as someone who has to draw everyday, or else I forget how to draw, repetitive strain injuries are bound to happen but damn I didn’t know long it was gonna take to heal 😭 I have to take like a 2-3 week hiatus and if it doesn’t get better after that I have to take a few months off which makes me so nervous n upset

His Personal Toy 18+

Boss!Vincenzo AU Genre: Smut

Warning: Thigh spanking & Fingering will be involved.

A/N: This is my first fic for this Drama and Go watch. There's fourth wall breaking at the end. Minors DO NOT interact. if i find out that you are underage you will be blocked no questions asked. If you see any misspelling or grammatical errors feel free to tell me and i'll fix it. negative and rude comments will be deleted. Also this is a reader insert so the you i'm referring to is the reader so no one is left out.

Working for Vincenzo as his assistant was harrowing enough. Screening his calls, picking up lunch and coffee for everyone in the office. You were quite the studious, sweet and demure kind of girl. You were an only child and the apple of your father's eye, Your mother had passed away in childbirth so he raised you the best he could. Always had excellent grades you stayed to yourself and had a few friends in your social circle. Mr. Cassano never looked twice at you unless you did an excellent job or to ask you for something small. You decided to step out of your comfortable clothes and wear something a bit more sexy With that being said you decided to call in and take the day off to do a little self intervention, hit the spa, go do something with that mess you called hair cause it wasn't cutting it anymore and you finished things off with a little shopping splurge for some new work clothes. You got up with a newfound sense of confidence, made your coffee and breakfast, took your shower and got dressed in a pencil skirt black thigh highs and a sexy garter belt with white lingerie underneath the red button up dress shirt and a sleek pair of red bottoms and pulled your hair up in a sleek high ponytail. He was sitting at his desk going over more cases that needed to be looked over and couldn't help but look up when you walked in, you weren't trying to get his attention you just wanted to feel sexy that day after Jang Han-seok called you dowdy and frumpy. You could've swore you heard Vincenzo growl at the mere sight of your thighs as your skirt rode up when you sat down. You had no clue that your boss had even remotely looked at you in such a manner, from what Cha-Young told you the man was cold and unfeeling towards anyone that wasn't within his small circle of friends, if you could call them that. Vincenzo had noticed the little change in you the very moment you walked in this morning with the coffee.He always saw you as quiet, meek and little to no self confidence until Jung Han-Seok made an appearance at their new office.

*Flashback* He made a few snide comments towards Cha-young and Mr.Nam but they just brushed him off and went about their work. Then he stopped at your desk with a sneer as he looked over the office before looking down at you and saying "You would never guess even the mafia hires the best looking even the frumpy looking mouse." *end flashback* Today he couldn't stop himself from looking at your legs in those heels and thigh highs, why did you hide those glorious thighs from him? He came up with a rather brilliant *writer speaking: it's fucking silly. Vincenzo glares writer: ignore the peanut gallery* "Ms. Hong, Mr.Nam would you to mind taking this case i have a few calls to make and i need the rookie's secretarial skills to schedule a few appointments and help ordering a few things." he spoke looking over at you and clicking his pen. The two lawyers thought nothing of it, nodded and headed off to court after collecting their things and case files. As soon as the door shut behind them he locked it and stood behind you as you worked. "Little one what are you doing to me? I have never seen this side of you before, Thank you for listening to Cha-young and getting this makeover." He said as he stood you up from his chair and taking your place and sitting you back down in his lap and began rubbing your soft supple,stocking covered thighs and snapping the fabric on your garter belt. "Now my little minx. Daddy needs you to be very quiet or the other tenants will hear those filthy,sweet noises coming from those plump juicy lips." He said whispering in your ear as he trailed his fingers along your inner thigh while his other hand parted your left thigh and pushed your skirt up around your waist, revealing the innocent, lacy white lingerie. He removed his hand from your skirt and popped open the buttons on your blouse revealing your soft, supple breasts."No bra? Princess such a naughty girl, i knew you weren't as innocent as i thought you were." He said gently tweaking the right nipple and massaging your left breast, kneading it like dough. As you bit your lip as you typed up the emails he gripped your jaw as to stop you from biting your cherry red lips and tilted your head back for a chaste but gentle kiss. Once he pulled away from the kiss he looked down at the white lace panties and matching garter belt eliciting a groan from his soft pink lips. "You don't know how hard you're making it for me not to bend you over this desk and make this pretty ass sore or have you begging for me to fuck you but i can't fuck you before i taste you and they'll be back soon." He said kicking his chair away from his desk and to the table in the center of the room and sat you down on it so he was eye level with your already soaked heat. "Look at you Princess. Already soaked for me and all i have been doing is groping your breasts." He whispered to you swiping a finger up your drenched core, making you shudder at his touch. You watched as he put his soaked finger in his mouth and closed his eyes with a groan as he tasted your essence. "You taste sweeter than i imagined my Goddess." He moaned as he pulled his chair close to the table then pulled your legs around his neck and pulled your soaked lace panties to the side then delved his tongue deep inside you drinking and eating like it was his last meal. You placed your hand over your mouth in an attempt to keep the other tenants from hearing you but a loud and low one manged to slip past your lips before you could hold it in. he pinched and slapped at your thigh at the sounds leaving your lips. "Make another sound and Daddy will stop." He said slapping your thigh once more as he dived back down below. Your hands gripped at his hair as your breathing grew heavier. Your toes began to curl and your back began to arch as you felt it getting closer and closer."Vi-Daddy please...please make me cum. i need to cum so bad." You said with a whimper and a whine when he reached up and started rubbing at your clit. Your eyes filled with tears as the intensity came to a head as you came hard, squirting all over his

face as your legs shook. He came up, drenched in your juices with a smile on his face at your disheveled state. "Honey....next time warn me before you pull something like this." You smiled down at your boyfriend with a tired smile knowing that he sent them away for the day and he was far from done with you.

Writer M: I hope you all enjoyed my fic and maybe when the inspiration hits i'll make a part 2.

Vincenzo: She's a lying lazy ass....*puts my hands over his mouth* Shut up He Who Keeps Dirty Secrets!!

Struggles of teaching in China

If you’re in a TESOL prep program, you’ve likely run across articles that talk about the challenges of teaching in China. Well, at the special request of a previous professor of mine, here’s my version.

There are some very good things about teaching in China. For example, it is literally culturally ingrained in the fabric of society that teachers will be and are respected. It means my word will not be questioned (even though sometimes maybe it should be?). What I say goes. Classroom management issues (at least at the collegiate level) do not exist. My students are highly motivated and disciplined. I do not have to worry about attendance; they will not skip. This being said, here are 10 very real struggles I’ve had to face in the classrooms here.

1. The classrooms do not belong to the teacher.

One of the biggest differences between China (and Taiwan) and the United States is that the classrooms do not belong to the teacher. In the US, we often think of the teacher as getting to design their own classrooms and buying materials and decorating it and being the perfect “pinterest” teacher. The students tend to rotate and switch classrooms when the bell rings. Here, that is literally impossible (which might actually be good since I’m poor, not artistic, and don’t have much free time). Teachers are the ones who rotate and the students stay in their classrooms. This set-up means I would have to buy or create duplicates of anything I wanted to hang on the walls. It is good in some ways (gives students ownership of their space, they have a space to study after school hours, they’re responsible for cleaning and maintaining it, etc) but it is also bad because I can’t take up all the wall space. I am sharing with all the other teachers in the department. If I want a vocabulary word wall, or want to put giant “I am thankful for...” turkey’s on the wall or display student work... I’d need to make sure it didn’t bother the other teachers first. If my vocabulary word list would be seen as cheating or distracting for another English class... well it can’t be there. It also means that if teacher’s aren’t cleaning up after themselves a lot of crap ends up laying around the podium. I remember walking in and being annoyed at all the random textbooks, pens, pencils, paper clips, scraps of paper, tea, and other junk in my teaching space. Oh, and don’t think about rearranging the desks... that doesn’t go over well. Not ideal at all. I’ve never taught in a place where I have gotten my own classroom to decorate and create the environment I want, so I guess I don’t really know what I’m missing. I can imagine all the cool things I could do if I did though. 

2. Poor study skills for Western educational expectations

Another issue I’ve come across is what I consider “lack of common sense” when it comes to studying and taking notes. I have to be VERY explicit about literally everything. Do my students need to bring paper to class? Then I better tell them ahead of time. Do I think they should have a place to take notes? Then I better tell them to buy a journal for my class. Do I think they should have a place to put handout? Then I better tell them to buy a folder. Do I think something is important and they should write it down? Better tell them to write it down. I’ve had to give pop quizzes on things I’ve said in class multiple times to prove to the students that they should be taking notes in class. I’ve had to tell them that maybe that random page in their textbook isn’t a good place to put notes. I’ve had to say so many things where I know in America students would be like “duh”. But, that's now how teaching and learning work here. They take notes by taking pictures of my PPT and that is about it.

3. Poor communication styles for Western educational systems

China kind of skipped over e-mail. They went straight from fax to WeChat (a social media platform this is kind of like What’s app and instagram all rolled into one). Therefore, when I tell my students they need to turn in their homework via email, a whole truck full of problems crash into my inbox. No subject line. No names. No attachments. No message. I have had to show them exactly what I want them to write in the email so I know who they are, what class they’re in, and how to formally address a teacher. I haven’t let them vary their emails yet, but if any of them plan to study abroad in America or to teach students who wish to go to the US for schooling, they really need to learn how to write emails. I just wish I had time to cover everything. 

4. Fear of speaking up

“My students are smart. They understand what I am saying. It isn’t my fault they aren’t answering.” -- I constantly have to remind myself of this. I can put them in groups and have them discuss a topic. If I walk around and listen, I hear them all on task, on topic, and answering and sharing opinions correctly in English. Then if I bring them back together as a whole class and ask what they talked about or for examples of what they discussed: dead silence, heads bowed, avoiding eye-contact. It is the most frustrating thing. I know they know the answers, I heard them talking about it, and I literally went around the room telling them good job while I was listening. The cultural expectation that the group is more important than the individual causes a standstill. Almost no students will volunteer an answer freely. They don’t want to be seen as immodest or like a know-it-all. They would lose face if they did so. But, if I call on them, it isn’t them choosing to answer, they will answer correctly and accurately. They’d lose face if they didn't answer a direct question. They can’t be the peg that needs to be struck back down. My classes are slowly getting better.. they know I will hold them over the end of class time if they aren’t responding to me. I’ve reminded them that there are no right or wrong answers. I’ve told them if they don’t know the answer then I need to know they don’t know. I can get group responses quite easily, but class discussions that include the teacher just aren’t happening. I’ve gotten them to speak up by asking them things and saying “I don’t know the answer, so I can’t tell you if you’re wrong. I just want to know what you think”. We had a pretty good discussion on cultural appropriation and halloween costumes. 

5. No concept of plagiarism 

“The right answer is the only answer” and “Imitation is the best way to learn” are common beliefs of my students. If you don’t know how to write or say something, say or write the exact same thing as someone else. Shared knowledge is better than individual knowledge. Nevertheless, 0s have been given out already this semester along with in-depth discussions about how I don’t want perfect work turned into me. If it is all perfect, I could go back home. 

6. Fear of failure to the point of not following instructions

The all important grade. It doesn’t matter if they feel more confident, or if I tell them I see significant improvement. They are only focused on one thing: their grade. They focus on it so much, that if I give them instructions like “don’t write down your conversation and read it for your homework recording”, they will completely ignore the instructions if they think their grade will be better. They were shocked when the recording that was perfect with good intonation, proper grammar, native like pronunciation, etc got a 0. When they asked why, I said they didn’t follow instructions. They wrote down their conversation. How could I tell? Not once did they hesitate, not once did they act interested or surprised by what their fellow classmates had said. It was all scripted. And they can’t understand me if I ask a question, so how would they understand their classmate without having to pause and think about it? hmm? I will say this issue has been very quickly solved. They’ve come to realize in my class that I want them at the level they’re at not at some superficial level they want me to think they’re at. 

7. Highly stressed students

My students have absolutely no free time. They take 18 hours of class a week. Some of them are in military training still. Some have other clubs. Every weekend there are at least 6 or 7 competitions for them to compete in. I assigned a speaking homework and all the responses were about how tired they are and how they can't sleep because they’re so stressed. It broke my heart. The following week, I asked them to take 30 minutes to draw minions in halloween costumes for homework to make relaxation mandatory. I sat outside with a group of them after an English Corner event for 3 hours and talked with them about their lives. They feel so much pressure to conform and meet expectations. Their other teachers yell at them and shame them for being wrong. The foreign teachers are the only ones who encourage them or try to get to know them. I recently boycotted the crappy computer labs they had me teaching in on the 6th floor. I taught in their classrooms on the third floor instead.  The other foreign teacher came in during break and said how nice it was to have me teaching across the hall from her because she could hear them laughing and sounding like they enjoyed learning. I hope my small amounts of encouragement help them. 

8. Poor teaching materials and environment

I know no textbook is perfect... but these are exceptionally bad. All the foreign teachers are from the United States, but the textbooks all teach British English which means there are lots of things in there that I disagree with. The topics aren’t interesting. They’re the same thing they’ve been learning since 3rd grade but with more complex, technical vocabulary that native speakers wouldn’t casually drop into a normal conversation anyway. It just bad. Trust me. The building is also falling apart. The computers don’t work half the time. The software isn’t up to date. The chalk boards are so old you can’t see what you write on them anymore. Just not good for learning. 

9. Poor teaching pedagogy

Another reason my students are stressed is because my teaching style is completely unknown to them. They’ve never been asked to analyze or explain how they know something. The other professors mainly expect them to memorize a passage and spit it out verbatim. They don’t have to understand what they’re reading or saying. They just have to be able to do it. There is an old quad on campus and in the courtyard, we call it the hive. Every student is out there whispering and reciting passages to themselves. The drone of their voices sounds exactly like bees. In my class, they can’t get by on memorization. I make it almost impossible to prepare for class. They have to be ready to use what they’ve learned and apply it in practical situations and discussions. This is naturally very stressful for them. They would do much better if I taught in an audio lingual style or grammar translation style like the other teachers. But, if the school wanted that they would have hired a Chinese national and asked for a foreign teacher. 

10. Class schedules that focus on quantity not quality  

I see my students once a week for 2 hours for 14 weeks. Think back to college.. you had class three times a week for 50 minutes, or twice a week for 75 minutes. Or grad school, I had class twice a week for 2 hours each time. The contact hours I have with my students are very limited. They want to get as many students in there taking as many classes as they can. They all get exposed to the foreign teachers and they cycle them in and out. There is no buy-in, no investment, and no way for me to get to know all of my students. I feel a lot of pressure to cram in as much as I can in the 28 hours of class time they get with me. It is hard to remember that they have 16 other hours of class a week, and that I’m not solely responsible for them learning English. It is just hard for me to imagine that they’re taking away anything from my class. If I didn't have these textbooks dictating the topics we could cover, I would cover much less and slow down and make sure each lesson was in-depth. Instead, I have to make judgement calls about how much time we can spend on each thing before  moving on. 

I don’t want you to see this list and think I am complaining. I am not. I enjoy my work greatly, and I feel very lucky to be working here at QuFu Normal University. My students are brilliant, and I appreciate them daily. However, these are the things I have to keep in mind when I am making lesson plans, working on curriculum, and deciding what to include in teacher training workshops. A lot of these difficulties stem from cultural differences and require me to adapt and change just as much as I am pushing my students to bend. I am becoming a more flexible, more capable, and more opinionated educator. I just hope my students are learning as much from me as I am learning from them and this teaching context. 

**trigger warning for self harm, suicide, mentions of emotional abuse***

There aren’t many posts (that I’ve seen) that talk about what happens when you are Autistic and people label you gifted, or a savant, or a prodigy, or any other terms similar to those. So, I’m going to talk about it, but here’s a quick disclaimer:

I wholeheartedly believe that IQ is inaccurate and discriminates against those who are not verbal, do not come from a background which provides typical academic education (i.e., those who live in poverty), and those whose skills lie outside of the bounds of spatial, verbal, auditory processing, and written comprehension. I also believe that labels such as savant, gifted, and prodigy are often used in an elitist manner to say that “these Autistics are okay because they can do ___ and have contributed heavily to society in a manner deemed profitable and/or productive"or are otherwise misapplied by outsiders to discredit those who are on the spectrum but are verbal or deemed of higher intelligence. That being said, this is an account of my personal experiences and beliefs and these viewpoints do not ring true for everyone.

So. My original diagnosis was Aspergers Syndrome, which is the exact same thing as Autism, the only difference in criteria is that those diagnosed with Aspergers Servers and not Autism were verbal before age three. This diagnosis was later re classified as Autism spectrum disorder after the publication of the DSM-V.

As a child, I spoke very early on. I mean, I was speaking full sentences by the time I was two. One of the things I remember is my fascination with colors. I memorized all of the crayola crayon names, and when I went to daycare as a little toddler we would all go over colors. But when the lady pointed out colors and all of the other kids would say "red” or “blue,” I’d say “burnt sienna” or “turquoise” or something more specific for each hue. I LOVED colors, and coloring, even if I did do it outside of the lines.

My parents noticed Autistic traits very early on with me as well. I didn’t socialize with other children, I played off by myself. I cried and screamed when certain smells, tastes, or clothing entered my environment. I had horrible meltdowns where I would become a danger to myself: I’d pull out my hair, or bang my head on a wall, or claw at myself. I had echolalia as well; teachers and kids would get mad at me because I kept making cat noises or repeating things over and over. I had such a hard time holding pencils and writing that I had to get special permission to type my assignments. I actually could not read until second grade, because i couldn’t put sounds with letters on a page. So all of these things led my parents to taking me to several psychologists and specialists, after which I received my diagnosis.

When I got older, academics became more important. I was a very curious child, and I loved to learn. My interests were strange for my age, I was fascinated by microbiology and diseases and insects and animals. I learned names of bacteria and their different strains, I watched videos on different species of spiders, I learned about diseases and medical conditions, which I memorized. I was prone to infodumping on unsuspecting strangers (my favorite story about that is a cashier in Publix who offered me hand sanitizer while my mom was paying for groceries. I looked at her very gravely, and starting warning her about the dangers of stapholoccocus and streptoloccocus, and how important it is to wash your hands and clean open wounds. My mom finally told me that that was enough, but the cashier thought it was the neatest thing ever. Fun fact: she went on to become best friends with my mother, and they keep in touch to this day.)

In third grade, people started to notice that I was ahead of other kids my age in acedemics. I was given my first IQ test, just to see where I was. I didn’t know it was an IQ test at the time, but I took it. I found out the results years later: at age nine, I had an IQ of 136.

Everyone labelled me gifted, prodigy, etc. It felt nice, encouraging even, to an Autistic kid who kept getting picked on or slammed around and ostracized by the other students. But it started a cycle that I didn’t recognize until many years later.

When I got to high school, I was awarded all sorts of things relating to standardized test scores and academic achievement. They gave me another IQ test at 16, and by that time my IQ was 146.

With all of this however, I still faced difficulties related to my Autism, amplified by ignorant teachers and school officials. I can’t drive, and I had a very hard time in math and science because of my spatial and visual processing disability, and I had a hard time writing and copying from the board because of my impaired fine motor skills along with the aforementioned disability. I also had (still have) problems talking aloud to other students or teachers, due to severe anxiety, and also following verbal directions (which got me into several less than savory situations regarding my commitment to class and my supposed lack of self advocacy. Ironically, I had an IEP which required teachers, by federal law, to comply with accommodations, including printing all directions and assignments and clarifying these things with me after class. Every time they broke that law, it was blamed on my lack of advocacy, or initiative. Even when I called for meetings, or spoke up for myself, or informed teachers repeatedly of my IEP and disability. Several teachers flat out refused to follow it and said that it was just a disciplinary issue. Others asked what would happen to me in college, in “the real world,” to which my mother retorted that I would always need some level of assistance and that they should be ashamed for trying to frighten her kid like that, like everyone was just going to abandon me in adulthood.)

I had severe problems with self esteem and self worth. I always accused people of lying when they said I was special or smart. My main issue though, was that i felt like if I wasn’t deemed smart or gifted, that I would just be broken and everyone would toss me aside and hurt me, at least, more than they already had in the past. I grew up thinking that I was obligated to redeem myself, to “make up” for being Autistic. I thought that “gifted” was the only worthwhile thing about me.

My mental health worsened too. I had started cutting and burning myself in middle school, it got worse as I got older. I starved myself in high school. I had tried to kill myself twice by the time I turned 16, and was rushed to the ER after a violent meltdown which resulted in a deep wound on my arm that required 7 stitches.

All of this could be traced back to feeling like I was, well, a piece of shit. And to the emotional abuse I endured at the hands of teachers, and the things kids did to me to mess with me, the things people whispered about me, the way they looked at me, the way my parents looked at each other. The ignorance and cruelty of people around me. Their unwillingness to listen to me, to accommodate me. Their willingness to turn away in the midst of hatred and prejudice. I began to hate them.

On bad days, I want to give up trying to explain all of this and Autism and just resign myself to the fact that nobody will ever accept and accomodate me the way I am, much less love me. I say I should just accept that I’ll probably always be at the mercy of other people, I’ll probably be abused all over again. I tell myself I’m better than them anyway, that I’m gifted and they aren’t. I try and fail to believe that lie. Those days…I try to just hide in my house and stay silent.

But the worst part of all of this, was that whenever I tried to talk about any I’d it, about “gifted” being used to ignore an obvious disability, I’d get dismissed as high functioning, or I’d be reprimanded for being ungrateful for my talents.

I got labelled gifted, and suddenly it didn’t feel like a compliment anymore, but a threat. A disavowal. Shackles of an obligation to be normal, but also smart enough to be beneficial to society, to make up for all the things they have to deal with to accommodate me.

Now, I think that “gifted” is such a flat way of looking at things. I think that it only serves to label someone high functioning, so the people in charge can ignore any of their inaccessibility or ignorance when confronted by the person being hurt by it. I think that gifted is too often used as a measure of value, and is too often misaligned with merit. What about creativity? Dedication? Perseverance? Kindness? Open-mindedness? The most important qualities have no ruler to measure by.

I think “gifted” can go die in a hole. I’m not gifted. I’m ME. I’m curious, I’m dedicated, I’m strongwilled, I’m defiant, I’m kind, I’m compassionate, and I’m Autistic. And I make no apologies.