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chickenparm · 1 year

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Bad Decision (Dan Heng/gn!Reader)

how we feelin about honkai star rail, gals and pals? i'm feeling pretty damn good.

anyway dan heng has me by the coochie. this MIGHT get a part 2, and if it does it will involve a reader with female anatomy so just keep that in mind so it isn't a jumpscare.

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AO3 LINK NEXT PART

Dan Heng/gn!Reader 2,415 Words - NSFW (Accidental phone calls, listening in when you shouldn't, m!masturbation, mild phone sex, awkwardness all around)

Dan Heng never calls.

It’s not that he’s a complete recluse - he’ll message of his own volition, and answer your messages within an instant, so long as he isn’t busy. But unless it’s an emergency, he never, ever calls.

It takes my attention away from other tasks. He explained once, when March brought it up. His habit of delivering his sentences lends itself more to if someone were reading from a dictionary, rather than explaining interesting facts about themselves. Facts that you squirrel away and covet, because you have a bad habit of making bad decisions, and Dan Heng is a very bad decision waiting to be made.

Because there’s no universe where it would be a good idea to have the sort of feelings for him that you do. Sickening, clawing, creeping up your back and behind your rib cage every time he glances at you from the corner of his eye to share a look with you for any number of reasons. March’s antics, a frustrating informant, a quiet second after a quick brawl where he makes sure you’re unharmed.

Maybe it’s for the best that it’s just you and March on this scouting mission this time. It’s been wrapped up nicely, nothing too out of the ordinary, leaving the two of you to stay in your lodgings for the night before returning to the Astral Express that lingers far above the atmosphere. At least, you tell yourself it’s for the best.

March is a good friend, and will be dear to you always, but there’s a distinctly Dan-Heng-Shaped space next to you that’s been drawing far too much of your attention during your stay on this planet.

It’s with the knowledge in mind that Dan Heng only calls when it’s something important or an emergency, that you sit up in bed when your phone chimes with the ringtone you’d set for him during a bored moment in the parlor car. When he’d humored you for a moment and sat right next to you on those long sofas while you scrolled through each sound you downloaded that reminded you of him.

So, as you scramble for your phone and bring it to your ear, your breath hitches for a moment in panic. Because if Dan Heng thinks something is an emergency, then it’s an Emergency. No sound leaves you at first as you expect him to start speaking immediately, to not mince words, but nothing greets you beyond a quiet, steady rustling sound.

It’s not fabric. Maybe a little wet, like the sound of skin against skin, and something suspicious brews in you as you hold your breath and just listen.

The first real sound you hear is a quiet exhale. At the very end it shakes, as if the owner of such a sound shivers a little. Then, the sound of more rustling, before the sound of Dan Heng spitting. The sound from before returns, and what once was vaguely identifiable is now unmistakable.

Silently, you press your back against the wall the bed is pushed against, your hand over your mouth as you try not to make a single sound. You’re well aware that this is disgusting behavior; Dan Heng is having a private moment. Intruding on him in this way would cause irreparable damage to any sort of relationship you’d been trying to build with him.

But how can you stop? The monarch of bad decisions, making the worst one of all without a second thought. Your eyes stare off, unseeing as you try to imagine what the other end of the line might look like.

Dan Heng is on the Astral Express, there’s no doubt about that. The archives filled with cerulean light from the twisting blue pattern of its flooring, only blocked by the thin mattress of his bed and the books that are scattered around it. Would he be sitting up, curled in on himself while he seeks his pleasure? Or perhaps he would be sprawled across his bedding with his cock in hand and unashamed of what he’s doing.

Dan Heng doesn’t seem the type to be embarrassed by it. Sure, everyone’s done it at some point, but you desperately want to know what he’s thinking as he treats you with another sound. A quiet grunt, his pace pausing for a moment and leaving the line silent before it picks up again and goes even faster. It seems he’s found something he likes.

Another breath, a sharp inhale, then a quiet moan that makes your toes curl and your teeth grit. And you’re not even there. What would he look like if that were your hand stroking his cock, memorizing exactly what he likes so you can drive him to the edge and pull him back from it. Over and over again, teasing him with a release you won’t provide until he’s shaking and flushed and begging for it.

What a pretty sight it would be to have Dan Heng beneath you, looking at you through half-lidded eyes as you lean down and drag your tongue along him. Everything about him is pretty; surely his cock would be as well. Closing your eyes to the darkness of your temporary room, you imagine the arch of his back as he nudges the back of your throat. And through it all he would murmur your name pleadingly, just like he’s doing right now-

You gasp, eyes snapping open. All sound on the other end cuts out, and then a quiet swear before frantic rustling. Then, your name again, this time spoken imploringly and terrified. A question you can’t bring yourself to answer as you press your palm so hard over your mouth that your teeth dig into the soft flesh inside your lips.

No one breathes, no one hangs up. Just a drawn out silence before he says your name again, so much quieter. Almost defeated, just before he nearly whispers, “Why didn’t you hang up?”

Whisper or not, hearing his voice is too much for your suddenly-overworked brain to handle. The phone beeps cheerfully as you hit the end call button and press your palms to your eyes.

Dan Heng’s ringtone sings for you only once more, before the simple ping of a message arriving fills the room. It’s an admonishment, a suggestion for you to not return with March back to the Astral Express. Himeko and Mr. Yang have already been told that you’re a pervert for listening in on Dan Heng’s private moment. Pom-pom is already throwing your luggage into the incinerator as you lay in your bed and wallow.

At least, that’s what you assume, because so far you’re only staring at the blinking yellow light on your phone that indicates you have notifications built up.

For better or worse, Dan Heng is waiting.

With shaking fingers, you lift the device. The facial recognition kicks in immediately, even in the dark, and you’re left staring at the home screen with a few icons, two of which have notifications. One for a missed call, one for a direct message. Foregoing the call, you open whatever it is that he has to spit at you.

Please call me back.

Perfect. He wants to tell you in person what a freak you are. What a degenerate you must be to so crudely sit by and listen to something so personal. Clutching your phone until your fingers hurt from its edges, you try to push the memory of his quiet sounds from your head before calling him. The little grunt, the sigh, the moan, your name-

Your name. When he didn’t realize you were listening. In a moment of what should’ve been complete privacy, without knowledge of you listening yet, Dan Heng had said your name and your thumb sweats as you hit the call button.

“Having second thoughts?” Is his immediate accusation, and you stammer for a moment because what do you even say to that? A questioning sound leaves your throat, and a huff of air breezes past the receiver on his end. “You didn’t hang up immediately. You must have liked what you were hearing, or you wouldn’t have continued listening to what I was doing.”

“I thought it was an emergency-”

“A likely excuse, except I can see the call’s duration. Eight minutes to wait for an emergency?” Dan Heng sounds uncharacteristically amused - which is to say not very much at all. But you’ve spent enough time in his presence to pick up on the little nuances, even if you can’t see the micro expressions he favors.

Dan Heng has you pinned with so little effort. And he’s not even trying. You give in immediately, phone shaking next to your ear as you quietly affirm, “Yes, I did. Like it, I mean. I’m sorry, Dan Heng-”

“I’m not asking for an apology. It’s obvious we both have things to apologize for, so it equals out. You for listening in when you weren’t meant to, and me for shamelessly using thoughts of you to relieve myself. I think that sounds fair.”

Not when he says it like that. How does something so blunt still somehow get your blood rushing through your ears, warming your cheeks, and cause an ache to form in the bottom of your gut? Loudly, you swallow around your nerves and choke out a response. “That’s fair.”

“Then that’s settled.” Rustling again; is he laying down now? Has he redressed, or is he nude? Or perhaps he still has himself in hand, moving so slowly you can’t hear it. Dan Heng cuts your thoughts off precisely where he wants them - in the gutter. “Should I keep going? Would you like that?”

“...What?”

It’s such a rare sound for Dan Heng to laugh in any capacity. Even this is little more than a sound of amusement from under his breath, but you latch onto it anyway. It keeps you grounded to the moment as he asks again, “Do you want to keep listening? It’s a simple yes or no answer. If you say no, we won’t speak of this again.”

“And if I say yes?” You hate how breathless you sound, how excited. Because it’s a dead giveaway on how you’ve been feeling up to this point - no one gets this excited just to hear some guy touch himself over the phone, right? No one normal, at least.

A moment of silence, stretching on for a little too long before that entrancing sound of skin-on-skin again, nearly agonizing in its slowness. Shakily, a breath rings out over the line, this time unmuffled and crystal clear. Something in you throbs at the prospect of it all.

Dan Heng’s voice loses its evenness as he clarifies things for your addled brain. “Then you sit there and listen, and you do nothing else. Not until you’re back on the Astral Express.”

“And… When I’m back?”

The earpiece sounds heavenly as his hum rolls through it, like he appreciates your questioning. It takes a beat for him to say anything, and in that span you get to appreciate the hiss he makes between his teeth as he goes a little faster. The side of your face is burning hot under the phone’s dormant screen; you’re nearly pushing it into your skull from your own excitement.

“Then you’ll get to watch. And compare the real thing to what you’re thinking of right now.”

All you want is for him to keep going, to keep talking about the things he’s planning to do with you when you return. Would he be so welcoming to your own machinations? Dan Heng is no mind reader, but he’s not stupid. Surely he knows what’s going through your mind now, though maybe not the exact depths of the depravity.

But you’re not about to enlighten him. Instead, you do what he expects, quietly listening and keeping your breathing measured as his groan rolls through the phone. Every urge demands that you reach down and take care of yourself too, but there was an implication to his words. Nothing else, he said. Only sit and listen, like you wanted to do in the first place.

Dan Heng is surprisingly cruel, you think.

Seemingly exhausted of his willingness to keep speaking to you, he simply… lets go. Dan Heng is quiet, though you can tell by the pitch of his sounds and the sudden urgency he takes while murmuring your name again that he must be close. The way he calls for you is like a taunt, and for a man so pacifistic, he sure is getting a kick out of causing you untold grief.

“Dan Heng, please, can I-”

“No.” It’s grit through his teeth, like his whole body has tensed. Impending orgasm has a way of making even the more passive person into someone needy and demanding, and he exercises that right by urging you, “Say something. Anything. Tell me what you would do if you were here.”

“I’d watch, just like you want me to.” Bravado is easy to fake, and you’ve had more than enough practice over the months as a Trailblazer. Your voice is surprisingly even, “I’d kneel at the end of your bed and watch you touch yourself for me.”

A swear leaves him in a language you’re not familiar with. Only his tone suggests it’s something more than some plain declaration. Then, “When you get back, come straight here. Don’t talk to Himeko, don’t get caught up by Pom-Pom.”

“That eager for me?” You have no grounds to be teasing anyone, but he gives you this one chance to have a small victory. Only to bring it crashing down with his words forced through his tense jaw.

“You have no clue. You’ll see.”

No response comes from you as your mind tries to smooth those words down into something a little more easily digestible, despite their deceptive shortness. There’s a lot to unpack there, and it’s impossible to do so when his breath is coming quicker and he’s moving faster. Your name leaves him one last time, just loud enough for goosebumps to raise across your skin at the knowledge of what he’s done.

Of what you’d listened to, of what you just participated in. In the span of an hour, everything is different. This time tomorrow, you’ll be back on the Astral Express, and you’re not sure if that terrifies you or excites you.

You’re not quite convinced anymore that Dan Heng is still a bad decision.

#dan heng #honkai star rail #hsr #danheng #dan heng/reader #danheng/reader #dan heng x reader #danheng x reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #mind the a/n cause if this gets a part 2 MAYBE #yanno #just maybe #nsft

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