He Makes You Cry

I decided to create a masterpost that would help you with what you are struggling with. Hopefully any of the links below will help you! Reminder; You’re going to be okay. What you are going through will pass, just remember to breathe. 

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Distractions;

Here are some distractions to help keep your mind occupied so you aren’t too focused on your thoughts. 

-Draw something

-This website translates the time into colours.

-Create your own galaxy.

-Play flowing.

-Make a 3D line travel where ever you like. 

-Listen to music.

-Calm.

-Ocean mood, do nothing for two minutes.

Sleep issues; 

- 8 hour sleep music.

-Rainy mood. 

-Meditation.

-Coping with nightmares.

-How to cope with nightmares, 11 steps.

-Calm

-Foods that can affect your sleeping, both positive and negatively. 

  Uncomfortable with silence; 

-Rainy mood.

-10 hours of rain and thunder.

-3 hours of rain and thunder.

-Human heartbeat.

-Rainforest.

-Sound of rain on a tin roof.

-Autumn wind.

-Rain on a tent

-Traffic in the rain.

-Soft traffic. 

-Fan.

-Train.

-Simply noise.

-My noise.

-Rainy cafe.

Anxiety; 

-How to stop worrying. 

-Tips to manage anxiety and stress.

-The 10 best ever anxiety management techniques. 

-Self-help strategies for anxiety. 

-Helping a friend with anxiety. 

-All about worrying.

-8 myths about anxiety. 

Sad, angry and depressed/depression; 

-“I’m always sad”

-Feeling sad.

-Going through trauma.

-“I’m always angry”.

-Anger management. 

-All about anger.

-National helplines and websites.

-Self-help strategies for depression.

-Dealing with depression at work.

-Dealing with depression at school.

Isolation and loneliness; 

-Pets and mental health.

-All about loneliness. 

-“I feel so alone”

-10 more ideas to help with loneliness. 

-How to deal with loneliness.

  Self-harm;

-Alternatives to self-harm and distraction techniques.

-146 things to do besides self-harm.

-More alternatives to self-harm.

-Self-harm alternatives.

-How to take care of self-harm wounds/injuries.

-Getting rid of scars.  

Addiction; 

-How to help a friend with a drug addiction.

-What is addiction?

-All about alcohol and addiction.

-The facts about drug addiction.

  Eating disorders; 

-Helping a friend with an eating disorder.

-Eating disorder treatments. 

-Support services for eating disorders. 

-Self-help tips with eating disorders.

-Eating disorder recovery. 

-Recovering from an eating disorder. 

-100+ reasons to recover. 

-Understanding and managing eating disorders. 

  Dealing with self-hatred;  

-3 ways to ease self-loathing. 

-How to turn self-hatred into self-compassion.

-Self-hatred resources.

-10 step plan to deal with self-hate. 

  Suicidal; 

-International suicide hotlines (1)  (2)

-Preventing suicide. 

-Reasons to stay alive.

-Dealing with suicidal thoughts and feelings.

-Coping with suicidal ideation.  

  Schizophrenia;

-All about schizophrenia.  

-Helping a person with schizophrenia.  

-Understanding and dealing with schizophrenia.  

-Delusions and hallucinations.  

OCD;

-Managing your OCD at home. 

-Overcoming OCD.

-How to cope with OCD. 

-Strategies for dealing with the anxious moments. 

Borderline personality disorder; 

-Helping someone with BPD. 

-All about personality disorders.

-Treatment for BPD.

Abuse; 

-Healthy relationships VS abusive relationships. 

-Emotional abuse

-Overcoming sexual abuse. 

-Hotlines services. 

-5 ways to escape an abusive relationship. 

-Domestic violence support. 

-Signs of an abusive relationship. 

-What do to if you’re in an abusive relationship. 

-Surviving abuse. 

-What you can do if you’re sexual harassed. 

-Sexual assault support.

-What to do if you’ve been sexually assaulted or abused. 

  Bullying;

-How to stand up against bullying.

-How to protect yourself when it comes to cyber bullying.

-How to help stop people bullying you. 

  Loss and grief; 

-How to cope with a suicide of a loved one.

-Grieving for a stranger. 

-Common reactions to death. 

-Working through grief.

(Other loss and grief)

-Moving away from friends and family. 

-Coping with a breakup.

  Getting help; 

-Seeking help early. 

-All about psychological treatments. 

-Types of help.

-All about age and confidentiality. 

Things you need to remember; 

- Don’t stress about being fixed because you’re not broken.

-Remember to remind yourself of your accomplishments. Tell yourself that you’re proud of yourself, even if you’re not. 

- This is temporary. You won’t always feel like this. 

-You are not alone. 

-You are enough. 

-You are important. 

-You are worth it. 

-You are strong. 

-You are not a failure, 

-Good people exist. 

-Reaching out shows strength. 

-Breathe. 

-Don’t listen to the thoughts that are not helping you. 

-Give yourself credit. 

-Don’t be ashamed of your emotions, for the good or bad ones. 

-Treat yourself the same way as you would treat a good friend. 

-Focus on the things you can change. 

-Let go of toxic people. 

-You don’t need to hide, you’re allowed to feel the way you do. 

-Try not to beat yourself up. 

-Something is always happening, you don’t want to miss out on what’s going to happen next. 

-You are not a bother.

-Your existence is more than your appearance. 

-You are smart. 

-You are loved. 

-You are wanted. 

-You are needed. 

-Better days are coming. 

-Just because your past is dark, doesn’t mean your future isn’t bright. 

-You have more potential than you think. 

- Your value doesn’t decrease based on someone’s inability to see your worth.

Please remember to look after yourself and know that you are more than worth it and you deserve to be happy. Keep smiling butterflies x

No brain, only xingyun

“𝙜𝙤 𝙨𝙡𝙤𝙬…” 𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩𝙨

explicit warning: don't read on if you're under 18 or uncomfortable with anything nsfw/smut related

have fun with these ;) | tag me if you use any | if yall want more prompts like this, jus drop an ask

“I’ve never done this before.”

“I’ll go slow.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Tell me what to do.”

“I’ll talk you through it, okay?”

“This is my first time…”

“I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Be gentle, please…”

“Am I going too fast?”

“Can you show me how?”

“Does this feel good?”

“Should I slow down?”

“I wanted you to be my first…”

“I want to make this perfect for you.”

“Tell me what feels good.”

“Show me how you like it.”

“We can stop whenever you like.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’re doing so well…”

“We can keep going, if you want.”

“Relax, I’ve got you.”

“No need to rush—we have all night.”

“Let me help you.”

“There’s no reason to be nervous.”

“Is this okay?”

“Do that again…”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Let’s find out what you like together, alright?”

TEMPTRESS ⸻ JING YUAN

﹚ SYN. heavily infatuated with the thought of you against me but marriage wasn’t easy and he knew that.

﹚ CW. NSFW. fem!reader. husband and wife. established relationship. reader is upset. in game spoilers. no prep. unprotected sex. breast fondling. fucking on a desk. neck kissing. biting. overstimulation??? slight/small fingering just a bit. mentions of breeding if you can call it that? pet names: my dove. my beloved. baby girl. my temptress. my wife. MINORS DNI! AGELESS BLANK BLOGS DNI!

fem!reader + jing yuan

﹚ WC. 1.8k. edited i simply was in a cocoon. beta read by the best!! thank you so much, lucy 🥹🫶🏼

﹚ NOTE. i am so normal about him? anyways. it’s been a minute since ive actually written anything smutty? it comes and goes so this actually was just a thought. til the desk breaks <3 let me know if i missed anything in the cw! okay bye!

“He would like to see you now.” the Cloud Knight addresses you, stepping to the side as another knight opens the doors for you.

“Tch.” You walk towards the huge desk, watching the lily pads float in the small pools. You frown at the sight of the unkept things, taking note of the overgrown vines. He hasn’t had the time to take care of anything and you storming in would add more to his plate, but you don’t care. You had other matters to address.

Your husband, the general of the Luofu Cloud Knights, had always been a busy man. Barely having time to stop and spend time with you. The only one that had time for you was the child you took care of alongside him, Yanqing. Despite being busy yourself with other tasks, it was a night where you both agreed to see each other.

Jing Yuan leans his head on the palm of his hand, watching you walk closer towards him, a tired smile playing on his lips. He listens to your heels click against the expensive flooring, catching a small glimpse of the uniform that exposes a bit of your body. You take a finger across the blades of his shoulders, poking him in his back before wrapping your arms around him.

You pull his hair back, your cold fingers sending a shiver down his spine. You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, kissing the shell of his ear. His breath falters, he had almost forgotten what your lips felt like. “You’re late.” he mutters, rubbing your arm as he signs the document.

“My apologies, general.” you whisper in his ear, kissing his it once more before humming.

He nods, stacking the document in the pile with the others. “You’re angry.” he says, keeping his eyes trained on the next document. You laugh softly, picking at the tassel on his uniform. He felt your anger, the annoyance, and the utter disappointment. There was no point in you lying to him, he already knew what was wrong.

“You let him go. Getting Yanqing riled up. He can’t defeat him; the boy is merely a child.” you scold, tugging on the tassel roughly. He takes your hand in his, stopping you from ripping it off.

“Save the tassel ripping for later.” he sighs, kissing the top of your hand in apology.

Biting the corner of your lip, you shake your head. “I don’t care,” you whisper, looking at him with low eyes. “Blade escaping was your doing. I was sent out to—“

He stops you, pulling you over to him quickly. Crossing your arms, he pulls you into a hug. Placing his head on your stomach, strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you even closer into him. “Is this why you called for a meeting?” he says, muffled against you as his hands work to undo the corset strings of your top.

You shrug, taking your fingers through his hair. “Maybe? I haven’t seen you in two weeks. This lockdown is actually giving me some benefits.” you pull away from his embrace.

He raises his brows, playing into your fib. A cute lie for a cute wife. “Really?” he muses, leaning into his seat, relaxing as you crawl into his lap. He watches your breasts slowly rise out of the undergarment, hands steadying your hips.

You laugh, placing your hands on the knobs of the chair. “Yes.” you whisper, ghosting your lips over his.

He kisses you softly, your lips taste of honey, a flavor he still hasn’t gotten used to even after all these years. His hand cups your cheek, leaning closer into you as he kisses you harder. He knew your tricks, the tension that would slowly break into sex. You had been avoiding him for that reason and he knew.

He breaks the kiss, lifting your chin to look at him. His thumb pulls down your lip, looking at it and back at you. “You’ve been avoiding me, my dove—“

You lock eyes with him, kissing his thumb. For a moment, his heart stops and his pants start to feel tight under you. Jing Yuan wanted to pin you up against his desk and make you scream his name in pleasure, but he knew better. He wants you to use your words to get you what you want.

“Issues were at hand,” you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’ve been busy. I would hate to disturb you.” you pout, looking at with sad eyes.

He scoffs, kissing you softly. “What exactly are you doing right now, my temptress?”

“Helping.” you let him pull off your top, the cold air nipping at your skin, his hungry eyes trailing up and down your body.

Your husband doesn’t say a word, kissing down your neck, a strong hand starts to knead your breast carefully. Trying to get a moan out of you but your whimpers were just enough for him to knock off all the important papers off the desk.

“Avoiding me,” he says in between a kiss. Pinching your breast, he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Making me wait.” he mutters, placing you on the table carefully, he watches you arch your back at how cold it was.

You don’t say anything to him, instead taking in the scenery behind you and the faint stars twinkling. It was late but your general had plans for you. Two weeks had been long with you missing his tired smile and his soft hums. You wanted to savor this, be together until one of you had to go out on a mission.

You taunt him with a small smile, grinding yourself into him but Jing Yuan was far from phased. He quickly unlatches his belt, his free hand undoing the laces of your pants. He pulls you further up with a hand behind your back, kissing your stomach as he drags his nose down your body.

A soft gasp falls from your lips, covering your mouth in an attempt to stifle the moans that were threatened to slip. Every little touch he gave you was enough for you to murmur out his name.

He smiles against your plush skin, biting your hip as he shrugs off your pants. Scoffing at the sight of your cunt soaking your lace panties. He barely touched you, but the sight sent his mind into an uncontrollable state of lust. He kisses the end of your tummy, pressing down gently as he looks up at you.

“P-Please,” you say in between rushed breaths, looking down at him. His fingers ghost over your aching core, tilting his head to watch you squirm.

“Please? So you do have manners. And here I thought my beloved wife wasn’t capable of such a thing,” he teases, kissing the inside of your thighs.

You close your eyes, a soft shriek falls from your lips as he parts your legs wider. He licks his lips, parting your slick folds with one finger, the other nudging your clit gently. Jing Yuan watches you squirm, pleading for him to stop. He smiles to himself as he waits for you to scrunch your nose in pleasure, clutching your thighs around him. He grunts, quickly pulling himself away from you.

“I could make you wait, my wife.” He chuckles at the nickname you hated being called. Dragging his cock against the inside of your thigh, he watches your reaction.

Scoffing to himself in pleasure, taking in the way the moonlight gleams against your skin, the faint hill of your breasts creating a shadow on the desk, and the way his papers had been long forgotten almost convinces him to take his time with you.

You groan, rolling your eyes at his behavior. “Just f’me.” you plead into your arm, avoiding eye contact with him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being needy and miserable underneath him.

He hums, his fingers strumming on your skin, “Needy lil’ thing aren’t you, babygirl?” he leans down towards you, kissing your lips softly before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

You wrap your arms around him, he steadies your hips, guiding you towards him. His touch sends shivers down your spine, grabbing a fistful of his hair in an attempt to break away from him. You were tired of him teasing you as a punishment for avoiding him.

“Jing Yu —“ you stop yourself, nuzzling your nose into his neck, feeling him spread your legs open across the desk. Your nails dig deeply into his shoulder blades as his cock slides into you for the first time in two weeks.

He looks down at you, watching the sweat dribble down your temple. Your eyes tell him everything he needs to know. Your whimpers are exactly what he needed to hear, as he sides out of you teasingly slow before slamming his hips into you.

Your cry brings a smile to his face, as he keeps the pace even and quick. His name falls off your tongue, your nails digging deeper into his skin. He kisses your ear, moaning your name loudly. Teasing slaps against your ass, makes you arch your back, interlocking your legs behind him.

Papers fall off the desk as if a gust wind had entered the General’s study, causing many important documents to fall. The ink pen rolled off and into the lily pad pond. Splattered ink had started to stain the desk but Jing Yuan made sure you were far from it.

Jing Yuan moans into your shoulder, biting softly into your skin. His thrusts were getting quicker, turning your mind into a stuttering mess. He hikes up your leg, needing to fill you up even more. The grip you had around his cock made him moan your name, repeating the same word over and over again. He wants to make sure you’re aching, begging to be carried back to your bedroom, and itching for him to touch you one last time. He wants to see his seed drip from you and down your legs, too stuffed to even comprehend the idea of bearing his children.

“F-Fuck, keep doing that.” he moans pathetically in your ear, rocking his hips against yours.

You dig your heels into his back, pulling him deeper inside you. His hand grips your hip as the other holds the desk, afraid of attracting an unwanted visitor to come stumbling in. He kisses your shoulder, stifling his groans.

“‘M gonna—” you yelp, hiding your face into his chest as he painfully slams his hips into you one last time.

He calls out your name, curse words falling from your lips as he pumps his load inside of you. Pulling you into his chest, he kisses your temple, breathing uneven and still holding onto the idea of you carrying his seed.

You kiss his temple, snuggling into his chest carefully, “I love you.” you mutter with a sleepy smile.

He kisses your forehead, covering the both of you with the blanket he had on one of the shelves of his desk. “I love you too, my beautiful dove.”

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

.

.

.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

False Idols, Empty Worship Navigation

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Velvet and Vice - An Astarion Quote Prompt List for Smut Writers

As requested, one smut quote prompt list for Astarion coming right up! I've divided this into two sections: Before and During (under the cut for obvious reasons). Before the smut and during the smut. All lines are fully gender neutral. As before, drop me a tag if you use any of these! I'd love to see them in action.

Gif by @gortash on Tumblr!

Before

"Oh, darling. I didn't realise it was this easy to have you wrapped around my finger."

"I don't even have to say a word, do I? You're already thinking about it."

"You look delectable in this light. Good enough to eat, one might say."

"Patience was never my virtue. But for you, I might make an exception."

"Darling, your gaze is positively ravenous. Careful, or I might think you want to devour me."

"Your eagerness is flattering, truly. Though I can hardly be blamed for being so alluring, can I?"

"You're quite the temptation, darling. And I've always had trouble resisting those."

"I promise, the only marks I'll leave are the ones you beg me for."

"Oh, my sweet. I plan on making sure you remember every. Single. Detail."

"I promise to be gentle. Unless, of course, you'd prefer otherwise."

During

"I've barely laid a finger on you, and you're already breathless. Oh, this will be fun."

"Darling, if you keep making sounds like that, I might just lose my focus. And we wouldn't want that, now, would we?"

"My, my. Aren't you just full of hidden talents? I'm positively intrigued."

"You look so vulnerable; so deliciously at my mercy. Shall I show you just how much I enjoy that?"

"You're a masterpiece like this, you know. And I've always had a taste for the finer things."

"You're playing with fire, darling. Keep it up, and I'll ensure neither of us gets any rest tonight."

"You're so delightfully sensitive. It's almost criminal how easily I can drive you mad."

"You're being so good for me, darling. I think you deserve a little more, don't you?"

"Care to discover just how talented these fingers can be?"

"I've barely begun, and you're already putty in my hands. How terribly convenient for me."

"You have no idea how delectable you look right now. It's almost unfair, really."

"Oh, darling. You didn't think I'd be satisfied with just that, did you? We're just getting started."

"My, such enthusiasm. One might think you've been fantasising about this for days."

"If you want my attention, you'll have to earn it. Show me how badly you need it."

"Always so eager to please. I do love that about you."

I also write Astarion fanfiction! Masterlist can be found here.

Non-smut Astarion quotes for general use here!

Writing Resources: Smut

Writing Resources Masterlist

Fictional Kisses

How to write a kiss

How to write a kiss scene

How to Write Better Smut

How to write romance

List of vocal sounds for smut

More smut words

Quick tips for writing sexual tension

Sexual sentences

Words and phrases to include in sex scenes

Writing sexual tension

Smutty One-Liners Part I

“I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.”

“Don’t act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.”

“We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.”

“Stop looking at me like that or my knees will not hold me any longer.”

“I think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

“My tongue still remembers the way you taste.”

“Is there some space left in that bathtub?”

“The way your eyes get darker when you get aroused, is making me lose my mind.”

“I want to count every one of your freckles with my lips.”

“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you.”

“Oh no, there is only one bed, what will we do now?”

“I could make you feel better.”

“Get back down here, we’re not done yet.”

“Later you will definitely need to tell me where you learned this.”

“I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for a moment.”

Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

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