#x asian reader

[miss-kuki-nz]

Idk why some of you keep complaining that there are not enough fics out there that cater to you when in fact there are plenty!.

If anyone should be complaining, it's us Polynesians, Asians, and other groups of people who looove reading fanfiction but barely have x readers fics that represent and cater to us 🤷‍♀️.

[wing-ed-thing]

Stay the Night (Smoker x Reader)

Synopsis: Smoker is surprisingly, bafflingly competent at taking care of you while you're drunk.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: Alcohol, Intoxication, Alcohol Sickness, Vomiting, Fluff, No Reader Pronouns Explicitly Mentioned (Reader Wears Heels, Makeup, and a Wig), Language, Mildly Suggestive, Two Longtime Friends and Peers who are Clearly in Love with Each Other

Notes: I felt like Smoker was the kind of guy to reluctantly hold your hair back while you're throwing up.

Unlike the rest of his present company, Smoker usually avoided overindulging in elaborately planned social events, especially those with an open bar. It was best to stay out of the way. 

The Marines rarely allocated funds to such frivolous occasions, and so most officers and honored guests took it upon themselves to find the bottom of the generously offered bottomless champagne. While the hangovers were never worth it, that didn’t stop even the highest leadership from stumbling out of the ballroom doors with hair tousled and neckties hanging across their shoulders. 

Smoker preferred to sit at a table out of the way: a sanctuary among the chaos, away from the main path of foot traffic, with a clear view of the door. That’s where he nursed his single glass of whisky. If he were feeling especially celebratory, he would have two. 

You, on the other hand… were already standing on top of a table. Your stilettos were positioned on either side of the floral centerpiece in the middle, and the tiny point of your heels barely allowed you to balance as the bottle in your hands exploded in a loud, crisp pop. 

Smoker watched how the sea of Marines that gathered around you in disheveled formalwear cheered, and your hypnotized face admired the bubbles pouring from the bottle's neck. 

A group of newly trained officers jumped up and down together in time with the music on the opposite side of the circular table in celebration, knocking some tall glasses over onto the white cloth below. Smoker nearly leaped out of his chair as your knees began to buckle. But even despite your tiny shoes and even tinier dress, you managed to catch yourself. Your laughter resounded loudly among the voices around you.

Smoker heaved a deep sigh, sitting back down, swirling his drink with a flick of his wrist. 

He didn’t even need to see that stunt to predict what would come later that night. 

The streets were utterly empty. Aside from the glow of the street lamps, the only light that shone was from the venue as the staff hurried their clean up. Smoker strolled out of the double doors, tie loosened around his neck and suit jacket draped neatly over his arm.

He barely had to make it outside before he saw you. Hell, he’d be able to spot that glittery ass anywhere, even without your blinding choice of attire. 

You were bent over on your weak knees as you hurled your guts out into a bush. Smoker let out a low, resigned grumble, swiping a hand over his fatigued face as he approached you. You barely registered the large shadow that overtook you, let alone the hands that gingerly and neatly gathered your hair away from your face. 

You sputtered, coughing as a few tears streamed from your eyes. The insides of your cheeks were wet and bitter, and your throat burned. You spat onto the ground to get more foul-tasting mucus out of your mouth. 

You were a Marine, dammit, and a few too many took you out quicker than any pirate ever did. 

“Koby?” you whined. Tears continued to stream from your eyes at the pressure in your sinuses. You spat again. God, something was in your nose.

“Sorry to disappoint, Lieutenant Commander,” Smoker gruffed from where he squatted next to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” you whimpered, not wanting to be reminded of your rank during such a state of weakness. Your stomach convulsed, causing your sickness to start again. Smoker’s gaze drifted to the still street like another weekday night. “I’m never gonna drink again.”

“Mh-hmm” was about the only noise you got out of Smoker. He sat patiently and wordless, not one to croon words of assurance at you as you paid for your night of over-indulgence. But for his silence, he continued to pull your hair back, meticulously smoothing the bundle back as best as he could so as not to knot or tug at your stands. 

In a moment of relief, you finally turned over to sit on the curb. Despite the extra alcohol emptied from your stomach, you were far from sober. Smoker knelt on one knee in front of you. You could hardly get his face to focus, let alone register the warm jacket he hung across your shoulders. 

He took the pocket square from the left breast pocket and unfurled it with a snap of his wrist. Smoker swiped the fabric over your mouth, clearing away saliva and slime. The backs of your fingers knocked against his wrist belatedly as you shook your head.

“‘M gonna fuck up your hankie, Smokey,” you sighed, even though he had already wiped your mouth. He shoved the square roughly into his pocket, paying no mind to you as he heaved you onto your feet. “‘M alright. I can make it home.”

“Like hell, you can.” You stumbled as you tried to step forward, but Smoker caught you around the waist. “These, too. You know the whole street’s cobblestone, right?.” His movements felt incredibly fast to you as he bent down again to slide your shoes off, and with two large fingers hooked around the pinch of your stilettos, Smoker moved to throw you over his shoulder. 

“Whoa, whoa, wait…” Your hand flew over your mouth, and the other splayed across Smoker’s right shoulder. He held you at length, studying your face and movements carefully. 

“What’s goin’ on?”

You shook your head in small but rapid swivels.

“Can’t do that.” You heaved a deep breath, slowly removing your hand from your mouth. 

Smoker grumbled a hum of acknowledgment, pulling his jacket closed over your chest before shepherding you down the street toward your apartment. 

You barely remembered the walk, although you were sure your drunken meandering was more than a test of Smoker’s patience. Even so, he hardly said a word, only breaking his silence to ask you where your keys were when you reached your doorstep. 

They were in your clutch, which Smoker was holding with your shoes, of course. 

As soon as the door opened, you nearly collapsed into your apartment. With Smoker's help, you fell neatly onto the couch by the entrance. He slipped off his boots— no matter how formal the event, Smoker was wearing his combat boots— and disappeared somewhere into your apartment. 

You didn’t even care. Your head was so heavy that all you wanted to do was sleep as you slowly sank into your couch cushions. 

“Sit back up.” You heard Smoker call sternly from the other room. You didn’t think you could obey him if you wanted to. 

In a second, you were being repositioned. The light from the lamp in the corner of the room was sobering and borderline upsetting, but it allowed you to see the small trashcan Smoker brought for you on the floor to your right and the bottle of make-up remover on the coffee table in front of you. Smoker sat beside you, tilting your chin to delicately rub your make-up away with a prepped, textured cotton pad. 

It caught you off guard, to say the least. Even in your drunken haze, Smoker still didn’t seem like the type to have patience for tender acts of service. Hell, you didn’t even know he knew what make-up remover looked like. 

But despite your judgments, Smoker sat on the couch next to you, one elbow resting against the back cushion as he held your chin while his other hand swiped away your perfect contour. 

“Who taught you this?” you giggled. Smoker, make sure to get the creases around your nose. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Where do you want your lashes?”

“What?—” 

Smoker had already pulled your left eyelash off, the entire strip. 

“I’ll put ‘em back in the book I saw.” Before you could protest, Smoker had already pulled off your right lash. He stood quickly, stuffing the solution-soaked pad into your hand as he pivoted to carry your lashes to the other room. “Work on the rest of the glue.”

He turned back to you slightly, leaning over you just a bit to grasp your wrist and manipulate your hand to move in a circular motion on your face before you slapped him away. Smoker disappeared once again into your apartment. 

You finally noticed the plastic cup of water on your coffee table and mustered up the energy to take it. The outside was wet with condensation. It was cold. You couldn’t remember the last time you drank water. 

“What do you wanna do with your unit?” Smoker appeared from around the corner again; some linens balled in a wad under his arm. He held a pillow in his opposite grip as if he were holding a stray dog by the scruff. 

His white collared shirt had been pulled from the waistband of his dress pants sometime during the night. The black tie that was already draped over his shoulders drooped to one side, making one side longer than the other. The first three buttons of his shirt sat on his chest untethered. A dampened towel rested over his shoulder.

You blinked at him between sips of water. Your stomach was handling rehydration so far, but you were about to push it.

“You’re not touching my hair, Smokey.”

“Though I’d offer.” He set the pillow down to take the towel off his shoulder. Smoker wadded it in a ball before throwing it your way. You somehow still had the dexterity to catch it out of the air. A generous amount of adhesive remover had already been applied to it. 

Smoker pulled the coffee table out of the way, and as you stared at the towel he threw to you, Smoker began arranging blankets and pillows around you. You supposed he was trying to get you to sleep somewhere you could sit up. He draped a fuzzy throw blanket on your lap and moved two large decorative pillows to your right and left.

As your eyes moved from the remover-soaked towel to Smoker and back, you couldn’t help but laugh. The sensation moved through you before tearing out of your chest. Unrestrained by the liquor, it probably came out louder and more shrill than it would have usually, but if Smoker had any comments, he kept them to himself. 

He knelt before you, both his wrists resting on his bent knee. He shook his head as if regretting the question he was about to ask in advance.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

You swayed forward, racked with trembles, as you continued to laugh. The back of your heels knocked against the bottom of the couch. Smoker didn’t move, even as your face inched gradually towards his. Your cheek settled into your palm, allowing you to sit folded over to meet his eye. He waited as your laughter gradually subsided.

“What are you doing here, Smoker?” 

He stared directly into your irises, and you didn’t know if his expressionlessness or the intensity of his gaze made your smug smile waver. Intending to tease him, Smoker didn’t humor you with an expression. Nothing you had done that night—nor anything you would do—could sober you up faster than the sharp and sudden twinge in your chest that came with simply meeting Smoker’s dark brown eyes. 

What the hell?

“Your girlfriend’ll be pissed.” You sharply recoiled, kicking your legs over Smoker’s bent knee to swiftly stand. You made a beeline deeper into the apartment. 

Smoker only wavered a moment, his eyebrows creasing for a second in confusion before he stood and followed you.

“What girlfriend?” he shouted. He nearly ran into you as you closed a small cabinet by the bathroom. The side of your lip drooped downward in an acute pout. Smoker, never one to enjoy feeling left out of the loop, hovered over you expectantly. You entered the bathroom without a second thought. Smoker found himself in the doorway.

“Weren’t you with that…” You snapped your fingers as you tried to recall her name. You didn’t have to wait.

“Six months ago… and we only went on a few dates,” Smoker defended, although he wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to defend himself to you in the first place. The two of you had known each other for longer than he recalled knowing anyone else, and more prominently, the two of you were peers. Why should it matter if he took some petty officer out for a few drinks a few months back? His eyes narrowed at the back of your head. “Why?”

You shrugged. You seemed far less worried about the whole thing; your face practically pressed against the mirror to remove the remaining patches of product Smoker missed. He did a more than adequate job. He hardly missed anything regarding your makeup, but the pointed glance you stole in the mirror escaped him. 

“Now I know I’m pretty wasted—” You met his gaze through the mirror. You cocked your head, and your hands gripped the side of the sink in pure bafflement. “But you said ‘lash book’—?”

“Got it. Got it.” Smoker crossed his arms as he tore his attention away. Steam filled the air. He hardly noticed the shower running, and he most definitely didn’t realize that you were standing in front of him, presenting your back, until you started speaking again.

“So, you’re just kind of a—" You glanced over your shoulder at him, and for as off as your judgment was, you knew you probably shouldn’t finish your sentence—even if his reaction would have been hilarious. You turned back around. “Get my dress for me?”  

You could have noticed Smoker’s single beat of hesitation if you were any less intoxicated. But for yet another instance that night, Smoker went quiet as he slowly tugged down the back zipper of your dress. The invisible zipper was thin and difficult to grip, but it slid down your spine like butter regardless, revealing the soft skin underneath.

“I have a pair of your shorts in the bottom left drawer of my dresser. The couch is yours.” You pivoted again on your heel, one hand holding your dress up on your chest and the other pushing Smoker back through the doorway. “Now get out.” 

You shut the door. Smoker sighed and resigned himself to rifle through your dresser, wondering why he had clothes at your place at all. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Based off my personal headcanon that Smoker has a surprisingly extensive dating history and an equally surprising library of knowledge about girly stuff because he's an extremely involved boyfriend. I'd say most of his previous relationships had amicable break ups. Reader was also going to say "so you're kind of a whore" but decided against it.

[jasontoddsdarling]

you know what, i just got an inspo, lol. another drabble of rora todd, here we go.

it's how reader and jason came up with their baby girl aurora todd's name.

but wait, that's not her full name.

baby daughter's full name is aurora nastiti sorcha todd.

first of all, baby's first name: aurora.

contrary to what some of people belief (including some of their family members), their baby's first name is not inspired by princess aurora. it's actually because jason and reader were in iceland when they found out she's one and half months along. so, they went to see aurora borealis. they're in awe of course, nothing like anything they've ever seen. after observing aurora borealis, they went back to their hotel in the city. there, nausea hit her but not only that she's also having nosebleeds. jason knew how to take care of it so tl;dr both of them handled it well. but they—especially she, let's be real—started to get suspicious when the next day she's still nauseous. she sent him to nearest drugstore to get pregnancy test. jason bought her five different brands. and her intuition was right. they're expecting a baby—jason's like so happy he was crying. that night when they went to sleep, she said sleepily to jason that if the baby is a girl they should name her aurora.

second, baby's first middle name: nastiti.

it's when they had found out the baby's indeed a girl—mamabear's five months along when they decided to find out. it's actually a dedication to mamabear's heritage. it's of javanese origin. nastiti (in javanese script: ꦤꦱ꧀ꦠꦶꦠꦶ) is feminine given name which means "a careful girl/person". she thought she was rather a clumsy girl when she grew up so she wanted her daughter to be better than her.

third, baby's second middle name: sorcha.

this one's jason's contribution. a feminine given name, sorcha is of gaelic origin which means "radiant" or "brightness". and jason chose it because even though the baby hadn't been born yet, she's already a shining and beaming star of his life. he came up with it after feeling her first kick on her mom's stomach.

last, baby's last name: todd.

well, this one's pretty self explanatory, isn't it. that's baby daughter's papabear's surname.

so yeah. i imagine that's how reader and jason came up with rora's full name.

[lady-phasma]

Would you be more or less inclined to read an x reader fic with the tag inclusive!reader?

More: I would understand that the reader's physical appearance isn't described

Less: it is too vague

I would skip it: it feels patronizing

Voting ended onMay 15, 2024

Clarification: inclusive!reader for physical description could be used alongside female, male, or gender neutral reader tags.

Please comment or reblog if you have a suggestion for an alternative or question about the use of this tag.

Thank you so much to @underthelavendersky for the suggestion!

[2-fast-2-curious]

This Is As Easy As Lovers Go

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Female Silk!Reader

Warnings: dubious consent because of this pheromone business, intercourse, there’s a bit of fluffy stuff

Words: 1170

Author’s Note: I wrote this with an Asian reader in mind (I am also Asian btw). Read part 1 here since it probably won’t make a lot of sense without it. My own personal headcanon would be that Silk!Reader is from TASM!Peter’s universe but they’ve never been close enough physically for the pheromones to affect them. That is until MCU!Peter’s spell brings them together. I feel like in the first one it seemed like Peter was a bit reluctant so I tried to make him less so here.

Masterlist for Peter Parker

Peter woke up covered in sweat despite the sheets laying in a crumpled mess on the floor. He rubbed his eyes and found your naked body completely underneath him. In his sleep, he had practically been humping you into the mattress

So last night wasn’t just a dream. You were real and here you were. Peter brushed the hair out of your face. It was soft like… silk (I couldn’t help myself). You are stunning and Peter is sure it wasn’t just your shared senses speaking. The contours of your face were delicate yet sharp like they had been sculpted by a master carver. He wished he had his camera with him but multiversal travel didn’t seem to work like that.

Peter realized he had been rutting against you this whole time and he didn’t even notice. Startled by his own actions and lack of control, Peter stopped abruptly causing you to whine in protest.

With one hand you rubbed your eyes and the other reached down to wrap around his erection.

“We can’t keep doing this.” Peter protested despite his hips thrusting his cock on your hard so you could go faster. “We’re almost out of condoms and I’m pretty sure we need to eat plus with both of us here criminals are probably out having a field day.”

“Just one more round and we’ll get something to eat pretty boy.” Now that he mentioned it you were pretty hungry. “I promise”

You got on your hands and knees while Peter grabbed his last condom and rolled it onto his cock. Peter crawled over to where you were, getting behind you. He played with your hair for a bit before moving it off your shoulder and kissing his way down your spinal column. He continued going lower with his thick tongue eager to lap at your pussy.

“Please Peter I need your cock, it makes me feel so good. No one hits me so deeply.”

Peter playfully rolled his eyes, grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer roughly so the flesh of your ass hit the front of his thighs. He just kind of rested himself there with his cock between your slopping pussy lips.

He leaned over you, you felt his breath against your ear and you wiggled your butt hoping it might entice him to do something. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You seriously felt like you might have just died and gone to heaven. You were trembling so Peter wrapped his arms around your middle to keep you steady as you reached behind to line his cock with your desperate pussy. “Feels so good.”

True to his word, Peter didn’t move. He just sat back and watched your tits sway as you used him. You screamed Peter’s name as you came and he leaned over and kissed your neck as he filled the condom with his cum.

You were true to your word and you and Peter went to the nearest grocery store for food. Peter’s first mistake was giving you his clothes to borrow. Already he was having his doubts the two of you could come back in one piece. You looked gorgeous, the legs of his sweats were long so you had cuffed them and you had tied up his t-shirt to expose a sliver of midriff.

Peter’s pants have never felt tighter. Not even during the Dashboard Confessional emo phase he went through. He almost wonders if he’s accidentally grabbed a pair from Peter 1. The closest store to Peter just happened to be a Korean supermarket so you guys fill your basket with prepared foods like gimbap and banchan. Thank god there’s also a pharmacy. You and Peter buy condoms and pick up the morning after pill just in case.

In the snack aisle, Peter makes his second mistake of touching your lower back so he could move behind you to grab a bag of chips on the top shelf. You bit your lip to suppress a moan, automatically arching your back and pushing out your butt to grind against his crotch. “I swear to god you’re going to get me arrested for indecent exposure.” Honestly, maybe it's the idea of Peter in handcuffs, but that only gets you even more hot and bothered.

Peter adjusts his crotch and walks awkwardly to the cash register with all the items. You end up having to pay because Peter’s wallet is in his front pocket and he feels like its way too risky to try to touch himself anywhere even in that area

The two of you get back to the apartment with a rushed hello to the other two Peters who are playing some cannibal survival video game in the living room. As soon as the room to his door closes, your Peter lifts you in his arms and fucks you, fully supporting your weight the entire time and at times even one-handed as he used the other to rub your clit. It didn’t take you and Peter too long to come apart.

“We can’t function like this.” Peter says as you feed him a piece of gimbap.

“I kind of like it.” You shrugged. “You and I have this off-the-charts chemistry. I’ve never felt this powerful.”

“We can’t be sent back to our universe like this. While we’re still here I think we should ask the other Peters for their help.” Peter watched as you thought it over, you really were beautiful and sweet in what little conversation you and Peter had been able to have. “Even if we’re cured I think we’d still be really attracted to each other just dialled down from what it is now.” 

You smiled at that thought. You had to admit Peter was right, you had things you needed to do when you got back. To focus on them you couldn’t constantly be distracted by a man with a body like that, the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen, and hair that was fluffy like cotton candy. Not all the time.

“When we get back, I’ll find you again and we’ll hang out. I think it would be cool to have a sexy spider-lady as a…” Peter trailed off when he realized he didn’t know what to call this.

You smiled and kissed the tip of his nose, mentally adding his nose to the list of things you liked about Peter. He had a cute nose. “But yeah, I’d really like us to know each other without anything else that could cloud our judgement. Just you and me.”

“I’d like that too, Peter.” You stood up and redressed holding your hand out to pull Peter onto his feet. It was hot to Peter how strong you were and he was making his own list of favourite things about you in his head. “I guess we’d better let the other Peters know.”

[mask-knife-is-buggys-wife]

Out of curiosity I looked up X Indigenous Reader and got a couple results. Half of them were my own posts. Very few actual indigenous reader content

The rest was people using the tag X indigenous reader, x asian reader, x black reader just because the fic was neutral and looks is never mentioned

And honestly that kind of pisses me off. It's in the same vein as people tagging popular things that aren't related to get likes.

Something not mentioning a readers race or at least not defaulting to white does not make it a black, asian or indigenous reader. Having anything about us not be mentioned does not mean this is magically for us

Like that just really rubs me the wrong way

[lavendermaelk]

PSA TO ALL FANFIC WRITERS!!!

I love you all just please, if you’re going to write reader/mc as asian, please broaden the pic choices on your mood boards. So far I’ve only ever seen Chinese and Japanese (some Korean) culture represented.

I want to see Vietnamese! I want to see Filipino! I want to see Laos! I want to see Indonesian! I want to see more than just the first asian country you think of!

Same thing goes for Latino/Hispanic mc! Stop putting just Mexican! Put Chilean! Put Argentinian! Put Colombian! Put El Salvadorian! Put Venzeulan!

And if you’re thinking “but, I don’t know anything about that culture!” Google is your friend! (Sometimes)

Lots of love!💕💕💕

[ravnclawism-blog]

hi hi !!! please like/reblog if you’re:

an mcu (fic) blog (***** esp if you write for asian readers!!)

a ravenclaw blog

a hp-themed blog

a studyblr blog

a bujo blog

a motivation blog

a fitspo/fitblr blog

im in need of more content to follow! so pls!!! thank u xx