listen i would love a healthy dose of consumption/eating imagery for wangxian nsfw 👀👀👀👀 like of course it doesn't have to be literal but consensual cannibalism? please and than.k.
Lan Wanji sees Wei Wuxian’s ribs the next time they meet.
He doesn’t mean to. Wen Ning directs him to Wei Ying’s cave, and nobody says anything about a battle, and so he steps inside to see Wen Qing threading a needle though Wei Ying’s shoulder and angrily telling him off, and he does not look away.
The memory gets pressed into the back of his eyelids. His ribs jut out sharply like graves, a solid line pressing against his skin, and Lan Wanji just wants to curve out part of his own body to let Wei Ying replace what he’s missing.
“Wei Ying,” he says, and wants to be able to say, why can’t you just take what you need from me? This eats you alive, strips you to the bone, and yet you still refuse everything I want to offer you?
“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, grinning, and Wen Qing holds his arm down before he can fling it around. He pouts at her, but she just stabs him through again. “Oh come on, come on, you’re done! I’m fine,” he whines, and she rolls her eyes. With a quick mutter to him that he seems to begrudgingly agree to, she ties to end of her thread and packs her kit away.
“Don’t let him move his arm,” she orders Lan Wangji as she pushes past him out the cave, and Lan Wangji nods but she’s already gone. He turns his attention back to Wei Ying.
He’s struggling with his robe, and Lan Wangji quickly steps over, taking his hand and the sleeve to gently pair the two, and Wei Ying smiles at him, batting his eyelashes. “Ah Lan Zhan, you’re so good to this pitiful one. All I got was a scratch and yet I’m still having to be so fussy? Madame Yu would throw me in the river!”
Wei Ying laughs, shifting away to clean up his desk, but Lan Wangji can’t stop looking at him. The robe is the same; Wei Ying is the same. But he is different. He can see how the sash is pulled tighter; can see the sharp line of Wei Ying’s shoulders under the worn fabric.
“Wei Ying,” he says, softer, and swallows to try and ease the words up better. Let me take care of you.
“Would A-yuan like lunch in town?” he says, and Wei Ying smiles, and smiles, and says nothing about his own meal. He shifts everything to Lan Wanji or A-yuan, no matter how many times Lan Wanji tries to put food on his plate, and Wei Ying is-
Unstoppable, and clever, and Lan Wanji notices but can do nothing to make him eat.
(He thinks about Wei Ying that night; Wei Ying beneath him, Wei Ying’s ribs pressed against his hands, his skeleton more present than flesh. Lan Wangji cannot grab him without the threat of breakage, and his hands slip futilely over bone.
“Please,” he says in his dream, verbose and understood, “just take what you need from me. I would give you whatever you wanted.”
Wei Ying pulls him close, curls into his chest, and presses his lips to the skin above his heart. “Eat,” he whispers, and cups the back of Wei Ying’s head to bring him closer.
His teeth sink in; it does not hurt. They sink into his heart, the sensation numb like a hand gripping his arm, and then Wei Ying leans back to show Lan Wanji’s heart slipping into his mouth, into his mouth, and his lips stained red.)
