WARNINGS: descriptive gore, cannibalism, graphic descriptions of death, a little bit of suggestive but non-sexual content
SUMMARY: You want to know him, all of him. You want to see what makes him what he is. But can your mind take what you're about to see?
A/N: For the love of god, please read the warnings.
Also! If you like this, I recommend you check out @m1rotics because without seeing their incredible writing I wouldn't have the balls to actually write this. I am extremely grateful for their presence in the fandom ❤️ (I guess, uh, consider this a dedication? Please don't mind me, I love you, please don't freak out)
“You want to come with me?”
“I want to understand you.”
“You may not like what you see.”
“Nobody is perfect.”
He holds your hand in his gloved one as you walk through the narrow streets of the port town you call your home. The buildings are at least three or four floors high each, while the pavements stretch less than a car’s width, creating the impression of an endless labyrinth with darkness and fog creeping up in the distance.
The sky is a narrow slit above your heads. It’s not a late hour, but it could as well be, because the sunlight disappeared behind the walls a while ago. The rock that buildings and ground are made of is shiny from decades of water and people’s steps polishing it, and you briefly think it’s like taking a walk down the intestines of some giant sea monster. Any monster would do, really – but in the port town, with the salt in the air, your mind naturally drifts to the thought of the deep.
The air is salty and raw, the wind – cool, but not too strong, not with how it gets lost in the alcoves and side alleys. But the stone surfaces of buildings resonate with coldness. A shiver runs down your spine and you take a few larger steps, pressing your shoulder into Hongjoong’s. He doesn’t slow down, but he’s careful. His hold on your hand grows stronger.
You feel eerie. Eerier than you’ve ever felt in these streets. Eerier than you feel passing through them alone, seeing things that normally skip your attention, as if Hongjoong led you through some surreal gate into another dimension and now you are watching everything through its lenses.
Or maybe these are his own lenses. Whatever he is. It’s like a distorted version of your own vision, and it just makes sense. Hongjoong, too, carries the human body all too well, making his hidden nature seem like distortion.
Some silhouette appears in the distance and he pulls you into the nearest alleyway, maneuvering you – rather than pushing – against a wall and then resting his forearm on the wall by your face, blocking the view of you from the path you were walking down before. It feels surreally intimate. The corner of his lip turns up at the unspoken question on your face as he measures you with his gaze.
He leans a bit closer. You feel his breath mixing with yours, and your eyes drop down to his lips. That smirk. That goddamn smirk.
Someone passes through the path, paying you no mind, and disappears in the distance, and only then does Hongjoong pull you out of the alley and back onto the previous road. It’s dark around, but there are lights coming from the windows high above your heads, and, although they don’t reach the bottom of the street too well, they provide a bit of comfort. Hongjoong’s hand is back on yours as he guides you forward.
Finally, you seem to reach your destination, because his steps come to a halt in front of one of many doors that you pass by. You briefly think that there are no signs, no house numbers, but Hongjoong doesn’t hesitate, as if he has been here before. Maybe he was.
He takes a brief look around to make sure you are alone before he pushes the door open and ushers you inside.
It’s a narrow staircase and he walks forward with careful steps. There are no sounds coming from the doors on your sides, making you wonder if anyone lives here. Given the amount of dust and stale air, you don’t think so. He doesn’t hold your hand anymore, but you follow like a baby animal, not knowing what waits ahead, just trusting.
When he pushes open the door at the end of the corridor, you hesitate for the first time.
You talked about this before. You know what to expect – or at least as much as you can prepare for before coming face to face with it.
The apartment is dark and small, and reminds you of a basement rather than a place to live. It looks like it might fall apart under its own weight. Barely furnished, maybe due to poverty, although you don’t make this conclusion just yet.
There is a man sleeping in the armchair by the small, closed window. He’s elderly, face wrinkled and stained with years of repetitive sunburns.
“Who is he?” you ask in a whisper. Hongjoong steps towards the man and this time you don’t follow, lingering by the door as if to give yourself the space to turn around and flee if you so wished. The sense of safety is fake, but it’s there, especially when the proximity between the two of you increases and you suddenly feel lonely where you are standing. But you just can’t bring yourself to follow him further.
“A sailor.” Hongjoong doesn’t whisper, he looks comfortable. His eyes are fixated on the man, as if he lost interest in you all of sudden. You suspect that’s not the case, but his gaze, his face, they shift, they darken as he approaches the man and stands behind the armchair, placing a hand on his neck and lingering there. He shouldn’t feel pulse through the leather of his gloves, but you don’t see another reason for him to do it. He observes as the man’s chest moves up and down steadily. Quiet signs of life. He doesn’t seem worried that the man could wake up anytime.
Deciding he’s seen enough, Hongjoong suddenly pulls away and walks towards the kitchenette. He moves the cutting board and you are reached by the scent of salt and fish that linger on the appliances.
He takes a fillet knife and your heart is pounding in your chest. The weight of the situation suddenly comes crashing and your legs tremble. You are frozen in spot.
“W-wait, Hongjoong…”
He shifts his gaze towards you.
It would be easier if it was empty. Or mad.
If it was blank, filled with nothing but disdain towards life, towards you, with contempt, or blank as if it all doesn’t matter anyway, that would be easier. Or if he smiled at you like in that predatory way, ridiculing your fears, making fun of how your body reacts. Because, you realize, if you were a good person, if you made the decision according to your morals, you would hate him for what he is and what he does. That would be the right thing to do. Even if you were to be his next victim – that would be the right order of things. A cliché, in a way.
But that’s not it. His face remains more human than you would expect of him. There is understanding written on it, like he knows exactly what you feel. He moves carefully now. But he doesn’t censor himself; not when his fingers wrap around the knife handle like he’s held it countless of times before and as he walks over to the man, holding it up to his neck.
It’s quick. Quicker than your mind can comprehend. One moment everything is still, the next – there is blood gushing out of the man’s throat, and his body writhes and convulses, blood running down his chest and out of his mouth as he gargles and chokes on it.
By the time it starts pooling around his feet, he stops to move, and you are frozen in your spot, your mind blank and all reason lost on you.
It’s so fast. Seconds, you feel. Or maybe you just can’t comprehend it. Your mind seems stuck somewhere between the present and something that is not here, something that tries to tear you out of reality. You are tempted to give in. It feels safer and more comfortable than here and now. It temps you, reaching its tendrils towards you, a sweet promise spoken right into your ear. The promise says madness and apathy. Whichever comes first.
But Hongjoong moves and that catches your attention, bringing you back instantly. He doesn’t look at you, but you feel he’s hyperaware of your presence. He must be. You think that he must hear your rapid heartbeat; maybe he can even hear your thoughts.
Maybe he could tell you what you feel, if only you asked. You don’t know that now. You’re only slowly losing your mind.
Hongjoong is still standing behind the man, looking down at him. Now his face is focused, and his gaze no longer meets yours. Something inhuman emerges to the surface when he leans down and shoves the knife under the dead man’s ribs.
The wound is not too large – not with the fillet knife. But it bleeds profusely when the blade is pulled out. It stains his gloves – too dark for the color to be seen, but shining from the moisture – and then soaks up his sleeves when he puts the knife in his other hand and slips his fingers into the puncture. He frowns a little, displeased, and tosses the knife to the ground.
Inserting fingers of both hands into the wound, he pulls. There are wet sounds of flesh being torn and, eventually, entrails being moved around, when the space is enough for him to dive his entire hand in.
You can’t take it, you realize. It’s too much.
Your legs give up underneath you and you fall to your knees, throwing up acids. You didn’t eat today – it was too nerve wrecking up to this point, ridding you off the appetite.
There is ringing in your ears, for a few long moments, echoing through your skull, drowning and blinding you.
You're hanging in space. It engulfs you, suffocating. Maybe a bit comforting. Yes, you think, apathy is comfort. You need it. The sooner it comes, the better.
“Drink.”
He appears in front of you with a glass of clear water, but the glass itself is stained with bloody fingerprints. He crouches down. Blood all over. His hand, extending towards you, is soaked in it, making you shrink back and shake your head in panic.
“Drink” he repeats. His hand grips your shoulder, holding you in place when he shoves the glass under your mouth, and you can't help but take it with your hands shaking.
The blood is now on you, too, and you're trembling so much that the water spills all over your shirt as you drink, but it could as well be blood, too, even though it's cold.
Hongjoong watches you. His gaze is thoughtful again, gentleness to it. His hand is on your shoulder to ground you, but all you can think of is the blood it leaves behind.
“C-can we…” your voice fails you, coming out raspy and forced, and you cough “...go h-home…”
“Not yet” he replies. He's so composed it feels ridiculous; he's drenched in blood and it feels like it's yours, you feel like you're the one who just died and he tends to your corpse with tenderness the same as when you were alive. “Don't look if you can't.”
You look, and he doesn't stop you. You can't tear your gaze away.
He walks back to the man's body, entrails falling out of his stomach, as if on accident, like something that could be picked and put right back in.
Hongjoong stands in front of him now, hand on his shoulder to keep him steady when his other hand reaches inside. You stare with your mouth gaped. Panic is lost on you. Apathy. Apathy you've been waiting for.
He takes out something. It's bloody and mushy, and, for the love of God, you have no idea what it is, even though everything is telling you that you should know what human organs look like. But in no textbook picture or diagram are they disfigured, barely holding shape when he squeezes his hand around them.
He hesitates for just a second. His silhouette shifts slightly, as if he's going to look at you, but he eventually decides against that.
Instead, he lifts the lifts the organ up to his mouth and bites. It falls apart easily. Or maybe his teeth were simply made to make it fall apart. You briefly wonder if that's the case, if he could tear you apart with his teeth only, too. Blood runs down his chin now; his lower face is splattered with redness, and his eyebrows furrow in focus. The fingers of his other hand dig into the man's shoulder unwittingly, as if he forgot he’s still holding it.
“How does it taste?”
The words leave you before you can think about them.
He freezes for a second before turning and extending the organ towards you like he wants you to take it. To taste it. You gaze lingers on it before your face twists in disgust. Hongjoong’s shoulders tremble in a laughter. But it's not mocking. It's out of place, the warmth and casualness behind it. But it's not cruel.
“It's sweet” he explains. “Like any meat before seasoning. Metallic, too.”
Your eyebrows furrow, trying to envision it.
He walks over. Your eyes must be deceiving you, because the organ throbs in his hand, as if still alive, still pulsing with blood.
He crouches down in front of you again. He's careful, but he must decide that you can take it now, and he lets you to look at it from up close. It's even more disfigured through his bites, although the tissue is so mushy you cannot tell where he bit it or where the knife plunged into it earlier.
“Touch it” he says. His eyes sparkle, like he's a child showing off his newest toy.
“I won't eat it” you choke out. Disgust gathers in your stomach and you think you may throw up again. From up close, you can see the strands of tissue in full detail, and the metallic scent is much stronger, mixing with something else, something rotten.
Hongjoong lets out a breathy laughter.
“I wouldn't let you. It would be unhygienic. I don't want you to get sick.”
“It’s too late for that.” You don't realize you're crying until a sob wrecks through your body and Hongjoong lets out a sigh.
He places himself next to you, sitting down on the floor and resting against the wall, then pulls you to sit as well. Your knees are hurting from kneeling on the floor. His one hand lingers around your waist, pressing you into him.
“Is it too much?” he suddenly asks.
He must have discarded the organ somewhere, because his other hand takes yours, rubbing it gently in a soothing motion. The circles he makes with his thumb form one on your skin from the blood he leaves behind.
You nod curtly. There is no need to elaborate.
“I can make you forget” he suggests.
“Can you do that?”
“I can enter one's mind. Just from the surface. It's not much. It helps to hunt.”
“Is that why you knew he won't wake up?”
He nods in response.
There is silence. It's weirdly soothing. You're growing tired and your head rests on his shoulder. The blood doesn't bother you anymore. You just hope it won't get in your mouth.
“Why him?”
The question hangs in the air for a while, but you don't repeat it. He takes time before forming a response.
“I met his daughter once” he says. His voice is ridden off emotion and you lift your head to look at him. His face is composed, but there is fire burning in his eyes. You recognize it as anger. Not at you. It's never at you. “She had a black eye so I digged in her mind a bit. It's all on the surface, I can't go deeper, but I could tell her grief came from someone close. I assumed it to be a family member.” He nodded to himself, as if reaffirming his train of thought. “Then I found out her mother drowned in the sea a year earlier, falling off a boat. An unlucky accident. But she was not a sailor. She had no reason to be there. I just connected the dots.”
The logic is spotty, it's made of pieces sewn together so poorly that you're in awe it stays together. It could be pulled apart so easily. But you don't question it. If Hongjoong says it's the case, it must be so.
“So it's justice? Killing him?” you inquire further.
“It's not justice.” His voice is low and raspy. “Lesser evil, at best.” His hands squeeze where they're touching you, bringing you closer, holding you closer. “In truth,” he continues, “it's nothing but hunger.”
He shifts, head moving towards you, lips pressing into your cheek. It's wet.
He lingers above your lips and your breath hitches. The stench of blood is so intense now that it makes your stomach coil. He's doused in it, it seeps from him, and it will engulf you if you touch him now.
And he seems to be aware of that too. So he retreats and plants kisses down your neck.
His breath warms up your skin and his breaths come out hissy, starved, when his teeth graze your skin and stay there. He's pondering. Your heartbeat thuds in your chest and you can only imagine how loud it is to him. You wonder if he's imagining the taste of your blood on his tongue. You wonder if he somehow already knows what it would be like. Does everyone taste the same? Is there any uniqueness to it? Or are you inches away from becoming the same body as countless that he's left behind?
“Will you kill me?” Your voice comes out small, vulnerable.
“I would never.” You shouldn't trust a killer. You do. “But do you want to feel like it?”
“Why would I want it?”
“Because you're still curious.” His hand reaches to cup your face, holding it still for him as he nips on your skin with his lips. “That's why you wanted to come here. You knew your mind won't be able to take it.” His teeth press against your jugular; non-threatening, but there. Intimate and terrifying all at once.
He pushes himself up to his knees in front of you and hovers, hands cupping your face. The gesture is tender, but his eyes are filled with madness.
“Do you want it?” he challenges you. “Do you want to feel death?”
You shiver under his gaze. The fear is tangible, it's thick in the air. You breathe it in, like it's not your own, like it's him that breathes it into you. But it's a thrill, it's an emotion filled with excitement. An invitation to his world, an invitation to forsake sanity.
Your lips tremble.
“No.” You finally draw the line.
There is no anger in your voice, no judgement.
Hongjoong's expression softens and he plants a kiss on your forehead.
Walking back down the narrow roads, he keeps gloves in his one hand while the other holds yours gently. It's warm and reassuring. He pulls you along and his eyes are filled with nothing but adoration.
His body is covered in blood that is barely visible in how the world is dark at this hour. Were it not for it, it would be a romantic walk down the town.
You narrow your eyes at him.
“You did it again,” you say. There is no question.
“I did,” he admits nonetheless. “You were there with me.”
“You made me forget again.”
“I did.”
You ponder it quietly.
“Will you go again?”
“Eventually.”
“I don't want you to go there alone again. It sounds scary. You shouldn't be there alone.”
“You want to go with me?”
“I want to understand you.”
“You may not like what you see.”
“But it's you. I want to see all of you.”
A/N: This was quite an experiment for me, and I hope you had a good time. Let me know your thoughts! Also, please reblog if you enjoyed and follow if you would like to read more in the future. Thank you for your time!
NSFW Writing Prompts || Some more NSFW Writing Prompts || Dark Romance Prompts || Enemies AU Prompts (please check my Navigation to see if requests are open)
From October 25th to 31st we will celebrating and appreciating the ship integrated by Gwen and Duncan from Total Drama.
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Main accounts for Gwuncan special weeks:
@gwuncanthon-blog on Tumblr midnightbluegoth on TikTok.
Make sure to tagged #gwunctober2025 so you content can be reposted/reblogged.
This event meant to spread positivity and engagement to the community! Please, participate however you see fit!
Remember that we have a [discord] for the Gwuncan/Total Drama fandom!
💜RULES 💙
Anyone can enter but no bashing! This is all about Gwuncan love, not hate.
IMPORTANT! 〰 Please use the tags: #gwunctober #gwunctober2025 in your posts so we can reblog them. You can always add more, but those are obligatory.
Your posts can feature other characters, but the content must be Gwuncan focused.
All prompts listed below have been designed for all content creators—fic writers, edit makers, artists & so on. Feel free to interpret them how you choose!
💜 SCHEDULE 💙 Choose a Word, a Trope, or a Movie or mix them all!
DAY 1 - October 25
Word: Graveyard
Trope: Enemies to Lovers
Movie: Scream Saga
DAY 1 - October 26
Word: Chains
Trope: Accidental Handcuffing / Partners In Crime
Movie: A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)
DAY 3 - October 27
Word: Blood
Trope: Vampire x Hunter / Magic AU
Movie: Alien (1979)
DAY 4 - October 28
Word: Whispers
Trope: Sharing a Bed / Missing Scene
Movie: The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)
DAY 5 - October 29
Word: Venom
Trope: Corruption Arc / Dark Influence
Movie: The Addams Family
DAY 6 - October 30
Word: Skull
Trope: I’d Kill For You / Killer Couple
Movie: Final Destination Saga
DAY 7 - October 31
Word: Possession
Trope: Demon Summoning Gone Wrong
Movie:Halloween (1978)
💜 NOTES 💙
Please feel free to reblog this post to give us a signal boost! It’s much appreciated to spread the Gwuncan Appreciation.
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You can go to the link to the collection and press 'Post to collection' or you can create a new work and in 'Post to Collection/Challenges' type "Gwunctober 2025", select the first option.
