuck- today is your special day, you can cum as much as you want. I’ll give it to you all night.”
“Fill me up Gyu, wanna feel it in my tummy.”
His head was spinning; you were his kryptonite. His thrusts became sloppy, preparing for his release. “Want Daddy to fill you with his seed? Make your belly big with his baby?”
You looked at him with teary eyes, nodding frantically. How could he not cum seeing that? He shoved his fat dick deep in you, cumming in spurts as he felt you reach your climax with him. Your body was spasming against his, milking him for every drop. He pulled out slowly to watch his cum drip out. He scooped it up with his fingers and fucked it back into you, your pussy clenching from the sensitivity.
He got out of the bed to fetch a warm cloth to clean off the both of you before pulling you close to him under the blanket. You were already dozing off by the time he got settled but you know he’d be following close behind.
“Gyu?” You continued when he looked down at you with a hum. “Thank you for making today the best day ever.”
He sighed contently and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything for my amazing wife.”
The anime opening Super Tuna deserves!😍😍😍
to say I love this is an understatement
240416 | novvog instagram post 🦋
🌈
“Every now and then, my old playmates still visit my dreams.”
My first year coming back to social media and being public with this personal project has been me bearing my heart to the world, and I am really grateful to those that held it in gentle and kind regard. Thank you so much for all your kindness and support <:o)
As always, @shantimochi has been a tremendous help, and helped draw some frames to lighten my workload, thank you so much my dear friend! 💖✨
@/johnnyrk on Instagram/Twitter Provided the wonderful music you’re hearing!
@/Network_Synth on Twitter lent her lovely voice to Archie Aster!
— Oh dear. What’s wrong with our tv?? 👁️👁️
This is (probably) the post with most notes I've ever gotten.
wow
So- uh...
Unpleasant Gradient...
I was bored and just drew em like that idk what I had in mind.
I need to find someone who listened to more music than me so I don’t feel so sick…
(Be honest guys)