Ship/Member: Wonwoo/Seungcheol Major Tags: MCD, gore, cannibalism Additional Tags: ambiguous relationship, the inherent intimacy of eating someone whole and raw, canon-typical woncheol protectiveness Permission to remix: Yes
*** the fever is getting worse. sweat is beading on seungcheol’s forehead, his skin pale and clammy with it, his eyes nearly black with delirium. wonwoo can practically hear his brain cooking in his skull.
“you can’t go,” wonwoo murmurs, crouched next to the naked mattress, pressing his own cold hands to seungcheol’s face like they might put out the fire. “you can’t leave me, hyung, what will i do without you? what can i do now?”
seungcheol reaches up to touch him too, or at least he tries; his hand doesn’t get more than a few inches off the side of the mattress before it falls back helplessly. “you can eat,” he says.
no. “no, i can’t, no.” desperately, wonwoo shoves up seungcheol’s shirt; the ripped towels he’s been using as bandages are already soaked through again, with blood and whatever else used to be inside him. wonwoo can smell that he’s dying, that the infection is too deep already. “i can’t go search for someone right now and leave you alone.”
“you’re hungry,” seungcheol slurs. this time both of his hands make it all the way to wonwoo’s neck, and tug him down with the last of the strength left in them. wonwoo squeezes halfway onto the mattress, one leg slung over seungcheol’s, combing through his hair with his fingers.
“it would hurt you.”
“everything is already hurting me.” he’s shivering against wonwoo’s side now. “i want it, wonwoo-yah. i want you to be full.”
wonwoo doesn’t want it. but he needs it, he knows that, the hunger is like a yawning pit in his stomach and it will swallow him whole if he lets it. “you can’t eat an eater,” he says pitifully. it’s his last defense. he feels stupid for being so fragile right now when seungcheol is the one dying. “that’s what seokmin told me.”
“that was one of his rules,” says seungcheol. “every one of us has their own rules, but this is us, wonwoo, it’s just us. it’s me. i want to feed you. i want to make you a little happier than everyone else.”
he sounds clearer than he has in days. for a moment wonwoo thinks he’s getting better, that the fever has finally fought its way out of him, but when he pulls away to check, seungcheol’s eyes are still glassy and unfocused, his lips are still dry and cracking. the bottom one has split, little beads of blood seeping out of it. wonwoo leans in and presses their lips together, an impulse driven by the fact he knows he won’t get another chance. he can taste the sickness in the blood as it smears between their mouths.
“i’d starve for you, if you asked me to,” he says.
“i'm not asking you to.” seungcheol’s head lolls to the side, baring the skin of his neck, his long dark hair stuck to it with sweat. “i’m asking you to eat. carry me in you, wonwoo. love me.”
the first hot gush of his blood across wonwoo’s tongue is like a dam breaking. wonwoo can feel himself crying as he eats, the salt of tears and blood mingling in his mouth, and hear a distant sweet lowing like cattle being slaughtered; it takes him a moment to realize it’s him making the noise. seungcheol is silent beneath him. he doesn’t make a single noise when wonwoo bites into the soft pocket beneath his jaw, doesn’t do anything but lie there and let wonwoo swallow him.
“you’ll be the first,” wonwoo says through a mouthful of seungcheol’s cheek. “the first one i eat bones and all. you’re special, hyung.”
he is special—this is special—when else would a predator eat another predator? who else would ask wonwoo to love them?
[FILL] bones and all
Major Tags: MCD, gore, cannibalism
Additional Tags: ambiguous relationship, the inherent intimacy of eating someone whole and raw, canon-typical woncheol protectiveness
Permission to remix: Yes
***
the fever is getting worse. sweat is beading on seungcheol’s forehead, his skin pale and clammy with it, his eyes nearly black with delirium. wonwoo can practically hear his brain cooking in his skull.
“you can’t go,” wonwoo murmurs, crouched next to the naked mattress, pressing his own cold hands to seungcheol’s face like they might put out the fire. “you can’t leave me, hyung, what will i do without you? what can i do now?”
seungcheol reaches up to touch him too, or at least he tries; his hand doesn’t get more than a few inches off the side of the mattress before it falls back helplessly. “you can eat,” he says.
no. “no, i can’t, no.” desperately, wonwoo shoves up seungcheol’s shirt; the ripped towels he’s been using as bandages are already soaked through again, with blood and whatever else used to be inside him. wonwoo can smell that he’s dying, that the infection is too deep already. “i can’t go search for someone right now and leave you alone.”
“you’re hungry,” seungcheol slurs. this time both of his hands make it all the way to wonwoo’s neck, and tug him down with the last of the strength left in them. wonwoo squeezes halfway onto the mattress, one leg slung over seungcheol’s, combing through his hair with his fingers.
“it would hurt you.”
“everything is already hurting me.” he’s shivering against wonwoo’s side now. “i want it, wonwoo-yah. i want you to be full.”
wonwoo doesn’t want it. but he needs it, he knows that, the hunger is like a yawning pit in his stomach and it will swallow him whole if he lets it. “you can’t eat an eater,” he says pitifully. it’s his last defense. he feels stupid for being so fragile right now when seungcheol is the one dying. “that’s what seokmin told me.”
“that was one of his rules,” says seungcheol. “every one of us has their own rules, but this is us, wonwoo, it’s just us. it’s me. i want to feed you. i want to make you a little happier than everyone else.”
he sounds clearer than he has in days. for a moment wonwoo thinks he’s getting better, that the fever has finally fought its way out of him, but when he pulls away to check, seungcheol’s eyes are still glassy and unfocused, his lips are still dry and cracking. the bottom one has split, little beads of blood seeping out of it. wonwoo leans in and presses their lips together, an impulse driven by the fact he knows he won’t get another chance. he can taste the sickness in the blood as it smears between their mouths.
“i’d starve for you, if you asked me to,” he says.
“i'm not asking you to.” seungcheol’s head lolls to the side, baring the skin of his neck, his long dark hair stuck to it with sweat. “i’m asking you to eat. carry me in you, wonwoo. love me.”
the first hot gush of his blood across wonwoo’s tongue is like a dam breaking. wonwoo can feel himself crying as he eats, the salt of tears and blood mingling in his mouth, and hear a distant sweet lowing like cattle being slaughtered; it takes him a moment to realize it’s him making the noise. seungcheol is silent beneath him. he doesn’t make a single noise when wonwoo bites into the soft pocket beneath his jaw, doesn’t do anything but lie there and let wonwoo swallow him.
“you’ll be the first,” wonwoo says through a mouthful of seungcheol’s cheek. “the first one i eat bones and all. you’re special, hyung.”
he is special—this is special—when else would a predator eat another predator? who else would ask wonwoo to love them?