#people need to be more properly educated on this

[chrissshub]

KAMA SUTRA SESSIONS!

°❀°•༢ ❥ SYNOPSIS: When you get an appointment from a passing athlete who wants to better his game with women, who's better to answer the call than the resident sęx therapist?

°❀°•༢ ❥ CW: 8.7k words, told in first person, sẽx therapist!fem!reader, post timeskip!ushijima, not mentioned but ages are both 26, use of an oc, dialogue-heavy, pwp, peņetration, cunnilīngus, fiňgering, sqûirting, implied size difference, unprotected

°❀°•༢ ❥ DEAR READER, FROM CHRIS: So this was inspired by my most recent field of study: s*x and the kama sutra. and from my research and thinking "hm, who would have an interest in this?" is how this fic came to be. hope you enjoy!

In the life as a sex therapist, there’s some things that you hear, see, and even experience that add years to the career. 

 At first, I thought it was going to be a failed business move, considering that sex is seen as a taboo topic by some. I mean, it’s a process as natural as birth but people shame it with such strong resentment…like it’s an unimaginable evil that’s ruining the world.

I couldn’t help but to think my discouragement was properly placed. I was in a town with families, retirees, no one that would really need my advice.

That “failed business move” of a thought lasted all of a week. 

Thanks to the small pickett signs I personally had made and placed around the office building’s parking lot and nearby plazas, I had clients booking with me by the hour. 

Couples of all ages—some married, some divorced, many singles, even polyamorous groupings contacted my office. 

When people heard of a new sex therapist entering the area and started booking sessions with me, I could only wish to know what was going through their minds.

I’ve dealt with teary confessions about how wives have lost attraction for their husbands, husbands who come to terms with the fact that they don’t know how to please their wives. I’ve even gotten singles who’ve come in just to make sure they still know how to perform in the bedroom. 

In these past four years, I’ve learned that just because people shun the idea of sex and sexual education during the day, they’ll come on their hands and knees at night. It’s been an interesting ride, but I can proudly say that I’ve helped many people in the area rekindle their sparkle and to finally achieve their goals with their partners.

The days I’ve spent at the office were nothing short of fulfilling—and today was supposed to be like no other.

Supposed to, of course.

My day started out like normal; waking up in my bed with my eyes fluttering open. The first thing I settled my hazy squint  onto was the rays of sunlight peeking through my creme shutters, begging to illuminate my room. 

I pried my hand from underneath my pillow to grab my phone off on my bedside table, the screen greeting me with a single message: 

(1) VOICEMAIL FROM: Hana

Hana, my cheeky, bright-eyed, receptionist. She joined me when she was a freshman at the local community college, just taking classes until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life. Fast-forward to today, she’s a fresh graduate with a bachelors in psychology. 

She’s taken it upon herself to call her around 6 A.M every day with a debrief of the day ahead. When I asked her why she does it, the sweet girl simply told me the extra effort was the least she could do. 

Since then, I’ve bumped her pay high enough so that she can support herself by herself and haven’t pressed the topic a vowel further.

With my debriefing at hand, I sat up in my bed, sleep still lingering behind my eyelids. I have half a mind to cancel whatever appointments I have today and sleep just for an hour more. But when I looked down at the time on my screen, it was a reality I knew I couldn’t afford.

9:00 A.M.

My office opened in an hour and my first appointment always starts at 10:30…bless me.

“Okay, Hana, let’s see what you have for me,” I mumbled as I clicked on the awaiting tab. 

As my thumb pressed the play button, Hana’s voice instantly became my background noise for my morning routine—which began in the bathroom for a shower.

“‘Morning, Y/N! Hope you slept well! I have good news and bad news for you. And no, I can’t give you the bad news first because it’s intertwined with the good news. So for starters, you have a light day—one appointment! Bad news…and this is a first for us…this client booked you for a few hours.”

“Hours?!? What the fu—“

Just hearing that made me pop my head from behind the glass shower door. Clients usually meet with me for an hour, an hour and a half if needed but hours???

“I know exactly what you’re thinking because…what the fuck?? But when I explain more about him, I think you’ll be impressed.”

“Okay, you’ve got a bit of a celebrity on your hands today. This one is Ushijima Wakatoshi. He’s 26, a player for the Schweiden Alders…a professional volleyball team. He’s playing a game against our national team and is gonna be in town for a few days. He booked with you because, and this is in his words, he says that he’s a little “awkward in the realm of love and wants to improve his social skills and….intimate skills.” He also sent over test results…he’s clean, just to let you know . So…have fun with this one!”

And just like that, Hana’s cheery voice was reduced to naught, melding with the stillness of my bathroom. 

I turned off the water, standing in a foggy haze. There was only one thought in my mind: 

Well then, Ushijima Wakatoshi…let’s start the day together right.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“Hana! Oh my sweet flower, I brought your favorite♪!” I sang, entering through the office’s  front door.

Hana lifted her head from behind the monitor, her bright smile complementing my own. 

“An omlettle with cheese and hash browns on the side?!?” She squealed, jumping from her seat. 

“Mhm! Enjoy!”

Before I could take a step further, Hana ran to greet me with a hug, her curly black hair dusting along my chest. 

“Thank you, Thank you!” She cheered, stepping back from me. She quickly took the stuffed brown bag from my hands before returning to her desk. 

With a fading grin, I turned my attention down towards my top, a fitted rose dress shirt with just a few top buttons left undone. I wiped a few wrinkles away, shifting my attention down to my  black pressed slacks that didn't face the same fate. 

Still just as fresh and clean as when I left my apartment.

“So,” I began as I walked towards Hana. “How much do I have before our guest checks in?”

“Mmm, about 20. But Y/N…he’s so hot! I looked him up and wow! Like…I’m kinda confused how he’s having issues with girls. I’m sure the women at his matches throw themselves at him,” Hana gushed between a bite of her omelette.

I leaned against the rim of the desk, resting my red leather purse and my hips along the surface.

“Oh, you know how it goes. Looks can get you far, but it’s your words and actions that determine your success. I bet he does look good, but he probably needs more work on his confidence.”

“Ah, true. Well, you go tidy up your office and I’ll run the vacuum out here in a few,” Hana said, her hand shooing me away.

I grabbed my bag and giggled, “Okay, okay! But—“

I couldn’t even finish my thought when the front door tolled open, gaining a stare out of Hana and me.

“Um…excuse me…I’m here for Dr. L/N. I have an appointment at 10:30, but I just wanted to show up a little early,” the deep voice announced.

I turned my head to meet the owner behind such a voice, just for my eyes to be stunned at the sight.

A man, a tall one at that. He stood in the middle of the office with a straight face, staring back at Hana and I. His hair was a shade of brown unique to him only, brushed back to reveal his entire face. His features were strong—his jawline sharp, his cheekbones high, brows trimmed and clean,  his eyes glimmering like that of a polished citrine gem. 

Hana was right…he really was something to marvel at.

He stood with his hands behind his back, impassively waiting for someone to reply—or not, he really seemed unbothered.

I didn’t even need to guess what his physique could be underneath such proper garb. Those  muscles weren’t shy of peeking  beneath the navy suit he wore. The white dress shirt beneath was crisp, and no tie was in sight —which I guess is casual to him.

I bit my lip softly, I’ve never been intimidated by a man before, but this one made my face swell with a wafting heat. So this is Ushijima Wakatoshi…the name fits him perfectly.

Nonetheless, I had a job to do.

I rolled my shoulders back and began a few short steps towards him, the click of my heels slienced against the plush sage green carpet. 

There I was, standing before him. My height met him just beneath his collar—and that’s thanks to my heels. I held my hand out to him, my glossed lips curling into a rich smile. 

“Mr. Ushijima, it’s so nice to meet you! I’m Dr. L/N, but Y/N works just fine. This is Hana, my lovely receptionist.”

His hand was rough and worked, but slid against my palm like butter, his warmth melding into my touch. His thumb sat past my own, the rough pad swiping ever so softly along my skin. When my eyes finally eased from their shared smile as my lips, I couldn’t look away from him. 

His own gaze was captivating, almost entrapping me in a trace of just him and I. I watched as his lips curled into a faint smile, a brief flash of white meeting my eyes.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s wonderful to meet you! Please, feel free to call me Ushijima or Wakatoshi! I’ve been waiting for this appointment for a while now.. 

He broke away from our contact to give his attention to Hana, waving to her with his other hand.

“And it’s nice to meet you too, Hana! Thank you for your hard work!”

I didn’t need to look back to know the look on Hana’s face: she’s a flustered mess with her tongue  caught in a shudder.

“O-Oh…thanks, sir! It’s not without Y/N, though. I c-can tell you that you’ll be in…great hands!.”

Ushijima turned his sights back towards me, that muted curl of his lips growing into a full-bodied smile at last. 

“I sure hope so.”

I gave Ushijima one last smile before taking my hand away from his, my hands clasping together. 

“Let’s begin! I’ll bring you back and we’ll get on,” I announced, turning away from Ushijima. 

As I passed by the desk, I grabbed my bag and gave Hana a swift smirk, one she returned with a wink. 

Ushijima and I descended down the hall until we arrived to a room a door down from my office, room 165.

I turned the doorknob as I leaned against the white door, “Come on in.”

Ushijima nodded as he passed me, the faint scent of his cologne whisked past my nose. It’s rich—bergamot, some sage, amber, and even a hint of vanilla. That’s a good mix, and his body isn’t rejecting it, a man who knows his signature scent is a rare one these days.

The room I bought us to was of decent size—about the size of a child’s bedroom. The walls were handpainted by Hana and I some years ago, a soft peach with white carpeting. The furniture was all espresso colored, from the two leather seats that faced one another, the coffee table between the two, and the bookshelf that stood against the window.

It was a pretty comfy room, one that many current and past clients raved about. 

“Pick your side and get comfortable, we’re gonna be here awhile,” I teased, closing the door behind me. 

“I must apologize for that. I heard about you some time ago during a tournament and I’ve always wanted to have a sit down with you. And since I don’t come to the States often, I thought it was best to have an ample amount of time with you,” Ushijima confessed as he settled into the leather arm chair.

I followed suit, placing my bag onto the table as I sank into the seat. 

“Oh, don’t apologize! You’re actually my only client today, so we can take up all day if need be. I want you to leave here confident and more sure of yourself. Which brings me to my first question…”

I folded my legs over one other, resting my hands within my lap. My eyes settled over Ushijima, not with the same set that marveled at him just minutes before. This time, I excused his attraction for purpose, preparing myself to ask the timeless question:

“What brings you in today?”

Ushijima brought himself to sit up in his seat, his large hands drifting to brace his clothed thigh.

“Well, put shortly—I wanna get better with women. I can’t talk to them, and then I see my teammates—they can strike up a conversation with them so easily. And women do talk to me, but it’s just not…oh how can I put this…with substance?”

“What do women say to you?” I asked, leaning back into the couch.

“Just talk about my looks, or how impressed they are. I’ve heard it one too many times, it gets tiring. I know they’re just trying to make conversation with me by complimenting me, but those things just bore me. My teammates love that kind of attention, but it all seems pointless to me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because,” Ushijima sighed. “It’s just going to go nowhere. I’m not into hooking up, the thought bores me honestly. I mean, I feel that you don’t get the best of someone after one night, especially if your goal is just sex.”

“So then Ushijima—”

“Wakatoshi…please call me, Wakatoshi,” Ushijima intervened, a feeble smile creeping onto his face.

“Okay…Wakatoshi, call me Y/N. Doctor is just too formal for me,” I added. “But it still begs the question, Wakatoshi: What are you looking for?”

“As in my romantic goals or my type?” 

“Both work perfectly! Your interests do tie into your romantic goals,” I informed him.

Now, it’s so unbecoming of me to ask a client what their type is…but Ushijima is such a special case that I’ll overlook just this once.

After posing the question to him, Ushijima took a moment of silence to ponder, his eyes narrowing down on me.

“My type is…smart. Really smart. A put together woman with a good sense of humor. I’m more on the rigid side but I do appreciate a woman who can find joy in things. Her beauty goes without saying, so basically—a woman of substance.”

“Okay, sounds—

“What’s your type?”

Just the query to catch me off my guard…and pique my interest. In all my years, I’ve never had a client return any of my questions to me; I didn’t think Ushijima would be the first. 

My cheeks flickered with heat, but I found comfort within the moment by biting my tongue softly. My eyes were pinned on him, Ushijima still wearing that blank yet firm expression on his face— neutral eyes, brows stilled and his mouth free of any curl or twitch.

Just a peaceful face behind a stinging question.

“I don’t see how that matters…?” I said, staring at Ushijima through a razor-sharp squint.

“But it does matter. It’s not a hard question unless you make it one,” he continued. “What’s your type of man, Y/N? It’d be nice to know, since we’re gonna be here awhile together.”

A grin perked up onto his lips, the cracks of pearly white teeth breaking onto the scene.

 “Can’t I ask you some questions too?”

My lips broke apart between a brewing sigh, the tip of my tongue pressed against the gummy flesh of my cheek. I can’t deny him to be honest, we are stuck here for some time, and this session couldn’t continued as a one sided conversation forever.

“Alright, my type…my type…. I like a tall man, a nice athletic build, keeps himself well kept. As far as personality: smart, kind, respectful, responsible, and thoughtful. Thoughtfulness, however, is a big one for me. It’s nice to know you mean so much to someone that they would take actions out of that place of love. That’s quite admirable in my eyes.”

There was an air of silence between Ushijima and I. He sat still and I did the same. Our eyes hadn’t broken from each other either, yet the softening hues of olive green made me feel calm beneath Ushijima’s gaze. 

But this was an appointment, not a staring contest. I was the first to break the silence.

“A-hem..Um… well, I digress, let’s continue,” I choked out. 

I broke the eye contact Ushijima and I worked so hard to maintain with a simple blink, searching for the next territory of topic to enter. 

“So where did we—talked about types…but that’s not exactly helpful in the slightest. I know you wanted to address conversation too, but can you explain a little bit more?”

Ushijima nodded calmly, but that wasn’t all I got from him. Vunerabilty was one hell of a feeling, and it dusted the highs of his cheeks red. And as his skin began to run hot, Ushijima himself grew antsy, his hand coming to rub at  the nape of his neck. 

But…it was cute to me. The emotions I see on a daily basis are pride, sadness, anger—but embarrassment is a rare one that I can always appreciate. 

 “I…I don’t know how to flirt. It’s always awkward and I honestly feel stupid,” he mumbled, his stare pinned down at his pants. 

“I hear you,” I consoled, a faint smile crowding at my lips.

“It’s such an unspoken realm that everyone is expected to know how to do but with no explanation. Flirting is something that is also unique to each person. It  can be acts of kindness, giving compliments,—or the complete opposite. Some people like to tease, play rough, or even act cold as a form of flirting.”

Ushijima followed along with me, nodding his head every so often. 

“So then, what is the best way of flirting?” He asked.

“Well, I can’t say. —

“Let me rephrase,” He interjected. “What would a man have to do or say to you in order for you to be interested in him?”

“Wit.”

“Wit?”

“Yeah, I love witty, intelligent conversations. It could be anything and I’ll find interest in it. Just being able to express your intelligence to me—whether it be on topic you know or asking questions, I love it all. I guess to keep it short, the mind and how a man expresses his knowledge is what gets me interested.”

The presence of a faint grin lit up Ushijima’s face.

“That’s what it takes, hm…”

An air of enticement bled into the room and it shamefully claimed me as its victim. I’ll admit, I’ve never had a client as interesting as Ushijima. Aside from his genuine intrigue about sex and the ways of courting, he seems to have something more on his mind—and I wanted to know every single detail. But he plays along too well, thanks to that blank expression he wears so proudly. But he slipped up with that damn grin, now it’s my turn to play the next hand. 

I placed my hand on the open cushion beside me, the tips of my fingers drumming along the leather surface.

“Come sit, let’s do an exercise…just so it really sinks in. Maybe you’ll be able to use this as reference for the next lady that catches your eye.”

And just like that, Ushijima was swift to oblige. I was hooked on the sight of him standing from his seat, his hand toying with the buttons of his blazer. The white dress shirt he wore was finally revealed to me, the subtle hints of his muscular frame peeking through. 

His steps were calm and controlled, carefully trudging around the glass coffee table. Ushijima held himself with a confidence unmatched to any man I’ve met thus far. He was interesting to observe, and even more fun to tease. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing how far we could go, all kinds of thoughts were plaguing my mind. 

As he stood over me,  I had to bite back a smile, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. 

This was turning out to be an interesting session, after all.

Ushijima placed himself on the couch at an arm’s length away, leaving an untasteful gap amongst us. Yet when my eyes had fallen on his stoic face, the man’s fair skin was budding with the innocence of pink. 

“Well don’t be shy, Wakatoshi,” I cooed. My hand patted at the spot just beside my thigh, hinting for him to move closer. 

“We are here together for quite some time, might as well get…a little close.”

With a firm nod, Ushjima bridged the gap between strangers to acquanitances among us, his body now resting snug at my side. He had yet to face me, as if he was embarrassed to do. I noticed that he kept his hands in his lap, his digits nervously fiddling around. 

I reached over to his hand, softly grazing along the back of his hand to ease his worries.

“Ushijima? You ready? We don’t have to do this, if you’re not comfortable—”

“No, let’s do it,” he huffed, his body turned towards me. “What kind of exercise are we doing?” He asked, turning his body to face me.

“Great! For the exercise, let’s pretend we’re meeting at…oh, I dunno, a bar. Do your best to try and ask me out on a date.”

“Um…Y/N…you do realize that the fact that I can’t ask anyone on a date is why we’re here, right?”

“Yes…I do, thank you for that. Use your imagination—a bar has ambiance lighting, soft music, drinks on rotation, play on the environment, and make a good impression, okay?”

Ushijima sat in silence for a moment, his eyes narrowing as the seconds passed. I could assume that he was thinking—really thinking at that. 

I almost pulled into my own daze of boredom, the color of the walls catching my eye—until the quiet mumble of his voice broke the stilled air. 

“Well…what do you drink at a bar?”

I tucked my leg beneath me as I shifted myself to give Ushijima my full and undivided attention. He mirrored me, turning so that we were both facing one another. Yet again, our eyes locked, unwilling to falter from the view we had of one another.

“I usually go for a glass of wine, I’m not a fan of heavy liquor.”

“Wine’s a good choice. Are you someone who pairs wine with food?”

I shook my head, “Not really. But, I do know that red wine goes best with some fruits, chocolate, and steak. Rosé goes best with grilled vegetables or salmon, and white is the best of both worlds.”

“Oh really?” Ushijima hummed. “I never realized wine could be so specific. Since you know so much, why not put your knowledge to the test?”

“And how are we gonna do that?”

A soft smile grew across Ushijima’s lips. He seemed to relax a bit–his shoulders laxed, his side now resting against the couch’s back cushions, he even shifted a bit closer to me too; all of which made me ease up too. I wasn’t feeling as guilty as I was before–if anything, I was pleased with the way our exercise was going.

Ushijima has such a nice, easy voice that greets the ear so kindly, and his eyes were just so alluring to stare into, I could sit here for hours just watching how his moss green hues catch the light of every hour. Not to mention that the scent of his cologne was finally welcomed into the scene, just wafting past my nose every so often. 

He had all the making of an ideal guy, so why isn’t he–

“I know a place near here, a nice restaurant with a wine cellar in the basement,” he led on. “ They have collections that date back years, and from what I know, the darker the wine, the richer…no, the sweeter it drips on the tongue. I’d like to hear your thoughts in a…professional setting, if you may.”

“I’d like that,” I nodded, a curling grin consuming my senses. “I’m sure you’d have some thoughts to tell me too.”

Ushijima shrugged, his hand coming to brace the pulse of his neck. “Honestly, there’s a lot on my mind I could tell you so much right now, but then…well…we might not make it to the restaurant. And I’m just dying to pour you a glass of wine, so…for now I’ll be paitent.”

I pushed my lips into a wading pout. I could feel my eyes softening beneath his gaze. He could find the time to tease me back while flustered like this…interesting.

“And what if I don’t have the same patience?” I pried, a sly smirk pressed onto my lips.

That’s when Ushijima sealed the end of our improv scene, bringing his hull of a body to overshadow my own. His lips came to fill the shell of my ear with an esteemed chuckle. His breath painted against my skin, awakening my nerves to greet him. I was helpless, at his every whim—and not a fiber in me wanted it any other way. 

“Then I’ll just have to tease you ‘til you break…right?”

He drew himself back gradually, our dilated eyes catching sight of each other once more. I was at a loss for words, my lips agape beneath the heat of shock.  At that moment, all I could think about what would follow—his lips crashing into mine, his hands bracing every curve of my body. I wanted to be under him, to have to stare up into those eyes to plead for relief from the stirring heat flaring about my body. 

But then again, this isn’t some magic fairytale…it’s an appointment.

“How was that?” He asked, his words breaking my sinful chain of thought. 

“Good,” I complimented, hiding my roused thoughts behind a smile. “You’ll most definitely get a date like that.”

“Well, I might have gotten the date, but I wanna be able to…y’know…”

“To what, Ushijima? You gotta be a little more clear than that,” I smirked. 

His skin began to flush itself of its tan shade in lieu of the trickles of rose dotting the highs of his cheek. 

“To…please a woman.”

“Please? Like…please and thank you? I hate speaking in code…especially in a professional setting.” I continued to press. 

If I had known he was so shy towards the topic of sex earlier, then we would’ve been able to ease into it. But for him to tease me like that…it’s only fair I return the gracious favor.

Ushijima’s eyes shot wide, a gasp breaking his lips apart. He was reluctant, but he gave in, biting at his bottom lip.

“Fine…I wanna know how to be good at sex…happy?”

“Oh, well to be good at sex is just the same as being a good lover. And I can show you how with this…" I trailed off.

 I quickly rose from my spot on the couch, setting my sights on my bookcase. A few steps brought in front of the shelved plethora of knowledge, eyes searching for the spine of the book needed for the moment.

"Ah! Here we are," my hand plucking out the book from its peers. 

“This…is the Kama Sutra. It’s an ancient Indian text written by the Hindu philosopher, Vātsyāyana Mallanaga; that explains how both men and women can lead rich sexual and social lifestyles. The Kama Sutra has become associated with sex positions over the years, but it doesn’t make it a heavy presence within the book.”

I returned to Ushijima’s side, seating myself beside him with the book in tow. I rested the Kama Sutra on his lap, allowing him to absorb the famed text. I watched as his eyes flitted about the cover, tracing every word to be found.

“Wanna flip through it?” I suggested, softly tugging at the book cover. 

“Yeah,” Ushijima nodded. “I’m interested.”

From the moment I opened the book, Ushijima and I were bound by the knowledge of the old world. The pages were written in english, yet the message was something that transcended all known languages. I went on to explain to him how the kama sutra devled into how sex between two lovers should be enjoyable for everyone, and how the pleasure of the woman would lead to ultimate satisfaction for both parties.

Though I’ve read it before for papers, presentations, and even for my dissertation, reading it with Ushijima was an experience that struck the strings of my heart in a special way. 

Maybe it was becasue he expressed a genuine interest in the questions he asked. Or maybe it was the cute reactions he made when things finally clicked. Or maybe it was the plain fact that I had someone beside me to read it with for once. 

From time to time, I took a few moments to study Ushijima’s reaction to his answered questions. He would blink a few times, as though he had to internalize all of what was said. Then, he’d peered over to me with a smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

Our chase of knowledge led us to the chapter on positions, the page’s title calling for Ushijima’s attention to be riled. 

“This chapter looks short. Where are the positions?”

“Well, the Kama Sutra actually doesn’t have any positions, it gives advice on how to select and personalize positions between lovers.”

“Huh,” he huffed. “…and what does that look like?

“Want me to show you?”

A blanket of silence fell over him, and he’s back to wearing that blank, sedated look on his face.

Damn, was that too strong? It was a little forward but I know it’s nothing—

“If it’s not too much…I’d be honored.”

“Well, then,” I grinned as I placed the book atop of the glass tabletop. “Let’s get started.”

Ushijima’s hand nuzzled along my waist, guiding me  over his lap to straddle him.

“You can just sit right on me, I think we’re getting a little closer, yeah?”

“I think we are, but we can get closer too, y’know.”

“And can we do that?” 

With that burning question of his, I was forced to bear the weight of what lust looks in his eyes—his pupils dilating, his eyelids growing heavy, and a mischievous smirk tracing his lips. 

“Do you wanna be on top?” I quizzed, toying with the top button of his dress shirt.

“Well I’m just here to observe, so I think you should be on top,” he said, leaning back against the couch. He brought me down with him, his hands nestled along my lower back. Just like that, my chest was smothered against the tauntingly chiseled mass of his own. 

My hands languidly skimmed along the face of Ushijima’s shirt. He held still as my touch consumed him and his senses whole, his lungs coaxed into a steam of shaky shallow, breaths. 

“Y’know, we have to find a way to make this position our own, make sure we fit each other just right,” I hummed, draping my arms along his broad shoulders. I lowered myself further into his groin,  pressing up against something hard…and twitchy.

That’s when I felt it, a thick bulge nested right between Ushijima and I. 

Men are so easy, it’s so cute. 

That stoic face of his was cracking right before my eyes—his eyes screwed shut, lips stunning with a puffy pout, his cheeks brushed with the innocent hues of blush. He looked so lost in his own heat, desperately squirming for a remedy. 

“Oh my-fuck, Y/N. What do you want from me? I’ll do anything, just say the word!”

I brought my thumb to tug along the plush of Ushijima’s bottom lip, his glossed skin clinging to my touch.

“Aww, where’s the patience you had earlier? I thought you were gonna tease me? But seeing you like this…it’s a good look on you too, Wakatoshi.”

A gentle grin eased itself into Ushijima’s features, fueled by the same salacious nature dotting his eyes. His hold over me shifted, his hand slipping down to grasp at the thick curve of my ass. He even found the chance to snake his hand between us to cup at the underside of my thigh. He kept me near, forcing his chest to curl into mine as he sat up once more. 

“I can guarantee you one thing, Y/N.” Ushijima huffed, his heavy eyes peering up at me. 

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“After me, you won’t ever need another lover.”

My hazy stare fluttered between his eyes and his lips, capturing the sight of It was almost likat was all I needed to finally be sealed beneath his trance. And because of that, I was able to press a soft peck onto Ushijima’s lips, breaking away just to whisper words of encouragement for his racing mind to catch. 

“Then prove it.”

Sharing my spite, Ushijima’s lips bared one final smirk before crashing against my own. His kiss told me all I needed to know–soft, puffy, and clinging to my own. The supply curves of his lips caught every pushing tide I offered, ignithing a ravenous intent deep within us both. 

His hands roamed over my body, claiming every curve, every inch of me for his taking. It’s dizzying to have him like this, a nonchalant man turned hungry for every crumb to offer. He was getting restless, his hips bucking for friction all over again. 

Maybe I was so focused on how dumb his lips had driven me or his hands tracing my body like a sculpture to his sculpture, but how he managed to have me pinned beneath him and smothered into the leather cushion is a mystery to me alone, but I wasn’t about to complain. 

How could I when he smothered me beneath the thick of his chest, sending my head into a dizzied frenzy But with the way his lips carried such care to dance with mine was enough for me to forgive him for being so needy. The same needy–no, greedy nature made him take control without any room for debate, and I surely wasn’t planning on starting anything I couldn’t finish.

“Mm, Y/N?” He mumbled, breaking our kiss.

“Hm?"

“If I remember correctly, didn’t the book say I should make you cum a few times? Through your pleasure, I'll find mine right?"

"Look at you, guess you really are learning. I think it did...so what are we gonna do about that?"

I didn’t need to hear the words to know what he had planned. I lifted my hips to help him, his hands stripping me free of my pants. 

Ushijima slotted himself between the couch and the table, clutching at my waist from below. 

His arms hooked around my thighs, his hands resting within the crease of my thighs, his filled palms squeezing at the plush fat. He seemingly ignored the fact that my underwear—the most annoying fact to exist—was still on.

Until his fingers began to trace along the pink lace. Slowly, carefully, and lazily he dragged the pad of his digit all over my panties, feeding some new whim of his. 

I watched him for a while as he led with his own agenda. Until I couldn’t sit still without some answer. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Am I?” He retorted, his eyes darting to meet mine.

His touch burned with the thrill of tease as he gradually followed the edges towards the inseam of my panties. The pad of his middle finger was all he relied on as he carefully traced the puffy lips of my pussy. 

His finger sunk between my clothes lips, just for his discovery to be rewarded with the bud of my clit. That’s when Ushijima pinned his stare on me, antagonizing me into a game of endurance. 

Those aimless strokes turned into a series of sloppy circles, Ushijima claiming my clit as his latest victim in his game of taunts.

A whine cracked from behind my lips, something was stirring deep within me. He’s just teasing me but yet it was enough for my legs to tremble and my core to grow heavy with desire. How the fuck was he doing this to me?

A sigh from Ushijima broke my train of jumbled thoughts, bringing me back into the hellish scene. 

His breath fanned over the supple skin of my inner thigh, the heat inducing tremors to rake through my limbs. 

“Aw, I’m making a mess, “ Ushijima sighed. “Oh well.”

He drew himself back from me, fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt. He plucked his shirt open one button at a time, stopping just midway of his chest. 

I closed my legs, allowing him to tug my soaked pink pantiesf rom beneath me and off somewhere in the room. Ushijima returned to his post between my thighs—prying my legs apart for him to fill once again. His heavy arms curled around my thighs, his cheek nuzzled against the plumped skin. 

My face swelled with heat as he continued his marvels, his hand cupping my cunt. His thick fingers settled against my lips, spreading the fat supple mounds apart for him to see. 

“Oh, Y/N…” He mumbled, pulling my hips closer to his awaiting tongue. 

A scattered sigh tore out from Ushijima’s mouth, tickling my bare pussy with its heat. 

His heavy eyes were pinned to the raw sight he created of my pussy. I watched as his sights flickered over the scene, enticing his teeth to digging into his bottom lip. Determination painted his face with its fierce hues that it even fanned over to me. I’ve never had a man look at my cunt with such passion. It was enough for me to even succumb to the heat of it all. 

“Mm, fuck. Just lemme…” Ushijima trailed off mindlessly. 

Before he could even finish his thought, his lips were already busy with peppering kisses along my dewed folds. Kisses that were wet, sloppy and kiss carried the sweet, lewd cries of Ushijima coaxing my clit to join in his dance for two.

It’s filthy the way Ushijima works at my clit—his tongue lolls about my clit lazily, leaving glimmering soapy trails of spit to drip past my folds.

Every lash he delivers is a thoughtful one; the warm, soft flat of his tongue dragging against the puffy pearl, the sticky mess he’d made out of my clit clinging to the grooves of his tongue.

His lips are like velvet, left plump by the kisses we’d given on each just moments before. And to have those same luscious lips envelope my clit into a world that was nothing short of dizzying. 

Just the thought of his ministrations alone left my clit spry, the bundle of nerves twitching within the confines of Ushijima’s sloppy mouth. He busied himself with a soporific rhythm, suckling at the rathe bud just for kicks.

Ushijima peered at me through dilated pupils, those olive hues flickering all about my face. I couldn’t imagine the sight he had of me being committed to memory: puffy lips spilling with drool, close eyes screwed shut, and crude, whimsical curses ripping from my mouth. 

“Mmhm, talk to me, Angel. feels good?”

“Mm, yesyesyes! Oh fuck, just like that Ushijima!” my voice weakly keened. 

Awe glistened in my eyes as I watched him, mindlessly chasing an orgasm for my body to revel in. Yet, my drowsy lids were pinned to his jaw, bearing the weight of his hunger. Something came over me, a sense of adoration. So, I reached out to cup his jaw, grazing along what  worked so hard to pull an orgasm out of me. 

My thumb settled along the highs of his cheek, stroking at his flustered skin. He’s doing such a good job on my behalf, how couldn’t I thank him?

“Oh, that’s it. Y’re doing a good job, Ushijima,” I praised, sharing a weak grin. 

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, pretty girl,” he chuckled softly.

In place of his lips, Ushijima brought a single digit nip at my entrance. He drew lazy circles around my slit, prepping me for what’s to come.

He’s gentle, easing barely half an inch of his digit inside. My walls grew lax for Ushijima, sucking  his long thick fingers to fill my pussy.

He made me so sensitive that just off that, I was whimpering out babbles to fall on no one’s ears in particular. Yet Ushijima still took heed to be kind with me.

“Shhh, just take me, baby. ‘m gonna go as slow as you want me to,” he assured. 

I didn’t feel his hand move from my thigh, but it did, reaching out for my own. Through my drunken senses, I managed to welcome his hand into mine, our fingers folding over one another.  

Bit by bit, Ushijima’s finger filled my gummy walls. He really was gentle, moving when my walls were lax and willing. He drove his finger to the hilt, only to slowly pull his digit back.

“Oh…fuckkk…s’ pretty,” he slurred, passing a glance back towards me. 

“Tell me where you want me.”

“Just curl your finger up--- oooh fuck!” I mewled, tossing my head back against the couch.

My hands followed suit, splitting away from Ushijima to grip along the couch’s frame behind my head. When I had Ushijima in my sights again, it wasn’t without a smug grin crowding his visage.

“So…is it here?” Ushijima asked, the pad of his digit lightly pulsing at my sweet spot.

“Mhm, right there. Just keep doing that.”

“Aww, Y/N, you shouldn’t have told me that—‘m gonna have fun with you now.”

Ushijima snickered as he returned to my clit, inviting the perked bud to melt over his tongue all over again. I trembled at the combined notions, sending an arch to overwhelm my spine.

“W-Wait, Ushi–That’s too much, ‘m already so close!”

Ushijima merely nodded, my words essentially falling onto deaf ears. Electricity licked all throughout my body, sending twitches to rattle my weak legs. I couldn’t take it, Ushijima’s finger toying with my sweet spot, he was setting me on course for the high of my life. 

“W-Wakatoshi! Toshi–fuck, ‘m cumming!” I cried, my lungs grasping for what air could enter. 

Ushijima’s finger plugged itself at my core, bringing a seizing crash to break over my body. Every ounce of me held firm, shivering to bear the weight of my chased high. My hips waved against the pad of his digit, riding out the end of my ecstasy off whatever friction would be found. 

Ushijima withdrew his finger from my cunt, leaving my poor hold  bare and gaping for something else to fill me. He brought that sullied digit straight to his mouth , sucking my honey off his fingers as he gleamed over me. Sporadic breaths chimed through the sex-stained air, my chest buckling to keep up with me.

“That’s a good girl,” Ushijima cooed. “Cumming so hard for me. Look at what you did to me.” 

Ushijima stood from my legs, his hand racing to grip at his crotch. And he was right—his pants were strained thanks to his bulge, the fabric just barely holding itself together.  But what caught my attention was the bubbly mess of precum foaming through his slacks. 

“Didn’t even touch me and you made me cum, should be proud,” he chuckled.”But that’s fine, we’re even…for now.”

“And what does that mean?” I asked, shifting myself to lay along the couch. 

“Let’s find out what I mean together.”

Ushijima quickly stripped himself of his clothes coaxing me to strip of whatever clothing was left on me as well. As he removed his clothing, my eyes hinged on his bare body—taut muscles highlighted his towering frame. He’s ribbed with strength chiseled to suit his build.

A thick trail of faint brown hair from his belly button guided down to the sight resting between his legs. He’s big, cock so heavy with lust that it needed no help to rise on its own. His cock was topped by a thick, fat reddened bulb, dribbling with glossy tears. His length was tanned, adorned with veins from the poor pressure building at his core. I watched as Ushijima settled himself between my legs, his dick slapping down against my tummy.

"See? Look how deep I'm gonna go," he smirked, his hand gripped at the base of his cock.

I laid my head on the couch’s armrest, lying in wait for Ushijima's next move. 

Ushijima placed his painfully hard cock to lay within my folds, my clit smothered beneath the weight. 

“I’m gonna go slow, okay?"

I nodded as I peered down to watch Ushijima nudged at my hole with the head of his cock, slowly prying my slit to greet his girth. 

“Fuh—pretty pussy’s taking me in already. Griping me s’ fucking tight,” Ushijima seethed, his hands griping along the couch’s cushions.  

My walls supplied Ushijima’s cock with gushing kisses, fluttering about his throbbing length. He kept working to bury himself to the hilt, dipping his hips to engulf my senses with nothing but him—his scent, his ardor, his fat bulbous heat fixated on  digging out my cunt.

“Y’re so big, Toshi! Fuck, go deeper!”

“Nuh uh, “Ushijima tutted as his eyes came to a screwed shut. “Don’t be so greedy, Baby. I got you, just…—shit—feel me, okay? His honeyed voice whimpered. 

I nodded softly, watching as Ushijima’s hips finally granted my wish. I couldn’t help but squeeze him in place, my walls fluttering around him. He was just so huge, filling out every inch of my pussy like it was nothing. My lashes grew heavy from the bubbling sear of tears lining my eyes. This pain—an intoxicating stretch sent me down a spiral of, being so full like this by Ushijima was something  I was enthralled by the feeling of being so full and stretched around him. 

Ushijima took notice too as he looked down at the unfolding scene. 

“Aw look, you took every inch! ‘m s-so…proud of you,” Ushijima huffed out. 

He leaned over me, pressing his chest flush against my own, resting his forehead within the crook of my neck. He brought his world crashing into mine, the heat of our bodies melding into one. I could even sense his heartbeat, thumping a languid aria into my skin. All I wanted to do was hold him, to have this moment last for as long as we could. But considering the throbbing mess he’d been reduced to, lust reigned over all other senses.

“I’m gonna start moving,” Ushijima mumbled into my dewed skin. “Just…talk to me, Princess. Just wanna see that face when you cum for me again…so fuckin’ bad.” 

He reeled his hips back weakly, striping my walls of the salacious fill of him. He drew himself just enough to have the tip just barely slipping from out of me, only for him to stuff every inch of him to the hilt. 

“T-Toshi! Ohmygosh!” I squealed, sending my hands to brace along the thick of his forearms. 

“I-I know. ‘m sorry! H-Here, gonna kiss it all better,” Ushijima groaned, his lips sloppily crashing into mine. 

Through all this, Ushijima’s hips rocked gently, working a cadence just for me. Slow yet deep allowed the red, weeping bulb of his cock to chip away at my need for dominance. Each reel of his cock enticed my walls to ease in his care, granting him to move that much quicker. 

And within those passing moments, the quiet squelches erupted into the lewd cymbals of clashing skin breaking into the air. Ushijima drove his cock to the hilt with ease. 

The same fate befell him, his quiet and restrained grunts now morphed into quivering sobs. His lips now dressed a heavy pout, dripping with his spit and carrying his weary words.

“Keep squeezing like that ‘nd I’m gonna cum."

“M-Me too, Toshi! I’m so close!”

I perched myself onto my elbows, urgent to close the valley left to exist between our two worked bodies. 

Not a word had to fall from my lawless tongue for Ushijima to soothe my wants. He leaned in, hunching over to blur our worlds into one. His hand snaked around to brace the nape of my neck, bestowing a gentle grip over me just to keep me close. He pressed his forehead flush against my own, beads of sweat dotting my skin.

Our lips remained poised in the heat of our budding passion, catching every whimsical babble we had to each other..

I couldn’t resist smothering him in a kiss, lazily catching every moan to ring from his chest. He was working so hard on my behalf, driving himself mad, sweaty, and depleted just to please me—oh, how lucky was I?

He broke away from our messy kiss, muttering some mantra that seemed to grasp his concern more.

He retreated back onto his haunches, pinning his sights on the messy canvas he’d made of my cunt. His thumb, the pad of his digit etching loose loops over the cherried pearl. 

I reached out to brace his wrist, pulling his hand to lay atop my tummy.

“Nuh uh, don’t wanna cum like that. J-just keep—fuck! Please don’t stop!” I sobbed, rolling my ensnared hips to match Ushijima’s tempo.

“Aww cumming already? Better make a mess or else I'm not stopping til you do.”

“Ooo-oh fuck, I-I  can make a mess! Just fr’ you.”

From that pledge Ushijima and I made, a fever dream broke out over the room. A dream fueled by sinful fervor that claimed any sense Ushijima and I had down to nothing. All we had on the brain was each other, doing our own part helping each meet our peaks.

As for me, he’s rendered me dumb and drunk over his cock, feeding my sweet spot with his deliciously thick girth. Dumb hiccuping babbles were all I could muster. My plushy walls were consumed by a familiar flutter, my inevitable high teetering on the edge.

“ToshiToshi, right there! I’m gonna—!" The word trapped itself within my throat, only to be replaced by a blubbering whimper.

A spell of heat licked at every nerve in my body. My eyes were sent rolling into the back of my head as my overwhelmed body coaxed my poor ruined cunt to weep,  a burst of tears gushing  over Ushijima’s flexed abdomen.  

“Good fucking girl, making a mess just like I asked. I wanna—fuck!—'m wanna cum with you too!”

The peak of my high left me just barely conscious, my eyes heavy with the sudden heft of fatigue. Through the thick gathering of my lashes, I gawked at Ushijima, his own nirvana finally crashing down around him. 

“Oh—‘m cumming! Y/N, I'm gonna cum!”

Ushijima trembled as his rutting hips came to a stuttering halt. He frantically ripped  himself from inside of me, the roused nerves of his cock sent into a twitching frenzy. Nuzzling the bulbous head along my inner thigh, the warm tears of white painted skin, followed by a clogged groan pouring from Ushijima’s gaping mouth. 

He collapsed on top of me, his lungs desperately heaving for air. I laced my arms around him, taking my digits through his unkempt hair as he came down. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, I got you. Just relax,” I hummed softly. 

Ushijima and I lay on that couch for a while longer, neither of us ready to move. As I combed through his hair, he kept a hand on my stomach, tapping away at some tempo to soothe himself. Just a quiet, peaceful reflection of the practices he and I had done.

He was right, I don't think I'll need another lover after that. My legs were practically useless, my throat sore, and my body was still reeling from the temors of my high. Even Ushijima still shivered from time to time. That moment was something straight out of a movie, calm, quiet, and filled with a growing fondness.

To my surprise, Ushijima was the first to break the silence with a question.

“So about our date, what time works—“

“Oh! You were serious about that?!” 

Ushijima nodded, “Well…yes. I know it was an exercise but I really wanted to take you out somewhere nice. And I actually do know a place around here with a huge wine cellar.”

 My head fell into a tilt as I studied Ushijima for a second. He’s back to his regular “stoic” self but this time every feature in his face was softened—his brows, his lips, his eyes; all carried a bout of sincerity. I simply had no heart to deny him, especially now knowing what kind of man he was in the face of rapture.

“Y’know what, Ushijima,” I purred as my hand reached to cup his cheek.

“I’d like that.”

TAGS: @po3ticb3auty @dabilovesme @ebiharachan @kenmasbimbo @pixelsanji @slaughterakira @woahhajime @pulchritxde-blog @hannas16 @champagnej @shuxjodie @just-yer-average-key @bontensbabygirl @tojitsukaisen @serenareiss @dejwrld @screampied @omniuravity @sweeneyblue1 @yukihime-mikeys-girl @kazusugar @missyasma @simpliheavenli @desiray562 @sleepilysworld @lovemegood @luvrdrop @nuttyunknowndetective-blog @tojibreedingme @widepipepaladiknight @nekoriots @rainycami @tonaken @holychocopie @bloobrryktty @hon3ybee-3 @dabis0bitch @your-next-daydream @mx-luvzz @akiko0-0 @whore02 @tojianddabisslut @dana-fite @downtownbabya @littlemochi @prettiestjade @luvvvjada @keijimilk

#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x you #anime smut #cw smut #cw sex mention #haikyuu smut #ushiwaka #x fem!reader #haikyuu ushiwaka #fem reader #haikyuu x reader smut #hq ushijima #haikyuu x you

[good-beanswrites]

Fe Aspec Week Day 1: Coming Out

WOO It's aspec week time!! 💜💚 To no one's surprise I'm starting off with Lukas :3 I know we have the wonderful support convo when he and Python sort of come out to each other, but I was always curious about the loose ends that it brings up -- how he comes out to/is treated by his family, the woman he's left behind, his fellow nobles, etc. This drabble doesn't really answer any of those questions sadfsadf but it's coming from that thought 😂

Father,

I am writing to you now, so soon after my previous letter, as there is something I have yet to confess. It may be difficult for you to hear, but

The sentence stops abruptly, a small dab of ink at the corner of the ‘t’ where the pen had rested a moment in contemplation.

A man sits back at his at a desk. His candle illuminates the page, displaying a few brief lines at the top. He dips his pen in ink time and time again, but the page remains mostly empty. 

At first, the man believes his problem to be a lack of words. No title exists for men like him. He’s well-educated and well-connected in the army; he has an extensive vocabulary for how the upper and lower class categorizes its people. Whether it’s a scholar’s dull terminology, vulgar common language insults, or the carefully chosen phrasing of a gossiper, none of the usual descriptors fit him. All he has are the distantly connected criticisms he’d heard his whole life: “heartless,” “cold,” “detached.” 

When the candle burns lower, however, he realizes the real issue. He has far too many words.

Where would he even start? Should he describe his contentment with his life here? How not one of his fellows ever brought up the lack of a woman at his arm, or how dinners with the King and Queen themselves were filled with pleasantries that never touched on his romantic endeavors? Whatever his father had been preparing for, it had never come.

Or should he begin earlier, when he was first accepted by this group of people? He wasn’t sure if he could properly convey all that he experienced on that fateful night, speaking softly with the unit’s archer – a man he’d come to call one of his truest friends. The man had heard for the first time in his life that there were others like him. He heard that they were content. They were whole.

He could go back further and describe the moment that the realization first hit him. How his father had been right in a sense. Just as he said, one day when the man was grown, he would be in the arms of another, and everything about himself would suddenly make sense. There was only one difference. He’d been forced to bury that clarity, since it wasn’t the same kind that everyone else came to.

Or should he start even further back? He could recount all little hints that haunted him across his youth. His dreams for the future never quite aligned with those of his peers. Nothing ever seemed to align. His choice of stories to read, of games to play, of jokes to make. He wouldn’t ever claim he was mistreated as a child, but everyone would agree that the signs had appeared even then.

The man sighs. Where is the beginning, when one has always been this way? 

The clock strikes on the hour. It is late, and he will need to be at his sharpest tomorrow for drills and meetings. He has no more time to fret over words about his past. 

The man tries a new method, and wonders what his friends may write about him. He can’t resist a dry smile. He knows that he can never, under any circumstance, allow them to exchange any correspondence with his family. 

But the exercise gives him an idea.

He writes out a single statement. Then he blows out the candle and heads to his bed. 

there is nothing broken about me.

Cordially,

Lukas

#fe aspec week #fe echoes #fe lukas #fire emblem echoes #fire emblem lukas #i always thought cordially meant like 'respectfully' so finding out it means 'with intense feeling/in a heartfelt way' had me ;----; #i like the idea of someone whos very eloquent and educated writing the simplest and oddest letter home and just Not Elaborating #i hope the pov worked -- i wasnt sure if it was weird doing the present-tense-no-name thing but it just started flowing? so i ran with it? #LMAO i couldnt get it to work but my original idea for this prompt was art featuring lukas right after the support convo and high off the #euphoria or self-discovery #he'd be absolutely wrecking it on the battlefield -- bloody and wild and giddy staring down the viewer with the caption 'love loses' 😂 #drabbles

[thestarseersystem]

In my opinion, I find it quite dumb that people are like "I think a lot of people actually don't have DID" or "DID doesn't need more attention" like bros........ have you forgotten that outside of this community, nobody truly understands or knows what DID is?? It needs to be more mainstream and more talked about, it needs to have more representation, more people deserve to know if they have it or not.

I think,,, it's just a sort of preemptive like "hey, i feel traumatized by the attention that this disorder is getting to the overall cringey ass public, so I just don't want to deal with more uneducated people". Like totally get that, totally fair. It's fucking annoying and horrible to deal with ignorant people. But that's why it deserves to be known more.

If more people are educated on DID, perhaps there will be more research, more diagnoses, even more knowledge on other dissociative disorders. I think it's a good thing that people are knowing more about it.

We should not gatekeep this knowledge. But it's fucking valid if you don't want to go around educating people all the time. That's alright. You don't have to be the one to do that. But I think outside of this teeny tiny corner of the internet, it deserves to be known by people who don't have readily access, and could seek help or could survive their situations easier.

It is incredibly important to know of this disorder. It's incredibly important for it to get more attention, to be less stigmatized. That's a good goal.

#post.txt #important #didosdd #actually did #actually osdd #dissociative system #osddid #destigmatization #people need to be more properly educated on this #they deserve to be

[allisonreader]

My heart hurts. Not physically, but emotionally. I don't like the news, I tend to avoid actively searching it out, for that exact reason. I ache because as people we just can't seem to get along. Learn to compromise and fully try to understand the other side. It's exhausting to understand why people are against certain things, even when it's the opposite of what I personally believe in.

#this is about a pronoun law being passed locally (one that I believe is appropriate and good) #as what's being passed is that under the age of 16 parent consent is needed for any name or pronoun changes #while there's at least one person throwing up a fuss about how terrible that is #like I get it lady you think it will cause harm where I see it as protecting kids and letting their parents know what's happening with them #it's not that I'm unsympathetic if anything I'm too sympathetic but there has to be checks and balances #especially when all of this trans/non-binary stuff is still so new and radical #people have been living life for a long time without these terms and without issue #and something that has always bothered me is that there is a reason why straight relationships are majority beyond religion #I do think that same sex attraction is natural #but that still doesn't mean that I think that it should be acted on it is a sin in the bible for a reason #though I would never kick a child of mine out of my house for feeling same sex attraction it would be a conversation needed about such #I have many more thoughts but most of them I would never necessarily post #as I would breakdown in tears at the first disparaging remarks because I'm soft like that #I also don't feel well educated enough to fully and properly make a case for myself #I'm surprised that I've even posted this though my most controversial thoughts are here in the tags

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

#spilled ink #warm up #can you tell what i'm mad about today specifically #i will say that there are a LOT of things that go into this. like a lot. this is ungendered and unspecific for a reason #it isn't just sexism. it's also racism. and ableism. and honestly classism. #and before a healthcare professional reads this as a personal attack: i understand ur burnt out #we are ALSO burnt out. your situation is also dire. this is not an attack on you. #this is a commentary on the incredible amounts of bigotry that lie at the heart of capitalism #where people have to pay money out of pocket to be told to fuck off. #your job is important. so is our humanity. and if you cannot accept that people are fucking mad as hell #at the industry - you are probably not listening . #anyway at some point im gonna write a piece about sexism specifically in medical shit #but i don't want terfs clowning in it bc they can't understand nuance #> it is true that ppl w/a uterus are more likely to experience medical malpractice & dismissal globally #> it is also true that trans people experience an equally fucked up and bad time in the medical field #> great news! the medical industrial complex is an equal opportunity life ruiner :) #(if you find it necessary to go into a debate about biology while discussing medical malpractice #i want to warn you that you're misunderstanding the issue. because guess what. #cis MEN might experience this. particularly black men. particularly disabled men. #so YES having a uterus can lead to more trouble for you. but this happens a LOT. #instead of fighting those ALSO experiencing your pain.... try working WITH them. #which btw. is like. actual feminism.)

[justsomeantifas]

at a certain point we’re going to have to accept that all this posturing about “most people being abusive and neglectful parents” is an indication of a societal issue that we are conveniently turning into personal moral failures of parents

either because they hit their kids or shove their kids in front of screens or because they do not know how to properly feed their kids or because they do not play with their kids etc. …

so we as a society don’t have to actually structurally change anything to make life easier on families and children.

What I find most haunting as a parent right now is how negatively parents speak of their kids, as if their kids are messy burdens designed to make life hard and them look bad and the fact that I struggle to find parents like me who love their kids and enjoy letting them get messy and have fun outside … is an indication of a larger issue

The fact that my kids pediatrician was surprised my 3 year old doesn’t know how to use a phone or a tablet/has a tan … this cannot be simply classified as personal issues…

We need more parent and child support groups, educational outreach programs… it needs to be more acceptable to take kids places outside of kid designated zones—even if the kid is loud and prone to outburst…

The world is pretty hostile right now towards children … we’re a highly technologically advanced society where many of us spend a large amount of time socially participating online a place children cannot and should not go.

The convenient answer is to blame parents … but the fact that it is *so many parents* doing this *should* ring alarm bells as a larger issue … one that we cannot simply rule out as a skill issue on the part of parents doing this.

We aren’t going to get anywhere with improving the lives of children by simply shaming parents for doing things that harm kids like shoving tablets in their faces … only when socially conscious efforts are made to better lives does change for the better start to take shape.

#parenting

[httpsserene]

hey can I request something that’s angsty to fluff and then smut for Oscar where reader gets a ton of hate for dating Oscar so she kind of ghosts him for a bit and they figure things out

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰/𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar really just wants to hear you laugh again. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. angst. fluff. happy ending. reader is exhausted physically and mentally. reader's internal monologue is not not nice. bad eating habits. bad sleeping habit. self-deprecation. don't worry she's back on her bs at the end. reader neglects herself (?) and her relationship. implied self-sabotage. people are mean. don't worry oscar is meaner. oscar piastri is a good boyfriend. emotional hurt/comfort. tenderness. intimacy. baths and pampering. crying (non-sexy). implied sex. implied bath sex. logan and lando as plot devices. no beta we die like my will to live during finals. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot w/ blurbs. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: best i ever had • drake

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: sorry it took me so long, i've changed this fic like multiple times :/ hope it fulfills you request properly :))) this is not my favorite thing in the world, i feel like if i went on a smaller scale i would've enjoyed this more but what can you do. this is also not very black reader coded? idk but feel like it's lacking there. i also apologize for my inability to write an oscar fic without including lando, he's such a willing plot device though even if he's a little ooc. i also couldn't find the mental space to write smut but there's smth for you at the end. dedicated to us women in stem! i hope you have fun reading this because i didn't have fun writing it :)

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oscar is worried. you haven’t responded to his texts for a week, he hasn’t seen your face for two weeks, and he hasn’t heard your voice for three weeks. four weeks ago, you told him you wouldn’t be able to fly out to see him at the austin grand prix, like you promised. you sounded exhausted and incredibly guilty when you explained that your course load this semester is extreme, and finals are rapidly approaching. oscar understood; he won’t ask you to sacrifice your education for one of his races, there will be plenty you can come to in the future. what he doesn’t understand is how you’re still functioning. it’s your senior year of university at an american ivy league school, you're pursuing an engineering degree, and you’re also working nearly five days a week as a barista. oscar thinks the last time he’s seen you relaxed is before your fall semester started, you spent your entire summer break with him, making appearances at the only three races you’ve been to this season (silverstone, hungary, and spa). the last time he recalls seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is in august—it’s the end of october now. 

you’ve been ghosting him. oscar wants to believe that it’s unintentional, that it’s just a side effect of the amount of work and pressure on your shoulders—but he can’t accept that. if you were unintentionally missing his calls, facetimes, and texts, you’d spam respond to all of them with a voice message or paragraphs of texts before you went to bed or class. you would send him daily or weekly recap videos of how life is treating you, like you used to do. you would send him stupid videos of you messing around on your shifts during a pause of customers. you would send him thirty reels a day on instagram of brain dead shenanigans with little captions of how you reacted, or if you thought it would make him smile. you would send him fit checks every morning before you went to class, even though your outfit consists of a hoodie and sweatpants. you would send him tiktok edits of himself and tell him that he needs to stop being ‘so hot’ because you almost barked in the middle of class. you would ask him how he’s doing, you would respond to his texts the minute you could even if it's hours late, you would leave him voicemails if he doesn’t pick up, you would make an attempt to communicate. 

except, you haven’t. so, he knows that you ignoring him is intentional, and that your lifestyle right now makes it easier for you to disguise your avoidance of him as accidental. 

you didn’t say ‘i love you’ back. 

“mate, what are you frowning for?” oscar jumps, eyes flying up from the phone screen and meeting lando’s. the brit is staring at him in confusion, the two of them are still in their race suits, tied around their waists. the sprint race ended an hour ago, and they’ve just finished celebrating oscar’s win.

“you’ve won a race, oscar—what could possibly make you sad after that?” lando says teasingly. but, the smile on his face is quick to fade as he must see oscar’s dejected mood.

the australian debates his next move for a moment, before deciding that telling lando isn’t a bad idea; they’ve been getting closer—they’re friends, oscar would say. he sighs, and hands his phone to lando, maybe he’ll tell oscar he’s worrying over nothing.

“oh,” lando says, eyes widening, “i’m sorry, mate.”

oscar brushes off lando’s words, and buries his face in his hands, “she’s pulling away from me. that was five days ago, and she hasn’t answered any of my calls. she’s only responded to my texts since then with one word answers or very dryly. she’s ghosting me.”

oscar feels lando fumbling for words, not needing to look at him to know that the older man has no idea how to go about reassuring oscar.

“look, mate, if it were me i’d go see her anyways.”

oscar huffs, “she literally said she doesn’t have time.”

“oscar,” lando stares at him in disbelief, “she hasn’t seen you in two months. i guarantee she’s probably dying to see you again, fuck whatever time she doesn’t have. she also can’t ghost you, if you see her face to face. you should go and try to fix whatever’s wrong, before you let her slip away.”

“maybe…maybe she’s just burnt out,” oscar suggests shakily, “i’ll go see her after the triple header–i’m probably just overreacting about this. she’ll be back to her usual self in time.”

oscar is enraged. he’s pissed off at his fans for attacking you in a sick twist of ‘defending him,’ ‘protecting him’ and the supposed ‘ownership’ they think they have over him. he’s pissed off at you deciding to ghost him instead of confiding in him about the hate you receive. he’s pissed off that his flight to you has been delayed for four hours. he’s pissed off at his race in brazil, if you can even call what happened a race. he’s pissed off at the fact that you can’t make time to see him before vegas. he’s pissed off that you lied to him about picking up extra shifts at the cafe.

he stalked through your instagram the minute after he was allowed to escape debrief, hunting down your roomates accounts from where you’ve tagged them in an older post. he innocently made a group message to the two girls, figuring it would be kind and proper to inform them of his impending arrival to surprise you. and the two girls you shared an apartment with responded eagerly to his message telling him that you’ve been extremely stressed and almost depressed this semester, and that hopefully his appearance will break through to you in a way they are unable to. oscar asked them if they knew your work schedule for the week, since you never told him when you're working–and learned that you lied. you didn’t accept any extra shifts, matter of fact, you got all of your shifts covered for the next two weeks. apparently, all you have been doing is going to class, working, studying furiously, and crying. when he asks if there’s any reason besides the stress from work and school that has you crying, the girls decline to speak for you, and strongly suggest that he asks you himself when he arrives. 

oscar’s no longer pissed at you for lying to him or for ghosting him–he’s hurt, but, he already understands your motive. you don’t want to worry him, so you bottle it up and distance yourself to not make him aware of how you're struggling. he won’t let you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders alone anymore, he’s going to see you and he’s going to take care of you, and then he’ll sort out the ignorant people on the internet.

when he’s at your apartment, you’ll be coming home from your last shift before your time off. and then, once he has you in his arms, he can make everything right again.

your hands are shaking; a result from the mix of stress and exhaustion that has been plaguing you for a few weeks. it takes you four and a half attempts to unlock the front door to your apartment—this is an improvement, yesterday it took you six times. a trembling sigh of relief exits your lungs as you shut the front door, triple checking that you lock the door properly. you remove all of your outerwear and slip out of your shoes, half-heartedly making an attempt to neatly place them in the organizer you have by the door. (you fail to register how there’s only two pairs of shoes stored away; yours and a pair of shoes that look too big to be one of the girls you live with—the usual sneakers the girls wear are nowhere to be seen.) you grunt as you tenderly put on your backpack and slowly make your way into the kitchen, off-handedly murmuring a “hi,” in the direction of the living room since you can hear the tv playing, but you don’t even spare a glance to see which roommate it is—you can’t stomach anymore human interaction today.

your walk is more of a waddle; your legs and feet are sore from working nine-hour shifts five days in a row, and also from going to class four out of those five days. you place your backpack on the small island, and continue to gently meander towards the fridge. your stomach aches at the thought of food—which is unfortunate, considering you’ve only had one meal today. regardless, you will shove a sandwich down your throat, you need the energy if you’re going to study for three hours before you go to bed. 

you pause before you open the fridge, a note is stuck on the door with a magnet. your roommates are gone; the two girls have spontaneously decided to go spend the weekend with their boyfriends—you’re not going to complain, you have the apartment to yourself. a brief wave of loneliness washes over you, you were kind of looking forward to venting about the week you had to the girls in the morning, and also, couldn’t they have texted you this earlier today? who leaves old-fashioned notes on the fridge anymore? you pull out your phone to send a text in your group chat wishing them a nice weekend, and see that they did, in fact, text you that they would be gone—three days ago. and, you never responded, because you never saw it. you shrug, and send the text anyways, you’ve been incredibly busy and you’re bound to miss a few texts (especially the eighteen texts from oscar that remain unopened). 

you're just going through a little bit of a slump, and you’ve had a bad day. you accidentally messed up three orders today (out of the hundred you fulfilled, so three isn’t really terrible), your running off of four hours of sleep (you’re more energized when you sleep less, anyways), and a customer accidentally bumped into you as you were walking to bring coffee to a table, causing the hot liquid to spill and burn a little spot on the back of your hand by your thumb. well, you know it wasn’t purely accidental, as the girl giggled to the group of friends she was with after she “bumped” into you. based on the way she was wearing a mclaren hoodie, you can make several guesses as to why she did it—you’re kind of shocked that she noticed you even though you wear a mask at work (you have for about a month, too many fans have noticed who you are), her hate for a relationship that’s not hers should be studied for science. 

incidents like these have made your coworkers start to…dislike you. the decrease in tips when you’re assigned to the register causes you to be forced to be hidden behind coffee machines the entire shift, only making drinks the entire nine hours you’re there. it’s better for you though, at least you can have a physical barrier blocking the prying eyes you feel are judging you the entire time. if anything, the recent atmosphere at work made you want to put in your two weeks—but, you have bills to pay. you’re just glad you managed to find a way to get two weeks off so you can focus on school and prepare for your exams—you can’t afford to fail, it’ll cost your scholarship and then you’ll need more than the job you have right now to finish school.

the buzzing of your phone pulls you back to the present—oscar’s calling. you squeeze your eyes shut for a few seconds, before you blink and silence the ringer. if you speak to him, you won’t be able to hide your troubles from him any longer; he reads you as easily as a kid’s picture book. he definitely doesn’t need to deal with your problems after whatever the hell happened in brazil. the noise of your phone startled you into a new thought, however. if the girls aren’t in the apartment, why the fuck is the tv on? who did you greet when you walked past the main room without a glance?

“i was calling to tell you that i’ve got takeout from the asian restaurant you like, if you’re looking for something to eat,” oscar says gently.

it’s a testament to how extremely exhausted you are: you don’t scream, you don’t fight, you don’t run—you just flinch slightly, and turn around slowly to face your boyfriend…the man you’ve been avoiding for nearly a month. at the sight of him (his fluffy hair, his soft sweater, the confused and concerned glint in his eyes) your lip starts quivering, and your eyes start watering. oscar’s gaze softens into something sweet yet empathic, and he says, “i know it’s been a while since we’ve last talked, but i didn’t think you’d cry at the sight of me.”

you burst into tears with a sob, and in a second oscar’s got you wrapped up in his arms, one hand soothingly massaging your back, while the other cradles your head on his shoulder. your borderline hyperventilating, your tears have started to soak his sweater, and you’re sniffling every two seconds to avoid getting snot on him too. oscar doesn’t try to quiet your tears, he doesn’t ask about what’s making you cry, he doesn’t even try to tell you that everything will be fine—he just holds you as you cry it out and presses kisses into your hair. eventually, the flow of tears dries and you focus on pulling in shaky breaths of air to calm down. oscar switches to holding you to his chest with one arm while he uses the free one to reach across the counter and grab a tissue. wordlessly, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks and under-eyes, he even uses another tissue to wipe your nose, clearing away the snot that managed to escape. you almost start crying again at the tender treatment and the matching look in his eyes, but you muster enough strength to keep the happy tears from falling over the waterline. 

oscar nods once, deeming his cleanup complete, and clears his throat, “i’m going to heat up the food. then, we’ll eat and you’ll tell me what’s wrong and if that has anything to do with why you’re ignoring me.”

there’s no attempt from you to keep the façade up any longer, all you do is nod and step to the side so he can grab the food from the fridge.

oscar has already cleared his plate and you’re still picking through half of yours. the two of you are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, teen wolf is playing on a low volume, and your eyes are tunneled on the screen even though oscar can see that you’re not paying attention at all. one of the characters is screaming about having to get his arm cut off (stiles, probably) and suddenly you start talking to oscar.

“it’s been a shit semester. if i wasn’t graduating in spring, i honestly think i would’ve dropped out or taken a gap-year. and, i knew what i signed up for as an engineering major, and i knew that working was only going to add more on my plate—but, it’s not like i can quit my job, i have bills to pay. so, juggling school and work is difficult, and i was managing fine. but, i guess i made the mistake of scrolling through twitter—which is truly my fault i think—and everyone on the internet was calling me a ‘terrible girlfriend’,” oscar watches you scoff out a choked laugh, “and, i obviously didn’t believe i was. in the beginning, at least. i mean, it’s like they expected me to be at every race by your side, like i’m not working my way through a hellscape of a degree. i watched every practice session, qualifying, and race—they’re literally the only hours i don’t spend studying or working. i brag about you to everybody who would listen, i missed hours of sleep just to speak to you on the phone for five minutes, i work as hard as i can so i can finish this degree early so i can be with you as early as possible, and they say that you deserve a better girlfriend.”

you pause and rub at your eyes furiously, mouth opening and closing as you take time to find the words to continue. oscar quiets the flare of anger at your distress, and stays silent, not wanting to interrupt your speech, this is the most you’ve said to him in a month.

“the thing is: i-i i let their words get to me. i think it’s because i was being kicked while i was down—or whatever the phrase is. i was already mentally exhausted, and i already believe that i’m not doing my best this year, i’m disappointing everybody who knows me, i’m a shit student—and just seeing everybody agree, even though they’re just randoms on the internet, tore me down. i even deleted all of the apps off my phone,” your voice has shifted into something desperate, “so i couldn’t see what they were saying about me anymore, but it’s like once i saw it, it never left my mind. i feel like everybody is staring at me with condescending eyes, like they all think i’m terrible. and, logically, i know that’s probably not true. but, this semester has pushed me past the point of being able to rationalize properly. so as a result, i have become a ‘terrible girlfriend’ to you; like a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy.

“i avoid your calls, i leave you on delivered for days, i respond with one word, i lie to my friends and say i was up all night talking to you on the phone when i was really crying and studying at the same time, i hold back from bursting into tears in the middle of my shifts when one of your ‘fangirls’ spills their drink over me for the third time. and while doing all of this, i was hoping you’d do the hard part and just break up with me,” your voice rings out sharply and you refuse to look at your boyfriend, afraid to see the look on his face.

“because…” you whimper slightly, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips anxiously, “you do deserve a better girlfriend.”

oscar is lost for words at your conclusion; seeing you, one of the strongest women he knows break down, is a sight he never imagined. a sense of guilt builds within him, knowing that he’s added to the deprecating thoughts in your brain by postponing this intervention for weeks. you may think that he deserves someone better, but he hasn’t been the best to you either recently. if oscar was half the man you think he is, he would’ve never allowed you to avoid him in the first place. oscar stands up, collects your plate and his, and places them on the coffee table. he turns and drops to his knees in front of you, resting his hands on your thighs, and squeezes them gently to grab your attention. it takes a minute, but eventually you allow your eyes to fall to meet his, and oscar breaks further at the lack of light in your eyes.

“i think,” oscar starts quietly, “that you expect me to break up with you and leave—am i guessing correctly?”

you blink down at him and shrug, biting your lip to prevent it from quivering.

“i also think, that if i flew all this way to see you, and that if i listened to your heartbreaking recollection of how this semester and how the world has been incredibly unkind to you, and that if i sat here and still broke up you—it’s not me that deserves a better girlfriend; it’s you that deserves a better boyfriend.”

stunned, you stumble over your disagreement, but oscar steadfastly continues.

“you did the right thing by deleting your socials—and that would explain why all three hundred of the reels i’ve sent you have gone unseen,” he laughs lightly, “and even if their words took root, you prevented yourself from being able to see more of it every time you used your phone; so even if my pride is not needed, i am proud of you for doing that. i’m even more proud that you sat here and told me that you aren’t doing well, that you didn’t make an attempt to lie, and that i didn’t have to force you to tell me,” oscar says seriously, holding steady eye contact with you to make sure you're hearing him.

“i wish that you would have mentioned the hate you’re receiving as soon as it started, and that you would have told me your mental health was suffering too. you know i do everything in my power to avoid reading anything with my name in it unless it’s a credible article—so imagine my surprise, when i learned about what people were saying about you through a twitter thread logan, of all people texted me about,” you snort out a laugh at the feigned disdain in oscar’s voice when he mentions the american driver. 

“you know i have no issues embarrassing people on the internet for their incorrect claims—and i’d especially tear them to shreds for trying to drag you down. we’ve been together too long for you not to come to me about things like this, even if it’s something that mildly upsets you—i want to know, because then i can make it better, or i can at least try to. you haven’t complained to me about the grueling lifestyle once, as i worked my way up to f1; if anybody could be perfect, it would be you. so, let me try to be as perfect as you, and support you properly and thoroughly as you finish up this degree, baby.

“we’re soulmates, aren’t we?” it’s a question, but oscar states it like a fact, “and i know i can’t magically make the self-loathing disappear with one conversation, but i'll tell you that you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had countless times, until you believe me unquestionably.”

oscar watches your nose scrunch cutely as you sniffle, unable to stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes. sweetly, he catches them with his thumb before they fall. he stands up and tugs you to your feet, pulling you into a tight, warm hug. 

“i love you, kanga,” oscar coos as he kisses your forehead.

“i love you the most, roo,” you answer back, leaning up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“i’ve bought some lavender epsom salt and an embarrassing amount of bath bombs. will you let me take care of you tonight?” oscar asks quietly.

he sees the mix of awed-disbelief and confusion as you stare up at him, like you can’t imagine why he’d want to love you tenderly tonight, and that hurts him more—the words of his ‘fans’ online have done enough damage to cause you to doubt him. maybe he can convince you to come to vegas with him so he can keep you close, but first, he needs to focus on caring for you here and now.

oscar grabs his duffle bag and smiles as you hold his hand to lead him to your room and the attached bathroom (rent is ridiculously expensive, but at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with your roommates.) oscar sends you to grab pajamas while he starts filling the tub, epsom salt already poured in. he fiddles with the temperature for a while before it’s set to the boiling-your-skin-off hot you enjoy. by the time you join him in the bathroom, he’s added the salts and soap in the water and has placed the bath bombs out for you to choose one. oscar can’t help the small smile that rises to his face at the sight of the serious furrow of your brow as you pick out your favorite from the bunch. 

oscar hums as you hand him the jade-infused bath bomb, and asks, “can i wash your hair too? or will it mess up your schedule?”

“i actually really need to wash it,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle, “i’ve been so busy that i haven’t been taking care of my hair properly.”

oscar blinks and continues non-judgmentally, “i’ll give you an extra scalp massage to make up for that—you can start getting undressed now, the water’s nearly ready.”

he turns around awkwardly, he’s seen you naked before but he feels like it would be slightly perverse to watch you while you’re clearly in a more sensitive state tonight. he fumbles with the faucet for a few seconds before turning it off, and drops the bath bomb into the water so it can start dispersing. oscar faces you again carefully making sure he avoids staring at your body and locks eyes with you, he beckons you forward with an outstretched hand and holds your hand as you submerge yourself in the water. once you’re settled comfortably, oscar grabs your hair products (he holds up any bottle he thinks you may not want to use tonight, and you give him a thumbs up or down to decide), and then kneels at your side.

he starts to roll up the sleeves of the hoodie but your hand halts his motions, the water splashing loudly at the quickness of your movement, “you’re not getting in with me?”

“uh,” oscar stutters, “i-i wasn’t planning on it. i just wanted to give you a nice bath.”

oscar pinkens as you stare at him wordlessly and when your unimpressed gaze shifts to a slight glare, he finds himself shedding his clothes and sinking in behind you at an impressive speed. 

his heart began to race as the two of you shifted into as comfortable of a position you could achieve in a too-small tub, but calmed at your pleased hum as you settled between his legs with your back resting on his chest. this may be the most romantic experience oscar has ever indulged in. sure, it’s not a candlelit dinner at an obnoxiously expensive restaurant but, it’s him detangling your hair, it’s him massaging shampoo into your crown, it’s him scratching softly along your scalp as the deep conditioner sits, it’s you playing with the water innocently, it’s you whispering every detail of your life that he’s missed out on, it’s you gently directing him through braiding your hair, and it’s him pressing kisses to your shoulder when he finishes. there isn’t a single moment where the two of you become unsettled during lapses of silence; the intimacy of his actions is loud enough to fill the gaps. oscar can’t imagine ever being this comfortable with anybody besides you, he hates that he almost allowed you to pull completely away from him. moments like these, where you allow yourself to be thoughtlessly vulnerable with him, are exactly why he’s completely enamored with you.

your body has loosened against him, muscles syrupy and lax from the effects of a toe-curling scalp massage, and oscar gently guides you to sit upright while steadying most of your weight with a single hand splayed against your abdomen. the sound of the cap of your body wash clicking open startles you into the present, and you shift around to straddle his lap. it’s amusing; he inaudibly chuckles at the sight of you struggling to complete your change of position without sending water over the edge. you make a triumphant noise when you’ve managed to turn around to face him, and oscar’s hands cradle your hips when you rest on his lap. 

“can i–”

“shouldn’t you–”

oscar bursts into laughter and you into giggles, at the interruption of each other's sentences. it’s definitely not that funny, but oscar’s heart skips a beat at the sound of your laugh–he hasn’t heard that sweet noise in what feels like forever. he motions for you to speak, ever the gentleman, and eagerly awaits for our question with a smile still stretched across his lips.

“shouldn’t you fuck me before we wash up? so we don’t have to clean up twice?”

oscar chokes on his breath, his grip on you tightening in surprise, and he babbles, “what? no-i mean, yes, i mean—wait. i didn’t do all of this just to have sex with you, you know that right? i genuinely just wanted to pamper you–”

“oscar,” you cut him off, intentionally this time around, “after the semester i’ve had, and the less than kind words i’ve heard and thoughts i’ve had describing myself–i really do appreciate the bath, i feel reminded that you love me. however, i really think that having sex would help…solidify your devotion for me.”

oscar blinks up at you, he wasn’t quite expecting you to return to your normal sassy behavior as quickly as you did. but, he is thankful that you’ve opened up to him with no further hesitation–it’s actually incredibly attractive of you, how you’ve resumed complete comfortability in expressing exactly what you want to him. at least, that’s the excuse he’s telling himself to cope with being half-hard already.

“...at least let me take you to bed, then?”

“no,” you whine down at him, your hips sneakily twitching forward, oscar moans lightly at the light grind, “too far! saves time later if we don’t have to come back to shower.”

“you’re right,” oscar hums distractedly, moving his right hand off your waist to slip between your thighs and brush along your cunt, “i’ll fuck you here as long as you let me do all of the work.”

oscar’s blood heats at the sound of your whimpering moan and he takes his other hand off your waist to grab at your chin and he pulls you down for a kiss.

oscar groans when you pause before your lips touch his, and he feels the breath of your giggle ghost over his mouth, “mmm, i’ll never say no to that—and, didn’t i agree to let you take care of me tonight?” 

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

© httpsserene2023

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri x black!reader #oscar piastri x you #lando norris x reader #logan sergeant x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #oscar piastri smut #formula 1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fic #f1 fic rec #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #formula 1 x black!reader #serene’s chapters. #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: op.

[cripple-woe]

Back to post again. Please reblog this if you’re like. Disabled and do, might, are planning to ever have sex. Or just for educational reasons reblog it.

It’s time for:

DISABLED SEX EDUCATION.

So! Let’s get right into it.

We all know that we have a right to know and understand our bodies and how we can have safe, consenting, and pleasant sex. Most schools don’t teach disabled inclusive sex education!

Part One: Sex Toys

By and large, a bafflingly inaccessible market. But still, here’s what you can do.

For limited mobility and dexterity with hands and the like, larger controllers and wireless controllers for toys are good to look into.

If you have movement disorders, a toy that doesn’t need to be moved to stimulate can be helpful.

Also, a pretty universal one is a nice sexy vibrating pillow that you hump. It’s not talked about often because most abled people don’t want that toy when there are more penetrative or intense toys out there, but for cripples like us, it can be very helpful to know it exists, and it’s a good toy.

Part Two: Partner Communication

Whether this partner is your lifetime lover or just a one-night-stand, you need to be communicating properly about your needs and limits, just like abled people, but MORE. Communicate a safe word for if you feel in too much pain, communicate how your disabilities may affect sex with this partner if they aren’t aware, and communicate on the type and level of aftercare you may need. I know for a fact that I would need my partner to take me into the bathroom to pee after sex because I can’t do it of my own accord after that (also, speaking of, PEE AFTER SEX.)

No matter how small it is, communicate. “I’d be more comfortable if I had some pillows under my stomach/back/hips in this position.” “Can we switch positions, this is slightly painful on my hips/back/shoulders.” “I don’t like being pinned like this, because it’s a position I can’t escape from when I want to/it’s causing pressure on my joints/whatever else.”

Partner communication is a big deal with disabled sex and requires a decent level of trust. I also highly recommend that if you have access, being frank with your carers and occupational therapists for instance, will help you a lot with asking for advice in a safe way.

Part Three: Positioning

Ooh, sexy pose time!

From what I can find, these seem to be the most widely accessible poses for sex.

Modified Missionary.

The limited mobility partner sits on the edge of the bed, the other partner stands facing them, and then can lift their partners legs up so their ankles are on their shoulders. If the standing partner is too tall for this to be comfortable, you can place a chair behind them and have the sitting partner put their ankles there (add a blanket over the back of the chair for comfort on their ankles!)

This position is best used when only one person has a mobility issue. It’s also good for if one or both partners are obese, or if a partner is pregnant.

Facing position.

Aka: face to face. Person one sits in a chair, on the edge of the bed, or even in their wheelchair with arm rests removed if your chair can do that and you want to bang in your chair. Their partner sits on their lap and straddles them. Partner on top braces their feet on a solid surface to be able to move their hips and thrust, and the bottom partner can help by grabbing their partner by the backside and lifting/bouncing.

This position is good for two partners with limited mobility, and people who suffer with fatigue.

Intimate Sitting.

Basically the same as above but both partners are fully on the bed. The partner near the headboard can benefit from being held up with pillows, and then they stretch out their legs. The other partner straddles them, feet on the bed, and bends their knees to lower them down.

This is another position for a limited mobility and unlimited mobility couple, especially those looking for face to face intimacy.

Sexy Spooning.

Get into a spooning cuddle position and get freaky.

This is great for people with lower back pain, chronic pain, and arthritis.

Modified Doggystyle Chair.

Limited mobility person sits in a chair or wheelchair near the edge of the bed, their partner sits in their lap and leans forward to brace themselves on the edge of the bed with their upper body and arms.

Great for hip pain sufferers and of course those with mobility issues, though be aware that the person on the edge of the bed is taking more physical exertion.

Modified Doggystyle Bed.

Or the floor, if that’s more comfortable. Put some pillows on the bed/floor to support the bottom partner, and then the top partner drapes over them chest to back.

If you require more stability as the bottom partner this is for you.

69 Flipped.

One person laid on their side in the spooning position, and the other lays facing them in the same way, but with their head at the opposite end.

This is good for arthritis, or people who have weak hips or hips prone to muscle spasms. Also, unlike media might have you believe, 69 doesn’t have to be oral-oral. You can use toys, your hands, whatever, as long as you and your partner are having fun.

Final notes.

Don’t be afraid to explore each others bodies. Touch, massage, stroke each other and see how you feel. Places like necks, inner thighs, ears and sides can all be turn-on zones due to their extra sensitivity. Just… explore. Don’t try to take it too seriously either, sex is sexy, sure, but it’s also funny and sometimes you make a weird noise (verbally or otherwise!) and you can’t keep fucking for all the giggles you’re having.

Have fun, do it safely, remember that sex is cleaner with a packaged wiener, and PEE AFTER SEX FOR GODS SAKE.

#cripplepunk #cripple #cripple punk #physically disabled #disabled #actually disabled #disabled sex #disabled sex Ed #sex ed #sex education #disabled sex education

[schwarzkatje]

dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader

disclaimer: i don't ever write notes but this smells like too much blasphemy not to put some warnings and disclaimers. so, this contains ellie being still in an orphanage BUT i obviously changed the age so that she is of age because it goes without saying that p*dophilia is not contemplated here. also, "sister" is used as a synonym for "nun", not with the meaning of "family member". lastly, it does contain smut even though it's not so detailed.

> for part 2 click here || for part 3 click here

ellie didn't wake up one day choosing to be mean. in fact, if you ever asked her why the rude behaviour, she would simply laugh it off and tell you to shut the fuck up with a bitterness so unlikely for such a young girl.

ellie thought it was her god given right to do whatever she wanted, having being already stripped enough of the pillars of her life, namely a happy family and a place her heart could call home. that resulted in her receiving reprimands and punishments from the nuns more than any other kid in the orphanage.

and you, the youngest of the nuns tasked with the upbringing of the kids and the newest addition to the orphanage, seeing how ellie behaved, decided it was the perfect opportunity to enact the knowledge you had acquired during your noviciate by devouring books about dysfunctional behaviour, specifically in orphans. you were positive people could change if showed how.

what you would invoke the lord's name for to swear was your entire and firmly believed doctrine, came to a brutal halt the very moment you came to the realisation of what ellie's bad reputation really was about.

it wasn't just a typical scenographic display of childish behaviours like refusing to attend class or the occasional smuggling of cigarettes that concurred to tear apart your good intentions. these were merely common patterns studied throughout the years by psychologists and educators, and the main topics in all of your books.

no, what made you falter was the fact that ellie seemed to relish being mean. if others acting the same way sported an inconsolable sorrow in their eyes, ellie's green ones would glow with the eagerness that came with the raising of the voices of the nuns, the laughable detentions and the yet unexplored range of just how far was too far.

it didn't help that ellie had learnt from the older kids all the gross vocabulary she has now assimilated, repeating the filthy words as a sort of statement to maintain the hierarchical status she has fought for and ultimately achieved among the majority of the orphans.

so it caught you off guard only the first time ellie fiercely exclaimed that "if you care so much about me maybe you should suck my dick tonight," as you apprehended over time that this wasn't and wouldn't have been an isolated incident, rather an infuriating routine that seemed only to increase the more you showed ellie how much it pissed you off.

of course, that time your cheeks were burning red and your brain was at war with the mortification of having received such a vulgarity in front of other pupils, alongside the humiliation that ticked with each second you spent silent, at a loss for words to properly tackle the problem at hand.

the best thing you managed to come up with was the most generic and fruitless "go out," pointing at the class door.

before ellie could walk through the door, she turned to you, smirking like you had just made her day, and slurring a sultry "don't get so wet when you scold me," after which she left, winking at you.

your hands were tied. you understood that you could inform the other sisters of what ellie was making you go through, but you understood just as well that it would be no to avail since the other nuns were there way before you and knew to a greater extent the amount of work needed to be implemented when dealing with ellie.

after the heat of the moment had died down, you gathered all of your strength, prayed hoping to receive some mercy, and recited like a mantra that you were the bigger person and couldn't possibly let your purpose go to waste.

the fact was that you realised too late that the presence of what you called the devil had certainly been lurking around and now manifested itself in the obscene form of ellie fucking two of her fingers inside of you from behind in the scriptorium, something that dealt the final blow to any hope of creating the optimal conditions to demonstrate the good of your heart.

ellie and her breath, together with her hands, were four fiends cooperating under the same objectives, being disrupting you, disrupting everything you represented and disrupting everything you stood for.

"no one has ever made you feel so good," ellie was insane herself for needing to hear you say it "otherwise, you wouldn't be needing to play the part of the perfect little sister who thinks she can fix everyone to compensate how empty she is," and no matter how desperately you tried and tried and cried out while doing so, your pussy was glistening with slick, feeling euphoric and on the brink of madness with how enticing the sensation and the blasphemous words that left ellie's mouth were. "you would be too cock drunk and stuffed with cum to care about anything else".

the ink and quill you were previously using laid on your desk where they shouldn't, spilling the black liquid and dirtying everything they touched. ellie could be compared to the two items, given how many times the sisters told her how harmful her tainting existence was. and maybe that was the reason her brain clicked and gave the command to her right hand to gather some of the ink and write "ellie's cum dump" on your ass.

as soon as your breathing quickened, ellie grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanked it throwing your head impossibly backwards and let you ride out the hardest orgasm of your life. the gesture wasn't just a display of dominance but it served as a lever to push you flat against the desk, treating you like a discarded toy.

"next time you come for me, expect me to fuck your ass. and it won't be with my fingers only"

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

[missmayhemvr]

Like halfway through "how Europe underdeveloped Africa" cause I decided I'd read/listen to it after I had a strong base on knowledge on African history and just holy fuck is he right about nearly everything so far.

Having learned about how extensive African trade was prior to the 18th century and how heavily most African kingdoms shifted in the 16th it's very clear that what he points out in the way the slave trade and the need to aquire firearms grew the European economies while near completely emptying out African economies and how the hard shift to European import goods after Europe had grow through the use of African slave labor and monopoly of trade routes is still a largely still at play in the era of neocolonialism.

The way that Walter Rodney not just points out that this is true, but the depth to which he covers a variety of African kingdoms, their economies, and cultural practices puts even some college level courses to shame while also showcasing the exact ways in which some of these stronger or more expansive kingdoms like the Ashanti, oyo, borno, Kongo, and Benin kingdoms had explicitly tried everything to get guns through any other trade and how the Ashanti, merina, Ethiopian, Burundi Benin kingdoms sought our education and scholars to begin industrialization and the systematic way in which Europeans and Americans prevented that is just, well it's damming.

It's a continuing reminder how from the first stage of European expansion and control they had precisely zero good intentions for the peoples of Africa. That Europe saw Africa as nothing more than a way to grow itself, it's institutions and improve its economies by depriving Africa of labor, materials and freedom which is true to this day, most starkly in the Congo but true across the whole region.

But while the book shows the crimes of Europeans without sugar coating, it also doesn't glorify the African leaders and more importantly those that became collaborative with European despitism. It also does not abide by the word games the European powers like to play and goes in depth to the way Europeans had no actual interest in ending slavery, and that while invading the various kingdoms and communities to "end slavery" the created some of the most brutal slave conditions on this side of the globe, not just in Leopolds Congo but in French forced labor camps and British controlled regions, with the Portuguese being particularly up front about it.

Truly a shame that like most other black radicals Rodney was murdered so young. The rarity to which black radicals even get to 40 shows how desperately capitalist and white supremist try to prevent even the slightest push back from black voices. It also makes clear how much we all need to know this stuff, from debois's black reconstruction to nkrumah's neoimperialism these books give a great understanding of the past and the precise way in which we arrived to the current situation.

I pray that with the new scramble for Africa that is unfolding in front of our very faces, the genocides in the Congo, and Sudan, and the way in which these interlock with the genocide of Palestinians, that we all take the time to properly read and reflect so that we may properly organize and fight back for a fully free and sovereign Africa and Palestine and a world free from white supremacy.

#black liberation #colonization #politics #indigenous liberation #world of the oppressed #pan african #the colonized #How Europe underdeveloped Africa #walter rodney

[httpswritings]

@alexiaps94 has liked your profile — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Word count: around 648

Warnings: none

Summary: You and Alexia match on an exclusive dating app.

“@alexiaps94 has liked your profile”

That was first notification you saw when you first checked your phone in the morning, still half asleep.

Some days ago, you signed up on Like.ly, an app similar to Tinder but extremely exclusive. The app was directed to wealthy people and reputed celebrities. You had to e-mail the company and wait if they accepted you on the company. If you were, you had to go through an interview where they'll ask you all types of questions, as the company itself would look for some potential matches to get you started. They did not succeed to your liking. They matched you with all sort of celebrities, but nobody properly caught your eye. 

You weren't a football fan, but you knew who Alexia was because of the expectation she woke up when she won her second Ballon D'Or and when Spain won the World Cup, as the press talked non-stop about the different problems with the federation, especially about the incident during the final. 

You clicked on her profile. Her profile pic was a picture with her dog, Nala. She had more pictures uploaded; you could see her with her family, her friends, her team and by herself. You scrolled down to the “About Me” paragraph.

“Hi! My name is Alexia. I like playing football, spending time with my family and learning new things. 😃”

“Cute”, you thought. You hesitated about what your next move should be. You liked her profile but decided to not write her yet. 

“Hi. I saw your profile some days ago and you seem lovely. I'd love to hear from you”. You hated the way you wrote that text. “Y/N, you want to get to know her as a friend, maybe as something more, this is not a business meeting”, you said to yourself. Your text was fine, you were only overreacting. If you knew they way Alexia reacted to your text, you'd feel more than accomplished with yourself.

“Hi, Y/N. Thank you! You seem really lovely too. I'm seeing that you have four cats! Wow, that's some good company. I think a get along better with dogs because I've been around them my whole life, but the cat life sounds fun too. 😸”

You chuckled as you read her message. “She's indeed very lovely”, you thought. 

“Yeah, so damn crazy, but it's quite fun😸😹” You had never used those emojis. Weird. Adorable but weird.

As you kept talking during the week with Alexia, you got to know her better. She told you about the passing of her dog, Nala, and how bad that affected her. You told each other about your life: family, friends, place of work. She even taught you a little bit of football, and you were so entertained you couldn't quite believe it, as you never showed any interested in football except for some random matches of the men's world cup. You started to educate yourself in women's football.

“Can I call you?”, was the message you received from her on a Saturday night. You had spent the whole day rotting on your sofa and talking to Alexia until your eyes started to feel really heavy. As she called you, and you responded, you started to breath uncontrollably rapid but at the same time, you felt so comfortable listening to her. Alexia's voice was soft, and her laugh sounded so delicate, you felt butterflies in your stomach every time you made her laugh.

“It was nice talking to you, Ale, but we both need some rest, especially you. You have training tomorrow.”

“... I liked hearing you calling me Ale”

“I like hearing you, Ale.”

“God, are you always this flirty?”

“Not in person. I'll have to be a little bit tougher when I'll have you in front of me.”

“No, don't be. I'm pretty sure I'd love the timid version of you. I can't wait to see it.”

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

[malusokay]

A happier life in 2023

Health

Nourish your body properly, drink enough water, eat your greens, and take vitamins.

Don't punish yourself if you're having a bad day, are upset, or had something negative happen in your life, dont take it out on your body by depriving yourself of your daily needs.

Aim to become the healthiest version of yourself. Exercise and eat to feel your best, focus on your education, read, and be social.

Try therapy. Talking to someone helps you organize your thoughts, especially if you struggle with overthinking or anxiety. It's 2023; there is no shame in asking for help!! <3

80/20 rule. Find balance in your diet and lifestyle.

Mindset

Treat yourself with care and love. You deserve to feel good; start by appreciating yourself more and aim to feel comfortable within yourself.

Stop comparing yourself, your life and your accomplishments to others. Everyone has a different back story, don't compare your beginning to someone else's middle.

Ignoring negativity. Maybe delusion truly is the key to happiness. Remember the brightest moments, write them down and keep them close to your heart. :)

Smile at people. If you start sending good vibes, they will eventually come back to you.

Be kind. Small acts of kindness can truly mean the world. <3

Lifestyle

Spent more time in the sun. Try reading, studying, or exercising outside when it's sunny!

Be organized. Buy a planner, try notion, start using your calendar more. Staying organized is a great way to reduce stress in your day-to-day life!

Small daily comforts, a nice perfume, your favourite tea or coffee... simple small things that you can look forward to every day <3

Establish routines. Getting up earlier, open your curtains, some simple stretches, having daily routines can be so relaxing and fun!

Save money not just for emergencies but also to treat yourself! Set yourself saving goals for things that you've been wishing for :)

As always, Please feel free to add more suggestions in the comments!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

#coquette #aesthetic #girl blogger #dream girl #it girl #that girl #pink blog #pinterest #pink pilates princess #green juice girl #malusokay #high maintenance #manifesting #loa blog #glow up #self love #angel aesthetic #coquettecore

[luulapants]

things you should know about books and incarceration

I recently started working with a program that sends books to incarcerated people upon request. There are programs like this in many places throughout the US, under names like “Prison Books Project” or “Books to Prisoners.” Here’s some things you should know:

The most requested book, by far, is the English dictionary. The Spanish dictionary is also highly requested, as are GED prep materials, thesauruses, almanacs, and other reference books. If you have anything like that laying around unused, please consider donating.

Prisons are legally required to maintain libraries of legal resources (this falls under one’s right to counsel), but otherwise generally do not fund or maintain libraries, even for basic educational materials. The law libraries are also often filled with irrelevant law texts (e.g. real estate and civil procedures) instead of what prisoners actually need information about: appeals, civil rights, etc.

There are strict requirements on what books can and cannot be received, which vary from prison to prison and even depending on which staff member is processing the shipments. There are a thousand different reasons prison staff can pull a book from a shipment. Individuals, unfamiliar with the complex restrictions, are often unsuccessful at sending books to incarcerated loved ones.

Prison staff often don’t like prison book programs, despite the fact that they reduce recidivism and keep prisoners occupied and out of trouble. Why? Because it makes more work for them in the mail room. Yes, really.

Immigrants are the fastest growing prison population, so we get lots of requests for books in Spanish or English learning materials. Unfortunately, these are less frequently donated, so our selection is slim.

We also get requests for books about sign language, usually from people with Deaf cellmates who have no other way to communicate.

Books about starting businesses, trades, and reintroduction are extremely common from those planning their lives after release. It’s extremely difficult for convicted felons to find work after release.

We also get many requests about psychology or self-help books. A large percentage of our incarcerated population suffer from some mental illness or have loved ones who do.

Many prisoners were not properly supported in their education. We receive letters from low-literacy people who have severe learning disabilities, whose letters are difficult to read because they never learned to write properly. Comic books/manga are common requests from low-literacy people because they can look at the pictures.

Prison book programs are usually not well funded and must ration how often incarcerated people can write us and how often they can request certain types of high-demand books. Volunteers frequently find there are no suitable books to fill a request and buy books with their own money to make sure someone gets what they’ve asked for. Cash donations to prison book programs will go to buying high-demand books such as dictionaries, GED prep, and other basic education texts.

See if you have a program like this in your area, and consider volunteering or donating books or money. There are over 2 million people incarcerated in the US, and giving them access to books is the very least we can do.

#prison #incarceration #literacy #social activism #social justice

[k2ssland]

connie springer found himself crushing on one of his pretty little college girl clients . . . it started when you discovered him through a mutual on campus who deemed he produced the best quality weed in the area and in addition, he was undeniably sexy. curiosity swarmed your mind to see if the weed he was really all that.

even though you rarely indulged in smoking—the only times being for anxiety relief, you got his number and worked up the courage to text. agreeing on a time for his delivery, you sat on your porch, heart pounding through your chest while anticipating his arrival. and he pulled up a little after twelve-thirty am blasting xavier wulf, disturbing all your poor sleeping neighbors. nervously approaching his coupe as he rolled his five percent tinted window down simultaneously lowering the music to a normal level.

"yo, what you doin' buyin' from me, lil' college girl?" was the first thing the brunette-headed beauty said to you. connie's hazel eyes shamelessly trace your plush brown skin body from your fresh goddess braids to the white painted toes in your christian dior sandals.

immediately, his masculine musk mixed with marijuana swarmed your nose and overstimulated your senses making you dizzy. connie leaned back comfortably in his seat and no seat belt in sight, he now tucked his hands into his grey nike sweats, revealing the inseam of his red psds and a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted abdomen. tattoo sleeves ran up both of his muscular arms all the way to his chest.

"the others at yo school usually want rocks, but it's only green ova here." he spoke in a deep tone with a slightly foreign accent, licking his plump cotton candy lips after speaking and slightly showing the blinged-out grills secured to his teeth.

"boy, what the hell? i'm not here for cocaine, that's not what my people do." distraught and snapped out of your daydream by his reply, you painted an almost disgusted look on your face and his laughter erupted throughout the car.

between his laughter, he subtly apologized and continued on with the deal. you apprehensively played it off as you had a big test the following day and simply needed something to calm your nerves, knowing damn well you just wanted to see the infamous sexy dealer in your college town up close.

"oh, word? that's wassup mami. te deseo buena suerte."

he slid an extra ounce in your bag and shrugged it off as a miscount, but the real reason simply being that he was enticed by your beauty. a few days later, before you even finished what you already had, you called him up for another eighth just so you could see his gorgeous face again.

after delivering to you numerous times, he finally asked you out on his version of a date, which was matching in front of a breathtaking view, talking about aliens n conspiracy theories, and after, treating you to whatever munchies craving you possessed.

eventually, connie cautiously opened you up to his world, sometimes allowing you to accompany him on his late-night deliveries whenever you had insomnia. it was definitely different from what you'd known, you wondered to yourself how you, the girl who completely devoted herself to her school, producing top-of-the-line grades, came from a supportive and loving family, ended up skipping class to ride passenger princess in a sexy drug dealer's bmw who knew nothing but the streets.

you knew it was bad and so did he, you two had no business being together, but it was just something about you—something about him.

from you being so oblivious to his street slang and always following up with, "um connie . . . what does that mean?" and vice versa, the way you articulated words only captivated him more, asking you to educate him on their meanings and slowly applying them to his lingo. he admired how you spoke properly regardless of your black friends accusing you of being white-washed because of your pwi.

eventually, he taught you how to weigh his loads, putting your own touch on them by packaging them into pink plastic baggies with their name, amount, and a heart around it.

"mami, they gon' think i went all soft and shit now," is what he told you every time regardless of him finding it adorable.

he thought your innocence and intelligence were alluring and for your sake, he knew he should've kept it strictly professional business, but he wanted to ruin you.

his aspiration only grew larger after one night, participating in a mini competition amongst yourselves to see who would tap out first while smoking as many blunts as possible.

your deep brown eyes were low n red after two, ready to quit due to the feeling of immense drowsiness. feeling as if you were on another planet, you brazenly confessed a few secrets of yours before falling asleep in his arms—one being that you had never had sex before. the thought of connie popping your sweet cherry made him brick up instantly. he would’ve took you right then and there in the backseat of his car, but he wanted you to be completely conscious for it.

teaching you his ways was only the beginning, not only did he want to corrupt your mind, he desired to take over your entire body like a vicious plague.

you sheepishly admitted that being in his scene terrified you but he assured you, "i promise nothin' will happen to you as long as you wit me, mamacita."

he later conceded to you that he was always strapped with his glock-19 and in a way, that made him even sexier. he pulled the weapon out of his baggy sweats and laid it on his lap for you to comprehend. you blurted out asking if he had ever used it on someone.

"ignorance is bliss, ain’t that right, bae?” giving you a small smile alongside a chuckle, continuing on with his delivery route as if nothing happened.

he dropped you home later that night and it was spent under your baby pink silk sheets, one hand tightly resting on your breast, the other rubbing over your aching clit. soft mewls of his name escaped your lips while fantasizing about him holding his loaded gun to your head, finger just shy of the trigger as he fucked you dumb. you messily came undone all over yourself and from that day on, your worries about safety never resumed.

the next thing you knew, connie's plan had you exactly where he wanted you to be. his big body hovering over your adorably small one in comparison and looking down upon you hungrily with low bloodshot eyes, making you indecisive of if the sight was sexy or terrifying, or both.

legs spread onto the dip of his buff shoulders, gold anklet dangling in his face and his precum-soaked tip aimed at your entrance. it was everything you had fantasized about; thick, circumcised, and pretty. veins protruding from the base to his baby pink tip, the same color as your thong he pulled aside.

"wait! wait—connie, before you continue, i need to tell you something.” the fear was evident in your eyes, shakily placing your small chubby hand on his toned lower stomach to avoid him proceeding further.

"oh, that you're a virgin?"

"wait, wait what?" eyes widening, your brows lowering with confusion.

"you do lots of talkin' when you're high, but even without you tellin' it was obvious." his copper eyes briefly shifted towards the chastity ring that never left your finger.

"fuck you, connie."

"oh yea? fuck me, baby? nah, fuck you."

audibly gasping at the sudden aggressive shift into your slit and taking in all of his inches. a smug grin painting his face once he watches the pretty virgin trying to adjust to his length, the stretch embarrassingly being nearly unbearable for you.

"t'hurts," your brown irises rolling to the depths of your skull and he needily bucked his hips against you, balls deep inside of your pussy, slapping against the fat of your ass with no remorse.

“c–connie it’s t’much . . . i can’t.” while gripping onto the sheets as if your life depended on it, light tears swell your sweet doe eyes and your eyelashes meeting with your flushed cheeks from tightly clenching your eyes shut. your pussy crying for him as well, coating his cock with sticky cream ring.

"awn you can't take it, baby? i thought it was fuck me though, right?" he purred in a condescending tone, his russet eyes narrowing before increasing his pace, watching the way your pussy swallowed his dick whole.

"m'sorry . . . connie, m'so so sorry, please."

"m'so sorry," connie embarrassingly mocks your tone creating nearly the same pitch as your shaky voice. his veiny hand wrapped around your neck restricting your breath to a minimum and making you dizzy while soft mewls slithered out of your lips, pain mixing with a foreign feeling of pleasure.

"actin' so innocent all the damn time n yet here you are, pretty pussy creamin' all over my dick." his words spilling from his lips like an addictive poison to your brain.

"ease up f'me princesa, with you clenchin' like that m'not gonna last long." connie's voice coos in your ear as he positions your legs all the way over his shoulders to allow him to plant harsh kisses on your bruised cervix to where you couldn't think straight. gripping your plush thick body in the sweaty palms of his hand and squirming underneath his weight. the room filled with lewd sloppy squelching noises from your pussy suctioned onto the length of his shaft.

your short french tip nails dug into his sweat-glistened skin leaving crescent moons behind and you weren't even fighting back anymore, you embraced it. nuzzling into his chest and wrapping your hands around his neck as he thrusts inside of your tummy.

"oo my gosh, connie. m'gonna cum." your arch faltering, yearning for the sweet release that doing it yourself could never fulfill. his hips angled directly at your sweet spot sending warm n fuzzy shocks through your body.

his dick twitched inside of you and you knew he was close as well based off of his sloppier thrusts. so pussy drunk from your sopping cunt he didn't even hear you talking, he just continued with his pace.

your core tightened and the utmost sensational orgasm ripped out of you. it only took a few more weak strokes to lead to his thick sticky ribbons of goo shooting inside of you and painting your walls completely white.

"connie . . . do drug dealers have hookups to plan b's too?"

© 𝐊𝟐𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 ─ all rights reserved. do not translate. plagiarize, or repost any of my works to alternative sites, tumblr included.

#connie springer #plug!connie #connie x black reader #connie x reader #connie springer x black reader #connie springer smut #connie smut #aot x chubby reader #aot x black reader #aot smut #anime x black!reader #anime x chubby reader #aot #attack on titan #dominican!connie #┆ ⤿ ⌗ kannarie’s works .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

[tamarrud]

as a south african one thing that frustrates me to no end is how people keep bringing the "2-state solution" into discussion like would you tell a black south african living under the Apartheid regime that maybe they should all try to live in peace and maybe things will change? if the answer is no, then those people need a serious reality check.

people who are not palestinian need to stop thinking that their opinions matter more than actual palestinians because they've never lived under oppression so their textbook ideas of peace mean shit.

i was born 11 years after the apartheid era and despite all the laws and policies put in place, there's still division, there's still oppression, there's still unequal wealth distribution, there's still racism and unfair discrimination, there's still so many problems and part of the many reasons why is that the people in power were never held completely accountable for their actions.

a 2-state solution won't solve anything because the reality is that palestine suffered so much more for so much longer that israeli civilians no matter how innocent they are (altho the vast majority of them seem to be cheering for the mass killing of children and infants) will never even comprehend.

white south africans, especially the afrikaners, still live with so much privilege, and the average black person is still unable to access a standard of living that is decent.

this is the reality of not holding people accountable. im 18 years old and have peers who think apartheid was better because of the ill education system that never taught us properly. my grandparents and parents fought for education rights and my generation is throwing it away. yet another consequence of not holding people accountable.

people who don't live under oppression or don't live in countries where the concept of freedom is still relatively new need to shut the fuck up and let palestinians decide for themselves what the best solution is.

💯💯💯

Also, to think a two state solution is possible while witnessing Israel's ceaseless land theft and illegal settlement expansion is delusional to say the least.

#thank you ❤️

[astroscientia]

🌊Neptune in the Houses🌊

1st house:

You choose how to act and project yourself to others based on the subconscious cues that you acquire from them. Your identity is often based on how others see you and talk about it. There is a degree of loss when it comes to self-expression- the unheard child learns to perform to express identity.

2nd house:

Poor with managing, organizing, and structuring finances and possessions. Overly generous with resources. Might make money in nefarious ways if Neptune is poorly aspected. More positively, these natives might profit from pharmacology, marine biology, medicine, or NGO work.

3rd house:

The local environment has a Piscean element. Early school years also were characterized by daydreaming and escaping from learning. The loss of a sibling to unknown or sudden causes is likely in some cases (depending on the aspects). It could suggest that your siblings/cousins/classmates that are close to you are artists, singers, or dreamers. In a negative sense, this might attract escapist friends with a heavy victim mentality.

4th house:

Issues with water, pipes, and flooding in the home. Home near bodies of water. Your mother or a potent female figure in your life might be sick and require care from you or your family members. In this case, the gist is that the family might cause you to feel neglected and forgotten, making you want to escape the domestic setting through art or physical separation. These natives are quite nocturnal- they sleep all day and stay up all night to avoid their families in some cases.

5th house:

Death of children. Loss of lovers to illness, substance abuse, prison, crime, or mental disorders. Lovers might be absent while present either because of their own commitments to helping someone old/vulnerable or through escapism (drugs, sex, alcohol, etc) or poor health.

6th house:

Watch out for the immune system. Habits and routines might not express a desire for a person to live well. Poor habits. Disorganized. No discipline and routine when it comes to eating, working, exercising and taking care of oneself at the bodily level. Neglected as a child and did not learn to properly care for themselves.

7th house:

Attracted to partners that aren't really "there." This sense of absence in presence can be because of the following things: frequent travels, substance abuse, prison, mental illness, philanthropic work that takes the person's time, religious fidelity, etc. You might "lose" a partner to their vices and blame yourself for it.

8th house:

Potential for misunderstandings in transactions (financial) with others. Deception when it comes to money that you get from others. There is vagueness and gullibility when perceiving people's sexual or financial advances toward us. Be careful of who you let into your life sexually or romantically.

9th house:

Confusion regarding beliefs, higher education, and vision for the future. If in university, the campus might be located near water, or you might study subjects related to the pharmaceutical industry, oil, gas, pharmacology, parasitology, virology, marine studies, psychology, or you might enter esoteric fields (astrology, tarot, etc.) or you might study theology.

10th house:

Confusion about future and career. Fear tied to career prospects and the father. The father might have been absent or neglectful which manifests in an inability to be stable in a job.

11th house:

Friends slip through your fingers. We may need clarification about our hopes and life goals because Neptune here makes our ideals changeable. So, our vision for life is usually mutable and influenced by external forces that people rarely have the self-awareness to explore. This is also a highly intuitive placement.

12th house:

This is a good placement because Neptune is comfortable in the 12th house. Intuition is good. Sleep is very essential for you. Heightened motivation to get to know yourself through self-reflection, meditation, and spirituality, and project these learnings to heighten your empathy.

Thank you for reading!

#astrology #astrological observations #neptune #neptune in the 1st house #neptune in the 2nd house #neptune in the 3rd house #neptune in the 4th house #neptune in the 5th house #neptune in the 6th house #neptune in the 7th house #neptune in the 8th house #neptune in the 9th house #neptune in the 10th house #neptune in the 11th house #neptune in the 12th house