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primofate · 2 months

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Confessions Series - Part 2: Description [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

In a nutshell: He asks if you have your eyes set on someone. You start describing HIS features and watch for his reaction. (Hint: He likes you too)

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Overheard)

Warnings: The usual, haven't written in a while, please forgive mistakes, bit of angst in Diluc (couldn't help it), I am a sleep deprived mother, some profanity, for some reason did not feel like writing Zhongli though he's one of my faves.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gaming, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Wriothesley, Xiao, gn!reader

Personal Favourites: Diluc, Wriothesley

Aether

"Yeah, I do," you start. "He's very selfless...He's always running around helping other people,"

Aether nods, intense gaze in his eyes while listening.

"Hmm...He has...a partner. Like a companion he always travels with..."

Aether's brows start to furrow and his head tilts the slightest bit. Paimon flying next to him has no clue who it is whatsoever.

"He's not originally from Teyvat...He's on a journey, you see..." this is where you start getting nervous

You see it click in Aether's head slowly, and his eyes start to widen the slightest bit

"Hey, that sounds an awful lot like you, traveller! Why have we never met this person before, Y/N?" Paimon asks and you only smile.

"P-Paimon," Aether glances at her and then back to you. It's silent for a moment. Paimon is super confused.

But Aether being Aether didn't want to get the wrong idea and racks up the courage to ask you one last question. "He's on a journey...to look for his twin sister?"

You smile the brightest smile you've ever given him. "Correct!"

"Ah...Well..." Aether starts to feel the heat on his cheeks. "That's..." he doesn't say anything else for a few seconds. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just...I'm happy!"

Is basically flustered when he realizes you've technically just confessed to him.

Albedo

"Simply put, I think he's dedicated to his craft," You shrug and smile

"...An admirable trait," he responds.

"He's frequently in Dragonspine. He spends a bit of time in his lab there," you decide to just go straight for the obvious.

Albedo pauses. "I...see..." Turns to you with a small smile "I wasn't aware that you were that fond of me,"

"Now you know," you simply say and try to play it off with a wave of your hand.

He chuckles under his breath and strides over to you while saying. "Well then, I suppose it's my turn to talk about the person I've set my eyes on,"

Proceeds to describe you accurately, down to your likes and dislikes. In his eyes, you seem like something so precious and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

Alhaitham

"Hmm... Sort of," you explain. "He's a little...hard to reach,"

Alhaitham "...and you still pursue him?"

You laugh a bit "I'm hardly pursuing him, I'm just...observing. I like watching him, even though he has the most unreadable face I've seen,"

Alhaitham goes quiet for a moment. He catches on fast, he already has an idea but is cautious about what he says. "...I see," he doesn't ask anything else, but you continue to offer information.

"He likes reading. Really smart guy...but kind of no nonsense type. Very straight to the point," You begin to feel a little nervous so you pretend to read your own book with a small shrug.

The silence is deafening.

"I suspect that type of person will be hard to put up with," he suddenly says aloud and you chuckle in response.

"Possibly, but he seems to be putting up with me too...I guess?"

He suddenly closes his book and leans forward to pry the one in your hands away. He locks his gaze with you. "...'Putting up' is hardly the word I would use." his lips twitch the slightest bit before continuing. "He has little to no patience for other people...so if he keeps you around...perhaps it signals something else,"

"Something else...As in, I'm special?"

Again he quiets for a moment, before he stands up, chair scraping the floor. "...Precisely," he turns to start walking out of the library, waving a hand behind him. "I'll pick you up in the morning tomorrow,"

Ayato

"I do, but he's a very busy sort of man,"

Ayato "Is that so?" he pours tea for you.

"Quite. He's also a very important person,"

He hums and watches the billowing steam from the tea. "It sounds as if I might know this person," but he genuinely doesn't know it's him, he just thinks its another noble.

"...You most definitely know him. He has a sister. Lovely girl." This is where you avert your gaze from him in fear of him instantly connecting the dots.

He talks in pauses "A...sister..." His mind is starting to make connections but he can't be quite sure yet. So he prods further. "...Does she happen to have a vision?"

"A cryo vision holder, yes," you're biting the inside of your lip at this point. There's a moment of silence before you hear Ayato laughing rather gleefully, like he was amused by a story.

"I see." he ends with a chuckle. "I apologize for being so busy, Y/N," he smiles at you "I promise I'll do my best to arrange my priorities in order to spend more time with you,"

Baizhu

"He takes his job too seriously and can be quite reckless...Sometimes he even puts himself in danger,"

Changsheng catches on immediately. The snake had already known for a while. Baizhu was just being dense. "Oh here we go," the snake half whines.

Baizhu gives it a weird look before turning his attention back to you. "That does sound reckless,"

"I've told him a couple of times to think about himself too...but I guess he's just really passionate about his job,"

Baizhu sort of shrugs, "What IS his job?"

"...Well for starters he owns a pharmacy around town,"

To Baizhu the realization hits all too slowly. It's not that he was slow or dense, but he was having a hard time believing that it was him you were talking about, specially when you hadn't said it outfront.

"...You do realize I'm the only one who owns a pharmacy around town?" he asks, eyes piercing through you and awaiting your answer.

Changsheng is the one who answers for you. "Yes you ridiculous doctor, Y/N's pertaining to you!"

It's the first time you've seen him blush and he turns his head away when he does so. "I-I see, well...that's rather, unexpected...but not unwelcome,"

Clears his throat "Just give me a moment"

Changsheng would roll its eyes if it could.

Bennett

"Has a lot of energy...Sometimes I wonder where he gets all of it. I really like him for that though."

Deflates as soon as you start talking about your "crush". What kind of answer was he expecting anyway? That you had eyes for him?

"He has a bit of a...problem when it comes to luck," you continue

Bennett stops, you look at him and you can practically see the gears in his head starting to turn a little faster.

"Y-Y/N? Are you talking about..." then the gears suddenly stop. "Oh what am I saying, it can't be. Ahahaha! Let's go!" starts walking again as if nothing happened

Your jaw drops and you're forced to just DIRECTLY tell him you're talking about him.

"...Oh...Oh! F-For real?! Oh...Sorry... I just thought... there's no way! B-But, I'm really glad! Really!"

Chongyun

"Hmm...He's a little shy...but he's very responsible,"

Chongyun stares at you intently and nods as if taking notes.

"He doesn't like spicy stuff,"

Chongyun nods twice, eagerly.

"He's very dedicated in learning about thaumaturgy,"

Chongyun blanks out, brows furrow but still nods. Slowly.

"He's really good with a claymore too!"

Chongyun stops and stares at you, you see a hint of red gracing his cheeks "Y/N...You can't possibly be...talking about... m-m-m-"

Can't seem to say it, so you outright say that it is, in fact, him.

Combusts into a tomato red

Cyno

"How do I say this...He's a pretty strict guy." The two of you are playing Invokation TCG during this convo.

"Mmhmm..." Cyno is focused on his cards, frankly he doesn't give a craps ass who you're into. He didn't even know why he asked, he just dug himself a hole.

"...but he really only takes his work seriously. It's his job to be serious, I guess. I think that's what Matras need to do," he finished his turn and its yours now, though he's still studying his cards intently. Until you get to the Matra part.

"He's a Matra?" You rarely see a surprised face on Cyno so you focus your gaze on him. "Which one?" He further asks. Honestly he looks about to murder someone.

You blank out a bit at how intense his stare was, "Well...You know. That one, the one who's really into Invokation TCG,"

He immediately follows up without missing a beat "I don't know anyone else who's into--" then it clicks.

It was so damn silent for a good 10 seconds. You clear your throat, tear your eyes off him "Um, it's your turn,"

STILL doesn't budge until he finally goes back to his cards with a whisper, you can't really tell but he looks slightly bashful and you can barely, BARELY hear him "...If I win then we go on a date,"

"Okay, and if you lose?"

Cyno "...I'm not gunna lose,"

"See, I told you he's a really serious guy,"

Dainsleif

"I think he's a very dedicated person," you get lost in thought a little, thinking about him. "Whenever I look at him...Sometimes I feel as if there's a certain sadness in him... Perhaps he blames himself for not being able to protect his nation,"

He IMMEDIATELY knows. And he knows that you hurt for him too. How could he not?

"He searches for answers... I don't know for how long, I suppose a long, long time," you close your eyes, imagining how long he must have been wandering Teyvat.

You only open your eyes when you feel a hand brush against yours. He's looking straight at you, neither happy nor sad. "...You don't have to feel that way, for my circumstances,"

The brush against your hand disappears and reappears next to your cheek, his fingers gently resting on it "...Knowing that you feel that way, has taken away some of the burden that I shoulder,"

His gaze suddenly hardens and his voice drops to a whisper, "But please, just don't end up in the same way as everyone else,"

Diluc (I don't know why I end up writing a whole novel for this guy. I guess he's my OG favourite)

You pause for a moment, wondering how to describe Diluc. "...Sometimes... I feel as if I know a lot about him and yet... he's still far off in the distance,"

Diluc, rifling through paperwork, doesn't even look at you. "...That tells me nothing about him," there's a bit of bite in his statement.

You sigh a little, "I mean, simply said he's a hardworking man. He always has Mondstadt's best interests in mind...but he prefers to work alone,"

He's silent, but you can still hear the paper shuffling.

"....but people love him. They care for him. I suppose I understand why he keeps a distance but..." at this point you don't even realize that you're just rambling and staring into space. Sort of in a daze of thinking out loud. "...isn't it lonely? ...I suppose I shouldn't assume how he feels. Maybe he's fine with it...I just wonder how long till he sees us..." there's silence, no ruffle of papers, you're still just staring at the bookshelf and you continue in a monotone voice. "...or sees me,"

You blink, and all of a sudden its as if a magic spell is cast on you and you wake up to the reality that you've been rambling about him. You sit up straight "Oh," then turn to him with a careful smile. You don't think he knows what or who you're talking about anyway. "I better get going," you stand, "Jean must be waiting for me."

You leave, and he doesn't stop you.

You don't really think anything of it, feeling as if your whole monologue was very vague...but to your surprise he knocks at your door in the evening, there's a bit of rain falling.

"Diluc? You're drenche--"

"I see you,"

The determination in his voice lulls you to keep quiet and only stare up at him, wondering if he had more to say, but instead of saying something, he leans in, wrapping his arms around you and resting his forehead on your shoulder, as if he had been defeated.

You only welcome his embrace, and, for the first time in a long time. Diluc finally feels like he's home.

Gaming

"Passion!" You nod your head as you say it. "He knows what he wants to do and is incredibly dedicated to it!"

Gaming looks surprised, has no idea you're talking about him. "Huh! That's really cool!" He thinks he's the total opposite. "Wish I could be as dedicated as him."

You kind of laugh out loud and he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Gosh you really sell yourself short," you shake your head "Anyway, this guy, right, he kinda works two jobs," you put out your hand to count one and two "One, for the Secure Transport Agency and two, he's in a Wushou Troupe,"

Gaming instantly straightens his back and looks at you wide-eyed. You figure you had to be direct when it came to him otherwise he'd never get it with how modest he was.

"...You're...talking about...me?" You smile at him sympathetically.

"You know, Gaming, I wish you saw yourself the way others saw you. You're a great person,"

Big smile, but legit looks like he's about to cry. "Between the two of us? I think you're greater Y/N,"

Heizou

"...Honestly he's kind of a flirt," you raise your eyebrows at the fact and kind of question yourself why you like this kind of person. "Makes me wonder if he does that to everyone, you know?"

Heizou hums and puts his hand under his chin in a "thinking position"

"That's not enough evidence to go by. Perhaps we can investigate this guy together to see if he's worthy,"

You look at him, pursing your lips while musing and giving him a suspicious look. You're not sure if he's figured it out.

He's got no idea. I mean, it was a pretty general description. "Any distinguishing features?" he asks.

You look at him in a deadpan manner. "Red hair, I guess. And moles under his eyes,"

He looks back at you with a matching blank face.

Then breaks into a wide, close eyed grin. "I see! From experience, that person is truly trustworthy,"

You sigh a little, "Is he though?"

He chuckles heartily. "I promise you he is," offers you his hand with a genuine smile. "Let me show you,"

Itto

"Ummm... big, tall, strong looking guy. Intimidating at first look but he's actually a dork," you explain.

Itto crosses his arms above his chest with an unamused face. "Tch! No way! Ain't no one taller than me in Inazuma!" Then he looks smug again. "Anyway, keep goin'. What else?" Only asked you because he wants to see what your "type" is.

"...Popular? Nah... Infamous is the word, I think. He kinda gets into a lot of trouble,"

Itto raises a brow "You serious? Whaddyou want with someone like that?" as if he wasn't a troublemaker himself.

"I mean... He also loves life and somehow always sees the good side of things."

Itto "Eh... guess that's a good thing..." folds his arms behind his head and huffs.

This guy is never gunna get it so you drop more obvious hints. "He's an oni who has his own gang."

For a split second he looked like he was going to get it, and then... "WHAT?! There's another oni who wants to challenge the Arataki Gang?"

"That's not what I--"

punches his fist onto his palm "Lead the way Y/N, let me at 'em!"

"I'm talking about you!"

"Huh?"

"Itto, there's no other oni around town!" leave it to him to make you exasperated.

He quiets for a few seconds. "...But Y/N..."

You expectantly stare at him, curious what he was going to say about your confession.

"...Did you just call me a dork?"

Of course that's what he picks up on.

When he finally processes it though, he's stoked and on an all time high.

Kaeya

"...good at talking to people, and he knows it... Exudes charisma like he breathes air," You're saying this with a glare.

He chuckles and rests his head on his fist. "Why, pray tell, do you look angry when saying that?"

"Not angry..." you mumble under your breath, eyes trailing away from him. "Just... probably a lot of people like him,"

"And you don't like that?" He smirks. He totally knows.

"...No...Well...I'm okay with it... It's just... I think he's so much more than what he shows to others,"

That, he wasn't expecting. He actually feels genuinely touched.

"Sure he jokes around a lot...Is good at making people feel comfortable...but he's also kind...and you can always count on him," there's a faraway gaze in your eyes now, a small smile on your face. "To me, he's...a safe space."

Kaeya's smile drops. It looks like he's unhappy and you think that maybe you've made a mistake. Still...there's no way he knows that it's him, right? It was kinda vague...

You're about to stand and excuse yourself but he catches your wrist easily. "...You know..." he starts, meeting you eye to eye. He looks at you as if he's looking into your soul, his eyes the gentlest you've seen them.

"You make it so hard, not to fall deeper in love with you,"

Lyney (I have no idea how this ended up so dramatic)

"He isn't exactly a trickster...but he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve,"

Lyney "Oh?" Raises an eyebrow. Something kind of clicks in him, but he shakes it off. "The good kind or the bad kind?"

You stall a little, thinking of the answer, knowing that he's Fatui. "The...good...kind,"

"You don't sound very sure," he gives you a lopsided smile.

"It's complicated," you admit. "Regardless of the circumstances though, I think he's a great magician,"

You watch his face turn into surprise quite quickly, but he still looks and feels unsure of himself. "Oh, perhaps...I can learn a thing or two from him?"

Your smile turns forced and hard. He can't be serious? He STILL doesn't know, or...what?

"I...Well..." You don't know what to say next, but he seems to get the idea.

"Sorry, have I put you in a hard place? Ahaha..." Scratches the back of his head. "My apologies, I was just curious,"

This, for some reason, really puts you off and you feel as if you've been rejected, even though you technically had not outright told him that you're talking about him.

It seems silly for you to get upset, but you are. So you stand, and make a request of him. "Can we... just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" and you give him some sort of excuse that you need to run an errand or something, and you're off, leaving him feeling...guilty. But he doesn't know why. Or does he?

Lyney would look like the type of person who would be confident about himself. But, really, as a magician, he had to be 1000% sure about something before he went ahead with it, and so...that's where his doubt stemmed from.

Lynnette is really the one who knocks some sense into him. "...and you...let Y/N leave?" after hearing the story from him.

"Oh, Lyney... Regardless of what Y/N feels... For you, next to Freminet and I, is there someone else that you love dearly?"

That's how he ends up at your doorstep. Though you've seen his disappearing rose trick hundreds of times, he was the most sincere at that moment, when he says sorry that he didn't get the hint and to give him a chance.

Neuvillette

"Serious person. He seems to put his work first, above all else," you say. "I respect him a lot for that,"

Neuvillette is interested in what you say, but doesn't know at all that it's him. "He does sound quite respectable," he says while looking through some files.

"A long time ago he said that he feels like he's an outsider...but really I feel like there isn't anyone who knows Fontaine the way that he does,"

Neuvillette, moves the file he was reading downwards, just to look at you questioningly. "He's from Fontaine?" this was surprising to him.

"Well...he currently resides in Fontaine, yes," you nod.

"Ah," he answered curtly. "And I have never met him?" he asks.

"...He's very busy." you bite your lip, about to say something and you know that the next sentence is the point of no return. "He's the Iudex...so it's hard to catch him,"

You swear you can hear your heart hammering in your chest.

You see him put his files down and just stare at you with a sort of...unsure look.

His shoulders relax, he wasn't even aware he had been tense that whole time. "That... must have taken a lot of consideration and courage to say," he clears his throat.

You only nod your head slowly, moving your gaze away from him with an awkward smile. Hand absentmindedly grabbing a book and flipping through the pages...you had no idea what you were doing out of nervousness.

"I apologize...I'm unfamiliar with what to do in these kinds of situations... However," he pauses and seems to think carefully about what he was going to say next. "Please don't take it as a rejection. I'd be honored to navigate this with you, if you would so graciously have me,"

Scaramouche

"He's an asshole," you bite back a laugh.

He instantly knows.

"Actually he acts all tough only to give in to his inner-kind-of-agreeable-personality,"

He snorts

"What? Am I wrong?" you challenge him. You KNOW that he knows. The two of you have been hovering around each other for a while, and there's a certain closeness between the two of you. Though that line was never crossed.

He doesn't answer you back but prods you more. "Is that all? You like that he's an asshole? Are you some type of masochist?"

You almost laugh. "No, you moron. I'm saying he has a weird way of showing he cares. He's always biting my head about not being careful enough. But if he really didn't care he wouldn't be screaming at me, you know what I mean?"

Scaramouche grumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms, turning away from you.

"Say that again?" You ask, not hearing what he said.

"...I said, you're not as stupid as I thought you were," shrugs his concealed embarrassment off and turns back to you all nonchalant again. "Anyway, stop yapping and get going, we got things to do,"

Snatches your hand and starts pulling you to walk with him.

Tartaglia (I feel like this is ridiculously short but I also feel like Tartaglia would have known a LONG time ago if the two of you had the feels for each other)

"Oh man...Probably the most reckless man I know,"

Also knows. Instantly. But shuts his mouth just so he can listen to you talk about him, but it gets deep real quick.

"In my opinion he's a handsome guy. Real charming," you smirk the tiniest bit. "but I don't know if I can keep up with him, honestly. It's a little hard not knowing when he's going to come back...or if he's even gunna come back at all,"

You weren't going to hide the fact that you were scared shitless he didn't return from Fontaine for ages. You legitimately thought he had died.

Tartaglia stops you there, by suddenly cradling your cheek. "Y/N," he's wearing a pained expression. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it's your job, right?" You reassure him, and shrug.

He sighs "Yes, but I'll promise this to you as I've promised my family," he smiles, the most confident smile you've seen on him. Even more confident than when he wields his blades. "I'll come back to you, I always will,"

Wriothesley

"Er... How do I say this... He kind of has some... big boss energy?"

"Oh?" he sips at his tea, glancing at you while he looks at today's paper. "So he's a bigshot?" he asks curiously.

"Somewhat, yes. Intimidating at first look, but...he just has a great sense of responsibility," you pick at the selection of cakes and cookies he has.

"Huh," he lets out in a quick huff. In the deepest, DEEPEST parts of his mind there is a NANOSECOND that he thinks its him but it gets erased so quickly he's not even sure that he had thought about it.

"Sounds like a good person... Any interesting, weird quirks?" he grins as he says this, yet again glancing at your expression.

Your lips tremble a bit at what you're about to say, because you're SURE he was going to get it once you say it. You gulp and feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand before you say out loud "He likes tea. I kind of wonder if it's an addiction," you can't meet his eyes.

He's looking at the paper he's reading but nothing.registers.in.his.brain.its.like.it.stopped.working.

You shift in the uncomfortable silence but he calmly folds up the newspaper and places it on his table. "...I'm inclined to ask, because it would be embarrassing if I got the wrong idea,"

"Mmhmm," you pop a cookie in your mouth to distract yourself.

"By any chance, are you...talking about me?"

"Mm," you nod your head, still not looking at him and glue your eyes on the cookies instead, out of embarrassment.

Suddenly chuckles. You brave a peek at him, now covering his eyes with a single hand, head tipped back to rest on his chair.

You're not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"Sorry, no, it's just... I didn't think it would happen this way." Visibly takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. Seems to have regained his composure and is back to his confident self, smiling at you. "Thanks Y/N, I... don't think it's much of a secret that I enjoy your company too. I'm just a little embarrassed that you beat me to it...some big boss energy huh?"

Xiao

"...He takes on everything by himself. I worry about him," You look at the stars as you say this. Xiao doesn't say anything.

"But I'm glad that he's opening up a lot more now. It's great to see him among friends,"

Xiao has a feeling at this point, that its him you're talking about, but he still doesn't say anything and keeps his gaze in front of him rather than on you.

"Yes, the road in front of him is long but...he's also already come a long way," you sigh a little "The time of Rex Lapis has long gone, but he still sticks to his principles. I think his dedication is part of what I like about him,"

This is when he turns to you, blank look on his face, contemplating on what to do. When you turn to meet his gaze, its then that he decides to bridge the gap between the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, leaning in sideways to catch your lips in a chaste and rather shy kiss.

"You should give a bit of credit to yourself, for putting up with me all these years, Y/N,"

End!

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Here’s the Masterlist

#genshin impact #genshin fluff #neuvillette x reader #wriothesley x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #gaming x reader #scaramouche x reader #itto x reader #aether x reader #cyno x reader #albedo x reader #ayato x reader

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crimeronan · 4 months

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YES many dynamics have like 7 of these at once. but i'm in A Mood. tell me about ur faves and their awful bullshit.

#i think everyone here knows which relationships this is about for me personally.#polls #codependency

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oldpotatoe · 6 months

Text

"the first casualty, when war comes, is truth"

i wish i wasn't writing this.

i wish i didn't have to caveat this whole statement with "by the way, i strongly condemn the killing of innocent civilians in any circumstance whatsoever" because i am a muslim and obviously every muslim voice represents all 1.8 billion of us, right? but your faves can go on instagram and loudly proclaim there is no two sides to this - i stand with the apartheid state bombing and starving children! with no consequences whatsoever. right.

i wish i didn't have to filter every bit of information i saw because of rampant lies and misinformation boosted across social media, especially when it shrouds the actual atrocities happening. it's still unconfirmed whether 40 babies were murdered by hamas militants - if true, it is an awful, awful act done by the lowest of the low. but as we speak, 447 children have been confirmed to be killed - murdered - in gaza just in the last few days.

i wish i didn't see videos of those murders. i wish i could wipe away the horrific wailing of a father as he clawed his daughter's lifeless body out of rubble, falling to his knees as he cried for her to wake. i wish i didn't see mothers clutching small, bloodied bundles in their hands, screaming and screaming and screaming. i wish i could forget that i have been seeing iterations of these videos coming out of palestine from 2021, 2014, 2009, 2006 - oh, basically anytime israel decided to launch an offensive on gaza.

i wish children didn't make up 47% of gaza's 2 million population, of which 4 out of 5 were living with PTSD and depression as per a report from last year (aka before this latest shitstorm started), because living in an open air prison under constant threat of bombing really helps make those childhood memories extra special. i wish these children were considered as human as those across the border, their lives as important and meaningful.

i wish that literal war crimes were not taking place in gaza right now. this includes the war crimes by hamas of taking innocent hostages - hamas, may i remind the reader, is a palestinian terrorist organisation but not all palestinians are hamas - and also the war crimes of the israeli government by literally ordering a siege of gaza with "no electricity, no food, and no fuel." this is to ensure that the children who aren't already dead are well on their way, i guess.

i wish we weren't watching an ethnic cleansing literally taking place in front of our eyes.

i wish i didn't feel so helpless. i wish i could console my friends who are on the daily losing multitudes of relatives, and who now have no way of finding out who else they've lost until the electricity comes back on. i wish my words didn't feel so hollow.

i wish i could wave a palestinian flag in solidarity but i may get arrested for it here, in the uk, so better not.

i wish. i wish. i wish.

#palestine #free palestine #from the rivers to the sea.

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arminsumi · 6 months

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First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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ponderingmoonlight · 3 months

Text

JJK men with a big-chested reader

Pairings: Nanami x reader; Geto x reader (nsfw); Yuji/Sukuna x reader; Gojo x reader

Word Count: 4,4k (she's big)

Warnings: THIS IS A FIC WITH A BIG-CHESTED READER! so if this triggers you, don't read it (especially in Sukuna's part, you might get triggered when having smaller boobs so just do me a favor and don't read it instead of leaving a sassy comment), boob play in Geto's part so nsfw, in general harassment but big old fluff from your faves, not proofread bc I have my final exam tomorrow - hope you enjoy! 🤍

Special thanks to one of my moots for letting me turn her cleavage into a cover for this fic - you look STUNNING + thank you to everyone who sent me their experiences for this!

Since I'm not big-chested myself, I'm calling all my big boobie girlies to leave me a lil review about this fic - it would literally help me so much 😭

Click here to get to the small-chested version

Nanami Kento

You sigh to yourself, too exhausted to even stand up straight anymore. Today was like a trip to hell and back. All those fucking curses, the death, the horror. You rub your tired eyes, the stinging pain in your back reminding you more than urgently that you have been up for way too long.

“You look tired, darling. Go change and get into bed with me.”

Oh, that deep voice behind you, the voice you learned to love to the moon and back. How did it even happen that a man like Nanami Kento was seeking interest in you? What was it that made a man like him even look your way? You’ve known each other for quite some time, seeing each other on missions from time to time. But when you began to work at Jujutsu High, everything changed so fast that you couldn’t keep up. And now you’re sitting here in his bedroom, watching in awe as he crawls into bed with nothing but his boxer shorts on.

You would love to get out of your uniform right now, But most importantly, you urge to take off that soaking wet bra that has been bugging you since afternoon. You have no choice, though. With a large chest like yours, it simply isn’t possible to leave the house for missions without extra support. You glance at him while he reads in his book, your gaze falling to your chest.

This isn’t exclusively about missions and you know it. Even though you’ve been together for a few months now, you were never brave enough to show Kento your breasts. Not without a bra, let alone completely naked. Just the thought of him seeing how your big breasts fall down when they slip out of their bra shells, the look on his face when he realizes that you don’t look like those large-chested models with their boobs standing like mountains. Yours definitely don’t. And you fucking hate it.

“I know that look on your face. You are uncomfortable, aren’t you?”

His soft voice rips you out of your pondering immediately. Fuck, he caught you again.

“No…I mean…Yes, kinda…”

You can’t lie into his gorgeous face, not even when the truth makes you feel so uncomfortable. Oh, how much you wished you look the way he deserves it with delicious female curves that suit his flawless appearance. But as soon as you look down, you just know how awful your boobs will look when set free. So you’ll do what you do every night: wait until Kento is asleep to finally take off your bra only to set an alarm in the morning to get up before him and put it back on.

“I always wondered why you are waiting until I sleep to take off your bra and put it back on before my alarm goes off.”

You can’t help but stare at him, mind racing while your palms start to get sweaty. Fuck, how did he even notice? No, why did you ever think he wouldn’t? Kento cares about you like none other, never pushed you to take off your shirt, never failed to ask you how you’re feeling.

“Listen, darling.”

He gets off the bed and kneels down in front of the chair you are sitting on, gently taking your hand into his.

“I just want to make sure you feel comfortable around me. Am I the reason that you don’t want to take your bra off? I can see clearly how uncomfortable it makes you feel.”

“No!”, you blurt out immediately.

Calm down your tingling nerves, this is ridiculous. You stare blankly at your hands intertwined with his.

“I mean…It has nothing to do with you, it’s me.”

“How is this about you, love? There is no reason for you to feel uncomfort-“

“I’m afraid.”

You swallow hard. Are you oversharing? Will he laugh at you for something so ridiculous? But what if he sees you naked at some point, his gaze dropping to your chest only to be greeted by your large hanging chest? You can imagine the look of disgust on his face, how he turns away from you, how-

“Hey, look at me darling. Look at me and tell me what’s wrong”

He cups your cheek gently, forces your haunted eyes to look at him, to stare into his orbs filled with sincerity. There is no way out of this, you can’t lie into his gorgeous face.

“When I take my bra of my breasts just…hang. It’s even visible through my t-shirt…”, you mumble, cheeks redder than the devil.

Thick silence hangs between both of you, his gaze still as soft as before. What is going on inside his head? Is he secretly laughing at you, does he even care about what you have to say?

“Let me make a few things clear.”

He lifts himself off the ground and pulls you up. You squint your eyes, mind racing over why on earth he made you stand up. Is he going to leave, to laugh?

“First of all: I love you just the way you are. I love your gorgeous smile, the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you carry yourself. And I love your breasts-“

“You didn’t even see them yet.”

“I don’t have to in order to know that”, he continues.

“Nothing makes me sadder than seeing you uncomfortable each and every night before going to bed. Of course, I don’t know for sure, but I imagine it to be really painful after some time. Isn’t it digging into your skin?”

Oh, you think about the countless times the sweat underneath your bra made you almost go insane, the red streaks that visibly show where the wire cut into your skin all day.

“It kinda is…”, you confirm with low voice.

“Don’t do this to yourself. I adore you just the way you are and I am dying to see you laying comfortably in your t-shirt next to me. So please, would you allow me to take it off for you?”

Your eyes widen in pure shock. Is this a bad joke, is he just teasing you? No, this is Nanami Kento. And the way he gazes at you with nothing but affection gleaming in his eyes tells you that he’s telling the true, that this is what he wants right now. But are you ready to expose yourself like this? What if he’s still disgusted after saying all those nice words?

You let your head fall against his chest, breathe in his delicious scent. A voice deep inside you tells you to stop, to just relax inside his arms. This is the man who chose you out of all people, who stood by your side no matter what. Kento proved more than once that he loves you dearly, never made you feel the slightest bit bad about yourself.

“Go ahead…”, you mutter against his chest.

His hands wander up your back gently, make shivers run down your spine until he reaches the clasp of your bra. Your heart simply stops when he unclips it through the fabric of your shirt. You fade into darkness as soon as his hands wander up to your shoulders, slide down the thick straps and pull down your bra until he finally lands on the floor.

Slowly, he takes a step back and picks it off the ground.

“You will never have to wear this again when you are home with me, okay? Not when it makes you feel so uncomfortable”, he gently speaks out.

You stare in awe while he carefully places your big bra over the chair and returns in an instant to pull you close against his chest.

“Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

“Yeah”, you mumble, body slowly but surely getting flooded by warmth.

“Going to bed sounds good…”

Geto Suguru

You feel hot but at the same time cold, turned on but at the same time scared. This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for. At this very moment, none other than Suguru Geto is laying on top of you, kissing you so passionately that you forget how to breathe.

What an overwhelming feeling it is to call him your boyfriend for a few months now. Such a kind and loving man, always looking out for you, giving you the time you needed for this to finally happen. You couldn’t believe your own ears when whimpering that you want him, that you are ready.

But are you really ready for showing him that part of your body? The part that began too grow way too early in your life, the part you’ve always got picked on by all the other girls.

“Look, there she is! She looks like a cow ready to milk!”

“That cleavage…She’s literally begging for it, what a bitch.”

“Ew, are those pimples on your tits?”

You know you are better than that, that your big breasts just belong to you and that you should love yourself just the way you are. But with none other than Suguru laying on top of you, his hands slowly but surely coming dangerously close to your breasts…

“Wait”, you breathe out, haunted eyes making Suguru stop in his tracks in an instant.

“Did I do something wrong? If you don’t want to, we don’t-“

“No, this is great. I- … I waited so long for this. But I just wanted to let you know that…”

You swallow hard. Are you acting ridiculous, destroying the moment with your behaviour? Suguru’s chocolate brown orbs don’t show a hint of annoyance. Instead, he gently strokes your hair while waiting for you to move on.

He deserves to know it

“I might not have the nicest boobs. They are big, but not well formed like the ones of those models. I tend to sweat a lot underneath them, my skin breaks out from time to time and my nipples might be-“

“Stop that right now, (y/n).”, Suguru gently interrupts you with a grin.

But it doesn’t look like the grin of the girls who picked on you for years. No, this grin is filled with warmth and loves, fills you with what feels like confidence. After all, he said that he loves you just the way you are over and over, right? Still, he didn’t even see your boobs. What if he changes his mind?

“There is absolutely nothing, and I mean NOTHING about you that isn’t ‘nice’. I don’t care about what the chest of random models looks like, to be honest I don’t care about anyone but you. And you are everything I want, you are everything I see, you are everything I love.”

His words make you tear up in an instant, send your whole body into space. As long as you can remember, no one ever said really nice things about your breasts and therefore you. You were either insulted or sexualized. But that force of a man on top of you…He just looks into your eyes that are filled with nothing but warmth. This man means every word he says.

“Well, that’s cool”, you mutter without even thinking about your words, lost in the sheer sight of his sincere eyes.

There is no one in the world you want to show your boobs more. Like in trance, you pull up the hem of your shirt and let it fall to the floor mindlessly.

“Are you okay with me touching them?”, he purrs against your ear.

A silent whimper escapes your lips while you simply nod, whole body on fire where it touches his. Painfully slow, he lets his hands wander down your hair onto your shoulders, trace the line of your collarbones until he reaches…

Your breasts.

What an unknown feeling. But oh, what a sensation as well. You arch your back out of instinct while he massages your breasts, the feeling of his fingertips against your still skin alone simply driving you insane.

God, who would have thought you’d ever hear Geto Suguru moan against your ear by just looking, touching, squeezing your boobs? His eyes are darkened by lust, the way his heart pounds against his ribcage echoes through your very own body.

“You look absolutely gorgeous. I can’t stop looking at you, (y/n).”

You feel like flying, fainting, losing your balance. There is no doubt in the fact that this man adores you the way you are, that your constant fear of him not liking your large chest was more than unfounded.

“So…you don’t mind the way my breasts look?”, you whimper underneath his bittersweet touch.

“More than that, I adore you”, he replies in an instant. “And now, let me see you in your full glory.”

Yuji/Sukuna

You’re back feels like it might break every minute, shirt dripping in sweat in the sheer heat of the summer sun. You just want to get out of here, away from those disgusting people, back into your dorm. How stupid it was to leave Jujutsu High on your own for a little stroll through the city. Without the protection of Maki or Nobara, without any good friend who shields you from all the unwanted looks your large chest attracts. While most people think it must be a blessing, it definitely is a curse to you 80% of the time.

Just like right now.

“Come on, I just asked for one grab!”, a guy shouts after you.

Out of instinct, you pick up your pace, not even daring to turn around. What did you even do to catch his attention? You gaze down at your breasts that uncomfortably bounce up and down in the way too tight bra you are wearing today. No, you did absolutely nothing wrong. It’s just these disgusting people who seem to see nothing but the size of your chest.

“Why would you want to touch her? She looks like a cow”, the girl next to him comments along with an ugly laugh, making your heart sting in an instant.

“What a slut”, another voice mutters.

“Oh, I didn’t know you are out today! How are you, (y/n)?”

Your heart almost stops inside of your chest, hands beginning to tremble in an instant. No, not him. Not right here when these people are chasing you. If there’s someone you don’t want to hear those things about you, it’s Yuji Itadori.

“J-just…l-leave”, you stutter.

“Huh? But I just met you! Would you like to watch a movie with me?”

“Look, the cow brought her friends!”

“Do you think he’ll get in her pants today?”

“What a lucky bastard, I’d love to touch them just once…”

Yuji’s face drops in an instant when realizing their words are directed towards you.

“Hey, there’s no need to be rude”, he begins but gets stopped by uncontrollable laughter immediately.

You want to die right here on the spot, disappear from the surface of earth. As if being treated like this wasn’t enough, why does it have to be Yuji who witnesses it all?

“Step aside, loser. Let me handle that.”

Sukuna leans forward in his throne, thick anger rising inside of his chest. You, the one who caught his eye when he first saw you. You, with the immense powers. You, with a dangerous mind that could end wars. Who are these people to talk to you in this manner?

“Are you crazy? I definitely won’t let you out right now”, Yuji replies in an instant.

“You aren’t able to help her brat, now get lost!”

“I won’t let you-“

Enough.

“Now who exactly do you losers think you are, huh?”

That voice, that aura? Your mouth feels dry like the desert in an instant, eyes widen in pure shock. No, this is impossible, Yuji is in control over his body, this can’t be-

“With tits like yours, I would be jealous of someone gorgeous like her as well”, he spits at one of the girls following you.

“And you.”

With a swift motion, he grabs on of the guy’s wrists roughly. Just a little more pressure and it will snap.

“P-please. Don’t!”, you shout after him.

Urgh, why does your begging voice make his grip loosen in an instant, what is it about you that made him switch with this brat anyway?

“Were you really just trying to touch her chest? Thinking just because she has a big chest, you are allowed to touch her, to sexualize her, huh? You humans disgust me with your simple desires”, Sukuna continues.

“If it wasn’t for her unshakable character, I would kill every single one of you right on the spot. But for now-“

In the matter of seconds, all their arms hang in unhealthy directions, visibly broken by the sheer force of none other than Ryomen Sukuna.

You want to scream at him, want to run away, want to get away from this place. But on the other hand, a warmth fills your chest. Did the king of curses just stand up for you, protect you from their rude comments?

“Get going”, he barks at you.

“This was unnecessary”, you mumble.

“And give Yuji back.”

“You should be thankful, (y/n). They will worship you for the rest of your life.”

“No, they will be scared of you for the rest of their lives”, you clarify, hands still trembling.

“So what? Nobody gets away with insulting you over your perfect body. Especially not over the size of your chest. How ridiculous…”

You can’t believe your ears, eyes darting towards him in an instant while you turn redder than a tomato. Did he just say that you are…perfect?

“You didn’t mean that”, you breathe out.

“Oh god I’m so sorry (y/n). Did he hurt you?”, the familiar voice of Yuji cries out.

Calm down your tingling nerves, your pounding heart. Sukuna’s gone. Sukuna…stood up for you. Sukuna said you have a perfect body.

What?

“N-No”, you stumble.

How are you supposed to get over this?

Gojo Satoru

Finally. You sit in front of the bar, excited by the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume that hangs in the air. After working your ass off for what felt like an eternity, you decided to use your day off right. You put on the dress that fits you best, packed your purse and went into the first bar you’ve seen.

Damn, when was the last time you were out on your own? With all your friends being out of town for vacation, this definitely is new.

“Not bad”, you mutter to yourself, eyes roaming around people making out, heartfelt laughter and a group of women sipping on their cocktails.

A cocktail, exactly what you need today.

“Hey, I’d love to order something”, you speak out when the waiter finally comes cross you.

What a lucky day, they even have your favourite cocktail in store. You’re usually not the type of girl to go out on yourself, but these last months, you truly learnt how enjoyable time can be with yourself as your only company. You smile to yourself. Yeah, this is definitely something you could get used to.

“There you go”, the friendly male announces and places the glass filled with joy in front of your hungry eyes.

You gift him the sweetest smile you have before taking a sip. Oh, this tastes absolutely amazing.

“I’ve never seen a woman like you alone in a place like this.”

Your heart drops to the floor in an instant, hands holding onto your glass tightly. Ew, a man is certainly the last thing you want to hear right now with the bartender being the only exception. Instead of even looking his way, you just take another sip of your well-mixed cocktail, the music blasting out of the boxes might make him think you can’t hear him and leave.

Honestly, there aren’t many things that creep you out more than men approaching you. Since you’ve reached puberty and your breasts starting to grow bigger and bigger, it almost felt as if you weren’t a person anymore. With rare exceptions here and there, most of them only talked to you because of one thing:

Your boobs.

Is the man sitting next to you one of them?

“Hey, I’m talking to you, gorgeous.”

Your whole body tenses up in an instant, eyes darting towards him by the sound of his harsh voice.

“Excuse me, I’m not up for a talk”, you bite back.

While you did meet genuinely nice men and have some male friends, the one sitting next to you certainly is one of the other categories. God, how much you hate it, being looked down at and reduced to the size of your breasts. You can’t even count how many times you’ve got commented on them, how many men and women just shamelessly stared at your bust instead of your face while talking to you. It’s safe to say you have enough of all of this.

“A woman who presents what she has like that is up for a talk and far more than that. Why would you come here dressed like a slut if you don’t want me to talk to you?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, all thoughts vanish into thick air. This disgusting guy with his beard filled with crumbs and breath stinking like the cheapest beer is definitely up for no good. You, dressed like a slut? You wear a basic black dress, the only one your boobs didn’t fall out when trying it on. What the hell is this creep talking about?

“Just because my boobs are big doesn’t mean I’m a slut. Watch how you talk to me”, you bite back.

“I talk however I want to a bitch like you. Are you up to go somewhere more…private?”

The scene that lays itself out in front of Gojo’s eyes is hard to bear. He doesn’t even know the woman in the black dress sitting in front of the bar, let alone the guy sitting next to her. But just one look into your disgusted face is enough to know that something isn’t right. How you cross your arms in front of your chest, your eyes filled with horror, the way you scoop backwards with every word this man says. Are you okay? He shouldn’t let other people’s business bother him. Fuck, wasn’t he here to get his mind off saving everyone all the time? Nah, he should enjoy his evening, drink that new whiskey they offer, just relax and-

You aren’t even able to comprehend what is happening next to you. He stretches out his hand, ready to touch your breasts without consent when another pair of hands stops him mid-air.

“I think the lady said no. Don’t ya think it’s a little over the top to go into a bar and touch a woman’s boobs?”

His voice might sound playful, but your blood freezes inside of your veins by the power he radiates. Just one glance into his face tells you he is like no men you’ve ever met.

“I…She…She said she wanted it to!”, the crumble beard tries to defend himself.

“I said what? Are you out of your fucking mind!? I told you to leave me alone and you harassed me!”, you clarify in harsh tone.

Oh, how much you’d love to break his nose right now, to give him a taste of his own medicine. But the white-haired man seems to have the same plans.

“A guy like you wouldn’t end up with her anyway. That lady has class. And you, my friend, are just a disgusting pervert. Are you touching other women too without consent? Isn’t your first time, huh?”

With a swift motion, he begins to twist the man’s hand around itself. He whines out in pain in an instant, face twisted just like yours before when he talked you down.

“Let me go!”, he cries out in visible discomfort.

“This is what you get for treating a lady so badly. You can be glad she even looked your way.”

When he gifts you a sly grin, you can’t help but blush. What is it about this man that feels so different, so damn inviting? He seems like no other men you’ve met before. And the fact that he just called you lady…Why do your knees suddenly feel weak?

“Now repeat after me: I.am.sorry.for.disrespecting.you.”

“I will not apologize to a girl who’s dressed like a slut!”

A loud crack makes the already muted room go completely silent, the violent scream coming out of this man’s mouth when his wrist breaks like spaghetti echoing through the room.

“Wrong answer”, the white-haired man purrs.

“Hey, would you mind just taking the trash out?”, the barkeeper questions.

“Did you hear that, dirty boy? Let me show you the way!”

“Are you alright? I didn’t even notice he was harassing you. I’m so sorry”, the bartender speaks out towards you.

“Oh, it’s okay.”

You aren’t even able to give him a real answer, eyes glued on the white-haired man who carries your harasser out like trash.

Like in trance you get back on your feet and follow him out into the cool air of the night.

“Have a nice evening!”, he friendly shouts after the man who sprints down the streets like a coward, as fast away as possible.

“You definitely scared the shit out of him”, you comment.

“He definitely deserved it. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m used to shit like that”, you reply with a huff.

“But normally, they aren’t this disgusting.”

“I hate to hear that. You seem like a genuinely badass and nice person. You didn’t deserve his words.”

“Not as nice as my knight in shining armour who stopped him from touching my boobs.”

He lets out a heartfelt laughter, bright blue orbs set on you.

“Hey, what about me escorting you back home? I’m totally in the mood to beat up any other men who gets in your way.”

“Only if you let me join, though”, you challenge him.

“Definitely a deal. Hey, what’s your name?”

“(y/n)”

“(y/n), huh? Cool name, suits you right? My name’s Gojo Satoru. Nice to meet you.”

He stretches out his hand in front of you, inviting you to take it. You can’t help but smile at his sheer excitement. No, you just have to take his warm hand into yours and shake it.

“Let’s get you home, okay?”

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee @lovelyluna1 @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @risuola @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @luwumii @kentocalls @cheesemachine44 @maya-maya-56 @jinririz @getou0309 @ieathairs

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

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cheesecakethots · 7 months

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i LIVE for the angst of a yandere initially being fucking awful to their darling after taking them, and overtime changing and becoming more loving, as well has having newfound and immense regret for what they’ve done. it is literally my fave yan scenario.

tw // pretty heavy angst, mentions of noncon

i specifically imagine it for shigaraki, going from being this disgusting manbaby who treats his darling like they’re nothing but a toy for him to use, only to later realise how much he loves them and mature in how he treats them, making his regret for the past even stronger.

him trying to coax his darling into coming out on a date with him - they can go anywhere, he doesn’t mind, darling has free reign to choose what they do. he tries to be so soft and quiet in his tone, as though not to startle them.

it’s only when tears start forming in their eyes and they mumble, “have i been bad?” that he realises how badly his past self fucked up.

the only other time he really took them out was when he’d decided they needed a punishment, and had made them stand and watch as he disintegrated the first group of people they saw out. he had then fucked them against the alleyway wall, bodies still around them both, just to really get the point across.

he wishes he could take back everything, but he can’t. as of now, he needs to take baby steps in order to bring you out of the very same hole he once caved into your mind.

(i love regretful yans urm send me some thots about them pretty please)

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darlingbabyboo · 8 months

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The Fluffy Life of Dating a Delinquent

Tokyo revengers boys and the little things they do (that I want because I'm lonely lol)

Warning: extreme fluff, just Tokrev characters being in love with you

Mikey is the type to buy snacks for you, no matter what. It doesn't matter what time of day it is, he's got some food for you too. He's calling you at 3am in the morning and telling you that he got you some chips, can he come over. He thinks sharing food is the best way to share love and well, he's right ❤

Izana will know everything about you. Your favourite colour, your favourite places to go, what you like to watch. Honey, he got you. You're his assignment and he's passing with an A+. He's the best person when you're sad because he knows exactly what to do. He can cheer you up in five minutes, tops.

Draken is so protective of you 😭. He knows he's well-liked and he's got an entire brothel, might as well take advantage of it. He wants to take care of you, and he knows you need boundaries and space sometimes but he lives a bit of a dangerous life, he needs to make sure you're taken care of. If someone actually got a scratch on your head he's killing them. No questions asked.

Hakkai didn't come from the best family. After the death of his mother, everything kinda fell apart. That's why he wants to start new traditions with you. Getting take out every Friday, matching accessories, whatever it is. He considers you family and he can't wait until you two pass down these traditions to your children.

Baji names cats after things related to you! Your favourite things to eat, do, whatever! Anything that's remotely related to you, that's the new name of the cat! Has given cats pet names that he usually uses for you, sometimes it's a bit confusing, but it's more so endearing.

You can say all you want about Kisaki but no one can say that this man isn't your biggest fan. You're the only one in his eyes but you're also the best. You got no competition but you're also destroying your competition with the twitch of your finger. Ain't it nice, to be someone's one and only 😆

Ran's ideal date is a sleep date. You two watching a movie on the computer, cuddled together under the blankets. He lasts half the movie but it's worth it because he has his hands on your waist and chin on your shoulder. He says he's not a cuddler but his grip on you is like iron, he will not let you move.

Mitsuya will fit you into his schedule no matter what. He's got two younger siblings and a Hakkai to take care of but he always has time for his baby. Yeah, he has three late assignments, five new outfits to make and grocery shopping to take care of, but please tell him about your day. Will take a break from what he's doing for his beautiful baby.

Might not look like it, but Benkei has the best hugs. You guys see him latting Shinichiro's head, now imagine those big strong hands wrapping around you. He's so warm and comforting, his hugs are meant for a higher power. Even if he's strong, he's incredibly careful around you. Big strong men being delicate for you despite their strength 🤤

Rindou makes mixtapes for you. You're always on his mind and when you're on his mind, he just makes a playlist for you. You and him probably share a Spotify account at this point with the amount of playlists dedicated to you. And they all have the same sappy titles 'to the Love of my Life'.

You ever see someone looking at their partner in the picture instead of at the camera. Yeah, that's Shinichiro. He knows that he was lucky to get you, and he's in awe that you still choose to be by his side. Now, the only time he smiling is because he's looking at yours 😁

Cooking together, the best and tastiest love language around. Fits that best boy, Angry has it! Will make your faves, and he HAS to learn food from your culture. He likes going on picnic dates because he can show off his skills to you, and he loves hearing your enjoyment (and you're the real winner with how delicious everything is). You two cook together. Though if you're one of those who are a mess in the kitchen, Angry's just happy to see you enjoy things he made. Pls praise him though, he won't say it but be revels in your praise. Your words are everything to him ❤.

Takemichi is loyal to the end. Don't worry about this boy lacking, he's here for you. He could be in a room of models but the only one he's got his eyes on is you. You're #1 to him 🥰

If you hate someone Chifuyu hates them even more. You say something bad about someone once, he despises them forever and wants to sell their soul to Satan. He will not forgive and he will not forget. He loves you and he will never get other people who don't feel the same.

Wakasa would quit smoking for you. The minute you cough around him, he's throwing his cigar away and replacing them with lollipops. No matter how much he might miss them, your lungs are more important 😙

Those things that you're obsessed with that no one else really cares about? Kakucho will erase those worries, easy. He doesn't mind your ramblings, encourages them. Will keep it all in his mind and remember them so he can participate deeper with things. Your interests are his interests hun!

Kazutora loves spontaneous dates so much. And he makes sure that you two go on them often. Wants to make sure that your relationship never weakens so he loves being around you, and the best way to be around you is doing your favourite things! He will sneak you out if need be so you two can have a picnic in the moonlight.

You need some support, good thing Sanzu offers it unconditionally. Going from things like you needing help on wash day to you needing to cover up a body, your bae's got your back. He might not enjoy doing everything, he's just a tad bratty, but no matter how loud he's complaining throughout, he still gonna do it!

Smiley will defend your honour! He hears some bitch talking about you, he won't let that slide. Blood will be spilled. Someone got something fun to say about your heavenly skin, he gonna kill someone. He's like Draken if Draken was an unhinged gremlin. He will beat someone up and then look at you with a smile on his face like, are you okay precious?

All your dreams of drowning in a strong man's clothes (that's a fantasy we all have, right?) are fulfilled with Mucho. He's so much taller than you (and if not, he's got muscles for days) so whenever you steal some of his clothes, you swim in them. It's a beautiful, comforting, amazing feeling.

Atsushi is the kind to learn how to braid just for you! He knows that going to a barber is expensive so he's got your back. He's doing goddess braids for you, cornrows, whatever you desire. And if you're not a braid person, well good thing he can learn how to!

Shion's pet names are ridiculous! Will call you baby cakes all the time and then start calling you pumpkin the next day. Is he doing this because he's stupid yes but he also likes to see your little smile. All he wants is your goofy little smile 😘

Takeomi is a planner, always, and you're always going to be part of his plans. When he's talking about the future, you're going to be part of it. It's so sweet how casual he is about it, you two will just be laying down in his bed holding hands and he'll be mentioning how good you'd look with a ring on your finger.

Hanma is secretly a romantic. He's an adrenaline junkie in the end though, so he spins things to an insane degree. Sneaking up a ferris wheel and kissing you under the moonlight, telling you to skip school so you guys can watch the sunrise and sunset, skinny dipping at the beach! If it's a bit too much, he gotchu. He's fine with both of you just hanging out on your bed or chilling in the bath. He's not your typical love interest, but he's surprisingly understanding and sweet 😍

Can y'all tell how deprived I am 😭. Also, not proof read because I'm lazy!

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murdrdocs · 19 days

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girlll i’ve been listening to cowboy carter and imagine like cowboy!luke who wants to get into your levii jeans (pun intended, one of my faves on the album) in the barn or underneath a tree after going horse riding whilst the sun was setting. idk if this makes sense but anyways levii jeans is so like coded

inspiration from @enviedear 's farmhand billy mentions of moonshine/liquor; southern!luke & southern!reader; outdoor fucking; fingering; luke is taller than r; MDNI 18+ w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

“don’t you have something better to do?”

luke is leaning against the entrance to your grandfathers stables, one ankle crossed over the other and his arms folded over his chest. there’s still a light sheen of sweat over his forehead, and his biceps have a pump from the work he’d been put through today. you don’t know if he just looks really hot in general, or if his looks have improved because of the time you two spent together last time you were here like this.

you shrug, pretending to be casual when you tell him, “no. not really.”

luke raises his eyebrows. "no friends to hangout with? what is it you city girls get up to? shop and club?"

he clearly senses that you have something better to do other than stand outside across from him and let the mosquitos take tiny bites out of your exposed skin, but you’re almost desperate to be close to him (despite his attitude) so you make up an excuse.

“it's tuesday, i finished my book, granddad 's watching jeopardy for the next hour, and the service out here is frustratingly bad.”

luke takes a step closer to you, not removing his arms over his chest even though you want him to in order to create more room. he stares down at you over the straight slope of his nose and squints his eyes.

“it sounds an awful lot like you just wanna be with me.”

while it’s true, you do want to be with him, he has no room to talk. now when luke wants you even more.

as soon as you’ve let your facade slip, he has his hands on your hips, roughly pulling you against him until the flys of both of your denim jeans are bumping together. your noses replicate the movement, the tips knocking together until luke smooshes his into the apple of your cheek while his hands cup your face. his boots give him an extra inch or two, which does nothing but make him even more taller than you. consequently, his shoulders are hunched over as his frame curls into yours, as if he's trying his best to engulf you.

you use your hands to get busy. at least, you attempt to. your fingers are over his belt buckle and you're starting to feed the leather through the metal whenever luke stops you. he pulls away from your lips with a deep breath, his eyes a little wilder than they were before you started as he shakes his head at you.

he doesn't say anything. nor does he need to. just the one movement is enough to get you to take your hands off his belt, and let him do what he pleases.

which is just as you expected. once, when luke was a little drunk off of your grandfather's moonshine and you were close behind him, he confessed to really liking your levi's jeans.

"the pair," he told you when you asked for clarification. "the ones that look like they've been fuckin painted on or something."

and it was just evil enough for you to wear them around the land anytime you knew luke would be over, just waiting for him to snap. you'll admit that he was able to hold his own for a while, but every man only had so much patience. and luke was, truly and honestly, nothing but a man.

a man you foolishly wanted, but a man nonetheless.

that being said, he knows how to please you like a man. a good man, at that.

the wood of a bench kept just outside of the stables digs into your bottom, and the wood of the building scratches against the crown of your head. there might be a new mosquito bite or two on the outside of your thighs, and a fly has been buzzing around you ever since luke had instructed you to sit here, but both are nothing but tiny nuisances whenever you have luke like this. sitting next to you with his fingers between your thighs. they had found their home as soon as he has your jeans slipped down until your boots prevented the fabric from going any further. he has his lips on one side of your neck, the other held by his free hand. his fingers are sprawled around the area of the side of your jugular, his thumb rubbing against your jaw when it isn't being used to maneuver your head to twist and turn according to his will.

inside of you, two long fingers pump and pump, pulling arousal out of you only to slip it right back in. soon enough, his calloused deft digits will be pulling an orgasm out of you. you vocally warn him of such while wrapping a hand around his veiny forearm.

"go ahead and let go." he says it like it's the easiest solution in the world. which, it is. but you don't want to cum if it isn't on his cock.

you don't have much time. jeopardy only lasts for so long and your grandfather can only be distracted for a certain amount of time before he comes to see what's taking his young new worker so long to finish tasks he knows luke can do in his sleep. reasonably, there isn't time for you to cum on luke's cock.

but you still beg, void of any embarrassment as you just want this one thing.

luke, ever the voice of reason, continues to shake his head.

"there's no time. just let go for me. i'll make it up to you later, sweetheart. promise."

and when he says it like that, with the thick drawl that you only knew previously to come out when he was drunk or tired, spoken next to your ear, you don't see how you could even consider denying him.

#southern!luke #celeste writes pjo #lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut

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blingblong55 · 4 months

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Rewards -Simon 'Ghost' Riley NSFW

Photo credits: @ave661

Based on a request:

So like.. here me out bro.. (I thought about this while doing dishes-..) Olderbf!ghost (23) x college!fy/n (20) Y/n was stressing about a paper that was half her overall grade,when she found out she made a 100/100 ghost took her shopping and went out on a date (the man needs his own reward to doesn’t he? Also now it takes place after their date) so when she was busy with extra work at her desk ghost came behind and started messaging her boobs.. so they went to the couch and cuddled as she sat in his lap she felt something poking her “hey ghostie? Is that your phone in your pocket?”“No love I don’t have my phone on me right now” And so she was flustered as he began to hold her hips and dry hump her (dry humping is one of my fave things 😘) anyways after their little “fun time” the next morning they had brunch (the rest of this isn’t important I just wanted to add it) they had brunch with some friends and ghost became touchy.. resting his hand on her thigh.. grazing her pantie lines.. after all he wants to reward his smart collage girl 😘😘

---- F!Reader, smut, older!bf Ghost, uni student!reader, dry humping, MDNI, thigh fucking ----

A/N: sorry it's short...but I hope ya like it :)

Finals week, books, lots of hours staring at paper or a screen, coffee and him, what a way to study. After long hours of taking the test, you come back home to him. You walk in and he is already waiting by the door. "So?" he asks nervously for the grade of the exam. "Seventy-five out of seventy-five." He smiles and wraps his arms around you, spinning you around as he does so. "That's my girl," he puts you down and gives you a big kiss.

After much talk over dinner and many kisses later, you went back to studying for the next exam, he was on the sofa next to your desk. Watching in awe as you study. You look at him and smile before going back to studying and that was enough to make him stand up, walk behind your chair and place his head on your shoulder. "Number nine is wrong, think again," his voice soft. Simon begins to let his big strong hands wander to your chest, cupping your boobs and massaging them. You lean back and close your eyes, he chuckles. "Let's go to the sitting room and cuddle, yeah?"

One simple nod from you and now, he and you lay on the couch, watching some shit comedy special and having lazy laughs throughout the night. Your warm back to his cosy chest, his lips meeting your neck, you smile and snuggle to his touch. Moments like these were rare, especially during such a stressful week but Simon always managed to make it so special for you.

His large hands go under your shirt once more, and he plays with your boobs, adoring the softens of them as he looks at the screen. You shift close to him and then you feel it, something hard poking your bum. "Hey, Simon? I think you left your phone in your pocket again," you look back just a little and catch him grinning. "S'not my phone, lovie," he nuzzles his face to your neck and kisses it. "…Oh," your cheeks flushed as you understand what was poking you. His hands, travelling down to your hips, he begins to dry hump you, his hardened cock being grinned at you. You let out a soft and needy moan. "Simon~" From your lips, a whisper leaves. "Shh, it's okay, lovie," his voice lower and darker as he lets out a grunt.

He slowly pulls his trousers down, lifts your skirt and removes your panties. "Lovie, let me fuck those pretty thighs, yes?" He asks as he begins to let his cock slowly get in between your thighs. His thrusts are slow and nice, his fat cock and balls hitting your thighs. "This is what my smart little girl gets," his voice is lower now. Your hands holding yourself from falling off. His moans so deep and hot, "Fuck, R/N, the things you make me feel," he moans, his cock twitching with anticipation. Your soft thighs are the perfect warmer for now.

His cum, leaking and painting your inner thighs with the sticky seed. You were more than aroused but he wouldn't reward you just yet, after all, good girls pass all their exams before getting the big and warm reward.

The next morning, as you celebrated yet another successful exam, your friend group all went out to brunch. He of course joined and throughout much of the meal, his warm hands played with your thighs. Caressing them, giving them a nudge anytime he felt your hands wandering on his belt. He knew your tricks all too well, and he took had some under his sleeve. He drags your chair closer to his, his thumb playing with the pantie line, giving you looks and teasing neck kisses.

He knows how to get you hot and bothered, so, he begins to whisper dirty jokes to you, telling you plans of what he'll do to you once home. "And then, I'm going to make you scream my name, lovie. Make sure your body is marked by me, my cum all over those pretty tits of yours," he whisper filled with nothing but lust. He can see you squirm on your seat, playing innocent to your friends as he gives you plans on how to make you more obedient.

And that is why you end up tied to the bed, a gag ball to your mouth as he tapes a vibrator to your thigh. Your moans muffled, as he spanks your cunt, smirks and chuckles when you let our cries of pleasure. "It's what you wanted no, to be used and rewarded, darling," he kisses your cheek before slowly fingering your cunt. Your eyes fill with tears as your third orgasm builds up. Your nod only leads him to praise you, "oh that's my good girl," he kisses your forehead and walks away, letting his little toys play with his good girl.

Tags:

@liyanahelena @ghostslillady @unicorngirly1 @under-the-dirt @greatstormcat @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @frizzseaberries @frazie99 @idkl2ols @katybaby00 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87

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lorelune · 17 days

Text

dreamer's envy

|| dan heng x reader || E/18+ || first time, comfort, lore || wc: 13.4k || ao3 ||

Dan Heng is haunted by the memories of a man he no longer is. You are all to willing to help him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: ahhh!!! beloved dh... df... yx... this fic is a bit of a love letter to reader insert character studies and ship fic. making my two faves kiss on the mouth fr. thank you so much to @yinyuedijun for beta reading along the way!! hope you enjoy 💗

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, previous dan feng/yingxing, descriptions of gore, descriptions of intimacy issues, author-created lore (plot crafted prior to penacony release), interpretations of HCQ lore, multiple characters experiencing post-trauma

NOTE: this piece is written in two points of view. one is from dan heng’s perspective, where the “you” he is referring to, is you, as in the reader. the other perspective is second-person pov where the narrator ('you') is dan feng. in these portions, 'you' have a cock and the assorted anatomy. these portions are written in italicized text.

Your hands shake. Your thighs tremble. Yingxing lays between them, your cock nestled in his mouth. It’s not sizable enough to hit the back of his throat, but Yingxing, ever the sensitive man, still has tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You stifle a moan into your hand, hastily slapped over your mouth.

Yingxing will not have it.

A strong, calloused hand grabs your wrist and yanks it. He pins your hand by your side, intertwining your fingers. He pulls off your cock with spit-slick lips and smiles.

“Beloved,” Yingxing speaks in a purr, soft and gentle and comforting against your ears. “You know I love to hear all of those sounds of yours. You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

There’s a hint of mischief to his voice. You huff and kick at his back.

“Hurry up,” you snap at him. There's a bite to it; you mean there to be. Yingxing only looks amused by your tone— the only one on the entire Luofu who could possibly look joyful, when met with your distinct ire.

“Can’t I take my time?” Yingxing asks, licking from your balls, to base, to the head of your cock. You’re— wet. Leaking pre down your shaft. “May I undo you, my flower?”

“You’re an awful man. I will have you imprisoned.”

“You’d never.”

“You’re right, I’d do worse.” You have so many ideas brewing behind your eyes— ways to punish this wretched man for toying with you. Treating you so kindly and with such humor and wit. There is no one else like him— no one else in your many, lonely years who has lanced you in the way that Yingxing has. How treacherous of him, to steal your heart.

“You’ll have to tell me all about the ways you’ll punish me,” Yingxing hums, pushing the tip of your cock against his lips. It’s obscene. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. “After you cum down my throat, though.”

Yingxing, that bastard of a man, takes you into his mouth against, bobbing his head, sucking and running the flat of his tongue over the bottom of your cock. It’s too much, all at once—

And how prettily you moan when you become undone (again) under this wonderful, awful man—

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dan Heng wakes up with such a start, he nearly vomits. He does dry heave, snatching the conveniently placed trash can nearby and dropping his head inside to sputter. Spit dribbles off his lips and falls in globs to the bottom of the basket.

He sets it aside and rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes.

Again.

Again, again, again— he has these dreams all too often. Of a life that is not his, of a lover that couldn’t possibly, ever be his. They’re visceral, vivid— as though Dan Heng is experiencing them in real time, and they’re not some awful figment that clings from a past life.

They plague him, simply. He hates every moment of them.

The pleasure of them feels poisonous. That man is not him. Yingxing— is not his. The body that writhes and gasps is not his own. He’s an onlooker, a distant stranger looking in on something intimate and dead. It’s torture, really, but Dan Heng is an expert is quiet endurance, so he copes.

He stands, still wearing day clothes, and drags himself from his sleeping bag on the floor. His companions on the Astral Express all stated their initial concern with his choice of lodging and lack of a bed, but they’ve since calmed. Everyone on the Express has their quirks. It’s like how March sleep walks, Stelle occasionally glows from her chest, and you only sleep once every few weeks and never in your own room. Dan Heng enjoys his spot in the Archives due to the various motors and machinery that lay under the floor. It’s warm, far toastier than any other room, or bed for that matter.

(He is not Dan Feng. However, Dan Heng cannot deny that his more draconic instincts are somewhat intact.)

Dan Heng throws on his slouchiest sweater, threadbare and worn, and wanders to the parlor car. An hour or so of pacing usually cures him of any antsiness, and he can nurse a cup of tea while he walks too.

This night, however, you sit in the parlor car as well. Dan Heng slows as he sees you.

You’re— an enigma to him really. Everyone on the express is a bit of a misfit, but you are a newer addition to the bunch, and he and the rest of the crew are still grappling with your oddities.

Dan Heng has, since the moment he first met you, accepted he would never fully understand you. He made peace with it, moved on and has kept his distance except when necessary. It is better this way.

You’re staring, side-long, out of one of the wide windows of the car. Your chin is perched on your palm and your perpetually blood-shot eyes are half-lidded. Dark circles are punched beneath them. You look like shit. You always look like shit, and you have assured the crew that this is normal, despite March’s initial fretting.

When you notice him staring, a kind smile curls on your lips and you wave, good-natured.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not the first time you two have met like this. The Parlor Car is empty, except the two of you and the dimly glowing whale fixture that hangs from the ceiling. It feels familiar, much more comfortable than the... unwelcome familiarity of his own dreams. “I’m just fetching a cup of tea.”

“Ah, a night cap?” You hum, and crack your neck. “Sounds needed. That last dream of yours was wild.”

Dan Heng frowns, “I’ve asked you before to quit that, please. It’s invasive.”

“I would if I could,” You shrug. “But, I can’t. Besides, your dreams are loud, Dan Heng. I’d be unable to ignore them even if I was at the back of the train.”

“Can you at least not mention them?”

“I mean, I can not. But... they clearly upset you, don’t they?” You tilt your head, eyes soft. “Would you like to talk about them at all? I don’t mind listening.”

“They aren’t your concern.”

“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t stop me from caring. I know they’re distressing.”

“You’re prying.”

“I’m asking, Dan Heng.” You sound a little desperate. Standing, you pass by him, in the direction of the passenger car. “You can say ‘no, my fellow Nameless, I would like you to never speak of me and my upsetting sex dreams,’ and I won’t ever mention them again. I don’t mean to be a thorn in your side, but the past is easier to bear in the present if you can lean on folks.”

Dan Heng is silent, stewing and stirring under his skin.

By the time he has a reply formulated, you have left the parlor car. The only sign that you’d ever been there to begin with is a patterned knit blanket left where you were sitting.

Dan Heng snatches it up before he can convince himself not to and returns to his room to add it to his ground-bound nest.

...

Welt had found you outside of a space station, idling around a refueling station. You’d been wearing a dirty utility jumpsuit with the emblem of some IPC-owned subsidiary screen-printed on the pocket. Your eyes had been glassy and far away. When Welt asked if you were alright, you had smiled and told him, “Actually, I’ve never been worse.”

The Express loves strays. It’s ultimately what he, Stelle, and March are. Welt to some extent as well, especially considering his several layers of mystery. Himeko has the disposition of a kind leader and the heart of a mother, and for all of Pom Pom’s fretting, they are always interested in a new face aboard the Astral Express, for however long they choose to be there.

It’s sensical that you were given a shower, a hot meal, and a room before you even fully understood what you were signing up for with the Express.

Dan Heng was, notably, wary of you. It was the way you looked at him after the first night you slept on the Express (one where he had predictably been plagued with images of a body that wasn’t really his being fucked and loved in a way Dan Heng couldn’t conceptualize his actual self receiving). There was clear concern etched in your expression, however you never voiced it. Not at first.

It was only after a few weeks that March pointed out you hadn’t slept since your arrival that you revealed your hand.

A bloodline blessed by the Aeon of Dreams, Sacha.

Dan Heng had heard of the Aeon, distantly. A seldom-traveled path, one for those with imagination run wild and a penchant for long naps. There were whispers that the Aeon was asleep, constantly. Otherwise, dead. Regardless, you bore the Godbeing’s blessing in some way.

You revealed this during a routine coffee break, just before Welt, March and Stelle descending to a little sandy moon. Perched on a chair, legs curled over your chest, you’d laughed when March pointed out your lack of good sleeping practices.

“I don’t need to, so I tend not to. It’s a difficult habit to break.”

You had explained to Dan Heng and Himeko that you and your kin, a race descended from a small planet from a dead solar system, all bear this blessing. No need for sleep and—

“I perceive the dreams of others.”

Dan Heng had questioned, immediately— “Perceive?”

“That’s the best way to put it.” You meet his eye and you look slack in your shoulders. Unbearably calm and tired. “What you dream, I experience along with you. The more I focus in, the more vivid it is.”

(Dan Heng is horrified and doesn’t speak to you for a week.)

After some significant, quiet panic, Dan Heng had politely asked you to not perceive his dreams if you could help it.

You’d told him you’d do your best.

And Dan Heng— appreciates the effort. Even if it's clear it's not working. You are so often up when he rises for his customary tea and jaunt, and tend to prod him a little. At least stop him to chat for a moment or tea. You’ll sneak in a cheeky comment or two, usually, but they’re so quick Dan Heng can’t do much more than blush and stumble over his next sentence.

You look highly amused and soft, those nights.

You never ridicule him, which he appreciates. More often you look pleasantly neutral, as if trying to emulate the aura of a familiar house plant near a skittish black cat.

(Dan Heng knows he is the skittish black cat.)

It’s— too much really. Dan Heng would rather bear it alone, take his cup of tea and do his laps, but he also can’t find it in him to tell you off too harshly. You tend to favor the parlor car, anyway. You get lost in the stars and galaxies they traverse easily. It would feel cruel to ask you to sequester yourself to your room simply so Dan Heng can brood more effectively.

Dan Heng does not know what to do about his own haunting (arousing) dreams, nor does he know what to do with you and your unfazed smiles.

...

You straddle Yingxing’s lap, thighs tense as you roll your hips. Your lover’s length grinds inside of you, stroking something small and hot and so good you could get drunk on it. You chase the sensation, selfish. Your hands are braced behind you, on Yingxing’s thighs as he is sprawled below.

His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a knotted mess. A hastily ripped piece of fabric binds Yingxing’s wrist together and secure to the stained wood of the bed frame. You were kind enough to carefully pull out his favored hairpin (a gift, one you commissioned him to make... for himself. Without his knowledge. Yingxing was moderately huffy about it until you tucked it into his hair yourself.) and set it aside.

Yingxing is not a weak man, but you are a Dragon, and therefore keeping him restrained and tethered is not difficult. Usually, you allow Yingxing the privilege of carving out your insides at his leisure and pace. There’s a sweet torture to it you have found yourself having grown fond of.

There is no other soul, mortal or otherwise, short-lived or long-lived, that you would allow to exert such control over you. Yingxing is an exception for you in so many ways. How dear this (foolish) craftsman has become to you.

“B-Beloved,” Yingxing’s voice is tight, strained. There’s sweat beading on his temples. “Might I persuade you into moving?”

You hum. Your tail wraps around his leg, from ankle to thigh and squeezes. The feathered tail flicks at Yingxing’s tense muscle and he jolts under you. A glittering laugh leaks from the corner of your mouth.

“Persuade me then.”

“Y-You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. And you still agreed.”

“I thought the great Yinyue Jun would grant me some mercy at least. Excuse my wishful thinking. I thought that my dearest husband would forgo being a brat for at least a single night—”

You scoff.

You roll your hips, slow and deliberate. Yingxing’s words are cut off, killed in his throat as his eyes roll back into his skull. Keeping your core tight, you bury his cock in your hole to the hilt. You’re flush together, panting. It’s a tight squeeze, it always is. But the slight burn is familiar and welcome as you throw your head back and moan.

The sound is sin. If any of the Preceptors knew what this man did to you, he’d be drowned in Scalegorge within the day.

Yingxing curses in a tongue you don’t know— it’s his mother’s language, he once told you. He tries to buck up into your heat, but you hold him down and steady. Clicking your tongue and racking your nails down his chest. Thin welts rise in your wake. Yingxing lets loose a choked gasp as you slide down on his cock. The stretch is so, so good. You crave this ache. You fantasize about it when you surely shouldn’t. It haunts your—

Dreams?

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dan Heng wakes up so hard it physically hurts. He gasps, muffling a half-there sound into his pillow. It’s shameful. He feels out of his mind as he flips onto his stomach and ruts into his nest of blankets. The friction is dry, scratchy, and barely enough. However— the phantom sensations of a dead lover crawl over him. Nostalgic and tragic and nauseating.

He comes with a sob that he prays no one hears. He stains the front of his boxers as he grinds his oversensitive cock against the wet fabric. It’s too much. He’s too sensitive. It hurts, but Dan Heng doesn’t know what else to do.

He feels ashamed as he sits up and runs a hand over his face.

It’s usually not this bad. Usually he can will away any arousal with logic. Reminding himself that the pleasant touch and face he remembers is long gone and was never his to have to begin with. Only on a few occasions has he woken up disoriented enough to forget himself to actually get off.

He needs to shower.

Dan Heng blearily leaves his room with his towel slung over his arm. The showers are on the other side of the passenger car. Dan Heng turns the spray on the highest heat, cooking himself as much as he can bear. There’s a latent energy in him that always swirls, begging him to push and pull the water around him, harness it for even a moment—

Before Dan Heng can entertain such things, he exits the spray, flushed bright red with his towel around his waist.

As he exits the shower, he finds you.

You’re perched one of the plush couches, tucked into a nook in the passenger car. Your signature blanket is not with you. You look— like shit. Dark circles stamped but your eyes look alight.

Dan Heng freezes as you notice him.

“... You alright?” You ask him.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure, bud?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

”You’re patronizing me.”

You stumble, “I don’t— I don’t mean to. That was just—”

“Please do not—”

“A lot.”

Your cheeks are flushed as you rub at them. Your gaze flits up to his then averts to the floor. You look... shy. It’s an expression he’s never seen you wear before, even when you were pulled onto the express filthy and in a heavily patched jumpsuit.

Something in Dan Heng’s chest squeezes. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels entirely too exposed. He’s not fully dry, and he can feel droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his shoulders. His throat bobs as he gulps you watch the movement with rapt attention.

He coughs.

“I asked you to refrain from viewing my dreams.”

“That one was loud.” You frown. “Incredibly loud. Like banging pots and pans, fireworks and explosives kind of loud. I couldn’t have ignored it, even though I very much want to. I’d love to give you your privacy, Dan Heng, but sadly the intricacies of your mind happen to make your dreams essentially unignorable.”

“Must you comment on them?”

“... I heard you crying after.” Your expression looks uncharacteristically torn up. Your lackadaisical smile and humor are nowhere to be found. “I was worried.”

“I can assure you, I am fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, regardless. The whole Express does.”

“I appreciate it. Though, it’s unnecessary.”

“Of course. Sure. Because you’re the paramount example of ‘not needing care’.”

“I’m self-sufficient.” This time, he frowns.

“You are.” You stand up and walk toward him. “‘Sufficient’ implies adequacy, not prosperity.”

“What are you implying?”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, “That you, Dan Heng, seem like you could use some help. I won’t pry at your past, I’m aware it’s not my place to do so— however routinely having uncomfortably vivid sex dreams about a man who you clearly have complex feelings about, probably isn’t good for you. There’s an inevitable amount of strain. One that I think that you’re ignoring.”

“What help do you think I need?” His voice remains level, but your proximity has him wriggling under his skin.

“... I— could be a decent listener. I have all the time in the world. I’m always around at night.” You struggle to meet his gaze, but after a moment, your usual, easy smile erupts on your face. “Or, would you prefer more... direct assistance? I could help with that too.”

“Speak plainly.”

“Was the last time you had sex with the man in your dreams?”

Dan Heng’s throat closes up. The cloudhymn that are under his skin thrum and encircle him, for just a moment. Your eyes widen at the colors and hum of it and jump back. You almost stumble. The surge of power and energy shakes the passenger car. The whale-shaped light fixtures dance above you.

Dan Heng swallows.

“And if it was?”

You look at him, really look at him, and your eyes soften. Your center looks wide and vulnerable despite the churn in the air, “Then, do you think it could, perhaps, be helpful to add some more recent, pleasurable memories for your dreams to play with?”

Dan Heng flushes so quickly, he feels faint.

The instinctual cloudhymns around him die in an instant. He retreats, a firm grip remaining on the towel around his waist to keep it in place. He mumbles out a hasty ‘goodnight’.

He is unsure if you hear him.

...

In the days that follow, neither Dan Heng nor yourself, bring up your proposition.

The next morning, you look expectedly exhausted, but do not prod or pry at him any further. You sit at the long table for breakfast and munch on a piece of bread and some jam while Himeko goes over your next destination.

The few times you look at him, your smile is lazy and easy, however you turn away quickly.

You continue to skillfully avoid him.

Dan Heng— feels a bit bad about it. Maybe a lot. If he enters common spaces like the parlor car or dining car, you quickly leave after a peripheral greeting. You must be doing so as to not tip off the rest of the crew that there’s some amount of… tension between the two of you. Under different circumstances, Dan Heng would have appreciated the purposeful discretion, however something about it irks him.

The Express’s next destination is a repurposed space station at the edge of a solar system. A false sun, powered by a Stellaron— something to that effect. Stelle’s bodily composition is of some intrigue to the scientists looking to craft a replacement, while other factions wish to harness the Stellaron more directly than a not-so-distant source of light and heat.

Himeko’s engineering expertise is being requested, along with Welt’s understanding of Imaginary energy. March wants to go due to the complex system of bioluminescent algae that teems in the space station’s plentiful aquaponics infrastructure. (“It looks so pretty! I need photos!”)

There are very few reasons for Dan Heng to accompany them; the party’s already full. There are even fewer reasons for you to join, who, despite all of your assurances, looks particularly haggard and worse for wear. Both March and Himeko mother hen you into staying aboard the Express to keep Pom Pom company.

Dan Heng should make an excuse to leave as well. Something in his gut tells him it would be best to keep his distance from you.

(It would be easier that way.)

However, Dan Heng finds himself waving goodbye to his companions as they dock at the small port. Pom Pom has requested at least a single treat from their excursion while they wave exuberantly from his side.

You stand on Pom Pom’s right, lazily waving as well. Your shoulders are slumped.

As Pom Pom aways to dust the fixtures in the parlor car, Dan Heng faces you and speaks without thinking.

”You should rest.”

You blink owlishly at him. “… That’s not necessary.”

”You don’t look well.”

”You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

”I am being serious.”

”So am I.” You roll your eyes and shrug.

You attempt to walk away from him, but Dan Heng finds himself reaching out to grab your arm. His hand wraps around your forearm securely, firmly.

You still, wide-eyed.

”You can sleep, can’t you?”

”… I mean, yes?” You frown, glancing at his hand then back to his face.

“Would it help?”

”Help what?”

Dan Heng deadpans. “You’re exhausted.”

”… Dearest Dan Heng, I am always in this state. I apologize if my withered countenance has caused you grief. I am fine.”

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. Your frown deepens.

“Being intentionally daft isn’t wise.”

You stare at him, “I’m not being ‘intentionally daft.’”

”I beg to differ.”

You mutter something in a tongue that Dan Heng doesn’t recognize. “What’s your deal? I apologize for getting into your business previously. I have been trying to give you ample space and shut out your dreams to the best of my ability. Is that not enough?”

”No.” No, no, no— that’s not really. It. Dan Heng isn’t sure what it is, but at this moment, his mood has little to do with your knowledge of his horrible, awful, persistent wet dreams, but something else. “I’m not upset at you for that.”

You stare and your hands ball into fists, “So, you’re really pestering me over my well-being?”

”Yes?”

”Aeons, Dan Heng.” You say his name in a croon and it makes him shudder. He wants to scream. “It really isn’t a big deal.”

”Is it straining you to not… perceive my dreams?”

Your expression goes blank. “I mean. Yes. But, it’s not a big deal—“

“You look awful.”

”You can’t have both.” You are clearly frustrated. Dan Heng’s grip is unrelenting. “I can’t— I can’t attempt to block out your silly sex dreams without a not-insignificant amount of effort. I’m either going to be very keyed into that pretty silver-haired man who you clearly wish was in your bed, or I’m going to look a bit more worse for wear. The latter, Dan Heng, does not bother me. Fretting over me isn’t going to make me less worn down.”

”And you just… don’t care that you’re tired?”

“I’m always tired.” You smile then, the same lazy, curling quirk of your lips that you so often wear, ever since the Express dragged you aboard from that rest stop. Dull-eyed and wearing a filthy utility jumpsuit. “I don’t want to cause you all any additional grief. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Dan Heng doesn’t know what to say.

“... That isn’t your choice.” The words feel paltry, half-there.

You pull your arm from his grip, thumbing at the spot where he held you. Your soft day clothes have rumbled under his grip, “That’s hilarious, coming from you, Dan Heng.”

“This is different.”

“How so?”

“Because—” Dan Heng clicks his tongue. Something— something simmers just under his chest. Something bigger than himself, salty like the sea and heavy like green stone that writhes as you stare him down. “Because my dreams are my business. The man— men— in my dreams are my ills to carry. They should not affect my present. You shouldn’t be affected by them.”

“Well, crazy, but I am—” You go nose-to-nose with him and huff. Dan Heng backs into a railing behind him, back curving. “Because I don’t like seeing you in pain—”

Something kicks Dan Heng’s shin and he hisses. You jump away from him with a stumble, looking down at a glowering Pom Pom. Their tail twitches.

“No fighting in my parlor car!” Pom Pom huffs. “Does Pom Pom need to get Miss Himeko’s ‘get along’ shirt?”

“That’s not necessary,” Dan Heng rushes to say.

You’re already walking away, out of the parlor car with a shake of your head and one last wistful look.

...

You tear your heart from your chest.

It is expectedly painful, even if you braced for it. Even if in your deepest meditations, you simulated the pain of such a loss with cloudhymn to prepare for this moment, on the off chance you would need to lose your heart from between your ribs and give it to your beloved. So few of Long’s scions retain the ability to rebirth with multiple hearts— only a handful of high elders, really. You can imagine what they will say about you, think about this act you’re committing.

Sin. And a painful one.

The blade in your hand clatters to the ground as you hold your heart in your own palm. It’s large— a dragon’s heart. It will not fit in the chest of a mortal.

(But, you will make it fit.)

Yingxing is— is— he’s dead. He’s a corpse on the ground below you. One of his arms is missing, while the other is twisted at a most unnatural angle. His star silver hair is a tangled knot in the dirt, Yingxing’s favored hairpin shattered somewhere in the foreground. The color is no longer pure. It’s a dirty scarlet. A mix of your beloved’s blood and Shuhu’s.

Yingxing’s eyes are half open and dull. Purple turned bruised-petal lilac. His lip is split and blood trickles from the corner of his lips,

This is not to say anything about his middle which is—

Not really there.

It makes inserting the heart easier. You think so anyway. Your hands shake (they never have before, not like this) and you cry (you have not cried like this before) as you shove the heart into Yingxing’s necrotic chest. You have to further break his ribs to shove your heart into him. Cloudhymn spins around you— a storm, a gale for you. It dulls the screams from your younger companion begging you to stop. A beast roars in the distance, above it all. The sound makes the air tremble and split. Your ears would bleed, were you a weaker species.

(A necessary sacrifice— she— she was already dead. Past saving. You only have two hearts. One which is yours and one which is now—)

Yingxing’s.

Your beloved flinches. Lurches as unnatural growth burgeons from him. He wails on the ground as magics spin within him. You are doing the most unholy thing to him. But, you must, right? You cannot lose him. You cannot lose Yingxing. You have given everything, always, as every self, to your role and its meaning— can you not have this one thing? May your beloved not stay by your side, however unfair and painful the circumstances?

Unblemished, ghostly pale tissue regrows from Yingxing’s body at an alarming pace. It rejoins his upper and lower halves together as he screams.

Yingxing’s hands wrap around your neck and you’re shoved into the dirt. You are not expecting the force and the impact, even less so. The air knock out of you and the cloudhymns shudder. The magics are thinner for a moment, you could see your other companions if you chose to. You could see how many Xianzhou cloud knights have fallen to the beast you created.

You ignore them.

You ignore them all to look up at your beloved. Eyes now a wild red, teeth glimmering white and stained with blood. His hair has darkened, silver turned dark, like it had been dipped in thick, viscous oil. Yingxing bares his teeth and screams at you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAN FENG!”

—!

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Dan Heng awakens to a silent Astral Express. The trainship is still docked and it’s running on ancillary power in the meantime.

It’s entirely too quiet. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

He scrambles to grab at his own chest— there’s no gaping hole. There’s no— there’s no blood on his hands (not real, material blood anyway . Various parties would beg to differ as to if he has any actual blood on his hands. But, the past is the past, isn’t it? These dreams are the afterimages of the life of a deadman. That’s all they can be. The man that chases him across the universe bears a different name and a younger face. The man who will always make time for him on a Godship, so very far away, may use his name ‘Dan Heng’, but is that who he truly sees when he looks at Dan Heng?)

Dan Heng dry heaves into his hands.

He barely manages to crawl to the little bathroom attached to his room to puke his brains out. He hasn’t had much of an appetite over the past few days, and most of what comes up is water, pile, and half-digested rice porridge.

By the time he withdraws and flushes, wiping his hand over his mouth, he feels winded. Disgusting. Sweaty and entirely too wet.

Shower.

Dan Heng methodically grabs his few supplies and walks across the silent Astral Express to the showers. He could take a bath— maybe it would help. March keeps minty bath products out and available that are so strong that they tend to pull any of the Express’s passengers out of a funk if used. There’s a little basket of them in the tiled common area of the baths. There’s a hand-written note in March’s perfect scrawl that says “Please take one❤️!)

Dan Heng snatches a few before picking his favored, individual shower. There’s a little atrium before entering the shower itself, where he sheds his drenched bedclothes and hangs them, along with his towel. He turns on the shower and idles for a moment, listening to the dull roar of it.

Water splashes onto him in droplets. There’s a (dormant. Dormant. He swears it’s dormant) instinct to ball the errant water up and toy with it with cloudhymn. The pearl that idles in the center of Cloud Piercer has many different ways to harness its power beyond a weapon of steel that—

(Isn’t his, is it?)

Dan Heng wants to vomit again. He steps into the spray before the nausea overtakes him.

The spray is cold— he usually takes cold showers, regardless of if it’s after a particularly intimate dream. He prefers cold water. He enjoys cold baths, but they’re a luxury he enjoys only once in a while, and usually for the better part of a day. He’ll stay submerged for what would be a worrisome amount of time (if he didn’t bear the spare parts of imbibitor lunae) and, despite his assurances, worries the rest of the crew. As sedentary and reclusive as Dan Heng can be, camping out in the baths for the better part of a day causes a stir amongst the express.

They’re a treat, a bothersome one.

Now, he washes himself thoroughly. It’s a mechanical and rhythmic thing. It soothes him. His breath comes steadier.

Dan Heng hasn’t had a dream that unpleasant in quite some time. He has always had the more gruesome— of tragedies beyond this knowledge. But, they’re rarer. He is haunted more frequently by memories of pleasure and that almost makes the shadow of Dan Feng more cloying. The gruesome are just that— gruesome. He has put together pieces of Dan Feng’s sin, though he refuses to touch the Archive’s documents ported from the Luofu on the subject.

Ignorance is bliss and Dan Heng feels knowledgeable enough. The breach between his own memories and Dan Feng’s is less solid than it once was. Dan Heng will more than likely find out with time.

It despairs him for a moment as he turns off the water and towels off. He feels— more lucid. Better.

He’s surprised that you haven’t sought him out.

There’s— no way you didn’t perceive that dream. Dan Heng can’t be entirely sure what you mean when you call a dream ‘loud’, but he knows the very real pain he felt during it could constitute as such. He listens closely as he dresses in new bedclothes. The Express is still quiet aside from machine hum.

Dan Heng could check on you. He thinks about it. Your room is just past Stelle’s and considering you weren’t in the parlor car, you’re probably there.

You shouldn’t have seen that. But, it’s not like Dan Heng can help it, right?

The tangle of feelings within Dan Heng writhes as he exits the showers. It grows even more unruly as he notes a change in the parlor car.

Resting on one of the plush seats is a hastily folded blanket, a still-steaming cup of tea, and a small, folded note.

Dan Heng approaches and reads.

i’ve noticed you like my blankets. take this one. it’s one of my favorites.

have some tea and rest if you can.

— [name] ╰(*°▽°*)

The penmanship is shaky, and clearly quickly written. None of the paper’s folds match up with each other. There’s a spill of tea on the coffee table that looks half-wiped away.

Something heavy settles in Dan Heng’s gut. He gathers the blanket, the tea, and your note and heads back to the archives with a pit in his chest.

Like he’s still missing a heart.

...

Things come to a head a few days later. The rest of the Astral Express crew is still sorting things on the space station, and you and Dan Heng only have so much space to dodge each other.

And, truthfully? Dan Heng stopped avoiding you the day before yesterday. Now, he is actively (read: passively but passionately) trying to seek you out. This involves listening keenly for when you leave your room, but lately, those trips are few and far between. And always occurring while Dan Heng is asleep. Pom Pom confirms this, looking increasingly uneasy at the clear tension between the two of you.

Dan Heng— doesn’t know what to do. He is good at running from his problems. He put Cloud Piercer through— Blade’s chest any number of times and hopped to the next planet more times than he cared to think about. He ran from the shackling prison, the Luofu, and its General without looking back even in a cursory way. Dan Heng finds sentimentality to be a new feeling, a new fixture within his person and does not know how to handle it. He does not want to run away from you— he wants to run toward you.

The blankets of yours (three in total) are in his nest. He paces the passenger car each night hoping you’ll reveal yourself. He hovers outside of your door, hand poised to knock, but he never does.

He does not know what he’d say.

Dan Heng does not have confidence in his words in that way. He can speak well— it’s an overhang from Dan Feng, and he is grateful for it, but on more than one occasion, March has (rather explosively) shouted at him for being so... blank-faced in the heat of an emotional conflict. The two of them occasionally do butt heads, usually when March is attempting to run headfirst into a situation without proper forethought, and those encounters have ended with March tearfully screaming at Dan Heng to just be “honest with his face!”

His lack of expression is also an overhang for Dan Feng.

No matter how well-crafted his sentences and well-spoken his words, Dan Heng cannot connect them to how he feels... effectively. It’s disjointed. Like armor made with incorrectly sized plates that cannot possibly be pieced together. Clothing created with a misdrawn pattern, never able to be sewn in a wearable way.

If he were to face you, he is certain he will not be able to voice how he feels.

He can at least— do something. Give you something, since you seem so hellbent on leaving him special tea blends you’ve stashed away and BLANKETS.

(Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?)

Dan Heng stops trying to run from you. He resolves to do something or say something because it's better than the widening rift that’s currently being run through the Astral Express, between the two of you.

Dan Heng gets his opportunity in the late evening. He’d— feigned sleep. Intentionally. A deep state of meditation for long enough that you might think he was enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, however, he’d only be idle, waiting for sounds of any of your activity in the direction of the parlor and meal car.

Dan Heng hears your door slide open down the hall as he sits upright, cross-legged in his nest of many blankets and pillows. Your steps are quiet, the lightest pad against the flooring outside. He strains to hear you.

He does notice, however, how you move even slower as you walk past his door. So clearly intentionally trying to keep quiet for his sake.

Dan Heng waits a few minutes until he’s certain you’re either in the Parlor Car or Meal Car before uncrossing his legs and bounding from his room. He means— to be more put together about this. But, he’s nervous he’ll miss his chance, and you’ll retreat, and be gone for longer—

Dan Heng finds you in the meal car, poking over cold dinner leftovers with a sullen expression. Your brows are heavy, eyes dull. You look— awful. You always look awful, he’s sure you’ll assure him, but now you look bad. You look ill. Unwell. The oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders billows in an uncomfortable way. It has too many undone buttons, leaving a deep v, exposing too much of your chest.

You look up at him, eyes widening.

“I thought you were asleep.” You say softly, putting down the tongs you had been using. You didn’t bother picking up any food, your little bowl is entirely empty.

Dan Heng opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut a moment later.

Your eyes soften and you sag. You look like you could melt into the Express’s floor at any moment. Your eyes radiate... pity.

“Did I wake you? I try to be quiet.” You laugh, looking sidelong, out one of the many windows. “Sorry about the fuss. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dan Heng is frozen.

You idle, only for a moment, holding your breath, before shaking your head minutely. It— it makes his palms sweat. You try to shuffle past him. Dan Heng is blocking your only exit, and you attempt to side-step him as he gapes at you, unmoving. Unsure.

Dan Heng grabs you by the forearm as you pass.

He holds you there. Steady. His grip is firm and unyielding. Maybe too tight, based on your sharp intake of breath as you wobble in place. Dan Heng steadies you with his other hand. Without— thinking, his palm lands on your ribcage and you jump with the contact.

You stare at him, wide-eyed.

And you face each other.

“You’re avoiding me.” Dan Heng speaks first. His words feel sure, but there’s a sticky feeling in his chest.

“... Perhaps.” You smile easily, despite how worn you look. “It seems like you have a lot on your mind. I didn’t want my presence and what it entails to burden you, dearest Dan Heng. I apologize if that wasn’t clear.”

“What do you mean by your ‘presence and what entails’?”

You look like you’ve been punched. Dan Heng feels ill.

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Please be straightforward.

“Kind Dan Heng, I am—”

“Please, explain yourself.” Dan Heng feels— frustration bubble up into the back of his throat. It’s acidic. He looks from the grip he has on your arm to your face, lingering on the chapped lines of your lips before meeting your eyes. “Why do you think you would burden me?”

You look at him sadly, “I thought we’ve been over this.”

“We haven’t, to my knowledge.” Dan Heng frowns. You look like you’ve been slapped.

“I apologize.” You shouldn’t be. “Dan Heng, don’t I know too much?”

He locks his jaw.

You continue. “You’re an incredibly private person. I don’t want to know about a past you’re clearly not comfortable sharing. I cannot help what I am able to perceive, however I can create some distance between the two of us, so as not to suffocate you with the fact that I know about your dirty laundry without your expressed consent.”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry.

You’re an unbearably earnest individual. As mysterious as you make yourself, you don’t tend to lie. You’re blunt in a way that’s disarming, heart flayed open as if rended with a short, sharp blade, on display for anyone who would like to view and poke at it.

“I apologize for communicating that more effectively,” You add more softly. You place your hand over his, the one bracing your arm. You squeeze. “It must be hard to bear those things, and you’ve made it clear you wish to do so alone. I want to respect that and you, Dan Heng. My door is always open, but I thought it might be easier for you to not... be reminded so easily, by my presence.”

Your eyes are wet as you look away from him, to the floor. You take the smallest, most guarded intake of breath. It looks like you’re trying not to cry.

Dan Heng feels something cold and large in his chest. Big enough to swallow him whole.

He says your name, even and unwavering, with the weight of the sea behind it. You glance up at him, straining to give him your same lazy, forced smile—

And he kisses it off your lips.

It’s not an action Dan Heng thinks about. You’re almost close enough to feel each other’s breath regardless. One moment, he is staring at you with his own frown, and the next his lips are on yours, tilting his head to search for the best angle. The force of the action has you stumbling back into the wall behind you. The hand he kept on your ribs moves to your waist, bracing you.

It takes a moment for you to react. A startled little (whimper, a whimper) sound gets muffled by his lips as he cradles your jaw. Deepening the gesture. You react and— return it. Moving your lips against his, leaning into his grip.

Only to freeze, and shove at his shoulders a moment later, “W-Wait.”

Dan Heng pulls back, panting.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him. There’s an urgency in your voice like you’re scared. You nervously run your hands up and down his arms. Dan Heng doesn’t even think you’re aware you’re doing so. “I— I offered sex to you seriously, but— don’t just take my affection because you want to close the distance. There’s other ways to be intimate, you know?”

“I’m aware,” says Dan Heng. Your lips are just barely kiss bruised. He wants to make it worse. It’s an easier expression of the gulf in his chest that writhes with your closeness. “However, I want to fuck you.”

The dullness of your eyes is stolen as they widen. Heat rises in your cheeks. You’re stunned speechless.

...

Dan Heng wants to eat you.

As in, he wants to have you in his mouth, under his teeth and tongue, and get you in his gut so you never go away again. It’s— a draconic instinct. Something carnal and old that could swallow him alive. It is another overhang from Dan Feng. Such bloody impulses aren’t... uncommon for Dan Heng. However, he has learned to temper them with training, combat, and more recently, some expression of cloudhymn.

Never sex, however. Because your initial guess was correct. Dan Heng has not ever had sex, and the last time Dan Feng had had sex, he is fairly certain was a teary, bloody affair with a half-dead, bloodied Yingxing.

This encounter, however, is very different.

There is no swirling Scalegorge and broken, coral-lined streets. There is no sand grating against his knees over Yingxing's almost-corpse. There is no tempest of his own making, cracking the sky in two, and tearing the world asunder.

Rather, there is his nest of blankets and pillows, and your soft body below him. He straddles your waist, protecting the curve of your thighs with his own. The lights of the Archive’s room are dim, the machine hum below is lulling background noise and comforting. And you— you’re warm— not cold or bloodied. Your eyes are soft, but keen in a different way from the man in the echoes of memory. There’s no sharpness to you, not in your words or your presence.

You’re gentle as you cup Dan Heng’s jaw and drag him closer to kiss him.

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” You murmur against his lips. “Are you sure you want this?”

The question makes him— angry. He still doesn’t know how to voice it, so instead he pressed you down into the floor. A bodily expression.

Your hands tangle in his hair and stroke at the lower curve of his skull. It’s gentle, rhythmic and lulling. It’s nothing like—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears at your scalp, hands wound into your long hair. His cock is buried in your throat, bullied there at your request. He’s seated so deep that your nose is buried in the bristly, silver hairs at the base of him. His scent is intoxicant, musky and unclean. Instinct tells you it’s impure, but you have learned that’s conditioning.

You want to swallow him whole.

You swallow around his cock as Yingxing grinds into your throat. You gag, you always do, but Yingxing ignores you in favor of fucking your face with more vigor. The sounds that drag from you are obscene. Ugly things, guttural sounds. Tears drip down your cheeks, spit down your chin—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You kiss him softly, pliant beneath him and snake a hand lower, easily. It’s practiced. Like you’ve done this a hundred times. The rhythm of intimacy seems easy. You palm over his increasingly hard cock and smile against his lips.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, voice soft and curling.

Before Dan Heng can reply, you’re licking up his jaw, to his ear. You nip and suck and Dan Heng can’t help the way his eyes roll back in his head. He groans, rolling his hips against your hand. The friction is dry, but it’s something. Something new and different and not an arousing nightmare. But an arousing reality.

He moans at the contact. The sound startles him.

You seem pleased as you hum against his ear and kiss down from his most sensitive spot, lower, licking over skin with practiced motions. You nip at his collarbones, laughing under your breath when Dan Heng twitches with the pressure of it.

Dan Heng feels— thoroughly disarmed. The feeling grows more intense as you coax him to flip your positions in the next moment.

His back hits the mound of pillows softly. You cradle the back of his head as he moves and massage his scalp.

It’s— the care of it that feels different. There was clearly care between Dan Feng and Yingxing. Too much, in Dan Heng’s opinion— (they shared the kind of care that tore history asunder, love so brilliant and cloying that it could only bring sticky destruction). The kind you give him is different. There’s a warmth in your gaze which is foreign. Yingxing held passion and a brightly burning heat that would surely burn itself out too young. Branding heat.

Yours is tender, the warmth of a hearth you stacked and lit yourself. You beckon him closer with a smile on your lips and hands tangled in his hair. You tug on it, with the barest edge of pain. Dan Heng likes it.

Your knee slots between his thighs, something to grind onto. He can’t help the way he yearns for more contact, and seeks the friction. His pants are too tight, but he doesn’t want to remove them yet.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears off your clothes. Your finest robes— the ceremonial ones, silks with intricate embroidery and beaded with perfectly cut crystals— are in tatters by your bedside within moments. Yingxing’s want is unyielding. The lips that move against your own are so much, and so good. You crave it. Yingxing licks into your mouth and you moan loud enough for your entire home to hear. Never mind your attendants and preceptors.

Let them talk. Let them gossip. You have never cared for legacy regardless.

Yingxing rips away your undergarments. Gossamer things, thin and mostly see-through. You’re already hard, leaking, aching for touch. Yingxing spits on his palm and strokes you. He doesn’t stop as you squirm. You’re not used to touch, especially not like this. No matter how often Yingxing takes you like this, your body cannot fully acclimate quickly.

It takes a moment.

Yingxing uses this to his advantage. He holds you like he has something to prove as he swipes away pre from the head of your cock and licks it off his thumb. He looks smug, smitten, vibrant, and enthralled.

“How many times can I make you come tonight?” Yingxing purrs, voice rough and silken all at once. You feel your cock twitch in his hand. He smirks. “What if I break you?”

“I’d throw you through a window.” You snap at him.

“You wouldn’t.” Yingxing rubs down to the base of your cock and plays with your most tender parts. You try to kick him and he catches your ankle. Yingxing, the bastard he is, presses a kiss to your ankle. Reverent. “You like it when I break you.”

“You’re terrible.”

“And I’m yours. And I’d like to make Yinyue-Jun cry tonight.”

It’s— humiliating the way he speaks to you sometimes. He adores you. He loves you. And for that reason, he knows he can get away with goading you on and shoving you around as he does. He knows intimately what it all does to you. The way your cheeks flush and your cock leaks down its shaft are enough of an indicator. No one sees you bare. Just— him.

Just him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng starts to remove your clothes.

You seem surprised when he does. You try to take over the task yourself, but Dan Heng bats your hands away.

He wants to do this.

Dan Heng is methodical with each button and overly careful. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, noting how it hastens as he works on the last few buttons. The garment is pushed off your shoulders and discarded into his nest.

Seeing you bare is— vulnerable. Surely. You attempt to smile but— Dan Heng sees the cracks in it. As lax as you try to be, this is something different for you as well. Another mystery woven into you that Dan Heng wants to pick apart.

He rubs at your hips, up your ribs and to your chest. You gasp with his touch, leaning back to brace yourself on his thighs. It exposes you more, and— gives him more room to indulge. He cups your breast and steels his resolve when you whine.

Dan Heng has never done this. He wasn’t sure he ever would. It feels foreign and odd to touch you this way, but Dan Heng likes it. The heat that rises in your cheeks when he pinches your nipples. The soft puffs of breath and the sweat of arousal that’s growing on your temple. You roll your hips down onto his clothed cock, seeking the same contact he does.

There’s a tumble to it then. The task of disrobing continues, and you end up entirely nude on top of him, while Dan Heng is still fully clothed.

“... Is this more comfortable for you?” You ask. You aren’t... shy about your body. But there’s an unfamiliar squirm in your upper half that Dan Heng reads as discomfort.

You’re exposed. He is not.

“Somewhat.” Dan Heng lays his hand flat over his navel. He imagines what his cock would feel like inside you and he nearly blacks out.

“Why?”

Dan Heng thinks for a moment—

(It’s because Dan Feng liked power. He loved the games where he could have all of the power and control in his hands, and those where it was torn from him as well. He reveled in both. This— want is an afterburn. One that is not Dan Heng’s. Just like every other thought of intimacy and sex that Dan Heng has ever felt—)

“Dan Heng,” You breathe his name and pet his cheeks. You’re closer now, chest to chest. “Can you tell me why? It’s okay if you can’t.”

“It’s too complicated.”

“... Could you try to tell me, still? We have time.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“You can. After.”

Dan Heng frowns at you. He wants to tell you that— he wants it now. And that patience is something he has in spades but you are testing the limits of. Your poking and prodding, he wants to toss it aside in favor of the literal you in his lap.

He wets his lips as you look at him expectantly. You stroke over his cheek, soothing him as if he were an angry kitten.

“I like that—” Dan Heng starts, and his words die in his throat. What he wants to say—

(“I like that I can see all of you, while not revealing any of myself.”)

You seem like less of a mystery like this, bare and sweaty over top of him. There’s less of you that you can obscure. You’re not hiding from him, dodging him, or flaying him open with honesty while so much of you remains tucked away. You cannot hide your own arousal. Your cheeks are hot with it, your pupils dark and dilated, and your lips are licked and wet.

“Hm?” You hum, a devious smirk stretching over your lips. You grind down onto his cock, with enough pressure that it almost hurts. His eyes roll back into his head. “Can’t you tell me, Dan Heng? Why do you like hiding the way you do?”

Dan Heng stills, opening his eyes to blink at your incredulously.

“... Why do ‘I’ hide?” Dan Heng asks. His tone is rude. He internally slaps his own wrists then forgives himself, because in the next moment, you have your palm over his cock, gripping the length of him through the fabric of his pants. You flick your thumb over where the head is concealed and look smitten with the way his hips jolt.

“I am not a fool.” You toy with the button on his trousers. “Dan Heng, the Nameless, who hides and hides and hides. And feels so infinitely bad when a single card in his hand is revealed. The shame you carry, doesn’t it burden you?”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry, “I—”

“You can hide like this. I won’t stop you,” You hum, still smiling, still lax in the shoulders. You run a hand up his navel, over his shirt, careful to retain his frail modesty. “Perhaps a bit bashful, yes. But, you’re hiding. How can you crave intimacy when you’re seeking it from behind a veil? Dearest Dan Heng, I will indulge you, because you are dear to me, but will it be fulfilling—?”

You prattle on.

Dan Heng is... seething. Quietly and carefully. Because, you are not wrong. There’s truth to your accusations. You speak no lies, yet the way you’re... delivering the truth is frail and in fragments. Your own eyes look hazy. Your touch grows shaky. Your voice is too soft around the edges for the sharpness of your words.

Dan Heng—

He knows that look.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You have never had sex before.

You’ve read about it, because your Preceptors made sure you did when you were young. This was in the case that you were raped, that you would know what the experience was, so it could be reported in an appropriate and timely manner.

Your exposure to sex beyond that was minimal. Though Vidyadhara copulated, it was not for the sake of procreation. It was based in pleasure, supposedly. You had learned that the humans and foxians of the Xianzhou had sex for the sake of pleasure and power which... you cannot understand. You don’t endeavor to understand it, as you have all of the power that you need.

(You are naive for this, you will learn in time.)

The first time Yingxing implores you to have sex, you know the rote motions. You assume— that since he is a human, this is what he wants from you. You let Yingxing push you down on your own mattress, and you lay there. Yingxing speaks as he disrobes himself, then tends to you.

Each layer of clothing he removes from your body feels like you’re being cut with a knife.

You haven’t let any attendants dress you since you learned to adeptly use Cloudhymn to assist yourself instead. You frequently wear three, sometimes four, layers of silken clothing, even when you are around your own home.

No one sees Yinyue-Jun bare.

And yet, Yingxing peels back each garment without much reverie. He undoes metal and mother-of-pearl clasps with a dexterous flick of his fingers and a dashing, sharp-toothed smile over his lips.

You look down at his own chest when he pushes away the final layer. Your skin is milky, untouched cream. You’re too skinny, the muscle you have is wiry without enough fat. You watch your own chest rise and fall— so quickly. Too quickly.

When you look up at Yingxing, whatever smile he had worn is gone. He wears concern so transparently over his brow as he cups your cheek. His lips move, and you do not hear him. Your own lips still move, an instinctual reply even if you do not register your own words. You can predict what you’re saying.

(“I am fine.)

(“There is no need to worry about me.”)

(“You are foolish for worrying about me.”)

Yingxing softens after you speak, and thumbs over your lips. The pads of his fingers are rough. You can feel the heat callouses, born of friction and incidental burns. It’s so much different from your own flesh, constantly-healing, pure and so rarely bruised.

Yingxing deftly falls to your side, and scoops you in his arms. He smells like iron and smoke. You’re stiff at his side.

He speaks directly in your ear, nosing the shell of it, “As much as I would love to bed Yinyue-Jun, I can recognize when I need to be a gentleman about it.”

“... Pardon?” You swallow. Your voice is foggy in your own ears.

Yingxing’s hand settles on his hip. He pulls back just enough to look at you, nose to nose, violet eyes soft in the amber sway of candles in the room.

“Yinyue-Jun is very brave, for a virgin.” This time, Yingxing smiles like a menace. You punch his back and he seems unperturbed. “Let’s take our time. You have plenty of it, and I have enough to show you how to enjoy this well.”

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng understands, then.

In a smooth motion, he raises his palm to fit over your mouth. You stop speaking beneath it, and you snatch his wrist up in your own grip.

“If I am hiding, then so are you,” Dan Heng says. There is no waver to his voice anymore. “And you are terrified.”

You freeze above him.

It’s enough of an opening for Dan Heng to knit his legs with your own, and drag you down into his nest. He wraps his arms around you, chest-to-chest (covering you, hiding you himself, keeping you safe and sating that fanged, draconic howl in his chest that will never fully quiet). You remain stiff in his arms, eyes wide and you’re not smiling.

Your gaze flickers up to his and holds it, unrelentingly.

“I don’t mind doing things scared.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Will you enjoy it if you’re scared?”

“... Maybe less, but it’ll feel nice.” You shrug, nosing at his jaw. “I like you, Dan Heng. I wouldn’t have offered sex if I didn’t want to have it.”

Dan Heng locks his jaw. He noses down your jaw, down your neck, to the juncture where your shoulder meets it. The flesh is tender. You have your free arm draped carefully over your chest, covering your most exposed, vulnerable portions as he tries to do the same to you. Your breath is soft, bated as he hovers.

“I don’t want to have sex with you if it will only feel ‘nice’,” Dan Heng says into the hollow of your throat.

“How demanding.”

The bar is on the fucking ground. “I do not think so.”

Dan Heng slides a hand lower, between your thighs. You’re only wearing shorts, soft amiri-cotton that sparkles in the lowlight of the archive’s room. It’s a thin garment. It takes nothing for Dan Heng to cup a hand over your sex. With dexterity and focus, he presses his middle finger closer. The seam of your cunt is wet, even through the fabric.

“Are you scared or nervous?” He asks.

“Hm, what about you?”

“Do not dodge my question.” He squeezes over your cunt and you clutch at his shoulders with a gasp. “Just answer it.”

You consider his question, and open your mouth like you’re going to attempt to parry him, then close it again. Your lips are smooth, petal-soft as he thumbs over them, urging them to stay closed until you have an answer.

Dan Heng struggles with eye contact, but forces himself to stare you down.

“Both?” You ask behind his finger. There’s a hint of mirth behind your words.

Dan Heng frowns, “How can it... be enjoyable for you?”

“... That’s a good question.” You look far-off for a moment, not there in his nest. “Not quite sure, but I’m sure I can.”

There’s an implicit ‘I have before’ that you do not say. However, with the way your head falls limply to the side in his grip, Dan Heng immediately knows he hit one of your rare soft spots. He— he immediately regrets it. He’s in uncharted territory that he strong-armed his way into. And he— he doesn’t know the way out. He’s a sexless virgin who masturbates once every three months and his most emotionally (and sexually) charged relationship is with the living ghost of a man insistent on killing him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing does not remember much of his youth.

Dan Feng knows this intimately.

The short-lived have expiring memories that seem to muddle the old over time. Dan Feng cannot understand, as his memory is pristine and clear from the time he emerged from the ancient sea in a jade-colored egg.

Yingxing remembers the Zhuming, vaguely, and then remembers arriving on the Luofu. He vaguely remembers his first meeting with Baiheng, and sleeping on a little cot in her tiny apartment while he worked his way up in the Artisanship Commission. Lucidly, these are his earliest memories.

Outside of lucidity, Dan Feng knows Yingxing remembers more.

Occasionally, something will make Yingxing remember his unpleasant, smallest youth. The loud boom of the Luofu’s biggest fireworks. A snarling dog. Splintering wood. The scent of burnt hair.

It makes Yingxing stiffen, tense, and draw up in himself.

Dan Feng has done his own research early on. In his adolescence, Yingxing was nothing more than a scrappy refugee with nothing to his name.

Yingxing’s home planet, a lush-planet... abundant in jungle lands and river systems, was plundered by abundance. Borisins. Most of its population was wiped out. Yingxing escaped due to good fortune, luck, and no doubt sacrifices he couldn’t remember.

He understands Yingxing’s passion and revulsion much better after he learns these things.

It all enrages Dan Feng.

Yingxing’s fragmented memory, which continues to weather with time, can only give him the basest impulses when faced with something that makes him remember that frightening time. Even if he cannot remember in the mind, then he does in the body.

Dan Feng does not tell Yingxing that he knows. Yingxing is too proud a man— he’ll take offense and cause trouble. Dan Feng thinks it is better that he himself hold the knowledge, and soothe him how he can. Dan Feng can stew within himself, hone Cloud Piercer, and cut those who slighted his beloved.

It is something beyond duty.

An expression of care, one that tastes briny and bloody on Dan Feng’s fangs.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“Can I help?” Dan Heng asks.

You blink at him. He strokes down your cheek. You hum and press your lips into his palm.

“Can you?”

“I— I will,” Dan Heng stammers. “How can I make this less... scary, for you?”

Can he?

Your gaze penetrates him. It’s something sharp, seeking. Looking for his weak spots for a moment. You’re searching for danger in him.

You soften and cozy up closer, a moment later.

“Just... take your time, and I’ll take mine.” You kiss him, and speak against his lips. “It’s easier if we both can ease into it.”

Dan Heng nods. He... he wants to fuck you. He will.

...

You pick each other apart. Bit by bit, piece by piece.

It is a slow affair, one neither of you truly lead. You spur Dan Heng on, and he follows.

He guides you when he can, when it feels natural and normal. You seem content in those moments, more relaxed and soft-eyed.

You do not wear a full facade all of the time, but Dan Heng now knows that you are careful to keep yourself skillfully hidden.

Dan Heng finds this out, intimately, while he is between your thighs, tongue against your slit. He laps at you, in the motions you describe. Your hands are buried in his hair, directing him with your grip and the gentle grind of your hips against his face. It is— heavenly. Your thighs around his ears, the scent of you. He left a few pointed bite marks on your thighs, which you had yelped at.

He enjoyed giving them.

You fall apart against his mouth in a way he hasn’t seen before.

It’s— so good to watch. When he looks up at you, you gasp, you whine, and throw your wrist over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re letting out. Each gasp has Dan Heng earnestly trying to wring more out of you. He watches your eyes roll back as you crest. Your thighs clamp around his skull and a broken sound rips from your throat. He guides you through it, then moves to your hole, lapping at your essence until he’s sure he’s drenched in it.

You pull him up for a kiss, and lick into his mouth. Your hands shake as they pet over his cheeks and jaw. Against his lips, you tell him— “you did so well”, “that was so good”, “thank you” —

The praise is almost unbearable Dan Heng has to hide his burning face in your neck to escape the vulnerability of it.

You pay it no mind, and just laugh at him, smothering your lips into his mused-up hair.

It’s— it’s good. It’s good and soft and nothing like the dreams he’s carried with him for fair too long.

“Did you enjoy that?” You ask him, forcing him to look at you.

“I did.”

“Good.” You’re smitten with the answer and rub at his waist. You’d— clawed off his shirt at one point. Bare to each other. Dan Heng only has on his final layer of underwear that is increasingly tight and wet, with a growing patch of pre on the front.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You ask. Your hand, gentle, slides down his front, between your bodies to rub over his cock.

Dan Heng— struggles to find words as you tease the head of it with the tip of a finger. The smile you wear is devilish.

“Maybe later—” He manages. “I want to— be inside you.”

He wants to be closer.

You look content with that, and pet him some more.

“In due time,” You kiss his cheek. “Will you allow me to be cruel, and make you wait a little longer?”

“It’s not cruel.”

“Okay, mean then.”

“You’re the furthest thing from mean.” Dan Heng frowns. He bites your cheek in retaliation without thinking and you squirm, pinned beneath him. A laugh bubbles from your throat, and Dan Heng can’t help but twin the sound.

“So kind.”

...

Time stretches out, between languid kissing and the feel of your bare bodies so close, the night and day cycles the Express regulates do not seem of consequence. It’s the most relaxed Dan Heng has been in recent memory. You make it easy to be so.

You have no expectations when you touch him, other than the easy exchange of heat and spit.

By the time Dan Heng has your legs wrapped around your waist, cock against your hole, he’s light-headed. He wants, so much. The image of you laid out before him, bare and covered in various marks of his, will be with him for years. There’s nothing lazy or unfocused about your gaze now, there’s only desire, so hot and needy that it makes Dan Heng’s throat feel tight.

You flex your hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. You both gasp.

“Please, Dan Heng?” You say smugly as you play with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I—” The words die in his throat.

He strokes up and down the flesh of your stomach. Your muscles are relaxed, soft. You’re no longer playing a role, he thinks. You’re here, wanting, edging toward begging him. The head of his cock is purple from strain and prolonged arousal.

He presses into you slowly.

You are stretched, and Dan Heng isn’t particularly large, so he does not see any strain cross your features. If anything, there’s relief. If you were relaxed before, you’re boneless now, taking as much of him as he will give you.

Dan Heng fucks you in earnest then, under the glow of the Archive’s many machines and fixtures. You grab at his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Dan Heng didn’t think he shared Dan Feng’s proclivity for pain, however the way your nails wrack down his back has him throbbing from inside you.

By the time he spills inside you, he’s gasping, sobbing with each thrust because it is so much. Closeness— like this— that’s real and tangible and in his grasp and within his body (only his, no one else’s) feels so vibrant and violent, it cleaves him open. He comes with a broken sound muffled into your throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You let him, spasming with the pressure and letting out your own half-cry with the pain. Dan Heng fucks you through his orgasm, until he can’t support his weight on his knees, and he falls on top of you.

You let out a little ‘oof’, and then laugh, wrung out and happy.

Dan Heng cherishes the memory.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You are most tired, but you must continue to move forward.

Despite your aching rear and scratchy eyes, there are duties to attend to. Never mind that your husband is in your bed, knocked out, regardless of whatever regenerative cloudhymns you could give him. Yingxing is mortal, and no matter how much of you he consumes (figuratively), it only slows his aging, never stopping it completely.

Yingxing will die, long before you do. And that is if he dies of old age and not the diseases and maladies of the short-lived. Or some violence that you and the rest of the Quintet will be unable to protect him from.

This will not do.

You enter your study with sweeping, loose robes. You tell your attendants to leave you be. Your ritual obligations are not until the evening. Until then, you will be confine yourself in your study and continue to pour over the scrolls, documents, and books you have been able to find. It has been hard to procure some of them— having Sanctus Medicus texts brought to the home of the High Elder would be treasonous. It has required careful planning to amass the library you have, and you are diligent in keeping it hidden. Even from your lover.

He would not forgive you, were he to know.

You have never been selfish, not once in your life. In any of your lives. You have lived for your people, the Luofu, and a dead Aeon that you remain the after-image of. You have played the part well, smiled when necessary and remained cold enough to rarely stir dangerous interests. You have healed many without complaint.

As you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets, and pick up your newest scroll, you don’t feel that guilty. You will let yourself have this one thing. If nothing else in any of your lifetimes, this one fucking thing will be yours.

You unfurl the scroll with a yawn. It’s a text, an old one, from the High Elder that followed Yubie. They lived a short life for a high elder, two hundred years. However, they were a prolific scholar. Most of their works have been hidden away with time, as some are downright blasphemous and utilize the Abundance in a way that both the Vidyadhara’s high council and the Luofu’s Charioteers could not tolerate.

This particular one has not seen the light of day since that High Elder’s time. It is titled:

[The Twin-Hearted Dragon Theory: The Permanence and Abundance’s Coalescing]

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“What a weird one.” You say with a yawn. Dan Heng can hear your voice through your chest, where his cheek is pillowed on your bare chest. He— there’s a spot of drool that’s cooling unpleasantly. He blinks awake and rises off you, to rub the stickiness away, blushing furiously.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was cute. You were sleeping good, for once.” You tell him and muse up his hair. “Besides, you’ve gotten me far messier than that.”

You both are messy. Dan Heng can feel the stickiness on his softened cock, and he imagines you’re leaking between your legs. He sneaks a hand between your body and gently feels along your thighs to confirm his suspicion.

You gasp when he grazes your core. You— you are dripping. Cold, too. It must be uncomfortable. Dan Heng frowns.

“Don’t worry about that.” You assure him, voice shaking. “We can clean up in a little bit.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Maybe,” you hum, unsure. “I don’t mind it, regardless.”

Dan Heng raises himself up off of you, and braces his hands on your inner thighs. He’s warmed with the combined heat of the Archives, his nest, and you. You’re chilled under him and— Dan Heng. Can’t have that. He can’t totally trace why, he pulls a blanket up and over your bodies.

You let him arrange you as he sees fit. He brings you to his chest, and fits your head under his chin. He tangles your legs, indulges in the contact and tries to transfer some of his volcanic heat into you. You look content as he does, nuzzling into his throat.

Your own eyelids droop.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks.

“... Probably not.” You say with a yawn.

“You look tired.”

“I am,” You nod and push closer. “But, I don’t need to, and it’s hard to get myself to sleep. It’s more trouble than it's worth, trying to sleep.”

Dan Heng doesn’t think before speaking. “Has it always been hard?”

You pause, breathing even and slowly, “Not always.”

“Why did it get harder?”

You choose your words carefully then, despite your evident exhaustion. Your brow droops, and you rub at Dan Heng’s sides. Your thumbs skitter over his ribs.

“How much do you know about the Kin of Sacha, Dan Heng?” You ask. “It provides context. I’d hate to bore you.”

“... Very little. The databanks only has limited information.”

“Oh, you looked for me?” You nip at his jaw, playful, even as Dan Heng prepares a nervous rebuttal. You soothe his distress before it can get anywhere. “I’m kidding— and it makes sense there’s not much about us out there. There aren’t that many of us to begin with.”

“... How many?”

“I’m not sure, truthfully. Probably less than a thousand. Maybe half of that. Unless Sacha has... awoken to bless more. But I doubt that.”

You rarely mention the Aeon who provided you your sleeplessness and dream-seeing. You even more seldom mention anyone you knew prior to your time on the express.

You sign, “Typically, the Kin of Sacha work as mystics or laborers. Some societies we encountered saw the Aeon’s gifts as a psychic boon to be cultivated. Others, like the one I was raised in, saw the Kin as a well of infinite, tireless labor. You learn quickly under those expectations that even if you could sleep, it’s more ideal not to.”

Conditioning, then.

Dan Heng thinks back to when he first saw you at that rest stop. How you’d swayed on your two feet, eyes glassy and far away. How long they took to focus. How the embroidered logo on your breast must’ve belonged to whatever company you’d been under the employ of. Pieces fit together, and Dan Heng feels slightly sick.

“You don’t— need to be like that, now. You should sleep.”

With your hands braced on his chest, you lean back to look at him. Your gaze is soft, unguarded. You look almost plush with it.

“... I guess I should.”

(I guess I could.)

That’s all it takes, really. You nearly collapse back into the nest, and Dan Heng settled himself to be curled around you. If— If he still deigned to manifest his Vidyadharan tail, perhaps it would be curled around you both.

But, Dan Heng does not manifest any tail. You do not need to stay awake. You both rest under the filtered, soft light of the Archives, and that is all you must do.

#lore writes #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #hsr x reader #SOUP!! COOKED!!#the format of this story was so fun to write hehe #enjoy loves <3

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