Pairing: Choi San x Reader
Genre: Psychological Horror,Dark Drama,Tragedy
⚠️ FULL CONTENT WARNING: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. There’s a lot of Graphic violence & gore, Psychological manipulation, Self‑harm & facial mutilation, Body horror, Obsessive & unhealthy dynamics, Severe trauma, Mind games, Blood & injury detail All content is purely fictional ⤵︎
shibari, choking, biting, claiming, control, submission, dom! san, hard dom, restraints
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The news footage played on every screen in the country: “THE JOKER SMILE KILLER — Choi San, 26, found guilty of the brutal murder of both parents, before mutilating his own face beyond recognition.”
The image burned into everyone’s mind was him being led away in chains, head bowed, a jagged, raw incision running from the corner of his mouth all the way up to his ears on both sides a joker smile he had carved into himself with a shard of broken glass from the very room his parents died in.
He had done it in a fevered, shattered moment of clarity. The thing that had taken over his hands, the voice that had screamed kill them, had faded and San, the boy who loved his mother’s cooking and his father’s quiet stories, had woken up to the blood on his hands and the horror of what he had become. He had screamed until his throat bled, and then he had taken the glass and dragged it through his own flesh, punishing the mouth that had stayed silent, punishing the face that had hidden the monster inside.
The scars healed thick, rope‑like and pale, pulling his lips permanently into a rictus grin that looked like a scream frozen in time. Any attempt to speak tore the tissue open anew; blood would well up instantly, choking off sound before it could even form. He had not uttered a single word since that night.
But there were two of him.
San was the core gentle, terrified, broken beyond repair, drowning in guilt and shame, convinced he deserved every bit of pain inflicted on him.
The Shadow was the alter born from the trauma cold, sharp, cunning, and violently protective. It believed the world was a cage built to destroy San. It believed every doctor, every guard, every person who looked at him with pity or fear wanted to hurt him. It saw San’s softness as a weakness to be weaponized.
When you were assigned to his case at the high‑security psychiatric facility, your colleagues told you to give up before you started. “He’s a monster,” they said. “Whatever you see isn’t real.”
But you saw the way he flinched when a door slammed. You saw how his hands twisted in his lap when you spoke softly. You saw the tears that leaked from his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking, even as that terrible, fixed smile never wavered.
You sat with him for weeks in total silence. You brought him his favourite tea sweet, just as his medical notes mentioned he used to like. You never touched him without warning. You never recoiled when the scars wept. Slowly, so slowly you almost missed it, the tension in his shoulders eased. He began to look you in the eye. He started to nod when you asked if he was okay.
San was starting to trust you.
The Shadow watched from the dark corner of his mind, calculating every move. It saw the way San’s heart lightened when you entered the room. It saw hope blooming and hope was dangerous. So it decided: Use her. Make her love you. She will get you out. And once you are free, you leave her. No one gets close enough to hurt San ever again.
These words repeating around his head as he took his time, spending the little time he could treating you as if you was something precious, a treasure, he took you into the room, his hand intertwined with yours. His touch warm and spreading like wildfire beneath you igniting a need you didnt know was flickering. He guided you to the wall pushing your frame against the wall with force before attaching his lips to yours.
the kiss was claiming, a silent promise of trust, of protection, of love. He brushed his tongue across your bottom lip, silently preening for entrance as you gasped he took his moment, exploring your mouth with urgency, his growing need brushing against you as he kept you pinned against the wall. He moaned into you mouth, his hands gliding down your body as he learnt the way your body craved him. Feeling the lust pouring from your pores, drinking it up. Licking and biting into your neck as you whimpered for him, body submitting into his grasp. He had you where he wanted you and nothing would stop him.
You moaned as you felt his large calloused hands cup your clothed core, a slight pressure added as he growled. His eyes dark with lust as he watched you, felt the way your legs began to tremble beneath his touch. He hooked his fingers into your waistband, ripping the thin material away from your skin, the loose fabric thrown across the room. His hands removing every inch of fabric from you, the barrier he needed so badly to break through. You let out a squeal as the cool air hit your skin, goosebumps glistening against your skin.
He took a second, admiring the view before him, drinking you in before grabbing a box. A simple black box adorned with a deep crimson ribbon one he had been gifted, he took the lid off and reached inside. You eyes glazed of, need pouring from your irises as he took out the rope. The same deep crimson colour as he unravelled the material, walking closer to you. His broad frame towering over you as he cracked the rope with each step. He didnt speak. He didnt need to.
You felt your entire body shiver, the arousal coating your core, you felt yourself dripping down your legs as he got closer. You saw it, the way his eyes glistened, almost a smirk present in his eyes. He let himself admire his work so far, marks adorning your skin, a show of his power. He took your arms, crossing them infront of you, silently asking you for your trust. A small nod was all he needed before he tied the rope, tugging hard on the rope before creating intricate knots across your body, he had spent days during your time together dreaming of performing such diabolical things to you, a need to assurt his deepest desires on someone, the pure submission in your eyes was something he never thought would arouse him so much, you was feeding his monster. his deepest parts of him.
You moaned loudly as your body moved his hands gripping into your skin as he hooked your body to the wall, no escape from his clutches now, the rope binding your body, his touch sending a fire across your body as he lifted your legs bending them to his will.
He moved you as if your body was a ragdoll, a toy he could mould to his liking. He shed his clothes, his skin glistening with sweat as he stroked himself, lining his cock against your core. You felt yourself clenching instictivly, his girth and length almost torturous as he sheethed himself deep inside you. He let out a breath, a please sigh as he moved against you, his cock thrusting into you at a pace that caused you to whimper, whines leaving your lips. You felt your own mind clearing, the sounds of your bodies slapping against each was the only thing to be heard.
You let out a almost pornographic moan as his hand found your stomach, pressing slightly. The pressure as his warm calloused hand touched your skin, his pace never faltering. A silent plea. You gasped and moaned as you felt his cock brushing deep inside. You felt the familiar ache, your orgasm mere minutes away as he sped up his rhythm, his hips bucking against you animalistically as his hands found the rope around your throat, pressing hard against the material and your skin. You let your mind go. All sense of control leaving your body as you bucked widly against him, chasing the high. The feeling of his cock throbbing as you let out a whine of his name.
He released, his hot cum spilling inside you deeply, you clenched around his cock. milking him through it, your arousals painting each others thighs. You both slowed down. Breaths mixing together as you came down.
He took his time to care for you after, relaxing your aching bones, treating your body with the upmost care, he smiled through his eyes. You smiled back.
It took control. It leaned into your kindness. It let you see flashes of vulnerability that made your heart ache. It played the part perfectly the wounded boy who just needed someone to stay. And you fell for it. You fell hard, crossing every professional line, breaking every rule, because you truly believed you were saving him.
One night, you slipped him a set of keys you’d copied. You led him through empty corridors, past sleeping guards, out into the cold dark of the night. You thought you were running away together. You thought you were starting over.
When you reached the treeline, safe and hidden, you turned to him, breathless and smiling through tears.
“We made it,” you whispered. “We’re free.”
He stopped. He looked at you and for the first time, you saw only emptiness in his eyes. No gratitude. No warmth. No recognition. Just cold, sharp detachment.
He turned without a sound and walked away into the trees. He didn’t look back once.
You stood there until the sun rose, alone and shattered.
Days blurred into weeks. You were suspended, investigated, interrogated but you didn’t care. All you felt was a burning, ragged betrayal. You had given him everything, risked everything, and he had discarded you like trash.
If he wouldn’t come to you, you would make him see you.
You walked into the headquarters of the national news outlet that had first branded him a monster. You walked past the reception, past the cameras, straight into the main newsroom. You didn’t scream. You didn’t shout. You produced a package you had prepared graphic, visceral, mirroring the wounds on his face, written in blood and ink, a message that screamed I AM STILL HERE. YOU CANNOT FORGET ME.
You told them to broadcast it. To show him.
Security dragged you away screaming. You fought them, wild and unhinged, until sedatives finally took you down. They sectioned you immediately. Labelled you delusional, dangerous, obsessed. Locked you away in the very same system you had once worked for.
San saw it live on a small television in the safe house he had hidden in.
For a heartbeat, San surged forward. He collapsed to the floor, sobbing silently, blood trickling down his chin as he tried to scream your name. He knew exactly what you had done. He knew you had broken yourself apart just to reach him. He tried to turn himself in, tried to go back but the panic, the fear, the memory of being caged triggered the switch.
The Shadow slammed back into control, but something was wrong. It felt a twisting, burning ache in its chest that it couldn’t name. It didn’t understand love, or grief, or regret. It only knew that seeing you dragged away like that made it want to burn the whole world down.
“She did this for him,” it reasoned. “She is still a threat. Or… maybe she is the only one who understands.”
It didn’t know what the feeling was. It only knew: I have to get her out.
It took three days of planning. It disabled the perimeter alarms, slipped past sleeping guards, picked the locks until its fingers bled. It burst into your secure room and the lights snapped instantly to a harsh, flashing red.
The door slammed shut behind him.
San spun around, eyes wild, and saw the staff and guards waiting behind reinforced glass. He looked at you, strapped to the observation chair, and something snapped.
“YOU LIED!” he tried to roar, but the effort tore his scars wide open. Blood poured down his jaw, soaking his collar. “YOU SET ME UP! YOU WERE JUST LIKE THEM — TRYING TO LOCK ME AWAY AGAIN!”
He screamed until he choked on it, clawing at his own face in his rage, tearing the wounds open deeper.
You were standing by the far wall, calm and composed, no restraints, no fear. You tilted your head, your voice soft and steady.
“San? Are you okay? You look hurt.”
Confusion warred with fury in his fractured mind. You were free. You were concerned. Nothing had happened.
The Shadow shattered. His mind fractured further, weaving a hallucination so convincing he could taste it. He saw you not as the woman he had abandoned, not as the prisoner, but as an enemy mocking him, playing a game he could not win.
He lunged across the room, blinded by the illusion. He snatched the heavy metal pen from the pocket of the figure standing before him and drove it hard, straight into your chest.
The moment the tip sank home, the spell broke.
The figure by the wall vanished.
You were on the floor beneath him. Eyes wide, shocked, blood bubbling from your lips. You were not an illusion. You were real. And he had just killed you.
He dropped to his knees instantly, pressing his hands over the wound, trying to stem the flood, sobbing silently, blood pouring from his own ruined mouth and mixing with yours. He tried to speak, tried to beg, but all that came out was a gurgle of blood and broken air.
“No… no no no… what did I do… please… wake up… please…”
The Shadow was gone. Shattered by the horror of what had just happened. Only San remained the broken, terrified boy who had never wanted any of this. He held you tighter than he had ever held anything, rocking back and forth, tears cutting tracks through the blood on his face.
You lifted a shaking hand and touched his scarred cheek one last time.
“I… forgive you…” you mouthed.
The guards burst in, weapons raised, shouting for him to stand down. But San didn’t move. He curled his body over yours, shielding you from view, his ruined face pressed into your hair. He made no sound. He had nothing left to say.
He had killed his parents. He had mutilated himself. He had used the only person who ever cared about him. And now, he had destroyed the only thing that could have saved him.
Outside, the sirens wailed. Inside, there was only silence and the echo of a smile carved in blood
