#never mention asians!!!!1

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

imo everyone on earth should be talking about Him (don't want this showing up in the tag even though it's not a diss) but everytime i go to the tag and there's only like 3 new posts i'm like. oh yeah almost no one cares except me and like 5 other ppl on here

i ran out of tags KFHSJENNXN i don't think that's literally ever happened to me before anyways don't read them because it's just me being insane as per usual

[aeyumicore]

shot, shot, shot, shot!

━ .ᐟ✧ SCENARIO: what happens when the four love and deepspace men get drunk and jealous? there's only one cure and it's in between your legs!

━ ✧.˖ PAIRING: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel (separate) x female reader (afab)

━ .ᐟ✧ GENRE: smut, porn with very little plot

━ ✧.˖ TOTAL WORD COUNT: 15.7k

━ .ᐟ✧ GENERAL CONTENT WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, mentions of alcohol, recreational drinking (characters and mc), jealousy (guys + mc), drunk characters (guys + mc), use of Y/N, pet names, unprotected sex, never pulling out, fluff/crack/banter, individual content warnings below with their respective fics

━ ✧.˖ LINKS: original inspo | ao3

A/N: SURPRISE ITS HERE EARLY! oof another fic for all four guys? who is she? but actually after this i likely won’t be writing for all four guys like this again, or at least for a while. if i can somehow get better at writing fics that are 1-2k then ill start doing scenarios with all four again! i tried to keep this one short and they’re still all 3-4.3k per guy…this scenario was originally based off the one video of the drunk asian guy! see the clip above under ‘links.’

enjoy guys!! i’ll be taking a much needed break but may write slowly in my own time :) just depends how i feel, how much inspiration i have! i’ll still be on tumblr but will mostly be on my twitter <3 until next time bbs!

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 4.3k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, sylus refers to reader genitalia as ‘she,’ public sex, sex in an alley, standing/against the wall sex, finger sucking, choking, outdoor sex, voyeurism, needy sylus, drunk sylus, jealous sylus, use of pet names, mentions of guns, tiny bit of violence, cumming in coochie, panties over cummies

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video (how sylus kisses you in this)

Luke and Kieran watch the way Sylus’s eyes track you under the strobing lights of the nightclub. It wasn’t out of the norm for their dear boss to be obsessed with knowing a certain Hunter’s whereabouts. But this was excessive, even for him.

The way he’d already shattered two glasses with the force of his fingers, his eyes scarily unblinking as they trailed your every movement. The club manager didn’t dare kick Sylus out, apologizing to him as he’d cleaned up the glass from Sylus’s feet. But Sylus was too distracted to even notice. 

The pair of troublemakers supposed it had to do with the fact that some sleezy drunk had his hands all over your bare thighs. They knew if Sylus had his way, that very man would be unconscious on the floor in half a second flat. But of course, when it came to you, Sylus was helpless as he was whipped, giving into your every desire, even if it physically pained him to do so.

And you had ordered Sylus not to intervene, not when you were undercover, trying to get classified information from the powerful men that frequented this very nightclub in the N109 zone. So he was left at the bar, quite literally fending thirsty women off left and right, watching the way you pretended to laugh amongst the unsuspecting targets. He tried to distract himself from the men who so clearly were thinking of ten different ways to fuck you. 

A privilege reserved only for him.  

So the twins, who had so enthusiastically begged to tag along, devised a plan to help Sylus take his mind off planning literal murder. 

Really, they were trying to help!

But maybe they should’ve stopped after the fifth drink. When Sylus’s cheeks flushed the same shade of red as his eyes, ebbing all the way up to the tips of his ears. 

And they definitely should’ve stopped after the tenth drink. When Sylus’s body started to move on its own accord, his Evol practically parting the crowd of drunk and sweaty clubbers to get to you.

But at that point there was no stopping the formidable man from taking what he wanted. And what he wanted, what he needed, was you. 

Honestly, you nearly breathe a sigh of relief when you feel Sylus’s familiar Evol wrapping around your wrist, yanking you backward and away from the disgusting man trying to feel you up. You’re so happy to feel his strong arms around you that you don’t notice how atypically clumsy his Evol feels, like grasping for something when blindfolded.

“We’re leaving.”

Sylus’s words are dominating and commanding, ‘no’ not even a fathomable possibility. But there’s a slight waver in his gruff voice that makes you raise your eyebrow at him in question.

The idiotic man before you wraps his clammy hands around your waist, pulling you back, “Hey man. We’re in the middle of something.”

You look up to see Sylus’s crimson eyes, trained on the way the man’s fingers dig into your bare skin, burning with something dangerous, the air around him crackling with an erratic and sinister energy, and you know you have to defuse the situation as quickly as you can. 

You bring your elbow to the man’s groin, digging hard. He groans pathetically, wilting to his knees. Truthfully, you didn’t have to elbow him that hard, but you’d become nauseated with how disgustingly he’d been looking at you, touching you, for the past thirty minutes. 

“No, we’re really not.”

With that, you slip into Sylus’s side, his large arm wrapping possessively around your naked shoulders, your hand resting on his abdomen. Sylus’s lips quirk up, deeply satisfied with the way you can bring men twice your size to their knees before they can even blink. His girl.

As the two of you make your way out of the crowd, you start to notice the way Sylus’s movements are unusually sluggish, his feet trudging one after the other. Considering Sylus was always poised and elegant, you instantly knew something was amiss. When Luke and Kieran fall into step behind you, you turn to the two masked men.

“What happened?!” you hissed at them, “What happened to ‘Watch Sylus? Easy peasy lemon squeezy?!’” Your fingers are raised in air-quotes as you recall their confident words and uncontrollable giggles when you’d tasked them with keeping Sylus in line, knowing he’d have a hard time watching you faux flirt with other men, no matter how self assured he was. 

Kieran is the first to speak, clearing his throat as the four of you exit the nightclub, the night air ruffling through your hair, “Well, you see –”

But he’s cut off when Sylus roughly grabs your chin, pulling your eyes up to his. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

Your eyes flicker to his, surprised by his demanding, yet needy, words. Sylus smiles when you look up at him, his eyes, as unfocused as they were, beaming down at you.

His rough fingers caress your cheek, burying his face into your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent, “Beautiful.”

The scent of alcohol on his breath is so strong you nearly wince. Luke and Kieran seem to notice your realization at the same time, their eyes widening as you start to yell in disbelief.

“Is he drunk?!” you demand, your arms wrapping tighter around his waist, Sylus in a world of his own as he mutters incoherent mumblings into your hair, shifting his weight onto you.

The twins grin at you sheepishly, raising their hands in surrender. Luke speaks, “Well, in our defense, boss never gets drunk –”

“Yeah! Boss is such a heavyweight –”

“So we thought, a few drinks might loosen him up –”

“You should’ve seen him! He was thiiiiiis close to commiting a crime –”

“So really, you should be thanking us!”

The twins finish rattling off, looking at you with puppy eyes.

You sigh, unable to feign anger at them, “How many drinks did you give him?”

“Umm…what was it Kieran…like…eight?” Your eyes widen as they scratch their chins.

“No…no, it was definitely closer to…like twelve?”

“Well we also gave him those cute little drinks with the umbrellas, he seemed to really like those!”

“Yeah and they had little chunks of fruit in them! Maybe that cancels out the alcohol?”

“Yeah! And the one with the olives too! Plus, boss always drinks like a bottle of wine a night!

“So we thought…a few mixed drinks…couldn’t hurt anyone!”

Your head spins as you try to keep up with their conversation, digging through your purse to find the unopened half bottle of water you’d brought. You quickly unscrew it, bringing it up to Sylus’s lips. 

Sylus looks surprised when the cool plastic touches his lips, but once his hazy eyes focus on you again, he visibly relaxes. The sharp vermillion hues in his irises melt at the reflection of you, softening into the most beautiful carmine pools of red wine. 

His hands come over to cup yours, holding your fingers affectionately in his as you tilt the water back so he can drink. You have to tip toe upward so you can follow his grip, his gulps greedy and eyelids shut in relief, the sensation of your hand cupping his jaw feeling like his own personal heaven. 

With the plastic at his moistened lips, his eyes flutter open to look at you, his lids heavy with intoxication. Even though his eyes swim with a murky tiredness, they glow when they watch you, glimmering with a star-struck adoration. His intensity stares you down, a knowing heat piercing right through you. The very same heat that has seen both your naked body and soul.

The moment feels hot and strangely intimate. It definitely felt illegal to have Sylus looking at you like that while Luke and Kieran stood behind you. 

He’s so distracted by you, eyes never leaving yours, that nearly a third of the water splashes onto his chest and the pavement floor. He drinks so enthusiastically that you almost want to giggle at how submissive he looks, drinking so obediently from your hands, eyes following your every move. Fortunately the pair of whispers behind you remind you that, even if Sylus stares at you like he’s ready to mount you right then and there, you are not alone. 

When the bottle drains, he crumples it in one hand, tossing it to the nearest waste bin. 

As it hits the metal trash can, you tear your eyes away from the way Sylus heatedly watches you, turning back to Luke and Kieran, “Are you two insane?!”

The twins look positively offended.

“How did you even convince him to drink so much?” 

“Well, he was so distracted watching you that he just downed anything we put into his hands...” 

You bite your lip, realizing how difficult it must’ve been for Sylus to sit back and just watch. But he did it, for you. 

“Y/N.”

You try to ignore the way Sylus is stroking the bare skin of your shoulders, fingers coming dangerously close to your neck. His ruby eyes beg for your attention.

“Sylus might drink a lot, but he drinks wine –”

“Y/N.”

“Not hard alcohol! Look at how red he is! You guys, this was recklessly irresponsible!”

“Y/N.”

Sylus pulls you forcefully back into his arms, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse. Through the darkness of the night, you pray Luke and Kieran can’t see the way Sylus whispers into your ear.

“I need you.”

You fight the shiver that threatens to unleash through your unsuspecting body, his hot breath washing against your skin, the contrast of the brisk night air making you all the more sensitive. His fingers hold you in place, his hard body pressed into your own. 

You sigh, trying to brush the arousal away, “Let’s get you home, yeah? We can –”

He nips at your earlobe, eliciting a squeak from your lips as he gruffly demands, “Now.”

Before you can protest further, Sylus’s eyes direct to the twins in front of you, the pair of them snickering to themselves knowingly as he dismisses them, “We’ll meet you at home.”

–

You didn’t even make it to your car. 

Far from it, you found yourself pressed into the cold brickwall of a nearby alleyway, not fifteen feet from where Luke and Kieran had left the two of you. Sylus’s lips are latched onto yours in a furiously passionate embrace, his hands alternating between grabbing torridly at your waist and threading into the back of your neck, weaving into your sweat-dampened hair.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck for support against his torridly forceful kiss, his head tilted to the side to give him full access to your mouth, your lips, your tongue. 

He doesn’t even stop to breathe, opting to inhale your breath as his own. His tongue forcefully explores every inch of your open and willing mouth, and you struggle to keep up with his excitement. His fingers massage your neck, grabbing eagerly at every part of you he can reach. 

Sylus has always been passionate, but this was something else. It felt as if the alcohol in his blood amplified everything tenfold, leaving his cock thicker than ever against your shivering abdomen. His hands roam down your naked back, pulling at your waist again, pressing your body harder against his erection that leaks against his underwear. 

Sylus’s head tilts to the other side, your face moving opposite his to instinctively receive his unbridled passion. He cups the back of your head again, shielding you head from hitting the wall, the force of his kiss pushing you against it violently. 

He pulls away briefly, panting into you, his canines grazing into the soft skin of your ear, “You’re going to be the death of me, little dove.”

You want to question him, but his lips are back on yours in an instant, consuming you once more. His fingers grip your jaw so tightly, funneling all the emotions he’d held back, while watching you on the dancefloor with other men, into the way he holds you against the wall. Into the way he devours you.

He gives you a brief second of reprieve, pressing his lips into your neck, voice coming out husky and sulky, “I don’t enjoy seeing you with other men.” 

You gasp as he pushes you impossibly deeper into the wall, teeth simultaneously digging into the curve of your neck. Your fingers thread up into his hair, tugging to ground yourself as Sylus sucks your soft skin. 

“M-sooorry,” you slur, as if you’re the one who’s drunk, “B-But I got the information I – nnghn – needed.”

Sylus growls into your skin, “I knew you would. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

His thumb presses against your bottom lip, eyes glazed over with a drunken hunger, “And you always have me at your mercy.”

It isn’t long before he has your back arched into his abdomen, the front of your sweat slicked body pressed into the cold alley wall, his cock buried in your wet gummy walls. Your panties are pushed messily to the side, your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

Sylus’s fingers are shoved into your mouth, claiming to try and minimize your sounds so passerbys don't hear the filthy things he was doing to you. In reality, he was just addicted to your sweet mouth wrapped around him.

His other hand holds both of your wrists, locking them against the small of your back, leaving you absolutely at the mercy of his thick cock ramming in and out of you.

“S-so damn beautiful,” Sylus is almost slurring, having gotten more drunk the longer the alcohol sat in his stomach. The acoustics of the dark alley made his body pounding against yours all the louder and more sinful. 

His thrusts are sloppy, the alcohol making it harder for him to maintain control. But that only serves to arouse you more, the sight of Sylus’s hazy eyes when you crane your neck back to see him, the sweat sticking to his flushed skin. 

You can only moan, the pads of his fingers pressing down into your tongue. The loud drunken giggles of people passing by make your eyes widen, but Sylus doesn’t stop, only going faster. 

“Never gonna let another man touch you, ever again,” he moans into your ear, as he ruts angrily into your g spot, his fingers pressing tiny bruises into the fat of your hips. He’s ten times handsier when he’s drunk, almost as if the alcohol makes his muscles itch, your body his fixation.. 

He spins you around suddenly, nearly making you lose your balance, his cock entering you just as quickly as it had slipped out. Sylus is desperate to see your beautifully hooded eyes, the faces you make when you come undone for him.

You grip the thick muscles of his neck, admiring his damp and exposed chest. The buttons of his shirt had been yanked open in the drunken shuffle, leaving little to imagination.

“H-Hey,” Sylus mutters, the faintest hint of a whine beneath his words, “Look at me.” His thrusts, sloppier than ever, never stopping.

You grin, despite how blissed out your mind is becoming, at his adorably needy behavior. As you let your eyes lose themselves in his, you stroke his jaw lovingly.

“Tell me,” he pants, his cock twitching as it presses insistently into your walls.

“Nngh — T-Tell you what Sy?” you coo breathlessly, nails digging into his sweaty skin, trying to distract yourself from the no doubt filthy brick wall pressing into your exposed back. 

“Tell me how I make you feel,” Sylus’s jaw tightens dangerously.

He thrusts especially hard and deep when you don’t respond, capturing your wrist and pressing it into the wall above your head, effectively trapping you against the wall, “Tell me.” 

You squeal, biting your lips, “Sylus! F-Feels s’good. N-No one else can — hng — make me feel like this!” 

Sylus’s glossy ruby red eyes flicker, his fingers finding your clit pressed against his pelvis, “Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you sweetheart?”

You want to smile at how adorably needy his words are, the alcohol fueling him with the rare desire to be validated. Instead you just nod vehemently as he plays with your clit, “I dooo!” 

Sylus grunts, struggling to breathe as you tighten around him. He grabs your cheeks in between his fingers, squeezing them firmly until your moans are muffled, “Shhh, we wouldn’t want someone to find us, would we little bird?” 

You nod obediently, but your body responds instinctively to his words, your abdomen fluttering in excitement at the thought of being caught in such a compromising position, with the revered leader of Onychinus no less. 

Sylus chuckles darkly, his every nerve receptive to your tiniest micromovements, and especially the excited way your pussy clamps down on his erection. His lips come down to kiss your jaw sweetly, contrary to the mean way he bullies himself into your cunt.

When he reaches the space beneath your ear he presses a tender kiss there, whispering huskily, “I can feel the way you’re tightening around me. Do you like the idea of someone watching us?”

Your eyes widen at him, and that’s all the answer he needs. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I would love to give them a show. Especially that man who had his hands all over you, hm? What was his name?”

“I-I d-don’t – hah – remember,” you wheeze, holding on as he bounces you into the wall, the sound of drunk bar patrons growing louder.

Sylus smiles darkly, his red eyes glowing in satisfaction, “Good girl. This pussy belongs t’me, hm?” His words come out in a purr, slightly sluggish with intoxication.

You can’t speak, opting to nod as eagerly as you can, your brain muddling against the pleasure of your joined bodies. Sylus chuckles at your wordless agreement.

“My precious dove…can’t even speak?” he coos, fingers still splayed out against your poor quivering clit, the wet sounds of his furious ministrations echoing throughout the dark alley. He leans in close to your ear.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. She’s so loud she might as well be answering for you,” he grins, clearly talking about your soaked and squelching pussy against his demanding thrusts. 

You’re about to retort when you hear another group of people passing by the alley. Your hands fly up to your mouth, forcing your uncontrollable moans away. Your eyes squeeze shut as the patter of feet gets closer and closer, fear and excitement taking over.

“Ah-ah,” Sylus tuts, “You know better than to hide your beautiful sounds from me.” Your eyes widen when his words sink in. 

Your hands fly to Sylus’s broad shoulders, but it’s too late to push him back. His hands find the globes of your ass, lifting you off the floor, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. At this angle Sylus can fully bounce you on his cock, using you however he wants. At this angle, the swollen tip brushes right into your cervix. At this angle, it’s physically impossible for you to muffle your cries. 

Your nails dig into the ropes of his shoulder muscles as you squeal. Sylus only grins as the sound of feet falter, right in front of the alley.

You try your best to whisper, “Sy-Sylus, please. Th-they’ll hear.” But it was pointless. Even if you could hold back your whimpers, the echo of his arousal dampened pelvis slapping against the space where your thighs met your ass bounced off the walls of the alley like a resounding bell. 

“You say that…” he murmurs, fingers coming back down to your clit, balancing you in just one arm, “But why is she getting so tight?”

He’s right, and there’s no denying it. Sylus is well acquainted with your body, knowing exactly what excites you, what you don’t like, what you love. 

The heavy footsteps gradually fade, likely too drunk to hear anything than the pounding of distant EDM music. Sylus hears you sigh in relief, releasing a bated breath, but your cunt stays as tight as ever around him. It drives him insane.

Nearly getting caught has only pushed both of you to the cusp of your orgasms. 

“Close, dove?” Sylus whispers into your ear, one hand pressed into the wall, the other bouncing you on his quivering cock.

Your head is thrown back as you nod, gasping for your next breath, “Y-Yes! So cloooose Sy!” At this point you don’t even care who could possibly hear you, only able to focus on the angry way Sylus’s cock twitching inside you, stroking your g-spot, begging to paint you white.

“M-Me too, Y/N,” Sylus’s uncharacteristic stutter, driven to madness by the alcohol and you, makes you clench down, hard. 

He hisses, hips stuttering, teeth clamping down on your shoulder, tongue subsequently coming out to lap at the space where he bit down, soothing your skin. 

The push of pain, the pull of pleasure, it’s just enough to tip you over, careening down the cliff of your orgasm. Your head falls back, eyes rolling with them, body fully preparing to show Sylus just how much you loved him. 

But Sylus has other plans, squeezing your cheeks in between his fingers, directing you to look at him. 

“Hey. Look at me, please.” 

His commanding words remind you that he’s very much still intoxicated, making him adorably needy for your attention.

When your eyes level with his, his red eyes sparkle happily, like a puppy getting its ears scratched, “Hello, my love. Show me, hm?” The duality of his lovable desperation and his downright malevolent plunges into your cervix blurs the lines between pleasure and reality, sanity and madness.

You nod eagerly, holding his intense eye contact, while you burst at the seams, spraying all over his still clothed abdomen. Sparks of white hot electricity travel through every one of your nerve endings while you cum on him.

Sylus gulps, in awe of the way you sing for him, shame thrown to the wind. If anyone were to walk by, they’d hear the way you screamed for his cock. Hear the way your body made him gasp for his next breath. How he grunts with each rope of cum that he dumps into your waiting hole, each sloppy pump filling his vision with bleary stars.

As he cums, he whispers brokenly into your ear, “C-Can never get enough. I love you, sweetheart.”  One of his big hands comes up to clamp around your throat, his fingers pressing down forcefully as he erupts inside of you. 

“Ngh…I love you Sylus,” you murmur against the pleasure of your constricted air flow, clinging to him, truly like an injured bird.

Sylus kisses your lips tenderly as you both come down from your highs, his fingers carefully laying your panties back in place. When he sets you on the ground, you nearly collapse, your legs quivering from the way they’d been locked around his waist. His arms are back around you in an instant, holding you steady. His cum flows out of you like literal tears, but you can only clamp your thighs shut and pray your pathetic soiled panties can catch the streams of his milky seed. 

He guides you carefully out of the alley, pressing affectionate kisses into the crown of your head as he holds your waist protectively. You’re so dazed you hardly notice that your skirt is still ridden up, until Sylus gently pulls it back down, smoothing the rumpled fabric with his large hands. 

The sounds of two far too familiar voices greet you when you emerge from the backstreet. 

“Are you guys finally done?” 

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?!” 

Sylus groans, running his hand down his face, “Didn’t I tell you two to go back to base?” 

And though you’re thoroughly mortified at the idea of the twins having walked into your…situation, you can’t help but smile at the way Sylus handles Luke and Kieran. Like a father reprimanding his children.

“Well we did —”

“But then you guys didn’t come back for a while —”

“So we thought maybe something happened!” 

You shake your head at their frenzied explanation, the smile stretching on your lips as you watch the twins move their hands animatedly in their defense, “You guys are impossible.”

Luke gasps in exaggerated earnest, “How can you say that after what you’ve put us through?”

Kieran nods in agreement, shuddering dramatically, “Yeah! I feel like I just walked in on my parents…” 

“You two better watch yourselves before I confiscate your guns again,” Sylus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. But you can see the corner of his lips fighting an amused smile. 

Luke and Kieran simultaneously gasp, their reaction making it seem like Sylus was a father grounding his children, taking away their toys. You burst out into giggles, hugging Sylus’s side to keep warm as you watch the comical situation unfold. 

“There’s no need for you to do that, Sy,” you murmur, looking up at him, admiring the way the moonlight frames his face. Sylus peers down at you, his face softening, before nodding curtly.

The twins snicker. Luke uses his hand as a shield in front of his mouth to whisper to Kieran, pointing to Sylus behind it, “Whipped.”

You shoot them a smile, a deceptively innocent and sweet grin, “I’ll gladly confiscate them for you.”

There’s nearly a cartoon puff of smoke left behind when the twins scurry off, desperately clutching their holsters and begging for mercy. 

Sylus chuckles as he watches them run off, his arm slung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side as he presses a kiss into your forehead. 

“Truly a force to be reckoned with.” 

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.8k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk mc and xavier, pre-established relationship (but not first time), public sex/voyeurism, sex on the dance floor, standing sex, fingering, dancing without leaving room for jesus, grinding, jealous!mc, not a content warning but xavier is wearing tight black shirt and jeans…….MMMMMM, unprotected sex, handjob through clothes

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics (how xavier and you make out in this)

The thumping beat of club music pounds in your ears, making it difficult to hear even your own thoughts. But you really didn’t care, too intoxicated and having too much fun dancing with Tara in a throng of sweaty club goers. 

The both of you had requested today off, wanting to see an up and coming DJ at the Linkon Lounge. You’d started the night off at your apartment, getting dolled up in your wispiest lashes and outfits that made you feel strong, confident, and beautiful. You’d shared a couple shots of tequila before slipping on your heels and scrambling out of your apartment, in a fit of tipsy and hushed giggles. 

Coincidentally enough, you ran into Xavier on your way out. Your blonde-haired partner was in the apartment lobby, grabbing his mail, when you and Tara bumped into him, literally. If it weren’t for Xavier’s quick reflexes, his forearm darting out to wrap around your waist, you definitely would’ve ended the night before it began, with an ice pack in your hand rather than a fruity drink. 

And that’s when Tara had invited Xavier out with you. Truthfully, you were sure Xavier would say no. The club definitely wasn’t his scene, and he undoubtedly had plans to have a cozy night in. But you were pleasantly surprised when he blurted out ‘yes’ before Tara could even get the words completely out. Tara knew Xavier wanted to come to keep an eye on you, and she was all too happy to play matchmaker. 

You hadn’t seen Xavier for what felt like at least fifteen minutes. You assumed he went off to the bathroom, or maybe to order some more drinks. Before long, you started to worry. 

“I’m gonna go look for Xavier! Will you be okay?” you practically scream over the music, pulling the side of Tara’s face to your mouth so she can hear you better. 

“I’ll be here!” she yells, pointing at her phone, “Text me if you can’t find me!” You nod, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

You push your way out of the crowd, apologizing profusely as you’re met with the displeased looks and groans of drunk patrons.

Eventually you make your way to the edge of the dancefloor, scouring the area for Xavier. You had a difficult time focussing your eyes, stumbling about, but did your best to look for the enigmatic Hunter. 

You quickly check the line at the bar before deciding to check the bathroom. It’s then you catch the glint of familiar platinum blonde hair, Xavier’s body leaned up against the wall near the public water fountains. 

You gulp at the sight of him, his head leaned back to rest against the wall, his hands folded across his chest. The musky sweat of the enclosed space made his black fitted t-shirt cling to his biceps, his skin glistening with sweat under the pulsing LED lights. 

Even from this far away, it’s clear Xavier is drunk. His eyes are hooded with intoxication, his throat bobbing with shallow breaths.

You’re about to approach him when the groups of people in front of you shift, and you see a girl latched onto Xavier’s bicep. The two look far too cozy, Xavier not doing anything to push her off as she speaks animatedly up at him, her eyelashes batting seductively. 

It’s not like you and Xavier were dating…but it was clear there was something deeply intertwined about the two of you. That, and the fact that you’d been intimate several times. But you had to admit, you’d never made things exclusive. 

You turn on your heel, thoroughly perturbed at the sight of Xavier with someone else, making your way back to where you’d left Tara.

You’d just broken into the crowd when a firm hand catches your wrist, stopping you from pushing further. You turn back sharply, ready to throw your fist back, only to be met with the sight of Xavier, in all his flushed and handsome glory. 

“Where are you going?” 

You fight the urge to smack him, jealousy a true green-eyed monster, instead just feigning ignorance, “What? I can’t hear you!” You gesture wildly with your hands to emphasize your point. You turn away from him, starting to tug your wrist away again when he pulls you back, hard. 

He twirls you effortlessly into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you, secure and unrelenting. You look up at him in question. He leans down, and your breath catches as his lips come an inch away from yours. But he doesn’t kiss you, instead whispering into your ear. 

“I asked where you were going. Didn’t you see me?” his breath is warm against your ear, the smell of alcohol invading your senses over the pounding music.

“You looked busy. I didn’t want to intrude,” you try to keep your voice level, but you can tell it comes out petty. You hope through the deafening music, Xavier can’t hear how sulky your voice is.

Xavier looks confused in his drunken state, but shouts into your ear, his tone genuine and endearing even amidst the music, “You’re never intruding.”

You sigh at his sweet words, tiptoeing up to speak to him and trying to be nice, “Who was your friend?”

Xavier looks even more bewildered for a second, before realizing the implications of your words, a lazy smile painting his features. He holds you close, one hand on the small of your back, the other coming up to touch your cheek. 

“Not my friend. She couldn’t find her friends and wanted to wait with me.”

You roll your eyes. Xavier was too sweet and unassuming for his own good.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Xavier chuckles, “You don’t have to be jealous, I only have eyes for you.”

Your cheeks flare amidst the flush of alcohol on your cheeks at his words, and before you can speak Xavier is leaning down to kiss you. You squeak in surprise, but respond to his lips, kissing him back. 

Xavier kisses you slowly, gently, and tenderly. You can barely even hear the music around you, the musky people bumping into the pair of you. All you can feel is Xavier, lips on yours, his hands stroking your bare skin, his hardening erection against your stomach. 

He pulls away for air, his lips swollen and wet from your passionate kiss. Your ears pound in excitement at the way Xavier looks down at you, hungry and wanting more. You hook your arms around Xavier’s neck, pulling him down until your foreheads brush against each other.

“Dance with me,” you whisper loudly against the music. Xavier’s eyes shine with excitement, and he nods, his hands gripping your waist as you start to sway to the music. 

You turn around so you can watch the flashing lights, the alcohol making them look like a light show. You feel much bolder with the liquid courage running through your veins, so you grind back into Xavier, your rear molding perfectly against his crotch. 

Xavier hardens so quickly against your movements, your body feeling so perfect against his. The alcohol makes everything feel much more fluid and raw, his body responding excitedly.

He too is fueled by the courage of intoxication, his hands roaming from your hips to your stomach, just above the fat of your cunt. He can feel the way you shiver at his touch, and he decides to dare further. 

His strong hands wander up, until they cup your breasts through your sheer dress. He rests his chin on your shoulder, whispering into your ear.

“Is this alright?” 

You crane your neck backwards to nod at him, eyes flickering to his lips. Xavier leans in to kiss you again, one hand still playing with your nipple, the other reaching up to hold your throat against him gently. The two of you kiss so passionately, so messily, that you hardly notice the crowd of equally drunk and horny people around you. 

As you kiss him, your hand comes backward to cup the back of Xavier’s head, grabbing at his soft blonde locks. Your body continues to rock sensually into him, relishing in the way his hard erection sits between the slit of your ass.

Looking up at him through your wet eyelashes, you whisper, “M-More. I want more.”

Xavier groans, looking around, trying to find the quickest way out of the crowd. But you can’t wait, too aroused by the way Xavier’s shirt clings to his muscles, the way his cock fights against his jeans, straining to be with you.

The alcohol dares you to be bolder than you normally would ever be. You grab his wrist, bringing it down to the hem of your minidress, guiding his fingers to slip under it. 

You can feel Xavier stiffen behind you, eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching. But he quickly realizes quite literally no one cares about the two of you, too focussed on the music, too focussed on their own partners, to even spare you a glance.

So he follows your lead, his hands roaming under your dress, digging into your soft thighs. You moan into his ear, your head laid back on his shoulder.

With his palm so close to your cunt, you grind right into his open hand, wanting more friction, more of him. Xavier groans at your enthusiasm, quickly forgetting about the people that are packed around you like sardines. He feels something damp against his fingers, making him all the more desperate to have you. 

“You’re wet,” Xavier whispers sluggishly into your ear, “Is this all for me?”

You groan at his words, your muscles twitching with anticipation. You try and look at him, the back of your head still resting on his thick shoulder. Your hand grasps at the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to drift down to you, the azure blues flickering to your lips before they come back to your gaze.

“Touch me, please.”

Even under the strobing lights of the club you can see Xavier’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening. His eyes flutter shut as he leans down to kiss you.

At the same time, his finger gingerly dips into your folds, moving your panties to the side. At first he just rubs up and down with his middle finger, enjoying the way you moan into his mouth. But it becomes far too unbearable, not being inside you.

He slowly dips his middle finger inside of you, hissing when your little hole sucks him in tightly. 

“Is this okay?” Xavier asks, wanting to make sure you’re alright. Your eyes dart around lazily, making sure no one can see Xavier’s hands underneath your dress. 

You nod, your eyelashes fluttering shut as Xavier starts to pump in and out of you. The energetic music makes everything feel more surreal, only the occasional jostling of people bumping into the pair of you reminding you of exactly where you are. 

Xavier’s index finger finds its way inside you, his thumb rubbing at your slippery clit. He alternates his free arm between shielding you from people pushing as they pass by, and cupping your breast through your dress. In all your writhing, your ass continues to grind against Xavier’s cock. Under his jeans, he’s leaking so profusely that your body rubs around the slick, creating a sticky mess. 

Xavier pumps inside you, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him, the feeling of risk and wrong. 

“Please – Please don’t stop,” you pant, looking up at him with starry eyes.

The look of complete and utter bliss on your gorgeously flushed face makes Xavier bite his lip, “I’ll never stop, angel.”

You clench down hard on his fingers at the endearing pet name, one he so rarely called you. It makes you writhe against his hot and hard body, pressed firmly into you, like a puzzle piece.

With your back still turned to him, you reach your hand back to where his bulge presses into you. With careful hands, you cup the massive swell of his manhood, biting your lip when he moans into your ear, teeth grazing against your earlobe. 

You rub him enthusiastically through his jeans, enjoying the way he writhes under your touch, his cock straining through the tight restraint of his pants. 

“You’re evil,” Xavier groans, pressing kisses into your neck, trying to contain the moans he wants to make for you.

You lean your head back, staring at him through hooded eyes, “Should I stop?”

Xavier holds you tight, almost crushing you, to keep you from stopping.

“No. Never.”

You giggle, turning back to the club stage, watching the DJ perform, hands finding their way back to Xavier’s crotch. His pants are heavy and breathy by your ear, fingers scissoring in and out of you furiously.

Soon enough, the feeling of just your plush body against his isn’t enough anymore. He needs more.

With his fingers never pausing, he asks, his voice smooth and sultry, “I need to be inside of you, is that okay?” 

“Please,” you whisper huskily, grinding against his fingers, “I want you.”

You can feel Xavier shifting behind you, pulling out his cock. He feverishly pulls your panties down just slightly, so that they rest under your cheeks. He lifts your dress, enough to give him access but making sure you’re still covered. He would rather die than let anyone see your precious body. 

As the music comes to a peak, the beat building alongside your release, Xavier slips his erection into you. You’re thankful for the heavy bass of the drop because you quite literally cannot hold back the scream that rips from your lips as he pushes himself into the hilt.

One of his hands travels from your waist to under the front of your dress. When he finds your clit, he pinches down hard.

“You’re so cute,” Xavier hisses into your ear, picking up his pace, “Were you jealous earlier?”

“N-No! Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” you whimper, your fingers gripping the arm he has buried between your legs. 

“Mmm,” Xavier hums, clearly not convinced, “That’s alright, Y/N. You have nothing to be jealous of, ever.”

“I-I’m not – I wasn’t!” you gasp, forcing the words together as Xavier’s cock nearly finds its way into your throat. But at this point you knew he could see right through you.

“Would travel through time and space for you,” he murmurs, words full of a boundless affection, “I only see you.”

He puts all that same adoration and passion into the way he fucks up into you, holding you protectively in place, making sure no one so much as brushes against you. 

Your moans are strangled when his cockhead angles into your g-spot, cutting off the drunken confessions on the tip of your tongue. Xavier’s girth was always something you had a hard time getting used to, and taking him standing was infinitely harder. Your inner thighs burned with the strain of how fully he stretches you out.

Xavier’s hand comes over to cover your mouth, his smile pressed against your throat. The alcohol makes Xavier irregularly chatty, his inhibitions lowered completely, “You’re so loud. Does it feel that good?”

Your eyes are rolled back mesmerized by the flashing lights, unable to discern what comes from the nightclub’s light show and what comes from the pleasure of Xavier’s poignant thrusts. You do your best to nod, your teeth sinking into Xavier’s palm to keep yourself conscious. 

You’re nearly doubled over now, your jelly legs unable to hold you up, with only the support of Xavier’s strong hand against your cunt and his other arm wrapped around your chest. He holds you up as securely as he can, his own intoxication growing having not drank any water since you’d arrived at the club. 

“Are you okay?”

Xavier’s head snaps up to see a club patron in front of you, a concerned look on his face as he  kneels down to be eye-level with you. Xavier squick readjusts to make sure you’re covered.

Your eyes widen, trying to straighten up, “F-Fine!” You nearly scream as Xavier continues to thrust into you, his movement much more conspicuous but somehow more intense. 

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” 

You want to be kind, but you can really only focus on the way Xavier continues to fuck you, not even caring that the good Samaritan in front of you was this close to realizing what was happening. The fact that you were still very much drunk did not help.

“N-No, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes rolling back when Xavier hits your g-spot. You can’t see him but you just know he’s enjoying the position he has you in. He smirks in satisfaction, grinding into your ass, his thick length nestling into your every nerve. 

The man looks skeptical, especially at your unfocused hooded eyes, “Do you want some water?”

He’s about to reach out to touch you, when Xavier yanks you back, both arms wrapped protectively around you, “She’s fine.”

At Xavier’s harsh tone, the man recoils, looking up, almost as if he’s just noticing Xavier. He nods awkwardly before disappearing into the crowd. 

Xavier resumes his vigor, kissing your neck and whispering, “Mine.”

“Now look who’s jealous,” you giggle languidly, gasping when Xavier drives into you harder.

“Not jealous. It’s just the truth,” he murmurs, tilting your head back to kiss you, fingers back on your clit.

His tongue explores your mouth excitedly, your pleasures quickly reaching a peak after coming close to being caught. Your body convulses around him, wanting him to push you into the oblivion of ecstasy. 

“Always so tight,” Xavier groans, “I-I won’t last long like this…”

You squeal, your sounds drowned out by the vibrating music, “Ngh – me too Xavier.”

“G-Gonna cum,” Xavier gasps as your cunt strangles him, ripping away from your lips and panting for air. 

You crane your neck back to look at him, your eyes wide with wonder and desperation. The blissed out look on your beautiful face makes Xavier groan, his hips stuttering into his climax.

“Cum for me, Xavier,” you beg, impossibly close as well, “Want to feel you.”

Xavier shuts his eyes, his body following your every command. His cock explodes inside you, filling you with a hot warmth that spreads all the way to your fingertips and toes. Xavier doesn’t speak as he cums, only suckling hungrily at your neck, moaning and whimpering into your bruised skin.

He keeps thrusting into you, even as his cum starts to leak out of your hole, wanting you to come undone too. Even when the overstimulation starts to border on pain, he refuses to stop.

His cum makes it so there’s zero resistance, only the pure pleasure of his cock against your throbbing gummy walls. Soon, you’re cumming too, screaming into the pulsating music, your climax crescendoing with the drop of the song. The symphony of it all, the alcohol, the threat of being caught by any one of the dozens of people around you, makes it one of your most intense orgasms yet. 

Your body instinctively clenches down as you release, making you cream all over Xavier, a mix of both your arousals. Xavier watches in awe at the beautiful way you cum, for him. It’s enough to make him pump a few more ropes into you, even as his dick throbs sharply in protest. 

Xavier hugs you to his chest tightly, holding onto you for support as his cock quivers inside you. You can feel his chest heaving against your back, shifting as he slips out of you and redoes his zipper. Xavier puts your panties back into place, pressing a faint trail of kisses along your shoulders. 

Suddenly, the crowd feels suffocating and icky and you desperately want to be somewhere quieter with Xavier. You pull him out of the crowd, nudging throngs of drunk and horny patrons out of the way as you make your way to the bar. Xavier follows you sluggishly, his fingers barely closing over yours as you guide him out..

When you reach the bar, you order a water and turn to Xavier worriedly, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“Xavier,” you urged, “Are you okay?”

Xavier’s eyes flutter open, his eyes slightly rolled back, “M’okay. Just sleepy.” You giggle, patting his face gently, realizing the haze in his eyes is a mix of intoxication and post-sex bliss. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re always so sleepy. Especially after…”

Despite Xavier’s eyes remaining closed, he smiles and mumbles as he leans against the wall next to the bar, “Can’t help it. You drain me.”

You blush furiously, despite it being loud enough where no one can hear you two. The bartender hands you a glass of water, and you bring it up to Xavier’s lips. Xavier’s eyelids flicker open, his long eyelashes fluttering as he takes in his surroundings again, like he’s so intoxicated off the alcohol and you that he can’t make sense of his bearings.

You take his chin into your palm, tilting him up gently so the water doesn’t spill. Xavier drinks obediently, not letting a single drop go to waste. His position against the wall makes it so that you tower a few inches over him, so he has to look up at you through his eyelashes. With each gulp of the icy water he never breaks eye contact with you, staring at you with all the awe and devotion in the world.

His hands gently grip your wrists, nuzzling into your hand. The way he watches you makes you want to squirm, his eyes glimmering under the flashing lights. His azure eyes feel like they hold the weight of an entire galaxy, but in reality it’s the reflection of you that makes his eyes sparkle with the brilliance of the stars.

“Hey! There you two are!” 

You whip your head around to see Tara excitedly hurrying over to you as Xavier finishes the last of the water. 

You turn to her, “Tara! I’m sorry, I found Xavier but then we got…caught up.”

She smiles and shakes her head. There’s a knowing  mischief in her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe you, “It’s alright! I made some friends.”

She looks at Xavier. Even though you no longer hold up the empty glass to his lips, he still stares at you with the same starstruck look, a post-orgasm mist over his entire face.

“Why does he look like that?”

Your cheeks burn and you scramble to find an excuse, “Oh, he’s fine! He’s just drunk. And sleepy. Very sleepy.”

Tara grabs your chin, tilting it up in a squint, inspecting you. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, if maybe your false eyelashes came off, but when you look down at your shoulder you see exactly what she’s looking at.

A bright red, purpling bruise. In the exact shape of Xavier’s lips.

“Oh, I bet he’s sleepy.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, drunk zayne, needy zayne, jealous zayne, couch sex, booby sucking, pretty vanilla tbh, slightly sub zayne, zayne begs a lot, prone bone, doggy, choking, making out, cumming in coochie, mentions of birth control usage, zayne is a lightweight

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | video | art (credit to @roschea-arts)

You stumble into your apartment, nearly tripping over the threshold as Zayne’s heavy arm slumps over your shoulder for support. You kick your heels off, briefly bending down to slip Zayne’s shoes off, before you lead him to sit on your couch.

“Sit here while I get some water for you, okay?” you whisper worriedly against Zayne’s nearly unconscious face, pressing a kiss to his heated and clammy temple. Zayne doesn’t respond, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a shallow breath, nodding gently.  

Well, this was definitely not how you’d expected tonight to go.

When you’d invited Zayne as your date to the annual UNICORN hosted Hunters’ Association Banquet, you expected it to be a relatively uneventful night. You never expected your raven-haired surgeon boyfriend to get drunk. In fact, you’d never seen him so much as tipsy since you’d known him. 

And that was something Zayne intentionally made sure of; alcohol was not something he indulged in, ever.

Except when you’re so busy socializing all night that he gets unbearably bored, curious, and desperate for your attention.

So that’s how he ended up absolutely plastered off two cocktails. In his defense they were deceptively fruity and sweet, the rims coated in thick crystals of sugar. Truly his kryptonite. 

So when Zayne grabs your wrist while you’re talking to a fellow Hunter, spinning you gently to his hard chest, you’re completely taken aback. 

“Apologies. Can I steal my girlfriend for a moment?”

Your colleague, standing before the both of you, looks flustered at Zayne’s commanding voice, nodding fervently before he turns to leave. His face is pale, not realizing you’d brought a guest to the banquet, much less a guest that looked as handsome and imposing as Zayne. You whip around, eyebrows raised, to face the surgeon in question.

His face is uncharacteristically red, the tips of his ears burning so adorably bright. The first few buttons of his shirt had been undone, the collar disheveled, like he’d pulled at it until the enclosures gave way. What’s more, the tension that colored his words, alarming and unusual. 

“Zayne? What’s wrong?” you reach up to touch his cheek worriedly, gasping at how warm his normally chilly skin was, “Are you not feeling well?” 

Zayne releases your wrist, instead capturing your hand on his jaw with his own palm, pressing you deeper into his cheek. He practically purrs into your touch, nuzzling into your hand warmly. 

“You feel nice.” His voice is low, almost a rough whisper against the cheerful laughter of the night. 

It was very unlike Zayne to be so blatant with his affections, especially in front of either of your colleagues. In this case, the packed banquet hall of UNICORN’s annual Hunter’s banquet, filled with curious and nosy onlookers, peering at the two of you embracing in the middle of the party.

Perhaps the bustling activity became too overwhelming for Zayne, especially given that you had been pulled every which way to discuss your recent mission successes. You’d hardly had a chance to make sure he was doing okay. 

“Did you want to leave? I can —” 

Zayne pulls you closer to him until your bodies are pressed together tightly, his slender fingers holding your waist in place. You squeak in surprise, blushing as you try to ignore the prying eyes of your colleagues as Zayne strokes your cheek, fingers playing with your loose strands of hair.

“Who was that?” Zayne’s voice is deceptively calm against the top of your head as he breathes in your familiar scent, masking the demand and restraint lurking just below the surface. Your pheromones calm him down slightly, making him feel much more at ease.

“Who was who?” 

Zayne bends down to reach your ear, his normally calm and stoic voice much more shaky than usual, “That man, who was making you laugh. He seemed friendly.” 

Zayne’s words tickle your ear, making you shiver. It’s then you can smell the alcohol on him, as he leans down to whisper in your ear, the bitter scent of vodka mixing with the faint smell of his cologne. Suddenly the questions of his irregular behavior clicked. 

You lean back to look at him in shock, “Zayne?! Are you drunk?” 

Zayne looks sheepish, his hazel eyes still intense, “No. I don’t – hic – don’t think so.” 

You want to laugh at his incriminating hiccup, the surgeon undoubtedly intoxicated. That fact is only confirmed to you when you tip-toe up to peck his lips and taste the bittersweet trace of alcohol on him. 

“You were so busy, I got curious and decided to...indulge. Just this once,” Zayne admits, his eyes never leaving yours as he holds you close. 

You don’t speak, in shock at the way his words are slightly whiny and sulky all at once, something you never heard from Zayne. Zayne was never one to be jealous, and much less to actually show that jealousy. 

Zayne’s eyes lower, glowing at you in a soft regret, “I’m sorry.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his chest, arms wrapping around his waist. For that brief moment, you forget all about the watchful eyes around you, only able to focus on the man you loved before you.

“How many drinks did you have?”

He pauses, looking genuinely deep in thought as he tries to recall the night, “Two, no…maybe three.”

You grin wordlessly. Zayne never drank, so he was undoubtedly a lightweight, that was no surprise. But you would’ve thought it would take more than three drinks to knock the formidable man off his ass. 

Zayne’s jaw clenched as he admires how beautiful you look tonight, his wandering alcohol-fueled desires pushing him to want to see much more, “Would it be alright if we called it a night?”

You nod, peering up at him, “Of course, are you not feeling well from the alcohol?”

Zayne averts his eyes, clearing his throat. His neck bobs against his undone collar, his tie hanging loosely around his chest. 

“I’m alright. I just…want to be alone with you.”

By the time you arrived at your apartment, Zayne had gotten considerably more drunk, the alcohol being further absorbed into his bloodstream. 

You hurriedly bring him a cool glass of water, standing in between his thighs, over his limp body. Zayne’s head is thrown back against the cushion of your couch, already having yanked off his suit jacket and tie, the articles of clothing strewn over the arm of the seat, his neck and collar exposed. His snowy pale skin is splotched red, practically radiating a wave of heat.

Your fingers cup his sharp jaw, tilting his chin up, shifting to hold his heavy head in the palm of your hand, stroking his cheek lovingly. Zayne’s eyes flicker up to yours as you tilt him up, his glasses slightly fogged up from the heated crimson flush on his cheeks. His eyes light up when they meet yours, his eyelashes fluttering as he fights to keep his eyes open. You bite your lip, trying to keep your wide smile at bay. He looked so utterly adorable like this, looking up so affectionately obedient like this. 

You bring the glass gently up to his lips, encouraging him to drink. Zayne obeys, lips latching onto the edge of the cup as you tilt it forward, gently nudging his chin upwards with your other hand. 

His eyes flutter open at the feeling of your touch, his golden emerald irises trained solely on you as he drinks, refusing to look away. He’s so focussed on you that dribbles of water stream down his chin as he gulps down the entire glass, falling onto his collar. 

His eyes never leave yours as he chugs the entire glass of refreshing water, the whites of his eyes shining in the dim lighting of your apartment. If anyone else saw the way Zayne looked at you, they’d swear they could see hearts reflected in them as he drank from your hands. He looked at you as if his entire world spun around you, the center of his universe. 

When you pull away, Zayne’s eyes still don’t leave yours. Instead, they appear to become more intense, more fiery. 

“Zayne? Do you want more water?”

He doesn’t answer. You’re too distracted by the incensed pools of peridot when Zayne yanks you onto his lap, lips capturing yours hungrily.

–

“Ngh – Zayne!” you moan, pulling away from his demanding and bruising lips. Zayne grants you a brief break to breathe, but his fingers firmly hold your hips in place atop his erection that strains against his buckled pants, the two of you nestled deep into the couch cushion. 

He gives you a second before he’s yanking your chin towards him again, soft mouth crushed against yours in an instant. Your lips are captured gently between his teeth, his hunger for you insatiable. The taste of alcohol is still faint on his tongue, and he wants nothing more than to overwhelm himself with the taste of you. 

You’re completely engulfed by him, the ferocity of his mouth against yours, the warmth of his breath against your tongue. Zayne’s jaw alternates, side to side, trying to give himself the best access to you he can possibly get. The cool touch of metal grazes against your cheeks, his glasses pressing against you in the vigor of his embrace. He groans in frustration into your mouth, forcing himself to briefly pull away.

Before you can even question him, he’s yanking his misted up glasses off by the temples, tossing them onto your coffee table without a second glance, without a single care. His eyes are hooded with desire, his glasses no longer obstructing you from him. They shut sensually when he leans back in, lips parting as his glasses clatter louding against the table. 

He says nothing, smashing his lips into yours once again. You can vaguely feel the distinct bump of his nose, pressing into your skin, when he grabs the back of your head, pulling you harder against his all consuming hunger. 

His tongue is unbelievably tender against yours, despite how urgently and desperately he devours you. His fingers press into the divots of your arched back, his arms are completely wrapped around you, bringing you into an affectionate embrace as he continues to consume you whole. His fingers stroke up and down the half exposed expanse of your back, enjoying how soft you feel against his big hands. 

You grind down onto his cock as you try and match his passion, your panties sticking to your soaked folds. Your thighs are spread so widely against his legs, that the dampness smears against his dress pants, your dress doing little to hold anything back. 

Zayne hisses at the delicious pressure, lips leaving yours to gasp into your ear, his hot breath caressing the sensitive skin. 

“D-Don’t,” he gulps deeply, alcohol and anticipation making him trip over his words, “Unless you're willing to take responsibility for the consequences.”

You shiver at his words, leaning in to kiss his reddened earlobe, “And if I am?”

And that’s how you find yourself naked, sweaty, and writhing on your back, under the pressure of Zayne’s half naked body on top of you, his cock ravaging every inch of your poor cunt.

Zayne is a mumbling and moaning mess above you, droplets of sweat beading on his bright red temples, his damp hair dangling below his forehead. His unbuttoned dress shirt flies wildly, his thick muscles twitching every time his lower half drives into you like a madman. If it weren’t for the sweat lining your back, you’d undoubtedly be pushed around the couch like a ragdoll under Zayne’s furious passion.

You can barely see Zayne’s eyes, his dangling bangs obscuring much of his frantic face. You do your best to sit up, your chin on your chest, watching the way Zayne’s glistening body jackhammers into you, his rhythm erratic and desperate. 

Trying not to drool, you watch his abdominal muscles twitch, his briefs and dress pants hanging off his hips. He’d been so eager to bury himself inside of you that he didn’t even take off his clothing, instead pulling his cock out from under the top of the waistband of his briefs. It’s so heavy and thick with excitement that the restraint of his brief’s waistband is no match for it.  

“M’sorry,” Zayne mumbles, so slurred you barely even hear it through the clinking of his undone belt, hanging off his waist.

“Wh-what?” you pant, tugging at the sweat-soaked shirt that clings to his back. 

“Didn’t mean to get so intoxicated,” he pants breathlessly, almost sounding guilty, “I’m sorry.”

Your heart clenches at the vulnerability shining in his eyes. You know he’s not used to letting himself feel his emotions like this, to really give into his needs and desires.  

“Zayne, don’t apologize,” you whimper through the pleasure, stroking his cheek, “You’re allowed to let go sometimes.”

Your words nearly make Zayne snarl, his pelvis slapping into your ass, his hands elevating hips, your thighs wrapped tightly into his sides. 

“You’re so good to me,” he rasps, eyes rolling back as his praises make your body instinctively clench down, “I–I love you.”

“A-ahh nghn – love you s’much Zayne,” you squeal as he thrusts even deeper into you, his confession only increasing the passion he feels for you in the drunken moment. 

You’re surprised when you feel his damp hair pressing against your forehead, his cool lips brushing a soft kiss onto it, deceptively gentle compared to the way he ravages your wet heat.

“M’always thinking about you,” Zayne moans, voice muffled as he kisses your forehead over and over, unable to keep his lips, his hands, off of you. 

“I think about y’too Za–ayne,” you pant, trying to focus on forming coherent words through the shape of his erection being molded into your core. You knew just how vulnerable the fog of alcohol had made Zayne and wanted more than anything to reassure him.

But his cock stretching you out, nearly the width of a clenched fist, made that so difficult. 

“You looked – you look ravishing tonight,” he slurs, kissing down your cheek and onto your neck, “Had a hard time tonight, watching you – hic – be the most beautiful girl in the room.” 

Your chest flutters and you blush, clenching onto him, “H-Hardly.” 

Zayne’s eyebrows furrow, giving you a pointed thrust, making your breasts jiggle at the force, “Look at what you do to me.” 

His fingers cup your breast forcefully, squeezing down on your poor nipple, “You know I’m not one for jealousy…”

“But even I am not immune when you look like that, giving everyone but me your attention.” 

“Sorry, my love,” you murmur, trying your best to speak through his frantic thrusts, “You know you’re the one I come home to at the end of the day.” 

Zayne’s eyes darken with satisfaction, his fingers twirling your nipple in between them, “I suppose. But does that give you the right to let men flirt with you shamelessly all night?” 

“Zayne, they weren’t —” But apparently protesting was a mistake, because Zayne only starts to hammer into you harder.

“They were,” he growls drunkenly, letting his emotions take control for a split second, “But I can’t really blame them, not when you look like this. Not when you feel this perfect around me.”

You whine at his words, his simultaneous threats and praises making it impossible for you to think straight. 

“I-I’m soorry,” you find yourself apologizing, wanting to please Zayne, “Won’t do it again, I’ll b-be good!”

“No need to – hah – apologize, my love,” Zayne groans, “Not when I plan on reminding you exactly who you belong to tonight, all night.”

Your body convulses around him, knowing just how much stamina Zayne has, just how serious his slurred words are. Zayne’s hips falter, his body buckling into you.

“You’re s-oo tight,” he groans brokenly, letting his head fall down to your chest, “All for me, right? 

“Allll f’you! Only you!” you cry, your fingers gripping onto the back of his shirt when his teeth close over your nipple, nibbling gently. You claw at his back, desperately wanting to be able to touch his bare skin, but his white dress shirt is in the way. 

“That’s my girl,” he moans, words muffled by the way his tongue circles around your hardened peaks, suckling like he was trying to find the antidote to intoxication, “So good for me.” 

As his thrusts grow sloppier, you know he’s coming close to his end. But you’re surprised when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you feeling empty. 

“W-Why?” you demand, leaning up on your elbows in protest. Your eyes widen, almost salivating, when you see the way Zayne is gripping the base of his cock, the thick head red, angry, and ready to burst. He curses, forcing himself to take deep breaths, desperately trying to hold his orgasm back. He was learning that alcohol significantly decreased his normally endless supply of stamina. 

“Don’t want to – ngh – finish yet,” he pants, hooking his arm under your back and flipping you over so that your back faces him, your hips arched slightly off the couch. He quickly takes off his pants that are pooled by his knees, his briefs still clinging to his muscled thighs.

You squeak in surprise when you feel the wet smack of Zayne’s cock against your ass, the surgeon hissing at the painful yet arousing sensation. The sting helps to keep him from exploding right onto your beautiful body. 

“Ngh – Zaaayne!” you squeal when Zayne shoves himself back into you, parting your cheeks to give himself better access. You claw at your couch as he picks up his speed, rhythm still unsteady.

“I’m sorry,” Zayne apologizes, his words bordering on frenzied babbles as he pounds into you, his heavyset balls slapping against your clit, “M’sorry, love. Let me make it better.”

He leans down, pressing a trail of kisses down your spine, his pelvis rippling against your rear. His veiny forearms cage you into the couch, his foot lifting to step onto the cushion, right by your waist. With his leg raising as leverage, he can truly jackhammer into you.

Zayne goes absolutely feral in this position, his fingers coming up to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging gently as he bounces up and down on your ass. The sounds of skin against skin, drunken moans, and moist squelches resounds like a symphony in the early morning lighting of your apartment. 

His grasp tightens in your hair, his other hand kneading the plush of your ass as it ripples against his thrusts. His voice lowers, throwing his head back with a moan, “Been waiting all night to have you like this.”

“Oh-oh God!” you cry when he thrusts into you, particularly hard and deep, making you see stars, “Zayne I-I can’t – I’m so close!”

Zayne hoists you onto all fours, gently lifting your upper body by your neck so that you’re pressed firmly against him with your knees holding you up. He kneels behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other secures your neck against his chest.  

“Me too, angel,” Zayne pants into your ear, his breath hot and moist. You can feel the truth in his words, his thighs shaky against yours, his thrusts erratic. 

“Please, let me cum in you,” Zayne rasps. 

“When have I ever denied you?” you respond. Zayne came inside you nearly every time you two were intimate, ever since you’d started birth control. 

“It’s a waste, if it’s not inside you,” Zayne slurs, “You’ll take it, right?”

When you don’t respond, too wrapped up in the bliss of it all, Zayne’s hand descends to pinch your nipple. The power of his thrusts, the tease of his hands, his aura. He commands authority,

“Tell me you’ll take it all, for me.”

“I will, I will! P-please Zayne, give it to me!”

Zayne groans, grip tightening against your body, hugging you for dear life, “That’s my girl, that’s it, just like that. 

Zayne has always been vocal, but his drunken ramblings have taken it to another level. You clench down, ready to come undone to the sound of his filthy praises. 

Zayne is close behind you, hands kneading your breasts, balls slapping against your clit, “It’s coming Y/N, take it. Take it for me, please.”

You scream in response, cunt spasming around the last of his messy ruts. Zayne’s own strangled groans mix with the sound of wet flesh slapping against each other. You can feel every beautiful ribbon of white hot cum painting your insides, coating every inch of your waiting womb.

Zayne’s skin often felt ice-cold, but his cum always came out so hot and heedy. And now, with the flush of alcohol still clouding his circulation, his milky ropes of seed nearly made you feverish.

Zayne slumps against you, his body spent, drained bone-dry. The weight of him against your quivering muscles is too much, and your thighs give out, sending you crashing into the couch. He catches you before you can slam face-first into the carpeted floor.

He sets your limp body gently into the couch, shrugging off his white button-up.

“Zayne,” you murmur groggily, savoring the image of his muscles peaking through his open shirt, “Come cuddle.”

The corner of his lip twitches, “I will, sweetheart. Let me clean you up first.”

Using the clean inside of his shirt, he carefully wipes off the slick that collects at your inner thighs, before it can pool onto the couch. Your legs are putty in his hands, Zayne cleaning you with the utmost care and tenderness. 

When he’s done, he settles beside you on the couch, shifting you so that your neck rests on his forearm. He holds you close with one arm, the other drawing lazy circles into your stomach.

Zayne turns his head to the side, pressing a kiss into your temple, “Thank you. For taking care of me tonight.” 

You can tell by Zayne’s calm and steady tone that he’s sobered up quite a bit from the orgasm, the control returning to his deep timbre. 

You giggle, nuzzling deeper into his arm, the hairs of his underarm tickling your shoulder, “I hardly did anything.” In the comfortable silence, your eyes start to flutter closed.

“You did more than you know,” Zayne whispers, the tender smile in his voice unmistakeable. You simply nod, muttering incoherently as you fall into a deep and sated slumber.

“You are everything.”

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 3.9k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, car sex, publix sex/slight voyeurism, sex while pulled over in da passenger seat, bottom raf, riding, face sitting, rafayel is a MUNCH, oral f!receiving, jealous raf, drunk rafayel, protective rafayel, somewhat mentions of violence, unprotected sex, no pull out ever

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: original inspo | pics 1 | pics 2 (both rafayel's car)

The night road ahead of you is peacefully calm, the drive back to Rafayel’s house a peaceful and scenic trip. There's very few cars beside yours, well Rafayel’s, on the main roads back, likely because it was close to 2am. 

You were honestly having way too much fun driving Rafayel’s car, thoroughly enjoying the purr of the beautiful Benz. You didn’t have the opportunity to drive many cars, let alone a Gran Turismo.

Your fingers tap gently along the rim of the steering wheel, admiring the elegant LED lights that kept you awake. Rafayel had the car’s interior lights set to a blushed lavender color, ever since you’d said it was your favorite setting. It reminded you of the pink in his cotton candy eyes. 

Your eyes flicker to your right, briefly checking on Rafayel as he groans beside you in the passenger seat. 

He sat with his arm propped up against the passenger side window, his head resting on his palm. His breathing was still shallow, his eyes closed in a restless and light sleep. The alcohol was no doubt making it difficult for him to rest. 

You sigh to yourself, trying to think back to how the night had ended disastrously with him so damn drunk. 

Rafayel had invited you as his date to one of his endless art exhibits, a few cities over from your home. Only this one was special.

When they’d unveiled his starring piece, a beautiful oil painting on a massive canvas that nearly reached the ceiling, you nearly fell to your knees.

Because Rafayel had painted the most exquisite portrait of you. 

You, surrounded in ribbons of coral and seaweed, the most colorful globs of intricate paint surrounding you, a mosaic of sea glass. You, dancing in the endless sea of pastel turquoise. You, in Lemuria. His home. 

Rafayel had painted you countless times before, you were his muse after all. Even if he never admitted that openly to you. But this was different, he’d never so openly shared you with this world before. Never wanted to open himself up like this, to anyone, to you.

It was beautiful as it was magnificent. It made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, more gorgeous than you’d ever felt in your entire life. The way he’d put paint to canvas and created literal magic.

It appeared others thought so too. All the patrons attending the gala that night clamored around the oil canvas, press snapping photos, writers grabbing at Rafayel, trying to get anything for their tabloids. 

It was nothing out of the norm. You’d become quite used to the glitz, glamor, and madness that came with being his girlfriend. 

What was unexpected, was the attention you got, as the subject of the painting. 

The people who wanted a piece of you, the stunning woman in Rafyel’s newest piece. Rafayel did his best to keep you comfortable, shooing away the throws of people trying to get even a morsel of anything from you. 

“Rafayel. It’s okay. I can handle it,” you give him your best reassuring smile, “Go mingle with your guests, I’ll be fine.” 

Rafayel looks reluctant, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist, unwilling to let go. Eventually you convince him, with the promise of a reward later if he listened, to go speak to the serious sponsors and buyers that demanded his attention.

“Never should’ve painted that damn thing,” he muttered as he walked off, looking back at you as Thomas dragged him off. He should’ve known sharing you with the world would have driven him insane. 

So you spent the rest of the night trying to be as sociable as possible, not wanting to upset any of Rafayel’s guests. After a few hours you finally found a free moment, finding yourself in front of the portrait once again. Most of the people had cleared out, giving you a chance to really admire the masterpiece. 

Rafayel was undeniably talented, maybe the most gifted artist in the world, you’d always thought so. But the way he painted you here was more than just art. 

It was his heart on a canvas. And his heart, his entire world, was you. Every fiber of his soul, woven together into a tapestry of lustrous colors, each one depicting a different memory.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You turn your head to the stranger’s voice, coming face to face with a handsome man, clad head to toe in the most luxurious brands. He stands so uncomfortably close to you that you can smell the nauseating cologne wafting off of him. And yet it’s his aura that makes your skin crawl uncomfortably.

He fills in your awkward silence, eyes looking you up and down, “Definitely not as beautiful as the real thing.”

You really don’t know how to respond to the stranger’s boldness, in shock at how forward he’s being. Your relationship with Rafayel was no secret, the paparazzi having photographed the two of you publicly many times. And you’d walked into the gala on Rafayel’s arm. 

“Thank you,” you say curtly, offering a small smile, trying to return your attention to the display. 

“I’m going to buy it, you know. And then maybe after, I can buy you a drink?” when his hand lands on your bare shoulder you flinch back, ready to resort to your tactical training. The thought of this man buying a portrait of you makes you nauseous.

Before you can give him a piece of your mind, he’s falling backward with a surprised yelp.

“Hands off the art,” an all-too familiar voice snarls, as he stands between you and the man. You’re too shell shocked to realize Rafayel is clearly drunk, his charismatic voice drawling muddily. 

“Don’t touch me,” the man snaps, “I bought this piece, I legally own it.” The way he says ‘piece’ makes your blood boil, the misogyny dripping off his words.

Rafayel, drunk as he might be, catches on too. Fire burns in his eyes, matching the heat of his Evol. Thomas isn’t far behind, looking at you with desperation on his face, begging you to help him defuse the situation. Rafayel was spontaneous enough as it was, there was no telling the lengths he’d go to when he was intoxicated, especially when you were involved. 

You reach your hand out, grasping Rafayel’s fingers and gently pulling him back towards you.

“He’s not worth it,” you whisper when Rafayel’s head snaps to you, his eyes softening instantly when they land on you. Rafayel spares the man, rubbing his wrist with a grimace, a glance. You wrap your arm around Rafayel’s waist tugging him close to you and trying to lead him out of the nearly empty gala.

Rafayel takes a deep and shaky breath, before nodding slightly. As he turns to leave with you, he glances back to the man and Thomas, his chin raised.

“It’s not for sale.”

“B-But I already wrote the check,” the man blew up, face red with anger and disbelief. 

Rafayel smiles, a fake and genuinely terrifying smile, “I don’t care how many checks you write. You’re never looking at her again.”

It’s enough to even send chills down your spine. 

With those words, Rafayel exited the gallery with you on his arm, you rubbing soothing circles into his back. It was rare Rafayel got full blown drunk; you’d seen him tipsy numerous times, but he was always careful not to cross the line into completely losing control of his inhibitions. 

As he slumped in the passenger seat of his car, he briefly explained just how he found himself so shit-faced.

“Everyone was taking your time,” he slurred, breathing heavily. The alcohol made him bluntly honest, much more so than he’d normally be about something like this. 

“Oh, Rafayel…” you giggle, bending over to latch his seatbelt in, “I know, it’s usually you getting the attention, it must have been weird to share it. I’m sorry.”

Rafayel scoffs, his head resting on the window, “S’not why I was upset. I don’t like sharing you.”

You bite your lip to fight the smile that threatens to sneak its way onto your face, “Why didn’t you just come back?”

“Was trying to distract myself. Didn’t want to disappoint you,” he mutters, his eyes closed and his arms folded across his chest as you start the car, “I know you wanted me to talk to the annoying old farts.”

And then he promptly dozed off, like a precious little baby.

You were about 15 minutes from his place when Rafayel stirred awake from the mere feeling of your hand on his thigh. It was far too dark to see the tent growing in his pants, all from your fingers stroking his sensitive thighs, even when he was unconscious.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, giving him a smile when you see the movement in the corner of your eye, “You feeling okay? I have water in my bag.”

“P-Pull over,” Rafayel slurs, still clearly drunk. His eyes are glued to your palm on his leg. Not even he knows why the innocent touch has him so worked up and feral.

“What?!” you exclaim in a mix of disbelief and shock, “We’re so close to home –”

“Pull over,” he urges you again, the strain between his legs growing painful, “Please.”

His urgency makes you nervous, and you quickly find a secluded area you can pull over, turning your hazards on when you do so.

“Do you need to throw up?” you turn to him worriedly, grasping his thigh tighter in your fingers and rubbing soothingly, unsure of what to do. 

Rafayel groans at your unknowingly innocent actions, rubbing his hand down his face, which only makes you worry more. 

You undo your seatbelt so you can sit on your knees and face him, your hands still rubbing up and down his thighs, hoping to make him feel better.

Rafayel takes that opportunity to undo his own seatbelt, hoisting you out of your seat and onto his lap. You try to muffle your scream as he effortlessly carries you onto his lap, cramped between his body and the front dash. It always surprised you just how powerful Rafayel’s body was despite his toned and slender build.

“Rafayel!” you squeal as he sits you on his lap, “What are you doing?!”

He doesn’t speak, only looking up at you with big wet eyes. He spreads your thighs so that they cage his own legs, his hands resting on your sumptuous hips. Despite his strong and possessive hold, you’re still able to twist around to grab your tote bag, pulling out a plastic water bottle.

“Don’t need to throw up,” he mumbles, looking up at you through his long and dark eyelashes, “Jus’ need you.” 

With his hand on your back he pushes you down until your chest is flush with his, capturing your lips in a feverish all-consuming kiss. The bitter and sharp taste of alcohol is still strong on his tongue, his lips impatiently messy and insistent. Rafayel rocks up into you as he loses himself into your embrace, his very clear and prominent erection begging for attention. 

“R-Raf!” you pull away, even at his whiny refusal, hands still tugging at the clothing at your hips, “Did you really make me pull over for this?” Your eyes dart around nervously, making sure there’s no cars around you. But it wasn’t necessary, Rafayel’s windows were so tinted that even if you had your nose pressed to the glass you wouldn’t be able to see much. 

“Come on, at least drink some water while we’re pulled over,” you untwist the cap of your reusable water bottle. 

“No,” Rafayel pouts at you, the rose flecks in his eyes glow as he looks up pleadingly at you, “I don’ want water, wanna kiss you.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the risky and precarious situation you find yourself in. That situation being Rafayel’s very excited crotch. 

“Don’t laugh,” Rafayel broods, his bottom lip jutted out, shiny with a sheen of saliva, “I wanted to be with you all night, ‘specially when everyone was getting your attention.” He presses his chin onto your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your body wash and pressing wet kisses into your neck.

“Wan’ my reward now,” Rafayel slurs, his wandering fingers hooking under the thin strap of your evening dress, slipping it off your shoulders.

“You’re drunk Rafayel,” you reason firmly, even though your body is already betraying you. Your thighs squirm, widening instinctively for him, excitement pooling at the apex of your legs. 

“Sooo?” Rafayel’s head fall backs onto the headrest, “Just give me a taste, please?”

You want to keep a level head, deny his insane request, but his hard body against your pliable one makes you desperate for more. Besides…the windows are almost completely blacked out and you were in a very secluded upper-end neighborhood, where all the homes had nearly miles of yard between them. 

“Fine…” you concede, “But only if you drink some water.”

Rafayel’s eyes practically radiate, nodding eagerly and raising his lips to the cool bottle. His sudden willingness is comical, and you smile fondly at him as you help him to drink. Rafayel’s fingers squeeze against your waist, your soft skin making him grow thicker and hotter by the second.

His body unconsciously grinds against you as he drinks the water, eyes open wide with a faux innocence, staring right at your heated and flushed cheeks. He’s so focussed on admiring the irresistible look of desire on your face as he relentlessly rocks into you, that he doesn’t even feel the cold streams of water trickling down his shaky chin. 

His fingers trace delicate and intricate shapes into your waist, eyes hooded at the feeling of your heat against his throbbing member. His eyes never leave yours as he finishes the last of the water, looking up at you through his thick purple eyelashes. His eyes shine brightly, the pinks in them accentuated by the LEDs of the car, watching you with a vast sea of desire. 

Just as you remove the bottle from his lips, Rafayel lowers the angle of the passenger seat, as far down as it can possibly go.

You shriek in panic, clutching onto Rafayel as the chair dips suddenly, limbs flailing wildly. Rafayel takes that opportunity to lift your thighs, hoisting you nearly to the top of the passenger seat until you’re kneeling with his face in between your thighs.

“R-Rafayel!” you yelp, gripping onto the leather backseat for balance, thighs squirming at the feeling of his warm breath fanning against your exposed lips. The slick that had pooled in your panties makes you much more sensitive to his heated pants. Practically dripping onto his face. 

“You promised a taste,” he mumbles, all consumed by the way you glisten against the dim indoor lights of his car. He doesn’t let you get another word in before he’s pulling your panties to the side and licking a fat strip up your slit, all the way to your clit.

“Ngh – Raf!” If it weren’t for his strong hands on your thighs you would’ve crushed him with the way your knees buckled and you nearly fell on top of him.

Rafayel doesn’t speak, only a filthy string of wet slurps and strung out moans audible, this tongue writhing against you, positively starved. The way he makes out with your cunt makes your muscles melt, your body nearly melding into the seats.

Rafayel can feel your shaky legs struggling to keep you up and he pulls your hips down, guiding you to sit on his face. In your surprise, you fall completely, a choked sob of bliss ripping from your mouth when Rafayel completely engulfs your weeping cunt into his mouth.

You're a babbling mess of the most lewd cries, your thighs clenching unbearably at the pleasure Rafayel’s tongue forces into you. You try not to put too much weight on Rafayel, but he only pushes you down, wanting you to crush his skull. 

“Tastes so sweet,” Rafayel moans into you, the vibrations of his praises reverberating through every single one of your nerve endings. As he eats you with a relentless excitement, his eager nose strokes along your folds, gathering your arousal with every stroke.

“And it’s all for me,” he whines in the most pussy drunken voice you’ve ever heard from him, likely from the heavy intoxication, “No one else's, just mine.”

You can tell he’s still reeling from the encounter at the gala, with the man who’d wanted to buy the piece he’d painted for you. Just reassuring himself of things he already knew to be fact.

“And you’re mine,” you gasp through the sparks in your vision, wrought with pleasure. You do your best to keep your nails out of the expensive leather upholstery, tearing at Rafayel’s skin instead.

He grunts with the sting of your scratches, the pain fueling his excitement, which he funnels into the way he devours you, slurping up every single drop that pools down your lips. 

With one hand on your thigh, he palms himself through his dress pants, jerking furiously.

It isn’t long before he yanks you away with a desperate gasp, carrying you back down onto his lap, “Need to be inside you now, ‘kay?”

The ears ring with the whiplash, the pleasure being yanked away suddenly, staring at Rafayel with dumbfounded wide eyes. You barely register when he takes his bare cock out, rubbing it up and down your absolutely drenched folds, your dress bunched to your waist.

He holds himself firm in his fingers by the base, squeezing down as he rubs up and down your glistening slit, peering up at your rosy cheeks. 

“Baby?” he huffs, sounding faraway, “Can I?”

You barely even register your nod, your body moving on its own volition. Rafayel grins, lining himself up and not wasting another second before sinking himself into you, his favorite place in the entire world.

Your face is stuck in a perpetual oh as Rafayel sinks all the way into you, his veins especially prominent in his intoxication. You can almost feel them throbbing as they squeeze against your tight walls, his hips flattering when he feels himself hit the soft walls of your g-spot.

“Ngh – I love you, Y/N,” Rafayel moans, his arms coming up to wrap around your back, pulling you tightly against his torso.

You nuzzle your head into Rafayel’s chest, needing the support as he starts to rock into you, bouncing your body off his lap with the strength of his thighs. 

“O-Oh God,” you whimper into his chest, letting him man handle you against himself, too overwhelmed by the way he’d made you feel with his tongue, and now his cock. 

‘J-Jus’ like that, baby,” Rafayel mewls into the crown of your head, taking in deep lungfuls of your scent. His arms are wrapped so tightly around you that you almost can’t breathe, but you only want him to hold you harder, tighter. 

You can’t even be bothered to care that you’re fucking in such a public area, the risk of getting caught just a faraway thought. The only thing you can find yourself caring about is the way Rafayel drives deeper into your guts, forcing you to look at him as he buries himself into you.

“Hah – pretty girl,” he breathes out, his body slowing. You realize the alcohol must be making him tired, and you force your weight onto your knees. 

“L-Let me, Raf,” you whisper, sitting up as much as you can until your head brushes against the car roof. Rafayel watches you with wondrous eyes as you begin to ride him.

“Oo-oh shiit,” he groans, mesmerized by the way you roll your body into him, “You're so perfect, Y/N. Just like that, please don’t s-stop.”

You whimper, biting your lip and trying to control the way his cock has your body screaming for release. You lean back onto his knees, one hand grappling at the window for leverage, the other cupping his balls. 

Your hand is met with the wet condensation of the frosted window, the mixture of yours and Rafayel’s torrid breaths fogging up the interior completely. It’s such a sensual sight that you clench down on Rafayel, thinking about the passion of this moment, in the confined space of his favorite car. 

Rafayel lets out the most delicious string of moans and expletives as you gently massage his balls in your fingers, fondling them delicately, “Oh God, that feels so good, you feel – angh – amazing.”

You throw all your energy into rolling your hips against Rafayel’s pelvis, wanting to use him until you were utterly spent.

“So big Raf,” you wail, struggling to keep up a rhythm as his size splits you in half, “I-I’m soo clo-ose.”

“Fuuck, me too,” Rafayel grunts, his neck craning back, back arching slightly at the way you ride him so filthily, “Don’t stop, I’m almost – ngh – there.”

His lewd words are your last straw, your hips stuttering as your cunt coils tightly around his length, your body orgasming so intensely through your tightly shut eyes. You desperately hope no one is nearby, because the muffled screams coming from the inside of the car were sure to be audible. 

“You love me, right?” Rafayel slurs, his eyes wet and on the verge of coming undone, needing your words to be the final push.

“I love you Raf,” you gasp brokenly, still bouncing on his lap, “Soo-oo much!”

Your vice grip on him has Rafayel seeing stars of his own, the blinding pleasure signaling his own release. As he cums, he brings you back to his chest in a heated embrace, babbling into your mussed hair.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” comes his strangled mantra, the words overflowing from his wet puffy lips, “My Queen.”

You whimper as Rafayel fills you with rope after rope of his hot seed, it already beginning to seep out of your hole and down his still hard length. He gives you everything he has, the soul nearly being sucked out his body through his cockhead.

Rafayel digs his nails into your back as you overstimulate him with your languid thrusts, urging you to stop. 

“N-No more,” he whines, holding you in place, “You’re trying to kill me.”

You still your hips with a chuckle, listening to his rapidly pounding heart, “I would never.”

Rafayel strokes your hair, holding you against his body, his cock softening and slipping out of you. You wince at the feeling of how much dampness leaks out of you, sitting up and trying to cup yourself so it doesn’t leak all over Rafayel’s seats.

But Rafayel holds you back down, “No. Stay.”

“Rafayel, it's going to ruin the seats!”

“I don’t care,” he mumbles, his voice still sluggish from the alcohol, nuzzling his face into your chest as he hugs you to keep you from moving.

“You care, you love this car. I love this car,” you whine, trying to pull away and keep the slick from spilling everywhere, but he doesn’t relent. 

“Just say you love the car more than me,” he sulks, his bottom lip protruding. 

You glare at him, before deciding to tease him and play along, “I love the car more than y–”

Rafayel covers your mouth with his hand, squinting at you, “If you finish that sentence I’ll scream.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[seulszn]

Listen I love TLOU and the fandom very much but a lot of people (not calling anybody out) need a reality check and need to grow up. I wanna say my two cents on things that bother me in this fandom.

1. Boycotting for Palestine

I have seen multiple times on multiple occasions where people would sit on their phone and complain about why writers are “flooding the tags with this boycotting bullshit” and honestly all I have to say is your super childish you can’t take a hour or a week out of your day to raise awareness on a important topic that is affecting millions of people? Your so horny so down bad for pixelated characters that you don’t care about the innocent children, women and men that are dying in Palestine? The boycotting isn’t gonna stop just because you want your needs filled, the boycotting isn’t going to stop because you think it needs to, it’s not gonna stop until Palestine is free. And if you wanna read things that bad then read nobody is stoping you but a take into ignition that if a writer is spreading awareness then don’t be ignorant and say stupid shit

2. Less Sex and more angst or other genres.

Listen I love Abby and Ellie just like everyone else and I read a lot of smut about them but does that all y’all see when y’all look at them? As sex objects? Like I’m not saying that you should stop writing smut for those characters but write other things to that don’t involve smut, like angst I see a lot of people under that tag say how they wish writers would as write other things that isn’t just smut and majority of the time when they say that they get hated for it. It lowkey gets boring reading fanfics where the whole plot is smut, smut, smut. And again I’m not saying to stop writing smut but please for the love of whatever you believe in write other genres.

3. Black inclusivity

As a black writer and a black person TLOU tag isn’t inclusive enough. I know you must be thinking “Why are we speaking about this again?” Because I’m honestly so tired of how uninclusive the fandom is like I said before Ellie dates WOC if you don’t know what WOC is it’s Women Of Color all of Ellie’s girlfriends where WOC now I’m not saying you can’t write for Ellie as a white person and I’m not saying that never did all I am saying is once again all of Ellie’s girlfriend where POC

Riley was a Black African American who Dated Ellie

Cat the girl who wasn’t mentioned alot but is in the game is Asian American who also dated Ellie

Dina is a Jewish (Mexican, Middle Eastern ) American who dated Ellie

Also yes we know when the reader is white coded so don’t try a put that you don’t mention when race mentioned cause you do and we can tell when you do “She’s Petite and cute with her long blonde hair” or whatever you bitches be saying we know when you guys aren’t inclusive the whole point of fanfiction writing is to be inclusive is to make sure that readers can see themself in your xreader so if your putting all these “white things and then labeling your story as “the readers race is not mentioned” or that OC stuff that y’all do then just label the story as a white reader or a OC reader

4. Futa, trans and masc

Now here I’m gonna discuss two or three things starting off with Futa and Trans. Now I don’t know when “Futa” or “Trans” Ellie and Abby came from but a lot of you readers need to understand and learn the difference between the two because they are both very different things.

Futanari: is the Japanese word for hermaphroditism, which is also used in a broader sense for androgyny. Beyond Japan, the term has come to be used to describe a commonly pornographic genre of eroge, manga, and anime, which includes characters that show primary sexual characteristics from both females and males. In today's language, it refers almost exclusively to characters who have an overall feminine body, but have both female and male primary genitalia (although a scrotum is not always present, while breasts, a penis, and a vulva are). The term is also often abbreviated as futa(s), which is also used as a generalized term for the works themselves.

Transgender (often shortened to trans) is someone whose gender identity differs from that typically associated with the sex they were assigned at birth. Some transgender people who desire medical assistance to transition from one sex to another identify as transsexual. Transgender is also an umbrella term; in addition to including people whose gender identity is the opposite of their assigned sex (trans men and trans women), it may also include people who are non-binary or genderqueer. Other definitions of transgender also include people who belong to a third gender, or else conceptualize transgender people as a third gender. The term may also include cross-dressers or drag kings and drag queens in some contexts. The term transgender does not have a universally accepted definition, including among researchers.

Mind you I am not transgender I am nonbinary but I see a lot of transgender people speak up about how offensive it is to write a character as Transgender but it’s not really transgender but a Futanari remember a Futa is a character who is assigned a gender at birth but just has extra sexual parts like a penis.

Now another thing that bothers me is how y’all Masculinize Masc Lesbians as if they still aren’t women themselves like every time I read a fanfic with Ellie or Abby or even Vi and Sevika from Arcane you guys like to ignore they fact that they are also women themselves like it’s not gonna kill you to give those characters feminine compliments there shouldn’t be a reason why your calling these women “handsome” or other Masculine compliments and also a lot of Masculine women where makeup it’s not just a feminine woman thing. Masc Lesbians are women they aren’t men so stop treating them as if they are men and ignoring the fact that they are women

5. the Innocent childish reader gotta stop.

They title says enough I don’t think I need to say too much but a lot of y’all get innocent and corruption mixed up but a corruption kink is When you find the idea of "corrupting" someone, mostly in a sexual way, like taking virginities or introducing people to stuff like bdsm etc. It's the idea of having someone "pure" do "bad" things under your influence. And innocent is not corrupted or tainted with evil or unpleasant emotion; sinless; pure. not guilty of a particular crime; blameless. (From the dictionary)

Y’all need to understand yes not everyone knows what sex is but everyone knows what a vagina is what a penis is, what a orgasm is and what sex is but they may not knows what happens when you have sex so making the reader what y’all call innocent isn’t innocent it’s honestly to me perverted cause the only one who would say something like “my cunny feels weird 🥺” or that “what is sex 🥺” is a child. Children don’t know what sex is children don’t know what pleasure or orgasms is and when y’all say “the reader is a Bimbo” is also funny cause Bimbos know what sex is as well yes they may be stupid but they aren’t slow so before you make a innocent reader please think “am I making my reader act like a child or am I gonna make her really innocent like how regular grown ass adults act?” so don't get not knowing and "innocent" mixed up

6. The stories where they have sex inside a church also gotta stop

Now I’m not a Christian but these stories are honestly really bad and are Blasphemy a lot of people have come out and said that they don’t like the fact that people are writing stories about church in a sexual way like their shouldn’t be any reason why your characters are fucking inside a church, that’s like stomping on someone’s dead grave. You guys do shit like this and then wonder why Christian’s don’t like us. Religion isn’t something to be sexualized it’s not something to be playing with either this idc how much you hate Christianity you can be a Atheist, or Catholic or Jewish but please for the love of whatever you believe in don’t sexualize people’s religion.

That’s all I can think of at the moment if I think of more I’ll of course make a part two to this but don’t take anything I said here to heart it’s just my blunt honest opinion on things in this fandom and if I get hate for this 🤷🏾‍♀️

[abbyfmc]

Yandere Emperor! x Opera Artist! Reader Headcanons:

Warning: This section is a continuation of the previous one, so you have to read the other one to understand this one.

Topics to talk about: Mention of kidnapping, abuse, murder, obsessive and yandere behavior, manipulation, and anything involving yandere behavior. Also, as I said before, I am NOT describing any Asian emperor in particular, so I have created my own; Not to mention that I have used the Chinese imperial harem system as a base, as well as the forbidden city itself. I will name (Y/n)'s children, so I warn you that I am not describing any prince or princess in particular.

Enjoy it!

1. Yan Li knew that because of having such fast promotions the concubines were mostly jealous of you, so to prevent any attacks, he kept an eye on every corner you went to.

2. He also watched over the princes and princesses he had with you, who were the following:

-The third prince, Li Chen (your first child). -The sixth prince, Li Song (your second child). -The eighth prince, Yong Li (your third child). -The ninth prince, Li Yon'er (your fourth child). -The tenth princess, Yan'rong (your fifth child). -The fifteenth princess, Hua Li (your sixth child).

3. Your children also suffered from palace intrigues, so you had to protect each one of them tooth and nail. Yan Li saw this and decided to severely punish any concubine or consort who dares to harm you or your children.

4. To protect (and harass) you, Yan Li selected a specific group of servants for your palace, among them is the one who became your "right hand", a servant in charge of cleaning, named Yuhou.

5. Zhou, meanwhile, was devastated to learn that you were kidnapped by Yan Li in a golden cage, so he tried to enter the palace and enlist in the imperial army, which he succeeded after a few years. If he can't rescue you, he would at least watch over you from the shadows.

6. One day, when you were in the middle of your third pregnancy, you were walking with your maids when they saw each other. One of your maids, Lili (yes, your old friend), noticed this. He was shocked to see you not only dressed as one of Yan Li's consorts (at that time you were still a consort), but he felt her heart break at the sight of you pregnant. You felt like running towards each other, but you loved your children too much to challenge Yan Li like this.

7. --He… forced you?-- Zhou asked after remaining silent in surprise. You could only nod at that moment.

8. --Yes, isn't it obvious?-- You answered and left, being very devastated just like him, not knowing that Yan Li himself was watching them, angry and jealous.

9. Yan Li made sure you would never see your loved one again, taking him out of the forbidden city on super difficult military missions, basically sending him to die multiple times on purpose.

10. You suspected that Yan Li would find out sooner or later, so you purposely avoided meeting or talking about Zhou, no matter how sad it made you. You didn't even mention it to your children.

11. The few times Zhou was in the forbidden city, Yan Li tried to set traps for you to see how far you would go or whether you would be unfaithful to him, and the best thing you did in hoste traps was… stay in your palace and quietly go on with your life. , which Yan Li did not expect.

12. Yan Li has never hurt you physically, rather he threatened or manipulated you, followed by controlling how long you could sing and dance (like when you did before) or not, which discouraged you a lot. He only allowed you to do it for him.

13. I forgot to say that Lili entered the Mese Palace after you were kidnapped, but Yan Li wanted to make sure that she didn't help you escape, so he sent her first to work in the laundry house, the embroidery department, the flower department and gardening and finally in the workhouse where Lili had some acquaintances, both good and bad, and endured a lot of work and humiliation.

14. Each time Yan Li locked you more and more to himself, with the excuse that it was to take care of you, but he only wanted to control you.

15. Yan Li even had every gift that came to you or your children checked. He also appreciated any gift you gave him.

16. You watched your eldest children grow up, marry, and leave your palace for their own princely mansions, one after one. Li Chen was the first of all of them.

17. After you gave birth to Hua Li, you were unable to have children again, but Yan Li didn't care about this and still forced you to stay with him every night he could, now threatening to harm Zhou if you didn't comply with his whims. and you gave yourself to him.

18. Yan Li forced you to spend time with him, and not only at night but also visiting you in your palace, taking walks with him (sometimes with the Empress Dowager as extra company) and even accompanying him on trips and festivals.

19. Speaking of the Empress Dowager, she quite likes you and Yan Li is glad that you get along with her since… well, she's his mother. She is the only person who forgives you for spending a lot of time with her aside from your children and harem problems; He likes that you get along with the highest ranking woman in the empire.

20. Yan Li really likes your son, Li Chen, so much so that he secretly made him his heir to the throne; so neither you nor Li Chen himself knows.

21. In the event that any of your children or one of his consorts helped you escape, Yan Li would banish them from the forbidden city and condemn you to house arrest.

22. During festivals, he would control even who can talk and who can't talk to you. Among the people who can't even get close to you would be your beloved Zhou.

23. A drunk minister once insulted you, and as a result, Yan Li burned his tongue.

24. Yan Li is the one who had all your crowns made to your liking, demonstrating the deep love (or rather, obsession) he had for you.

25. Sometimes during the nights you were forced to give him back massages after a stressful day, and on other nights he would do this with you.

26. The servants even had to be careful not to bump into you, because depending on Yan Li's mood… he may simply punish them, or kill them.

27. As time went by, you became a grandmother thanks to your prince's children, but you couldn't always see your grandchildren since Yan Li liked to keep you prisoner in the forbidden city.

28. Every time Yan Li goes to bathe in his own private hot spring lake, he forces you to bathe with him, even if you don't want to. Likewise, if he knows that you are bathing alone in said waters, he will bathe with you even if you don't want to and he will make you be close to him.

29. He makes sure that every birthday of yours is fantastic.

30. Every time he got sick, he asked you to take care of him. Conversely, every time you got sick he took care of you and by doing so I mean not only getting you the best medicines, but also watching over everything that your maids or the imperial doctor do.

31. The Empress Dowager became ill over the years due to old age, and when she died, you were very sad since she was somehow the closest thing to a mother to you. Your princesses also mourned her a lot, not to mention Yan Li himself. Due to the close relationship Yan Li had with his mother, he was devastated and declared three years of mourning; It was the only time you felt truly sorry for him.

32. Yan Li has given the order that if something happens in the palace or during a trip, they must save you and your children first, since he does not want to see you hurt, injured or in the worst case scenario… dead. That is a nightmare and a terror that has haunted him day after day since he met you, which is why he believes that he is protecting you but in reality he manipulates you, locks you up and isolates you from the world.

33. He admired how you managed the imperial harem and all the internal servant departments with an iron fist, even if he didn't tell you directly.

34. The only excuse Yan Li accepts for you not wanting to sleep with him is if you or one of your children is sick.

35. The only visits Yan Li allowed to you were from your eldest children, either alone or with their wives and children. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but Yan Li noticed the pressure your parents were putting on you, so he sent his guards to "talk nice" to them, and from then on they stopped bothering you.

36. Yan Li saw you meeting Zhou secretly, which made him angry, so that night he threatened you that if you didn't say goodbye, he would kill him in a cruel and painful way. The next day she made you say goodbye to your loved one and then took him out of the forbidden city so that one of his guards would cut his neck, killing him quickly and throwing him into a mass grave. Needless to say, you really hated Yan Li again after that.

37. As the years went by, Yan Li became sicker and sicker, mostly from stress, which you took advantage of to start getting revenge on him, poisoning him.

38. His health deteriorated more and more, until on his final day, when he was dying, you dismissed all his servants from his main hall and then confessed to him. Yan Li was very angry and felt very betrayed, but he could do nothing but listen until he died at the hands of the person he loved so much.

39. During Yan Li's funeral, you pretended to cry, not knowing that your real happy days began from that moment. Yan Li's trusted eunuch read the emperor's will, which stated that Li Chen would be the new emperor, and you would be the empress dowager. Long story short, your son ascended the throne, reshaped your living conditions, and the other consorts became "widow consorts." You no longer had to worry about anything, you would just live in peace from now on, taking care of your daughters until they grow up.

40. However, Yan Li was waiting for you in the other world. He has told you years before he died that even if he passes away first, he will be waiting for you in the next life where he will find you and make you his again.

-Fin. So, what do you think about this part two?

[iongwaiyi]

mulan: the best disney character ever made

okay, i may be in a disney phase right now. but as a fellow asian, there is no way i'm going to talk about disney princesses without mentioning the best disney princess (character) disney has ever made - mulan.

originally a legendary chinese folk heroine from the northern dynasty era in chinese history. the disney adaptation of mulan is somewhat similar, only difference is that she had siblings in the original folklore, and she had to go to war because her brother was too young and her father was too old, and at the end, she revealed her identity only after returning home.

let's face it, the fact that a disney princess went to war made her stand out from the rest of the lineup. let's go over a few badass facts about her in the movie: 1. she wasn't going to give up because she did bad in training. her perseverance and determination led to her trying over and over, pulling herself up that pole that literally no other men in the army could do. she's unbending, not willing to give up without putting up a fight, and she not only proved to li shang and her peers that she's not weak, she proved to herself after all that self-doubt that she's just as capable as anyone else, more than anyone else if anything. 2. the fucking avalanche scene. the fact that she was smart enough, quick-witted enough to plot that within seconds with her enemy right in front of her, clearly using her brain for a good cause to save her entire army which consisted of about 50 people against thousands of huns. war is about tactics, and she demonstrated just that. she also ignored the pain of her wound to pull li shang up from the snow just shows her loyalty to her troops. 3. even after being thrown out of her army in the middle of the mountains full of snow, seeing the huns rising from the snow, she knew she gotta alert li shang that they were coming. despite li shang not believing her (or tried to ignore her), she tried her best to come up with ways in attempt to save her country from potentially being invaded. at that moment, she didn't care about the fact that she literally lost her dignity in front of everyone, she only cared about her country, her homeland, and that just shows how selfless she is.

4. the last scene was probably the most badass out of the entire movie. again, plotting a scheme within minutes in attempt to save the emperor, coming up with ways to get into the palace, get into the emperor's room, and revealing her identity as ping to shan yu to save li shang again. best part was, the only weapon she had in her hand was a fan, it not only symbolized her identity as a female, but also the fact that she was a female in the army. (fucking pulling the sword out of the fan was so badass i need to insert the gif here)

everything about that scene was perfect. it wasn't entirely serious, some ridiculous humor was implemented there and there, but also allowed for one final demonstration of how strong mulan is, not physically, but mentally.

5. actually, this last one might be the most badass. she didn't bring honor to her family (and herself) by marrying a man, starting a family like what the society expected her to, she earned a standing ovation, a collective bow from the entire country of china and the emperor with her own hands. best part? she didn't care about the honor, she didn't care about the fact that she was offered a position in the council as a female, she only cared about her family, her father. love was what made her strong. gracefulness, bravery, loyalty, and intelligence are just a few of her qualities. not only was the character full of great qualities, her imperfections were also shown, her stubbornness and clumsiness. it felt as though she was a real human because of her merits and faults, and her character development throughout the movie never ceases to amaze me.

again, i don't want to go on forever about this, but one thing will never change - mulan will always be my favorite fictional character ever created.

my little baby is all grown up and ... and savin' china

[da-shrimping-station]

thinking about the OM cast with an Asian MC who is strict about using honorifics no matter what

for us Asians, that shit's programmed and taught to us since day 1 and even if they're in Hell, i don't think an Asian MC will let that go so easily 😭 not to mention everyone is technically their elder so politeness in thrown in the mix too

the brothers would be so confused and weird about it cuz??? they have names, they're chill with MC calling them by name and not to mention they live under the same roof

why would they insist on being so formal and call them Sir???

Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos would find it funny and a little bit endearing.

Diavolo is amused and is happy to hear him being addressed in another way other than 'your highness'

Barbatos thinks you shouldn't call him sir at all but is glad that you at least have manners.

Lucifer also thinks you shouldn't call him sir, but hey at least someone in the household outwardly respects him 😭

The rest of the brothers would be very shocked and would actively dissuade you from calling them sir. Asmo especially. Tho I can imagine Mammon and Leviathan being so flustered.

As for the angels, Simeon somewhat understands but gently reminds you to call him by his name. Luke tripped on nothing when he was called sir the first time.

The only one who would really get it is Solomon. But he would actively convince you to call him something more casual instead. Like big brother or whichever honorific for an older man that implies closeness. Call him uncle and he dies a little inside whenever he hears it. He is in utter disbelief.

Once they learn how it all works, it's a race on who gets to the most intimate/affectionate form of honorific first.

For Filipinos, it can go from Sir to Tito (uncle) or Kuya/Manong (big brother). And to take it a step further there's the never-ending terms for best friend (bes, beshie, beb, babs, tol, pare, mare, bff, lab, etc (i swear we come up w something new every year for it))

And then there's also the ultimate form of closeness: bestowing a nickname for them.

At this point, once Asian MC does away with the honorifics and sticks to the nicknames, you could say they're pretty damn close.

This is also the time when they better be afraid when MC calls them by their actual names. You're in biiiiig trouble. What color do you want your casket to be?

"Lulu, did you eat lunch today?"

"..."

"Lucifer, don't make me ask again."

"Shit."

Thank you for coming to my Tedtalk 🦐

[heyaheiya]

Introducing Katsuki to your best friend from America is a nightmare waiting to happen. He’s still working on his English, so most interactions are translated through you. Not to mention, they hate each other.

“Tell your boyfriend to go outside, he’s pale asf.”

“She says you’re very pale.”

“That’s a compliment, why is she glaring??”

“It’s an insult..”

“😦-😾 tell her to get a skincare routine!”

“He says, you have bad skin”

“Oh he’s one to talk, he’s got a face only a mother could love!”

“She thinks you’re ugly.”

“THIS BITCH- tell her deodorant is only 500 yen”

“He says you should invest your money better”

“Oh rich boy over here! Tell him to-“

These interactions could go on for hours if they could. But there are plus sides! Katsuki’s English has improved since meeting her. Mostly because he noticed his insults weren’t getting a big enough reaction, and realised you were watering them down.

Katsukis search history probably:

- English swear words

- Words that make white people mad

- Words that make white people mad that an Asian man is allowed to say

- What slurs am I allowed to say

He’s grumpy for a while when he finds out there’s basically no socially acceptable slurs he can say.

- How to make American girls angry

His scowl only got bigger when all he was met with was articles saying he was being racist to white people. He was met with one final option.

Reddit.

Walking into your boyfriend falling down the AITA rabbit hole was not something you expected to come home to.

Eventually, you caved and gave him some new vocabulary.

Friend - 0

Katsuki - 1

— — — — — — —

I’m unfortunately obsessed with the idea that Katsuki hates Americans.

I don’t know why I used America in this, I’ve never been there LMFAO

[notfreetoday]

The Importance of Amae in My Personal Weatherman

Masterlist || Language Analysis Part 1

I have seen a lot of discourse in the English-speaking fandom surrounding Segasaki's apparent dismissal or trivializing of Yoh's desire to pursue his manga, and most of it is negative. His comments about wanting Yoh to remain dependent on him, or that Yoh does not need to earn money are seen as patronizing or controlling at best and oppressive at worst. It appears that Segasaki does not understand nor respect Yoh's need for independence, and that is what strains their relationship.

But what if I asked you to consider that Segasaki's behaviour is actually an invitation to Yoh to reinforce their relationship? And what if I told you that Yoh's withdrawal from Segasaki constitutes a rejection of that invitation, and it is that rejection that strains their relationship instead?

Of course, the end result is the same - a strained relationship - and in reality there is never one side wholly responsible for this. The point of this is to simply challenge the cultural notion that a successful relationship is the coming together of two equally independent individuals, as opposed to the co-creation of a relationship formed by two interdependent individuals.

"If only you could stay drunk forever..." "It's okay to feel down again for me too you know" - Segasaki, Ep 4, Ep 5

This isn't about Segasaki wanting to keep Yoh is helpless and dependent on him, but about wanting Yoh to be able to be true to his feelings and express his own desire for affection honestly, without having to hide behind "I hate you" or rejection.

Or, let's try and talk about how Segasaki and Yoh reinforce their relationship through the use of amae (featuring a brief mention of tatemae/honne) who am I kidding this is not brief at all

First: Cultural Context

The way people conceptualize and make meaning of the Self differs between Western and East Asian cultures, and this plays into the differences we see in the basis for our self-esteem, the personal attributes that we value, and even what constitutes the behavior of a mature individual. Broadly speaking, Western cultures tend towards the Independent Self Construal (whereby the Self is a distinct entity separate from others) whereas East Asian cultures tend towards Interdependent Self-Construal (whereby the Self is connected to and defined by relationships with others). Thus, in the West, expressing one's individuality is very important for one's self-esteem, and being able to communicate clearly and confidently is valued and a sign of maturity. Conversely, in the East, one's ability to integrate and become a member of the group is prized, and contributes significantly to one's self esteem. In order to be seen as a mature individual, one must learn not only to read a social situation but also how to modify one's behavior in order to respond to the changing demands of that situation, with the ultimate goal being to maintain group harmony.

tl;dr - In East Asian culture, behaviors and attitudes that emphasize interdependence and promote group harmony actually play a big role in reinforcing relationships and one's membership towards the group.

Segasaki is an expert at this - his "public mode" that Yoh refers to actually shows us how good he is at social interactions. This is the Japanese concept of tatemae/honne (crudely translated as public self/private feelings) - which I could link to a bunch of articles for you, but I'm going to suggest you check out this 9 min street interview instead. At 6:41, one of the interviewees comments that another is sunao, or "honest" (we'll cover this later too) and at 6:49 specifically talks about how reading situations is important as an adult. Segasaki reads the room well, but most importantly, he reads Yoh well.

Yoh is not good at this, at all. In Ep 6, we see that he does not integrate well with the group, and he doesn't realize how he might appear to others when he stares and sketches from afar. Yoh does not read the room well because he doesn't pick up on social cues and does not adhere to social norms (I'll point these out in Ep 6's corrections). He cannot read Segasaki, and especially cannot read Segasaki's amae, or his attempts at reinforcing their relationship. Part of this is because his low self-esteem causes him to withdraw from Segasaki's affection as a means of self-protection, and so he valiantly tries to deny his feelings for Segasaki. As Man-san commented in Ep 4, Yoh is not sunao - he has difficulty with being true/honest about his feelings, even to himself.

Sunao is another term that usually pops up when talking about feelings/relationships. It can be used to describe one's relationship with oneself, as well as the relationship with another/group. With oneself, it is usually used to mean "being honest/truthful/straightforward/frank/open-minded about one's feelings". With another person/group, it is usually used to mean "to cooperate/listen/be obedient, or "to be humble/open-minded". In essence, the word encompasses an ideal virtue that is often taught from early childhood - that we should treat both ourselves and others with humility and honesty, because that is how we accept ourselves and stay in harmony with other. This is what becoming an adult, or gaining maturity, means (not gaining independence, as adulthood is often equated to in the West - do you see a running theme here 😂). Of course, that's actually really hard to do, so you'll often hear children (and immature adults too) chided for "not being sunao" (this can therefore sound patronizing if you're not careful). We'll revisit this in a little bit.

Second: What is Amae?

Amae is a key component in Japanese relationships, both intimate and non-intimate. It happens every day, in a variety of different interactions, between a variety of different people. But it is often seen as strange or weird, and those unfamiliar with the concept can feel uncomfortable with it. This stems from the difference in self-construal - because independence is tied so strongly to an individual's self-image in the West, it is very hard to fathom why behavior that emphasizes interdependence could be looked upon favorably. It is telling that every possible English translation of the word "amae" carries a negative connotation, when in Japanese it can be both negative or positive. The original subtitles translated it as "clingy", for example. Other common translations include "dependence", "to act like a child/infant", "to act helpless", "to act spoiled", "coquettish", "seeking indulgence", "being naive" etc.

From A Multifaceted View of the Concept of Amae: Reconsidering the Indigenous Japanese Concept of Relatedness by Kazuko Y Behrens

*Note - the word "presumed" or "presumption" or "expectation" or "assumption" used in the above definition and in the rest of this post, can give the impression that all of amae is premeditated, which adds a calculative component to this concept. Whilst amae can indeed be used in a manipulative manner (benign or otherwise), it is not the case for every single situation, and often amae that seeks affection is often spontaneous and without thought, precisely because the situation allows for it to appear organically. This is the amae that Segasaki and Yoh most often exchange - so think of these assumptions and expectations as "unconscious/subconscious" thought processes.

Third: Amae Between Segasaki and Yoh

Yoh shows a lot of amae when he is drunk:

He whines, buries himself into Segasaki's embrace, refuses to move or let go of him, and keeps repeating "no". In these interactions, Yoh wants Segasaki's affection, but instead of asking, he does, well, this, and he presumes that Segasaki will indulge his behavior. Leaving to get some fresh air might not be as obvious - but it is a form of amae as well, because Man-san is his guest, not Segasaki's, and he shouldn't be leaving Segasaki to entertain her. The expectation that this is okay, and that neither of them will fault him for it, is what makes it amae.

Segasaki obviously enjoys indulging Yoh when Yoh does amae, because he recognises this as Yoh's request for affection from him. It's not that Segasaki enjoys Yoh in this drunk, helpless state; it's not even that Segasaki feels reassured by Yoh's requests for affection. Segasaki knows Yoh likes him, and recognizes that Yoh is struggling with those feelings. That Yoh is actually able to do amae to Segasaki is what delights him the most, because it is something that requires a lot of trust in Segasaki and a willingness to be vulnerable in front of him. This is how amae reinforces relationships - when a request for amae is granted, both the giver and the receiver experience pleasant feelings.

That said, an amae request can also be perceived negatively - if amae is excessive, or if the person responding feels they are obligated to do so. In Ep 5, Man-san chides Yoh for his amae - the fact that he expected to do well from the beginning, and became upset when he failed. He told her about his unemployment, presuming that she would comfort him, but alas.

Segasaki also does amae - but unfortunately Yoh misses many of his cues, and so neither of them really gain pleasant feelings from the interaction (ok so maybe Segasaki does, but I will argue that is more because Segasaki also enjoys it when Yoh obeys him - see @lutawolf's posts for the D/s perspective on this!).

Did you catch it? Segasaki wants Yoh to pass him the Soy Sauce, which, clearly, he is capable of getting himself. He tells Yoh to feed him, because he wants Yoh's affection. And the real kicker - he asked for curry, and expected Yoh to know he wanted pork. In all these interactions, Segasaki presumes that Yoh will indulge him and do for him things he can do himself perfectly well (and even better at that) - this is what makes this amae. But look at Yoh's reactions:

Yoh just stares between the Soy Sauce and Segasaki, between Segasaki and his food, and then just at Segasaki himself. He doesn't recognise any of this as amae, and in the case of feeding Segasaki makes the conclusion that this is somehow a new slave duty he's acquired. And therefore, he does not gain pleasant feelings from it.

In Ep 3 we see a turning point in Yoh's behaviour - his first (sober) attempt at amae (the argument in Ep 2 is debatable - it's not amae from Yoh's POV, but Segasaki responds as if it were, with a head pat and a "when you get drunk, you talk a lot don't you?").

Here, Yoh wants to express his desire for Segasaki's affection, but he can't bring himself to say it aloud. Instead, he dumps bedsheets on Segasaki's lap, as if the bigger the scene he makes the greater the intensity of his desire he can convey. It is the presumption that Segasaki will understand him that makes this amae. And then, we get this:

Not only a happy Segasaki and a sweetly shy Yoh, but also a Yoh who's emboldened by Segasaki's response, and who finally, for the first time, reciprocates touch, and considers the possibility that Segasaki might actually like him.

With every episode, Yoh gets more and more comfortable with doing amae towards Segasaki, because Segasaki picks up on his cues and always responds to them. In Ep 5, Yoh's amae comes out naturally, triggered by the stress of his unemployment, and we see it in all those moments he sounds and acts like a child, and as I mentioned, Segasaki spends the whole episode reassuring Yoh that his amae is welcomed, and that Segasaki likes responding to it. If you've been wondering why the relationship between Segasaki and Yoh can, at times, feel somewhat parental in nature - this is it. It's because Segasaki sees the contradiction between Yoh's childlike insistence that he does not like Segasaki and his desire for Segasaki's attention and affection, for what it really is - Yoh's struggle with accepting himself. When Yoh is able to be sunao, he does amae naturally, and Segasaki responds to him in kind.

Now, all we need is for Yoh to recognize when Segasaki does amae, which will likely happen soon, given that Yoh has grown with every episode.

As always, thank you for reading :))

[kevin-the-bruyne]

why I thought the kristsingto dance was offensive

My reaction to the KristSingto dance was, in fact, pure and utter shock with an immediate follow up of "well good for Thailand for being so progressive" and that was what I thought would be the end of my engagement with that performance and yet when I read this post by scarefox with commentary added by thebroccolination and hallowpen (mentioned to give credit untagged because I have social anxiety and forcing people to read my post is my worst nightmare) my mind was filled with thoughts that took me the greater part of the day to sort through and I still don't know if the following will be adequate. Because OH HO HO as it turns out Thailand isn't that progressive which means that this performance was constructed to be like this ON PURPOSE. This post is in conversation with some of the concepts brought up in the linked post so it will be helpful in understanding the direction I've chosen to go with this. But the linked post is a great post and you should read it regardless. There is much to love about the Kristsingto concert and even more to love about their sexy dance - the primary of which is how it makes every single one of my Asian sensibilities ring MAD alarm bells. I'm a diaspora south asian but I moved to the US alone when I was 18 which means I have an intact sense of Asian respectability, regularly replenished by my parents. I MEAN LOOK AT IT - THEY ARE ON A FREAKING BED!!!! SIR THAT IS A BEDROOM ACTIVITY ONLY

But some serious highlights as to what about this performance sets it apart: 1) The performance is focused on sensuality and desire. They're dressed like dancers and not particularly sexy ones. Everything about this performance is pared down to only focus on their movements. The costumes are simple, the bed is simple, the lighting mostly monochrome. There is nothing to see here BUT their desire for each other and the sex they are simulating

2) They are playing to each other and ONLY to each other and not the audience. This is probably THE REASON why it clocks differently from literally every other raunchy performance. They are dancing for EACH OTHER. The performance starts behind a screen, and the sex simulation is the most intense at this stage but then THE SCREEN FALLS but for the purposes of the performance, KristSingto don't even acknowledge it. The audience is THRUST into the position of a voyeur and remains so throughout the performance. Like there is a BED that looks like it came straight out of Krist's bedroom like give me a fucking BREAK sir those are inside house, behind closed doors activities you are engaging with on stage.

Even the parts where Krist or Singto face the audience it is a) never together at once and b) they are mirroring each other's movements highlighting their connection to each other over their individual connection with the audience. There is no hip thrusting, no flirtatious looks, absolutely nothing that would even remotely suggest that they're trying to titillate the audience. All the titillation is directed towards each other. This feeling of looking into a private moment is deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

3) It's KristSingto. So much to be said about this and I have a strong feeling that I am not the person who should be speaking about this. But it's Krist and Singto, highly respected veterans of the industry who don't 'need' to be engaging in these types of 'extreme behaviors' to get ahead. So why would Kristsingto need to 'resort' to these behaviors?

Well, because the purpose of art, and I would argue quite specifically queer art, is to push the boundaries of how society allows the 'self' to behave and express itself. There is a reason why BL has captured the fascination of so many straight women. I would argue this is true everywhere but specifically for Asians, the shackles placed on queer sexuality did not feel so different from the shackles placed on women's sexuality period. Queer sexual liberal *is* sexual liberation and there are a lot of outgroup parties who have a vested, personal interest in pushing this agenda forward. I have to stop before this gets so long that I have to find a university to grant me a masters but 'Fanservice Is Wrong' and 'Fanservice Has Finally Gone Too Far' is just the fan service discourse. But the truth is that Fanservice *IS* radical queer visibility and always has been. I started my fandom journey in JPOP nearly 15 years ago and that was the conversation then [link takes you to a fanservice kiss between Ninomiya Kazunari and Ohno Satoshi from Arashi in 2008 that was 6 years in the making but I digress] and apparently if KristSingto will get to have their way that will be the conversation now. To deny their dance as offensive is to deny the incredible ways in which it's in conversation with the society they're operating in, the risks they are still taking even amidst widespread celebration for the Marriage Equality Bill in Thailand.

KristSingto had totally blown the doors, windows and glass ceilings wide open with SOTUS that I would argue had rippling effects on the BL being produced throughout Asia, not just Thailand. And the pressure of that was SO high, that attention so unexpected and burdensome that neither could actually stay and enjoy that moment. OffGun and TayNew had reaped more fruits from KristSingto's labor than Krist and Singto. KristSingto isn't just another branded pair - they are quite literally BL royalty and they are not here to play games. Except this time they are pushing the envelope with their eyes wide open and I am buzzing to see what's next for them.

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

A short list of things I would have changed in HoO

It takes place ten ish years after the end of PJO. Percy and Annabeth aren’t a part of the seven but instead appear as cool older mentors to help out the Lost Hero trio. They both have careers and live in New York and go to Sally’s house for dinner every weekend.

Caleo isn’t a thing. In fact, let’s not even mention Calypso. At most we mention she was freed after the last war as idk proof demigods have some power or something.

More than 1 Asian character. Give this one ADHD and dyslexia bc shocker Asian kids can be disabled as well.

For that matter a properly disabled character. I have a deaf OC I would use if I rewrote the series.

Leo is aroace. His arc is about learning that his self worth doesn’t have to be tied to the people around him and his friends love and care about him and he doesn’t need romance to be complete. His flirting is overcompensation bc he doesn’t feel romantic or sexual attraction and is afraid he’ll be alone forever.

Drew and Piper become friends. Drew’s mean girl bullshit is outdated and boring and it would have been a lot cooler to see her icy exterior thaw and her help Piper with her charmspeck (explaining how Piper learned how to use it to begin with) and take on an older sister role

Neither Leo nor Piper become head councilors to their cabins because that’s dumb

Keep the chapter title style from PJO. It was so fun and one of the highlights of the series for me. The relatable nature of PJO in general was kinda lost in HoO and it’s a shame bc there was such a variety of characters for people to identify with there.

Give Reyna a girlfriend or at least a homoerotic friendship that can become an actual relationship in the next series or something

Frank is 14 and he and Hazel aren’t dating, they just have mutual baby crushes on one another.

For that matter what the fuck was ‘Frank is magically not fat due to Mars’s blessing’ bullshit? Frank is a fat character who stays fat but learns to be confident in himself and his body type.

Stop The Adultification of Hazel 2k23. Hazel is 13, she’s the youngest member of the seven and despite her trauma I think that should be obvious. I think emphasizing her relationship with Nico could be fun here - he’s in his 20s so him taking a more ‘that older sibling who toes the line between parent and sibling’ role here could be fun.

Also, I don’t want Hazel to have Hecate’s blessing or whatever. Between her being a magical horsegirl and the daughter of Pluto there’s already a lot of room to expand on her powers that was never used - I think doing more with her cursed jewels and metals powers and her learning the other aspects of her powers, like Shadow Travel, would be fun.

Instead I think having a daughter of Hecate as a part of the Seven would be cool, because we could still have a witchy character with mist manipulation and magic powers.

Give Jason an actual personality, please. Bro’s been a child solider practically since age 2 and has spent his whole life with the weight of other teenagers’ lives on his shoulders as praetor - give him perfectionism issues and anxiety. We’re told that he’s spent his whole life helping others compromise instead of being his own person - show that. Let his arc end with him deciding to try and live a mortal life and find out who he is beyond being a war general.

Show us that Octavian’s a piece of shit, don’t just tell us.

Leo and Piper are the ones who fall into Tartarus. Nothing romantic ever happens but we get heavy emphasis on their friendship and we get to see their grief over Leo’s mom and Piper’s grandfather respectively

Piper’s grandfather has died a few months ago and she cut her hair herself when her dad didn’t want to let her due to that (correct me if I’m wrong but it’s a tradition in Cherokee culture to cut your hair when a loved one dies, correct?), which is why it’s all uneven. A lot of her insecurities stem from going from growing up in rural Oklaholma (not in a reservation bc there aren’t any there) without much money to suddenly being catapulted into a millionaire Hollywood lifestyle and having everyone criticize everything about her and be really racist, all while her Dad drew farther away from both her and her grandfather. Her arc would be reconnecting with both her culture and Dad and learning to find who she is and her self worth again.

They defeat Gaea in a way that isn’t so anticlimactic and fucking stupid

[tarotofhope]

PAC: 「Which Aspect of your life should you put more energy into」

(Please Read My Pinned post *IMPORTANT NOTE* before selecting a Pile)

Pick an Image by meditating and selecting the image you feel called to. You can be attracted towards more than 1 image. If you are not able to select maybe this reading isn't for you.

*TRIGGER WARNING* Many strong trigger messages are there in Pile 2 and 5. It's almost calling out toxic habits/people because some people are focusing their energy on negative things. It's mostly talking about shadow aspects. That energy could be yours or someone you're currently closely dealing with.

It was very hard to write both these piles for me but I couldn't skip those because it was important to mention them.

Please don't take any offense, if you think you don't relate to those piles or if you feel uncomfortable reading them, you're free to choose another pile. Don't let a reading ruin your day and don't take it to your heart.

Pile 1

Wheel Of Fortune, The Fool, Ten Of Swords.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 1. You guys went through a lot of trouble because of your family patterns and beliefs/values or your ancestral trauma that has been carried down towards you by your family. There seems to be a lot of toxicity here. You don't like it and you're someone who doesn't want to carry it forward to your own offsprings as well which is such a righteous and courageous decision in itself. If you think you don't want to follow the same toxic pattern, you've already done half the work for your coming generations. That's very applaudable. The universe and your guides/angels will be so proud of you. This decision of yours itself is going to be a huge game changer which is why The Wheel Of Fortune appeared. It could be so that the elders of your family or your parents/guardian believe that, "We faced this trauma, this strictness from our parents so you're definitely going to have a taste of it. What's so wrong about it? It's normal." That's their toxic thinking which they inherited from the previous generations. One example I want to share here, which is very important. I was watching an asian stand-up comedy video on youtube where the guy(in his 40s) said to the young audience, "Your generation has become so sensitive that you cannot even handle beatings from your parents. You consider it as traumatic, toxic. You guys are so confused about your gender and sexual identity. Our generation suffered so much more than you but we never complained like you guys do. We never talked back to our parents/elders because we thought they can never be wrong. We accepted bad/toxic behaviour with ease and never argued back in defense and so we never complicated things for ourselves." But I believe, this kind of mindset of never speaking for yourself, never being curious to raise questions is always going to stunt your personal growth and development. If children are not questioning certain behaviours, parents must teach them to do so, that way parents can also win the trust of their children. Breaking toxic family patterns and creating a life full of freedom and hope for yourself and others should be your motto in life. You're not supposed to carry the same toxic family patterns towards your future generations. You should be the one who marks the end of it. If you feel the need to speak up, then speak up. I know we cannot change somebody's mindset but we can atleast teach the younger generations about what's toxic and what's not.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 1.

Love, light, hope and peace to you..🌸🌼🌻

Pile 2

Ace of Swords reversed, 7 of Swords, The Tower and The Sun Reversed.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 2. You're someone very sharp and intelligent by birth. Like it's in your blood.

*Trigger Warning ahead. If you do not resonate, you're free to choose another pile, please don't take any offense. It could be you or it could be someone you're dealing with currently. Different people will relate differently.*

There's something bad that's happened to you because of which things took an ugly turn. You maybe started putting your energy into revenge or as a result of getting hurt, you're letting out all of your anger by using your abilities and gifts in negative ways. As I said you have a sharp mind, you might be using your intelligence in such kind of jobs where there's deception/gambling/fraud, in something that's not morally correct. You're not using your mind in doing something smart in a good way, which could bring more convenience to you and others. Whatever you're doing, you're very good at it but it does not seem morally correct. I'm not saying you're a bad person but you're letting out all the negative energies of what has happened to you on others. See, the way you think, the way you see it, matters a lot. If you think of revenge, then it will be so but rather think of fighting back, you can get back at people who cause great harm to you but are in denial or having no remorse whatsoever. Sometimes, other people can't do justice to you, if you are a survivor, you can do it for yourself because the victims who die in an assault/murder/attack etc don't get the chance to do justice for themselves. In this pile, I can also see a lot of jealousy and a habit of cursing people for doing the slightest mistakes which hurts you even a tiny bit. These could be the after-effects of a trauma. There's an advice to use your gifts and abilities for good things. You might be someone who themselves is very hurt and troubled but you might be doing the same thing to others. After The Tower moment that happened(means when you were probably deceived/betrayed or hurt), you might have started believing in the idea that, "There's nothing such as right or wrong, it doesn't matter. I don't believe in karma. Karma needs to first get to the people who hurt me and I don't see them getting their karma, so it doesn't work, I guess" or you still know the difference between right and wrong but you've become so cold that you don't want to give a care about it. You're also someone who is very hard to impress. Some of you also believe in working smart than working hard. You need to know that by seeking revenge or getting things by wrong means is only going to look good temporarily, it's not going to help you in the long run. Very few of you could also be into black magic and use it to get things done your way. You could also be someone having a leadership position but you're using authoritative power in the wrong manner. Focus your energy into healing yourself and then let yourself out into the world. The world needs people like you but you're doing the opposite. Let your scars be your strength. Surrender your hurt, traumas and troubles to the universe.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 2.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🌻🌼

Pile 3

The Devil, Ace Of Swords, 5 Of Cups and 5 of Wands.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 3. It seems like you guys are not treated fairly at work. You're in a constant fight to survive. You might also be currently in an argument with a superior/parent/guardian/authority figure. You're quite disppointed and tired of your current job situation. Either you're doing this work out of an indirect/unspoken pressure from home, because you want to put food on the table or you're working here because your family wants you to or because you just want money to fulfil some needs. This work is taking a lot of your time and the income is quite unsatisfactory. This could be a family business or a startup as well for some people but something about it looks forced, like you had no choice. Lots of 5s here in the cards, means it's something which brings you sorrow, dissatisfaction, regret, disappointment. Some of you have recently left a job due to the above mentioned reasons. For some of you, this could be an educational course that you're doing out of pressure while for some of you, this could be your own happily chosen field of work but currently you're struggling to keep up, either you are not in good health or people have too many expectations from you. If this is something where force/pressure is involved and you're not okay with it then you should somehow try to get out of this situation soon or if this is something which seems out of your control and you can't get out, you need to do something as a side hustle or any relaxation activity/extracurricular activity which you like for your own well-being, but that side-activity should be equally calming and strong enough to get all that stress out of you. You will need to do a bit of balancing, a bit multi-tasking(which is work + relaxation activity) in order to keep your mind calm, otherwise, it will take a huge toll on your health in the long run.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 3

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌻🌼🌸

Pile 4

Knight Of Pentacles, 2 Of Cups, Ace Of Pentacles, 2 Of Wands.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 4.

Lot of 2s here, so there's a strong wish for companionship in this pile. You want stability in your work and personal life. You are looking forward to finally settle down. But before that, you need to focus on your career, independence and money. Work, earn, settle down your finances and then marry. You could be under the age-group of marriage or could have crossed that age limit according to societal beliefs and norms but believe me, the universe works in magical ways. It's never too late to do anything. You must first focus on yourself and your overall growth then only you could bring that level of prosperity in your married life as well. This applies to your partner as well. We all have some baggage due to bad experiences and traumas but if it is something that's constantly been like an itch you need to scratch, then you need to first get rid of that itch. You need to be healthy and fit because I'm also hearing some of you are not happy with your looks/weight or something that is related to your body or you have some chronic health issues which you're dying to get rid of. There's also some problems with finances going on, some serious family issues and you know on the inside that you're not currently at your best. So, you first need to stabilise your finances and health before you jump into any serious relationships or marriage. I'm not telling you to not fall in love neither am I asking you to hold back. I'm just telling you to be ready and prepared before taking such a major step in your personal life because then it would be a total mess and you'll carry major regrets and insecurities later on because of the things you didn't work on earlier. What needs to be done earlier should be done earlier for your own sake. Don't think that things will change magically after entering into a romantic relationship or marriage. You're hopeful and being dreamy but you're not ready. If you think you're mentally quite disturbed and unstable, not well health-wise, not independent enough, finances are not good then you shouldn't go looking for a partner just because everybody else is getting into a relationship/getting married. Work on yourself first, what's meant to be yours will be yours and only yours to take. Nobody will be able to snatch it away from you.

So, that's all I got for you, my dear Pile 4

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌼🌻🌸

Pile 5

King Of wands Reversed, Wheel Of Fortune Reversed, 9 Of Cups, Judgement.

Welcome to your reading, Pile 5.

*Trigger Warning Ahead. The following messages contains many triggers. Don't take it to your heart. If you do not resonate, you're free to choose another pile but please don't take any offense as this reading could be about you or someone toxic you're dealing with*

You could be too much dependent on others or others' opinion of you. I can also see a lot of toxic femininity and masculinity, blaming on others for your defeats, losses and bad luck but you are not taking an initiative to see where the problem exactly lies. We all are not perfect but this pile specifically seems to call out toxic traits. You are someone very kind and generous and you like to help people but at the same time your intentions are mostly directed in your own favor. It's good to keep yourself first but you might be extremely focused only on your needs. You might not like to accept a 'no' from others. There could also be an ego issue because of which you don't like to apologise to others. You could be someone who has created a stable home for themselves or someone who doesn't have anything of their own(it is either your parents' or someone else's resources), but there's an ego issue and a lot of pride. Now, here there are 2 kinds of people, ones who are deeply connected with their family members or atleast one or two people in their life whereas the other ones are not bothered by relationships at all. You could be someone who love pets and/or children. You might even be a quick judge of character because you like to observe but you might not be always right. I'm also getting a lot of greediness from this pile. There is little to no focus on self-growth and inner healing here. You might also be someone who gets angry easily, always wants an upperhand in an argument. You like to do things yourself while for some of you, you don't give enough credit to people who help you. Again, similarly to Pile 2, you might have great leadership qualities but a habit of controlling everyone your way, imposing your way of doing things on others. You need to meditate, pause and take a look inside your mind, body and soul. That's where you'll find your answers. Start putting yourself in other people's shoes and try to see the world from a different point of view.

That's all I got for you, my dear Pile 5.

Love, light, peace and hope to you..🌸🌼🌻

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC readings every Tuesday and Friday. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

[stelladonna]

I’m watching Xena for the first time, now, in my 30s, since I was a very little girl. My mom used to watch it all the time, almost obsessively— she loved it so much—and I would groan bc I was little and would rather watch cartoons. Anyway, my memory of Xena is ethereal at best, except for a few things, including: 1) Callisto and the body switching episode where I had a “funny” feeling watching her as Xena. That was because I was a baby gay and she was my first on-screen crush, and 2) that I never made time to actually sit down and watch Xena as an adult for some strange reason I now realize is childhood trauma that is now healed.

At the end of the series, when Xena and Gabrielle get together, I distinctly remember my mother’s homophobic reaction and the way she immediately turned against the show, never watching it or mentioning it again. In that moment I did not feel safe. Something inside of me closed up, and it took years into adulthood before I was ready to accept my queerness. It was that moment that shut down the possibility of me exploring that funny feeling.

It’s healing for me now because I recently moved back in with my mother after heartbreak and the end of a LT relationship (ofc a lesbian one) while I transition into a new job in an old place and rebuild my life. For context, my mother knows, but let’s not get into my coming out story 🤪.

The point is that I decided to start watching Xena and have just finished that body switching episode. When I started watching it, I reflexively recoiled when my mom walked in like I was a sneaky teenager doing something wrong. I had to remind myself that I am in fact a complete adult and that I no longer care what she or anyone thinks of my lifestyle.

Anyway, she saw it on the screen and said “do you know I used to watch Xena? It was my favor show,” and I said “yes, I know. I remember.” Then she sat down and watched it with me. Then she went to her room and proceeded to watch the whole thing on her own (she has impressive marathoning skills I could never dream of matching). Then she came out and told me the show has so many lessons about how to be a good person. Then she asked me to let her know when I get to the “Asian” part (forgive me but I don’t yet know what that means. I’m paraphrasing her, a Thai woman).

It’s healing for me bc, even though I know my mom has accepted this part of who I am, this small act, this radical change of heart toward Xena and her eagerness to share it with me and again to embrace it herself means so much ❤️‍🩹

[casscainmainly]

Have you read the recent chapter of boy wonder? I feel like it ties nicely with what you were talking about recently like robin, the mantles relationship with poc and batman

Adding your second ask here: "And also robin as being able to be a symbol for the collective and community. Sorry for being so scatter brained I sent the other ask without completing my thoughts😭 I was really interested in how you'll react to the recent chapter and hearing your thoughts on it. I'm not really good at analysis but reading yours are always fun"

I'm really happy you sent this ask because I've been meaning to read The Boy Wonder for ages and I never got around to it, so this was the push I needed!

You're spot on that so much of issue #5 connects to what I was discussing in my Duke Thomas and the Robin Mantle post. In fact, Damian giving the R symbol to the would-be robber directly parallels Duke giving the symbol to Daryl:

The Boy Wonder #5 / Batman (2011) #45

In both, they view Robin as a connection to their families and to the wider Gotham community, as the grounds for both individual and societal change. And honestly this makes sense, given that Damian is the predecessor, both chronologically and spiritually, to Duke's Robin.

Damian as a character of color is fraught with difficulty. The set-up of his story invites a dichotomy between the evil, Asian, brown-skinned Talia and Ra's, and the kind and caring White Wayne family. Morrison's demonisation of Talia is symptomatic of this issue. This is something The Boy Wonder mentions, too; Ra's is aggrieved not only at Damian betraying him, but at Damian siding with a rich White man, the opposite of every ideal he was raised with.

But in The Boy Wonder and in canon, the dichotomy is not so simple. Boy Wonder has Damian acknowledge both his 'demon' and Bat sides, with the social movement aspect coming from his mother, not from Bruce. It's also important to anti-racist readings of his character, as well as a general understanding of Damian, that he did not need to learn compassion. He already had it - one of his earliest moments in Morrison's run is feeling devastated at failing to save Sasha. People saying Dick taught Damian to feel things are missing the point: Damian already felt things, and what he learned from Dick was how to process and use those feelings.

(It's also important that Damian's first Batman was Dick, the first Robin, and retroactively the first Robin of Colour.)

Damian as a character moves from the restricting, White-centric legacy of the Batman into the freeing, colourful legacy of Robin. Another parallel to Duke and We Are Robin:

The Boy Wonder #5 / We Are Robin #1

Robin has always stood for youth, but this notion of the future starts with Damian (as Bruce's heir) and flourishes in Duke (as one of Gotham's many heirs). They are the future, which means the future is a place of colour.

One thing I liked more in Boy Wonder than We Are Robin is that Damian starts the movement, whereas WAR has... Alfred (this is a bad move for many reasons but this post is too long already). Damian credits the core moral principle - wanting to change the world in a communal way - to Ra's and Talia, which shows that Damian's morals do not come from the Batfam. Once again, the Robin mantle is not only a connection to the Bat, but a connection to the wearer's original/other family, as it was for Dick and Duke.

In all three cases, the other family is a family of colour. This is why I think Dick works better when his Romani heritage is acknowledged; the Dick-Damian-Duke lineage is a nuanced exploration of the ways kids of Colour navigate the White world, in which Robin functions as a celebration of difference and a rebellion against assimilation. It's a progressive journey: Dick is White-passing and has mostly lost touch with his roots, Damian (ideally, when Talia is written right) equally loves both sides of his family, and Duke is unapologetically, unequivocally Black.

Which is why, though I enjoyed Boy Wonder overall, I'm extremely puzzled why Duke wasn't in it. Like, Damian just started We Are Robin!!! Why would you do WAR and not include WAR characters? Merle could've easily been Duke, and the comic would've been richer for it. (Also why is Babs here?? She says like two lines and is not part of the Robin legacy. Steph being Batgirl or Robin would've made more sense).

I can kind of understand Duke's omission (though this comic pulls so much from We Are Robin it feels like it owes Duke a cameo), but Dick's role was strangely small. It seems like Damian didn't start as Dick's Robin here, but that point is so essential to his character that once again I'm puzzled. There is so much more to be done with Dick, especially with the last issue being a meditation on the Robin legacy.

But it was still a fun read, and Damian is so adorable throughout I can't be mad at it. I hope this post makes up for how long it took me to get to this ask!!

[worflesbian]

Klingons & Racialisation - the Long Post

This post is an overview of the racial coding of the Klingons from their first appearance to the present day, illustrated by quotes from Trek writers, actors and crew members taken from the Memory Alpha article Depicting Klingons, with my own interjected summaries and explanations. It is by no means comprehensive (I likely missed some stuff), and does not offer critical analysis of the quotes provided, but nonetheless is intended to demonstrate irreproachably the open fact that Klingons have always been intentionally written and designed as non-white -- something that fandom consistently fails to take into account when perpetuating racist stereotypes and reiterating racist canon content. I recommend reading the whole article for a more in-depth understanding of the subject, as well as seeking out the existing writing of fans of colour. This post is primarily for reference purposes so I've tried to limit my own analysis and opinions, but I do post those in my Klingon tag as well as more general headcanons and worldbuilding and I'm happy to answer any (good faith) questions this post may raise.

As always, if I have overstepped in any way as a white fan in making this post, I am grateful to be informed and will make any required changes.

Content warning for outdated and offensive language under the cut.

The Original Series

"There is some suggestion that the Klingons represent a Cold Warrior's view of China in the 1960s – swarthy, brutally repressive." (Star Trek Magazine issue 153, p. 66) "And I think he was basing a lot of it on the kind of attitude of the Japanese in World War II...." ("Errand of Mercy" Starfleet Access, TOS Season 1 Blu-ray) The script of "Errand of Mercy" introduces the Klingon look by saying, "We see the Klingons are Orientals," "Spray my hair black, give me a kind of swamp creature green olivey mud reptilian make-up, and we'll borrow some stuff from Fu Manchu, and put a long moustache and eyebrows on me." ("The Sword of Colicos", Star Trek: Deep Space Nine - The Official Poster Magazine, No. 8) "I think the makeup was called 'Mexican #1 or #2.' That was the name of the original makeup foundation – they actually had kind of racist names at the time, like 'Negro #1' and 'Mexican #2' – which was the basis for the original Star Trek makeups." (Star Trek Magazine issue 172, p. 59) "In the original series, all they wore was a dark face and their black hair," Michael Westmore observed. ("Michael Westmore's Aliens: Season Two", DS9 Season 2 DVD special features) The Klingons' appearance changed within the original Star Trek series; although dark makeup and heavy eyebrows were the norm, the Klingons of "The Trouble with Tribbles" were much lighter-skinned and more Human-like in appearance.... He noticed that they are not only less like Mongol warriors by having less of a swarthy appearance but also by being slightly not as fierce... ("The Trouble with Tribbles" Starfleet Access, TOS Season 2 Blu-ray) "...they were meant to represent the Communist foes of the United States specifically during the Vietnam War, which was being controversially fought at that time. (Star Trek: The Original Series 365, p. 222) "...let us never set up a situation whereby those adversaries of ours [Klingons] give any indication of ever being anything but highly aggressive and self-seeking opponents." (These Are the Voyages: TOS Season Three)

Here it is explicitly stated that the Klingons were based on various Asian cultures, with the USSR also being mentioned heavily in the article. This influence and the use of "yellowface" is covered more comprehensively in this youtube video Klingons & The History Of Racial Coding. However, the video has some notable gaps which I hope to cover in this post.

Post-TOS (movies)

The Star Trek III portrayal of Klingons took inspiration from Japanese history. "Harve [Bennett] had the notion that the Klingons were like Samurai warriors," explained linguist Marc Okrand. (Star Trek: Communicator issue 114, p. 27) Robert Fletcher agreed with Bennett, later saying of the Klingons, "I always liked to think of them as authoritarian, almost feudal, like Japan had been." (The Making of the Trek Films, UK 3rd ed., p. 52) Regarding the make-up, Michael Westmore observed, "Until now, Klingons were brown. Some had a bony ridge running down the middle of their foreheads, long black wigs and facial hair." (Star Trek: The Next Generation Makeup FX Journal, p. 28) "I thought it was an ideal way for us to have our closure too, because the Klingons for us have always been the Communist Block, the Evil Empire. It just made sense to do that story." (The Making of the Trek Films, UK 3rd ed., p. 100) "Gene was really bothered by the Klingons in VI [....] [They] were, in his words, 'too civilized, too decent, too much of the good guys in the story.' [....] [The Klingon detente] was not the way Gene would have handled it. He would have reversed it, he would have had the Klingons being the ones who couldn't handle the peace, with the Federation saying, 'Come on, let's try and work this out.'" (Star Trek Movie Memories, hardback ed., p. 289) "The story never explored the Klingon culture the way I'd hoped it would [....] I was hoping for greater insight into the Klingons." (I Am Spock) Nimoy hoped, in specific, that the movie would provide some important insight into why the Klingons had "always been so angry, such nasty, vicious murderers." Nimoy wanted the insightful knowledge to be an intellectually transformational force, changing the thinking of Kirk and the audience. (Star Trek Movie Memories, hardback ed., pp. 287-288) In an interview in the DS9 Season 7 DVD, Robert O'Reilly observed that a long-running joke among actors who have played Klingons is that they do not want to appear in the Star Trek films as, he believes, the only purpose of a Klingon in one of the films was to be killed off.

Although these last three quotes may not seem relevant, I believe they highlight an important facet of the racialisation of the Klingons. It reads as though Gene Roddenberry was against depicting the Klingons in a more sympathetic light than the Federation, and considering that the Klingons are intended to be non-white, refusing to give depth or motive to their anger in favour of keeping them "nasty, vicious murderers" comes across as fairly racist, especially when these kind of reductive and harmful stereotypes could've been challenged as Nimoy suggests. The treatment of Klingons as disposable villains is also concerning in this context.

The Next Generation

African-American actors were often cast as Klingons in TNG and subsequent Star Trek productions. This practice wasn't racially motivated but was instead carried out because it lessened makeup time, as the performers already had a brown complexion without having to have their skin painted that color. (Stardate Revisited: The Origin of Star Trek: TNG, Part 2: Launch, TNG Season 1 Blu-ray) Tony Todd, who portrayed the recurring Klingon character Kurn, stated, "I don't look at the Klingons necessarily as African-Americans, but it's about tapping into something–they're certainly an alienated people, so maybe that's why African-American actors can identify with those characters. But that doesn't mean it's exclusive to them." (Star Trek: Communicator issue 116, p. 54) Michael Westmore actually changed the Klingon facial design in numerous ways, though. He stated, "I added a Shakespearean style of facial hair and a forehead bone structure based on dinosaur vertebrae and I was able to modify motion picture Klingons for television." (Star Trek: Aliens & Artifacts, p. 59) In "A Matter Of Honor", the Klingons were intended to be used to shed some light on a common social problem prevalent at the time of the episode's making. This was, namely, what it was like to be the only person of either white or black skin coloration while surrounded by people of the other color. The Klingons were selected to illustrate this theme as a spin on the usual arrangement of a predominantly Human crew serving aboard the Enterprise-D alongside Worf. (Captains' Logs: The Unauthorized Complete Trek Voyages, p. 176) Two historical societies, the Samurai and Vikings, served as other inspirations, Moore perceiving about Klingon culture, "There was the calm, elegant reserve associated with the Samurai but there was the 'party-down' like the Vikings." (Star Trek: Communicator issue 114, p. 58) "I stopped thinking of the Klingons as the Cold War adversary," he explained. "I didn't think it fit [....] The place where the Russians were when I was doing the Klingon shows just wasn't as relevant any more." (Star Trek: The Magazine Volume 1, Issue 19, pp. 64-65) "The Klingons are not evil, tyrannical pirates bent only on pillage and plunder. They have a strict, almost unyielding code of ethics and honor and take their responsibilities as rulers seriously." Following a description of the Klingon homeworld, the memo continued by saying, "Klingon society could most closely be compared to that of Sparta or feudal Japan." ("Sins of the Father" audio commentary, TNG Season 3 Blu-ray) Having recently seen the film Malcolm X, he imagined the Klingons in the "Birthright" duology as metaphors for black people. (Captains' Logs: The Unauthorized Complete Trek Voyages, p. 274; Star Trek: Communicator issue 105, p. 16) "There's a certain way you have to carry yourself. You have to really be able to project the violence and the anger [....] All you have to do is think of the Spartans. They say, 'They'd rather have you come home dead on your shield than come home a coward.' [18]

This is where I feel the video essay previously mentioned falls short -- in the next gen era, Klingons are now explicitly black-coded. While some Asian cultural influences are still cited, they learn more towards the historical and are intermixed with other historical European influences (Spartans, Vikings, Shakespeare) rather than being fueled by contemporary prejudices towards the political enemies of the US as they were in the TOS era.

Deep Space Nine

Fields also generally based the Klingon group on American Western prototypes from the film The Magnificent Seven or, to a lesser extent, Japanese prototypes from The Magnificent Seven's movie source material, Seven Samurai. (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Companion (pp. 131-132)) "So, the hair [...] was permed. So, it had more of a curl instead of the straight type look, and by perming it, they were able to kind of give them larger, bigger hair, so it was more like a mane." ("Michael Westmore's Aliens: Season Two", DS9 Season 2 DVD special features) "I don't know how you could equate Klingons with what's going on in the world today," he admitted. "I think the intention was to make them like samurai. That hairdo they gave them is very much a samurai hairdo. A lot of the fight sequences, the moves with the bat'telh, are very much taken out of the Asian martial arts [....] It's very romantic you know, these three old guys, the Klingon over-the-hill gang." (The Official Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Magazine issue 15, pp. 17-18) "It was different for them to get into this makeup, because [...] [the makeup was more elaborate and] the beards were bigger, and they were greyer, and they had curls to them, and the moustaches, they had the Fu Manchu look to them. So, they weren't used to sitting that long to be a Klingon." ("Michael Westmore's Aliens: Season Two", DS9 Season 2 DVD special features) For recreating some old-style Klingons in "Trials and Tribble-ations", the Klingon-playing actors had to be made up with the same swarthy, shiny brown makeup as used in the original series. (The Magic of Tribbles: The Making of Trials and Tribble-ations) ...he had them unite in song, thinking this was "just the kind of thing that Klingons do" because they are, in his opinion, similar to Vikings. (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Companion (p. 449)) "I always saw the Klingons as a combination of Japanese Samurai who haven't had their morning coffee (or tea!) and African Zulu warriors." [25]

In DS9 the only inspirations cited seem to be historical, once again leaning towards feudal Japan and the Vikings. Interestingly although the Klingons here are predominantly dark-skinned, I don't think that J.G. Hertzler, who is white, had his skin significantly darkened to play Martok (at least, not compared to the obvious brown makeup worn by other white actors playing Klingons). Having a white actor play a Klingon without dark makeup could've set a precedent decreasing the use of such practices later on, but no one seems to have picked up on it.

Enterprise

The Klingons of ENT: "Sleeping Dogs" were based on the crew of the Russian submarine Kursk. "For me," said Dekker, "the point was to acknowledge the Klingons as 'people' – to find them in a clear position of distress [....] The idea to 'humanize' their plight was mine, and it wasn't anything I thought about as far as canon. It just seemed right." (Star Trek: The Official Starships Collection, issue 41, pp. 10-12) In the final draft script of "Affliction", the altered Klingons were initially referred to as "fierce-looking aliens" and were further described thus; "The aliens have a swarthy complexion, and dark facial hair... they could easily be mistaken for Humans. We'll eventually learn these are Klinqons... but their cranial ridges have disappeared."

At this point in time it seems the Klingons had essentially done a 180 from one-dimensional villains to sympathetic fan favourites, while still retaining the skin-darkening aspect of their makeup and "barbaric" characterisation. Although this is not mentioned in the article's section on the Abrams films, the images provided do demonstrate a level of skin darkening for the Klingons' brief appearance in Into Darkness.

The final section of the article is incomplete, meaning I don't have a lot of information for Discovery's redesign of the Klingons. The sources I can find cite ancient civilisations such as the Byzantines as well as Islamic architecture as inspiration for the set design, with a baroque influence on the costumes. I have heard rumours that the crew of Discovery have cited North African cultures as their inspiration for the Klingons but I can't currently find a source for this. Despite the lack of direct quotes, it's visibly clear that the Klingon makeup is still darkening the skin of white actors, although this time also to non-human blue and purple colours, as well as altering certain features in a racialised way. To elaborate: Mary Chieffo, who plays L'Rell on Discovery, is white and has a very thin nose and small lips, but in costume these are broadened in a way that seems imitative of African ethnic features.

As of the making of this post (early August 2023) I haven't seen any of Strange New Worlds, but from some cursory research its latest episode (Subspace Rhapsody) seems to have put a white actor (Bruce Horak) in brown makeup to play a Klingon. I am deeply disappointed that on a television set in 2023 people can still be darkening an actors skin like this without questioning the racial implications of what they're doing.

Thank you for reading to the end of this post. Please feel free to link to it if you found it useful enough to cite in another context. I would like to reiterate that I am white and while this is an issue I care deeply about it is not one I have an emic understanding of, and if anything I've said here is inappropriate I would be very grateful to be made aware.

[thereraigoes]

“how to make millions before grandma dies” through my own lenses.

these days, the internet is filled with people recommending this film to be added in everyone’s watch-list. 1) asian family themed 2) people said it’s tear jerking 3) it’s available at the nearest cinema from home— those three points intrigued me to give the film a toss to try. a moment after i went from the cinema, i know well that people who keep recommend this film is not lying at all.

reviewing a film is never my forte but this film makes me want to write something after watching it. i guess it’s the bond of similarity that this film has to me, especially i’m an asian as well.

i would like to give the five stars to,

the color grading.

i am always a big fan of films that have pretty color grading. htmmbgd has a really pretty, i would even say it’s the prettiest color grading from all the movies that i’ve watched lately. if you look closely toward color grading of each film, sometimes several places have its own colour— so does this film, somehow you can know exactly where the film is located just by looking at its color. i don’t really know how to describe it but when i saw that warm, sunny that sun can sting your skin but someplace is kind of shady.. somehow it really screams asia, and it feels so homey.

also a plus point that it is neither over saturated nor under saturated. it’s unpleasant to watch the artist’s skin look so orange where they are not meant to be a tangerine or look so grey where they are not meant to be someone who hasn’t eaten for a week.

it just.. chef kisses. a lot of scenes that show scenery around the setting and it doesn’t lessen the plot, it makes the audience know about the place without too much movement from the camera.

the sound choice.

it adds drama and spices to the films so much and without them, maybe people can survive this film without crying. it plays an important role as well to the plot since we know that m is known as a scaredy cat and amah’s lullaby is the one who relaxed him down and vice versa (i’m not mentioning that scene okay!)

“you can’t leave this cinema without crying buddies.. it’s okay you can cry, okay cry now” that would depict how the sound’s role in htmmbgd.

the plot.

i won’t say a lot about this but kudos to the filmmaker because it’s really good! the plot doesn’t always go like the audience prediction but somehow it’s relieving.. that’s just the same as how the real world does right?

the highlighted-scene and little details that i care for,

a heads up. i might mention some scenes and maybe some of them are spoilers to everyone who hasn’t watched it. so feel free to stop reading if you feel the spoilers are too heavy for you. i’ll try to lessen it!

amah’s paperbag

while watching the film, i realize that amah never wears a proper ‘bag’. we only see that she always wears paperbag that m always carries for. in my interpretation, it symbolizes the humbleness of amah. we know that amah only sells congee for living— three children and herself. those moneys that she get from is always prioritized for her children needs, not her needs— especially for secondary and the tersier one. if it’s enough to carry, then let it be. but we know, there lies a thing that meant a lot for her family inside it.

m and amah talks when m asked why amah always wanted to have a great land of cemetery for her soon.

i can’t help but cry in silence when this scene appears because it’s just so.. ironic. amah always wants to have her children coming together with her, even when she is passed away so she thinks if her children don’t want come when she is alive— a good cemetery would probably help her desire to have a nice gathering without an argument.

pomegranate and amah’s implicit love.

just like common asian themed poem, there will always be mom cutting fruit to symbolize mother love. but i never read (this could be i am the one who never find it, send me one if you ever read it!) a grandma who is cutting the fruit.

even for her own son, amah forbade him to eat the pomegranate because it was meant for m only. she has kept that pomegranate tree for years, water it everyday, cut the rotten branch, wrap the pomegranate with plastic so the caterpillar won’t eat it– she cares it just like she cares m.

even though amah is grumpy toward m (she knows since day one that m is hiding something from her), she still loves and cares for him.

“sons got the assets and daughter got the cancer”

i want to hug ma so bad. she is the most hardworking one between amah’s children yet she assumes that she never receives amah’s love. it just.. i want to hug her so bad.

and finally, the deeds.

i don’t really know about other families but mostly i reckon that this issue is really controversial. family can separate to each other because of this issue only, they highlight the importance of inherited parent’s wealth. i know it is their right to have it but neglecting the fact that their parents need their children’s time and only wanting their wealth is so sickening.

we know that m cares amah only for her deeds at the first but slowly he knows that it is not always about the deeds, it’s about cherishing the memory with her while it lasts.

it’s bearable that m is mad to know that soei is the one who got the house– i mean who doesn’t mad though if the one who got the house is the one who never helps to care about amah, never have a job and a burden to amah, even steal amah’s money. it happens commonly in asian family, my family as well. sometime i don’t really know what on their mind.

but through this, i realize that how old we are, our parents still look at us as a child. that’s why amah apprehends soei, she’s worried that if she doesn’t give soei her house then he could never solve all his problems.

but that mindset is a fatal flaw as well, by then we can see that soei only rely to his mother. he could never stand on his own. i’m relieved that m scolds for him even though soei is much older than him.

conclusion and rating from me, rai,

it’s worth to watch, at least once in a lifetime. you can always rewatch it though but beware running out of your eyecream because it really makes your eyes swollen right after you leave the cinema.

cherish everyone in your life while it lasts. don’t be so bitter to people, sometimes they need help but they are afraid to reach you out.

lastly, it’s a solid nine out of ten.

[zepskies]

Hey! Just wondering if you could suggest some romantic/rom-com movies💖

Have a great day❤️🌼

Oh my goodness, I certainly can!! Thank you, bby! 💖💖

10 of my favorite romantic comedies:

(In no particular order.)

1. 10 Things I Hate About You

An absolute perfect movie. Dialogue, casting, story, romance, Heath Ledger, Shakespeare references, what more could a literary inclined girl want?

2. A Cinderella Story

Another gift from the early 2000s. Is it cheesy? Sometimes. Is it adorable? Absolutely.

3. He's Just Not That Into You

Hilarious, sometimes heartbreaking, ensemble cast, but the endings for each couple are undoubtedly satisfying. Plus, my favorite rewind moment of all time:

4. Crazy, Stupid Love

Ryan Gosling, Emma Stone, Steve Carrell, Josh Groban cameo. Need I say more? (But it will also unexpectedly grip your heart with profound, tender moments.)

5. While You Were Sleeping

One of my favorite Sandra Bullock rom coms, of which there are many. (Honorary mentions: The Proposal, Practical Magic, Two Weeks Notice, and Miss Congeniality, though it's not really a rom com is one of my favorite movies in existence.)

6. You've Got Mail

A classic of classics in rom com history. Meg Ryan at her best, Tom Hanks at his. She's a small, independent bookstore owner. He's essentially Barnes & Noble, coming in to disrupt New York with corporate America.

7. Mrs. Winterbourne

A forgotten '90s Brendan Fraser must-see movie. He's the "rich playboy" type, she's scrappy and resourceful, pregnant by her deadbeat ex-boyfriend, and pretending to be the widow of Fraser's twin brother, who recently died in a train accident.

8. Crazy Rich Asians

Based on a book, top-tier casting, bad ass mother-in-law, bad ass heroine, a classy, handsome, Good Man™️ hero? Sign me TF up.

9. 13 Going on 30

Easily Jennifer Garner's best movie, but also Mark freakin' Ruffalo. They're adorable together, and this one's a classic in its own right, full of heart, back-stabbing bitches, and 80s music references.

10. My Big Fat Greek Wedding

It's one of the best, folks. Also one of the most quotable movies in movie history lol. As a kid, I remember really identifying with Toula, who feels too plain, too big, too "frump girl."

But Ian never saw her that way. He genuinely laughs at her jokes. He's patient with her and sees her beauty, inside and out. He also deals with a lot of crap from her family in order to be with her, with all the grace and gentlemanly poise a guy could have.

And Toula learns to love herself, fall in love for the first time, and challenges every expectation of her family to do so.

I have many, many more, but these are just a few of my favorites. What's yours?

Don't see it on this list? Drop it in the comments! 💋