CW - smut, angst no comfort minors dni

You never sent the letters.

You wrote them in the dead of night, tucked between fevered dreams and restless fingers. They were secrets you kept, words that bled from your fingertips onto pages you never had the courage to give him.

Ajax would never read them, and that was the worst part—he didn’t have to.

He already knew.

And still, you are here, standing in his dimly lit apartment, your back pressed against the door like you’re bracing for something. Ajax sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair, watching you.

"You shouldn’t be here," he murmurs, voice low, tired.

"You say that every time," you shoot back, stepping forward. "And yet, you let me in."

Ajax exhales, shaking his head, but there’s no anger in it—only something like surrender.

The space between you feels smaller than it is, filled with unsaid words and all the things you can’t take back. You take another step, fingers brushing over his shoulder. He shivers under your touch, and that tiny reaction sets something loose inside you.

"You told me to move on," you whisper, lips inches from his. "I tried."

Ajax’s jaw tenses. "And?"

You drag your fingers down his arm, slow, deliberate. "And I fucking hate you for making me want you this much."

His breath hitches. For a second, it seems like he will push you away, say something final, end it once and for all. But then he moves—so fast you barely register it—grabbing your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

Your knees land on either side of him, his hands gripping your thighs, his face buried in your neck. He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to commit you to memory, like he hates how much he needs you.

"You think I don’t want you?" Ajax mutters, voice rough, strained.

"You never say it."

He pulls back, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it."

Something inside you cracks at those words.

And then his mouth is on yours.

It isn’t soft or hesitant—it’s raw, desperate, teeth scraping, tongues meeting, fingers tangling in hair. His hands slide up your dress, gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Your fingers curl around the fabric of his hoodie, tugging, yanking, needing more, more, more.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, voice shaking.

You don’t. You never could.

Ajax groans, his hands slipping beneath lace, fingers teasing, spreading you apart until you’re trembling, gasping into his mouth.

"You’re so wet," he murmurs, half in awe, half teasing.

"Shut up," you groan, but the words melt into a moan as he pushes a finger inside you, slow, deep, curling just right.

You bury your face in his shoulder, muffling the sounds spilling from your lips as he works you open, as he whispers against your ear—"Let me hear you, baby"—as he adds another finger, his thumb circling your clit, dragging you higher, higher, until you shatter against him.

He catches you when you go limp, pressing kisses into your hair, stroking your back as you come down.

"You’re mine," he murmurs, not as a claim, but as a confession. "You always have been."

You lift your head, eyes hazy, lips swollen. "Then show me."

Ajax doesn’t hesitate.

In one smooth motion, he flips you onto the bed, his body pressing you into the mattress, his mouth trailing fire down your neck, your collarbone, lower. When he pushes your dress up and settles between your thighs, you barely have time to brace yourself before his tongue replaces his fingers.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging hard, and he groans into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

"Ajax—"

"I know," he murmurs against you. "I got you."

And he does. He ruins you. Again. Just like he always does.

By the time he finally moves over you, bracing himself on his elbows, you are wrecked—eyes glassy, lips parted, body aching for him.

He brushes your hair back, pressing his forehead against yours. "I don’t want to hurt you."

"You won’t."

His lips ghost over yours. "You deserve more than this."

Your heart clenches. "Then give me more."

Something flickers in his eyes.

And then he kisses you—deep, slow, like he’s making a promise he doesn’t know if he can keep. When he finally pushes inside you, you both gasp, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling.

Ajax moves with purpose, with reverence, like he’s worshiping you, like he wants to make you feel everything he can’t say. His fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands above your head, his lips tracing every inch of skin he can reach.

"You feel like home," he whispers.

You almost sob at that.

You move together, bodies tangled, hands exploring, lips searching, chasing pleasure, chasing something deeper. And when you shatter again, he follows right after, burying himself inside you, whispering your name like a prayer.

After, as you lay tangled in sweat and tangled sheets, you trace circles on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"You’re gonna disappear again, aren’t you?" you murmur.

Ajax sighs, tightening his grip around you. "I don’t know what I want."

Your throat tightens.

"See?" you whisper. "That’s why I don’t want to understand you anymore."

Ajax’s fingers still against your skin.

For a long time, you just lay there in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on you both.

Eventually, you sit up, slipping out of his hold. Ajax watches you, something like regret flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop you.

You get dressed slowly, methodically, like you’re trying to convince yourself this is the last time. When you reach the door, you hesitate, fingers tightening on the handle.

"I never sent you my letters," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "Because deep down, I knew you’d never give me the ending I wanted."

Ajax sits up, running a hand through his hair. "What ending did you want?"

You turn back, meeting his gaze one last time.

"One where you chose me."

You don’t wait for a response.

CW - smut, angst no comfort minors dni

You never sent the letters.

You wrote them in the dead of night, tucked between fevered dreams and restless fingers. They were secrets you kept, words that bled from your fingertips onto pages you never had the courage to give him.

Ajax would never read them, and that was the worst part—he didn’t have to.

He already knew.

And still, you are here, standing in his dimly lit apartment, your back pressed against the door like you’re bracing for something. Ajax sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair, watching you.

"You shouldn’t be here," he murmurs, voice low, tired.

"You say that every time," you shoot back, stepping forward. "And yet, you let me in."

Ajax exhales, shaking his head, but there’s no anger in it—only something like surrender.

The space between you feels smaller than it is, filled with unsaid words and all the things you can’t take back. You take another step, fingers brushing over his shoulder. He shivers under your touch, and that tiny reaction sets something loose inside you.

"You told me to move on," you whisper, lips inches from his. "I tried."

Ajax’s jaw tenses. "And?"

You drag your fingers down his arm, slow, deliberate. "And I fucking hate you for making me want you this much."

His breath hitches. For a second, it seems like he will push you away, say something final, end it once and for all. But then he moves—so fast you barely register it—grabbing your wrist, pulling you into his lap.

Your knees land on either side of him, his hands gripping your thighs, his face buried in your neck. He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to commit you to memory, like he hates how much he needs you.

"You think I don’t want you?" Ajax mutters, voice rough, strained.

"You never say it."

He pulls back, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "That doesn’t mean I don’t feel it."

Something inside you cracks at those words.

And then his mouth is on yours.

It isn’t soft or hesitant—it’s raw, desperate, teeth scraping, tongues meeting, fingers tangling in hair. His hands slide up your dress, gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. Your fingers curl around the fabric of his hoodie, tugging, yanking, needing more, more, more.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, voice shaking.

You don’t. You never could.

Ajax groans, his hands slipping beneath lace, fingers teasing, spreading you apart until you’re trembling, gasping into his mouth.

"You’re so wet," he murmurs, half in awe, half teasing.

"Shut up," you groan, but the words melt into a moan as he pushes a finger inside you, slow, deep, curling just right.

You bury your face in his shoulder, muffling the sounds spilling from your lips as he works you open, as he whispers against your ear—"Let me hear you, baby"—as he adds another finger, his thumb circling your clit, dragging you higher, higher, until you shatter against him.

He catches you when you go limp, pressing kisses into your hair, stroking your back as you come down.

"You’re mine," he murmurs, not as a claim, but as a confession. "You always have been."

You lift your head, eyes hazy, lips swollen. "Then show me."

Ajax doesn’t hesitate.

In one smooth motion, he flips you onto the bed, his body pressing you into the mattress, his mouth trailing fire down your neck, your collarbone, lower. When he pushes your dress up and settles between your thighs, you barely have time to brace yourself before his tongue replaces his fingers.

Your hands fly to his hair, tugging hard, and he groans into you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

"Ajax—"

"I know," he murmurs against you. "I got you."

And he does. He ruins you. Again. Just like he always does.

By the time he finally moves over you, bracing himself on his elbows, you are wrecked—eyes glassy, lips parted, body aching for him.

He brushes your hair back, pressing his forehead against yours. "I don’t want to hurt you."

"You won’t."

His lips ghost over yours. "You deserve more than this."

Your heart clenches. "Then give me more."

Something flickers in his eyes.

And then he kisses you—deep, slow, like he’s making a promise he doesn’t know if he can keep. When he finally pushes inside you, you both gasp, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling.

Ajax moves with purpose, with reverence, like he’s worshiping you, like he wants to make you feel everything he can’t say. His fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands above your head, his lips tracing every inch of skin he can reach.

"You feel like home," he whispers.

You almost sob at that.

You move together, bodies tangled, hands exploring, lips searching, chasing pleasure, chasing something deeper. And when you shatter again, he follows right after, burying himself inside you, whispering your name like a prayer.

After, as you lay tangled in sweat and tangled sheets, you trace circles on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

"You’re gonna disappear again, aren’t you?" you murmur.

Ajax sighs, tightening his grip around you. "I don’t know what I want."

Your throat tightens.

"See?" you whisper. "That’s why I don’t want to understand you anymore."

Ajax’s fingers still against your skin.

For a long time, you just lay there in silence, the weight of everything pressing down on you both.

Eventually, you sit up, slipping out of his hold. Ajax watches you, something like regret flickering in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop you.

You get dressed slowly, methodically, like you’re trying to convince yourself this is the last time. When you reach the door, you hesitate, fingers tightening on the handle.

"I never sent you my letters," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "Because deep down, I knew you’d never give me the ending I wanted."

Ajax sits up, running a hand through his hair. "What ending did you want?"

You turn back, meeting his gaze one last time.

"One where you chose me."

You don’t wait for a response.

✧ ─ character: shenhe

✧ ─ warnings: mild angst to comfort, fluff included, mentions of WEIGHT GAIN, FLUCTUATIONS, and INJURY; does not mention eating disorders or habits; READER IS INSECURE ABOUT BODY IMAGE,  non-implied n/sfw, gender neutral reader (mentions of wearing a dress), uses of pet names, established relationship

✧ ─ minors/ageless blogs dni

inspired by stolas, thank you for existing ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

coconut scents infused with vanilla sprayed once more through the purifier. the tropical humidity waited outside as you tried another dress. and how many have you tried on? three of four? you were starting to lose count, trying to find the perfect one for an impromptu date night.

anyway, it was rare for you both to take some time off. so you figured, why not browse and treat yourself? though, a part of you felt guilty for taking so long in the changing room when your girlfriend sat patiently outside, probably bored to death as shopping was not much of ‘her thing’.

SHENHE slipped her slender fingers through a page, gingerly flipping through the thin magazine pages. products after products, labelled in a foreign language. this weekend getaway was supposed to be relaxing - she had booked all sorts of spa appointments, including facial packages to reward your recent promotion. little did she know how exasperated you’ve been feeling about your weight fluctuation.

tears pricked at the brim of your eyes as you sucked in your stomach to zip the dress up. was this the biggest size? of course it was. you were hoping that shenhe didn’t notice how your fingers danced along the hangers, peeking at the numbers ascending. you knew she was the last person on earth to criticise your weight, but you couldn’t help to feel insecure over her perfect, hourglass figure. almost like a rooster beside a crane.

the dress hugged your soft stomach so perfectly, however you were horrified how it accentuated your disappearing waist. hours at work had paid off for your promotion, no doubt, but what about the layer of fat that sat around your thighs? you pinched your legs and sighed, your breath shaking slightly as you controlled your tears.

“angel, what’s the matter?” shenhe peered through the curtain, opening it gently to check on you. “y/n, what are you doing—“

“please wait outside, i don’t like this dress—“ your nose reddened, a tear cascading slowly down your cheek.

“oh my sweet love, what’s the matter?” she asks again, extending her arm forward to pull you closer.

it felt almost ridiculous to open up about such a vulnerable insecurity. how you were always mocked or criticised for your body image. but she knew every part of you that worked hard to defy their negativity - that everyone around you was secretly jealous of your success, having to focus solely on your physical appearance. nothing was enough for horrible people, that sought vanity over intelligence and values such as you. shenhe was so proud of you everyday, and saw you as the most beautiful person to live. the unspoken insecurities broke her tremendously, but she understood your pain and tucked you close in her embrace.

her hands trailed along your hair and down your spine. almost flinching at her touch along your waist, you sighed, soaking every ounce of love and compassion she offered in this moment. you knew instantly that there was absolutely nothing wrong about your figure.

that nothing was wrong with the way your stomach folded as you sat comfortably, the way your skin rippled as an ocean’s wave. how the cellulite on your legs resembled cosmic dust made of a collection of stars to be coloured by blue and purple veins along your skin. the fat sitting on your thighs were made of layers of love in shenhe’s hours spent preparing dinner, to its finest quality, so you would be well fed and healthy. how your body repaired itself after every tear, scrape and bruise; how every cell in your body survived and worked for you, only for you.

your beauty had always been skin deep, beyond society’s deemed imperfections. shenhe always sighed and reinforced that society was quick to create insecurities, and try to profit off from them. while it seemed easier said than done, since she was so beautiful naturally, her insecurities stemmed from inadequacy and losing the people she loves.

as you melted in her arms, the weight of your insecurities lifted. almost as if her love radiated as a glowing aura of kindness and strength. she hummed into your hair, planting a soft kiss before whispering, “my sweet y/n, you have nothing to be insecure about. you are the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen. and i promise you this, that i would never get tired of looking at you. changes on your body turn like chapters in a book, each new mark or scar is a story to be read, my love.”

kiss after kiss, her lips followed the crook of your neck, to the dip of your shoulder. pulling away, she gazed into your eyes, softening with adoration.

“y/n, you look perfect in this one, and i love how you feel in my hands.”

✧ ─ characters: beidou, yelan, ningguang (separated) ✧ ─ warnings: romance/fluff, non-implied n/sfw, gender neutral reader, uses of pet names, mentions of alcohol (beidou), mentions of gambling (yelan) ✧ ─ minors/ageless blogs dni

the sea breeze grazed your cheek gently. lantern rite was as thrilling and merry as ever - laughter, joy, love surrounded as people rejoiced for another lunar new year. BEIDOU grins, leaning forward with an elbow along the handles. the crux sailed smoothly, journeying closer to a firework backdrop of liyue harbour. it was her first time taking you on a trip with her, alone. insisting that she wanted to take you on a tour around liyue, and perhaps to any destination of your choice. all she wanted was to spent lantern rite with you.

though she wasn’t drunk. perhaps, she had enough to make such a bold decision to kiss you. “captain beidou, i can’t— not when you have had some alcohol.” she chuckled, inching closer with her hands cupping your face, “okay, doll-face, i’ll kiss you in the morning. that’s a promise.” her hands slipped along your arms, luring your hands into hers so she could plant the softest, liquor-stained kiss on your palms. 

chatter and noise filled the room, but your pounding heart was louder than everything else. you sat on YELAN’s lap, with her hand resting on your thigh. she called you her ‘lucky charm’ - always the source of her biggest wins in the casino, but never crediting her own intelligence or strategy. “you know, darling, i’ll get luckier if you gave me a kiss.” and how exactly were you resist? while it was conflicting - being her assistant - you’ve always had your eyes set on her and obeyed her commands so well. it wasn’t long until she took interest in you. such a pretty face, such a diligent colleague.

she noticed everything about you and kept you close with every excuse she could find - missions, casino visits, vacations. her eyes pleaded into yours. within a brief moment, your lips curved into a slight smile as you leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on her peppermint-flavoured lips.

shifting her hair aside, you gingerly zipped NINGGUANG’s dress up. the scent of jasmine and oranges slipped through each strand. your fingertips running through the closest touch to silk. it was your first time being so physically close to her - it felt profoundly intimate.

not everyone had the privilege to enter her personal bedroom, decorated with the utmost luxury and custom-designed decor. everything about her was elegance and pristine beauty, from her dazzled, ruby eyes, to the dips along her neckline. to accept that your fingers followed the curves of her back, to her nape that’s now covered with a mandarin collar and the clasp of her jade-beaded necklace.

your breath hitched as she turned around, “thank you, y/n. how do i look?” cherry red lips twisting into the most gorgeous and alluring smile. “you look beautiful, lady ningguang.” you spoke almost breathlessly.

“you haven’t answered me, y/n.” ningguang drew her presence into your arms. without realising, your hands rested on her waist. deeply intoxicated by her beauty. “will you kiss me now?” she asked, peppering your neck with subtle kisses, surely to leave a mark.