#online hair care tips

[aromamagic]

The Secret to Beautiful Hair | 5 Must Know Pro Hair Oiling Tips for Healthy Hair

[natures-nectarhoney]

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[alaminhpi2]

How to run a beauty salon business.

[kikiskeys]

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1103543380/fenugreek-moringa-extremely-powerful

[kestalsblog]

Basic Tips to Improve Your Writing

I used to read a lot of unprofessional writing online, and through that endeavor, I started mentally compiling different qualities that turned me off to people's work right away. I'm sharing some of my thoughts about ways to improve your writing so others don't click off your work right away!

-Change paragraphs when different characters are speaking.

-In that same thread, remember to make new paragraphs and not have one giant block of text. This isn't only discouraging for some readers, but actually physically impossible to read for those who are visually impaired.

-Learn grammar. Sorry, but there is no way around this one. For example, commas aren't just for aesthetic appeal or your personal choice, and it will turn some readers away if your writing is littered with grammatical errors. You can't break the rules for creative purposes if you don't even know them, and the difference is generally apparent.

-Remember the narration style you've chosen. For example, if you're writing in third person limited, you can't think outside the mind of your main character. Don't jump suddenly to the thoughts of other characters or an all-knowing, omniscient voice.

-Slow down. Each word matters, so try not to think of writing as "I must get from Point A to Point B," but "I must get from Point A to Point B beautifully."

-Avoid repeating the same word or phrase too much, especially within the same paragraph. There are exceptions in dialogue, of course. (It's sweet when writers acquire their own personalized phrasings that mark their voice, but I have turned away from works where the exact same line just kept coming up again and again).

-Don't forget about setting. You might be able to imagine where your characters are, but no one else can if you don't let them know.

-Use a consistent verb tense.

-Your characters are not you and generally shouldn't always be mouthpieces for you to share your own values and thoughts.

-Your characters should sound distinctly different from each other, including their talking styles.

-Don't bog the reader down with too much description, and make sure the description you do have is realistic. Think about it. In the morning, do you wake up, go to the mirror, and think to yourself, "I looked at my shaggy dark hair and emerald green eyes"? Nobody thinks that way about their own appearance, and it feels like a forced way to let the reader know what the main character looks like.

-There's no need to start tossing out every character trait if it's not relevant to the story.

-Last, show some passion and excitement for your own work. Make sure the language embodies that passion because if you don't even care about your writing, who will?

[cheonstapes]

miguel o'hara stars in... 'NERD!MIGUEL STARTS AN ONLYFANS! THE LIVESTREAM' 〜(＞＜)〜

a/n~ IT'S HEREEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry for the delay, i was at a funeral :( nerd!miguel creds to @nymphomatique 💗💗💗💗

part 1

summary; your nerdy almost-boyfriend starts an onlyfans without you knowing. now, he's gonna be taught a little lesson.

wc; 3k+

pairings; nerd!miguel o'hara x rich!fem!reader

cw; SMUT!!! dark-ish content!, toys, restraints, blindfolds, pegging, cock rings, brat taming, edging, ball busting, mommy kink, overstimulation, m!rimming, m!anal fingering, hair pulling, humiliation kink, reader has a tongue piercing, sub!miguel, mean!dom!reader, a bit of aftercare?, fluff!, IT'S ACTUALLY PROOFREAD????

————————————————————————

previously on nerd! miguel starts an only fans...

you couldn’t even speak, slowly turning around to face him, his head hanging down in shame.

oh, you were gonna make sure he learnt his lesson. his fans too.

————————————————————————

“where’s all that confidence gone, hm? you were so comfortable flaunting your body like a whore for all these bitches online, but now you wanna act all shy?” 

miguel has never felt more embarrassed and turned on than he does now. he felt like crying, his cock painfully hard beneath his shorts, wiping his sweaty hands on his thighs. “ ‘m sorry, mommy. i…i wanted- i just…” you laughed right in face. he stammered, trying to find an excuse but he couldn’t — your sweet, sweet boy was really just a desperate slut in disguise.

“just wanted some attention, isn’t it? am i not givin’ you enough?” you grip his hair tightly, tilting his head up towards you. he whimpered, both in pain and pleasure, his lips parted as he let out small pants. “i do so much for your pathetic ass and this is how you repay me? by showing off what’s mine, slutting yourself out for other bitches?” miguel didn’t like upsetting you, but he loved the outcome. you were always so much rougher with him, marking him up, overstimulating him until tears streamed down his flushed face. he couldn’t help but feel like acting little bratty today.

“what’s yours? we’re not even together, you don’t own me. you’re so big-headed, i’m surprised there’s no space in there to care about anyone other than yourself.” oh, so he wanted to get personal now? “hah? the fuck did you just say to me?” a manicured hand reached out to grab his hair, pulling it close to your face. “listen to me, you. are. mine. no one else, and i mean no one, will ever have you like i do - try and find someone who can please you better than me. ‘cause i’ll tell you now, you won’t.” 

he knew he fucked up big time. his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, pulled back in a snarl. he didn’t know what to say to you, gis heart was pounding like crazy in his chest — cock hard and tears threatening to fall. he fell to knees, gripping your thighs, calfs, ankles, every he could get a hold of. the thick rimmed glasses slipped down his nose, his head down as he whimpered pitifully. “mommy, i’m sorry! i‘m yours - i-i love you, i need you. i didn’t mean any of that, promise!” 

your silence was deafening. arms crossed under your chest, pushing up your perfect tits as you bent down to look at him closely. “you begging, baby? you think that’s all it takes for me to forgive you?” he shook his head rapidly, lips trembling as he bit back his tears. “no! no, o-of course not. i’ll do anything, mommy, anything to make it up to you.”

anything…anything, he says. a million and one ideas ran through your head, the corners of your pretty lips raising to form a malicious smile. you raised your foot, trailing the tip of your heel down his chest. the contours of his toned body rubbed against your shoe, sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. “oh, you poor thing…look at you, you’re shaking!” the bulge in sweats throbbed as your foot grazed over it, a small whimper leaving his lips.

he was so cute, trying to grind his hips up onto your shoe. so you pressed down hard, grinding your prada heels on his balls. his hands reached for your ankle as he groaned loudly, it hurt like hell but felt so good. “m-mommy, fuck! more…please, i need more.” you’d let him have his fun for now. lifting your foot a little before pressing down again, his tip spurting out pre all in his boxers. 

his body felt limp, mind only filled with you, you, you. he knew he wasn’t being a good boy, he knew how mad you were - but he couldn’t help but enjoy this punishment. nothing was sexier than seeing you like this, so ready to put him in his place like the mistress you were. you laughed, smearing his cum along the fabric as he whimpered and writhed — drool slipping out of the corner of his open mouth.

his hips continued to chase the friction of your shoe, the grip he had on your legs tightening just a fraction more — he was enjoying this a bit too much now. lifting your foot up once again, you push on his chest hard enough to knock his bulky frame over, leaving him breathless under you. “who said you can get off on this? ‘m not doing this for your pleasure, it’s for mine. it’s always for mine.” you placed the heel on his chest, looming over him with a dark glint in your eyes. 

a small flash caught the corner or your eye, his phone buzzing away on your vanity. the idea that ran through your head was downright cruel — giving him a chance to regain his breath as you stepped over to grab his phone. opening it, you went back onto only fans. scrolling through all the recent notifications made your blood boil even further — he really didn’t understand how serious you were when you said he’s belongs to you and you alone.

“get on the bed.” 

——————————————————————————————————

you did the finishing touches, his phone propped up on your desk. the sheets were ruffled, his body twisting and turning as he tugged on his restraints. his eyes were covered with a thick blindfold, arms and legs tied with your expensive scarfs.  

the beep of the phone signalled it had started, your body stepping into frame. you bent over, tits almost spilling out of your slip dress as you adjusted your mask, waving at the camera. “hi, everyone~” miguel let out a confused grunt, trying to lift his body to no avail. “miggy has been a bad, bad boy. lying to all you sweet people.” you were smiling under the mask, not that they could see it properly — thankfully. 

“you see guys,” you walk over to where he was situated, teasingly running a hand over over his heated face. “i bet you all probably thought my baby here was your absolute fantasy, hm? a big, strong, dom who could put you in your place.” you trail a nail down his throat, fingers running over his hardend nipples. “well, you’re all wrong.”

you tug on them hard, his hips bucking up as a whiny rumble leaves his lips. “he’s nothing but a submissive little bitch. and he’s all mine.” the chat was going insane, people commenting their disbelief, some questioning who you were, some even thinking you kidnapped him, and the vast majority talking about how hot this was. “you guys surprised? good, nice the truth’s finally out ain’t it. so enjoy this while you can, cause this is gonna be last thing you see on this fuckin’ account.”

miguel’s mouth was bound, the fabric slick with his saliva. his cock was pushing out of the fabric, the teasingly pink tip spewing out constant streams of pre. his heart couldn’t beat any faster than it was now, his thighs rubbing together to alleviate the aching throb of his hardness. trying to speak was useless, all he could hear was the clanking of box, things dipping the bed by his feet.

“let’s start with this shall we?” you giggled, grabbing a black vibrator from the box. the buzzing sound was obnoxiously loud, a tell tale sign you had immediately put it on the highest setting. you ran in down his chest, running it over his nipples, trailing it down his abs, and finally reaching his erection. his muffled whines didn’t deter you. in fact, it made you want to go even harder. “be a good boy and behave for mommy, you know your punishment — so shut up and take it.”

the way you sounded so aggressive turned him on to another level. you’re so hot, so sexy when you’re mad — his head nodding mindlessly. “that’s a good bitch.” the head of the vibrator met his, the sensation sending shockwaves through his body. his eyes welled with tears beneath the mask, sweat dripping down his face as he panted heavily. “mmphf — muh —“ you moved the toy down, rubbing it along the fabric of his boxers. “what’s that? can’t understand you, i don’t speak whore.”

you dropped the vibrator between his thighs, the rounded head landing perfectly on his heavy balls. the moan he let out was borderline pornographic, head slamming back again the soft pillows. you pulled the tight boxers down, shifting the vibrator away to bring it down his thighs. “look at that cock, so fuckin’ pathetic.” you were sorta lying to yourself. the thickness was mouthwatering, his tip resting completely under his belly button. 

you pulled his boxers completely off, throwing them to the side as you squeezed his tip with your manicured fingers, oozes of cum trickling out. you placed the vibrator back against his balls, revelling in the obvious shudder of his body. “see that guys? isn’t this so sad? seeing those fat balls all achy and swollen.” you put your lips against his ear, sucking the skin under it. “let’s empty those balls for you, ok?”

his breath hitched, body stilling as he feels you grip his cock tightly. you moved between his thighs, grabbing the lube from beside you. the cold liquid started to make his skin tingle, the slick sounds of your hand rubbing in the lube causing him huff out of his nose. keeping him occupied by jerking his cock slowly, you slid over the cock ring by your feet. your fingers were a bit slippery as you fiddled with the silicone. it finally found its way onto his length, depraving him of the release he craves oh so badly.

he was being so noisy, loud and slightly more clear things coming out of his delirious mouth. you ripped off his mouth gag, the fabric hanging off his neck like a tie. “m-mommy — please, fuck, it’s too m — ugh — much!” that obviously wasn’t gonna stop you. your hand reaching back into the box to pull out another gadget. 

the cock ring conveniently had a vibrating mode, the rapid shaking of the silicone causing his legs to shake from the restriction of his release. miguel’s plump lips stayed parted, quick puffs of air leaving his mouth. “fhucccckkk — mommy, need…need to cum.” you just smiled, sliding off the bed as you slipped off your dress, throwing it by his boxers.

you bent over, not so subtly exposing your little surprise to the camera — pulling off the blindfold from his face. he blinks, vision blurry as he looks up at you. “here, baby.”you place his glasses on his face, standing up in front of him. miguel’s eyes widen like saucers, trailing down your naked body. his eyes catch onto the 7” cock strapped to your lower half, string of the vibrator you had nestled in your tight cunt hanging below it.

“i..oh my god.” he couldn’t tear his eyes away, he felt a weird tingling sensation in his chest — stomach tightening in anticipation. “that’s, uh, g-going in me?” you nod, drizzling the lube on the length of the silicone. “isn’t this one of your little fantasies, babe?” giggling, you turned to the camera, bending level with it. “another surprise, huh? that this hunk of a man wants to get his ass played with.” 

he unconsciously spread his legs as much as he could, considering that he was still bound to the bed. you tut, walking over to untie him — rubbing his wrists gently as you gesture for bim to lay on his stomach. he turns around, cock pressed against the sheets and his back to you. “look at you, baby.” you run your hand over his ass, a palm colliding with the flesh before you spread them open — dropping a glob of spit on his hole. “such a dirty, boy. you just want me to fuck you, right? stretch out that tight hole with my fat cock?” 

his body shudders, hands gripping the pillow as he buries his face in it. “god, please — i need you, mommy. i-i want you so bad.” needy slut. you shuffled back, laying against the bed as you lowered your face towards his spread cheeks. your tongue collects the remnants of your saliva, spreading it back over his taint. gripping his hips, you push your tongue in deeper — the cold ball of your tongue piercing grazing his sensitive walls. you make an effort to stretch him out considerably, inserting two of your fingertips into his ass. 

you scissor them, dropping more spit to help your finger slide in deeper. his back arches deliciously, hips moving in tandem with your movements. his little, whiny gasps were muffled by the pillow, his teeth marks imprinting onto them. you knew he wasn’t gonna cum, as long as that cock ring stayed on. you knew he was ready when your fingers were sliding in and out easily. “all nice and prepped for this cock, baby.” 

you lifted your hips, aligned the bulbous tip of your cock to his hole, sliding it in till his ass meets your pelvis. the vibrator inside of you turned on, the faint buzzing rubbing against your gummy walls. it was hard to fuck a man when you felt like you were about to squirt all over the bed, your thighs shaking as you pushed in and out of him. “shit…so this is how it feels, huh?” miguel looked dazed, his glasses falling off, drool coating his cheeks. he was so fucked out.

you grabbed his jaw, turning him to face the camera — your hips slammed harder against him, other hand resting on his hip. “tell them…them how much you love it when mommy fucks you.” it was hard for you to stay composed too — your stiff clit twitching with every squelching thrust. he nods dumbly, mumbling into the pillow “l-love it, i love mommy’s — nngghh — c-cock.”

“thaaat’s right, good boy. that’s what you’re good for, being a hole for mommy to use.” he whined deeply, grinding his ass with your rhythm. you can feel something building in your lower tummy, the vibrations speeding up the faster you move. with a silent whimper, you push him off of you — laying on your back, panting softly. a thin layer of swear lines your brow, rolling down your temple as you look at him.

“this cock ain’t gonna ride itself.”

the way his face lit up was quite endearing, his large frame scrambling to straddle you. he was a bit nervous cause of how much bigger he was, scared he would crush you under his weight. “a-are you sure? i don’t wanna hurt you-“ the hard slap you landed on his ass was enough for him to get a move on — hands resting on your soft tits as he aligns himself with your cock. “ah — fuck, it’s so big…” 

“now you know how i feel.” you teased, pinching his hip. “now ride.” his face heated up, nodding as his body bounced on top of you. it seemed like he learnt from you, hands resting on your knees as he ground, rolled, and bounced his hips. the ring seemed to be working wonders with his cock, the steady vibration causing his tip to drool creamy liquid that dripped onto your stomach. “mommyy, fuck me h-harder! wanna cum for you — ‘m sorry i was a bad boy, please let me c-cum!”

you caressed his sides, nimble fingers flicking his nipples teasingly before gripping tightly on his hip. you drove your hips up into his, each thrust barely lifting him due to his size so he decided to move up with you — strong thighs able to endure the strain. “so dirty…riding my cock whilst all your little fans watch. you like it don’t you? you like everyone seeing what a depraved freak you are.” you grunted, gritting your teeth as your head hit the headboard.

unbeknownst to you, the live was blowing up — over 100k people watching at once. it was something no one had expected but everyone wanted. seeing a greek god of a man being ravaged by a girl much smaller than him — it was the sexiest thing to ever grace that god forsaken website. the donations were flooding in, the live was accumulating 10’s of thousands — the most money miguel had ever made on the site.

the tension coiled tightly within you both, miguel being on the verge of tears with how deep you were hitting, scraping against his prostate. his cock was red a twitching, the cock ring starting to slide off from how slick his length was. you didn’t wanna cum, not before he did. the wetness dripping down your thighs was getting harder to ignore, the force of your orgasm feeling like it’d be enough to push the vibrator right out of you.

miguel was whining so loudly, drowning out the sound of your hips meeting. his lips were pulled back in a small snarl, large hand jerking his cock whilst the other groped one of your tits — his flushed face looming over you. “gonna cum,

mommy. g-gonna cum so fuckin’ hard — need it so bad, baby.” you let out a low growl, swatting his hand away from his cock as you held it tightly in your grip, working as a makeshift cock ring. “you’re not cumming till i do, so be a good boy and wait.”

he whined like a little baby, earning him another hard slap on his ass. the vibrator inside of you was on it’s highest setting, small streams of squirt trickling out of your sore pussy. the friction of your clit rubbing against his balls, the debauched sight of him, the pressure in your core — it was all too much. your hand loosened its grip around his length slightly, rapidly stroking up and down the stiffness, his hips chasing your hands.

“cum then, go ahead and cum like the nasty ,little, bitch, you are.” he nodded, drool sliding down his neck as he squeezed  his eyes shut, letting out a stream of curses and broken cries of your name. his cum was so thick, shooting all over your bare chest and catching on your pretty face. your eyes closed in bliss as you licked his cum off of your lips, hips slapping against his rapidly before you freeze, your own orgasm squirting out onto his lower half, the cock you had simultaneously released white, creamy strings of cum deep into his ass.

all you could do was stare at each other, eyes roaming around the others face as a small smile grew on both of your lips. you shook your head, pushing his heavy body off you. your cock drips onto your rug as you walk to his phone to turn off the live, “bye-bye forever, hope you enjoyed!” you giggled, waving a drenched but perfectly manicured hand to the camera.

 you place his phone face down on your desk, climbing into the bed next to miguel — your heart swelling as he rests his head on your plush chest. he was snoring quietly, beefy arms wrapping around your torso tightening when you pressed a kiss to his forehead. miguel had definitely learnt his lesson, making a mental note to delete his account as soon was he wakes up.

maybe it wasn’t that bad — being in love.

-happy late halloween!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🎃

taglist; (some links aren't working :( sorry!!! )

@honeyfrenchietoast, @zzxzzxzzzsworld, @vesperurdad, @grapejuicenads, @boldlyimportantface, @clementine-thedestroyer, @choasinterludee, @hayden-the-goat, @obi-mom-kenobi, @miguelzslvtz, @111gltzpzy, @mreowmoreww, @deckfunkk, @imfinenotsblog, @skylarlyn823, @miyaluvvsyou, @eliozs, @darksidescorner, @ravenlini, @dearlyjinie, @astarstruxkgirl, @ximena-nothere

[lxsunshine]

cckwarming w s4n

(dom!roomatesan x roommate!reader)

cw with s@n

you didn’t want to bother him, but he’s been in his room for almost 4 hours, just hearing some occasional yelling and groaning. you knew San was busy playing games with a group of online friends he called “ateez”, but you wanted to hang out with him, and you felt quite lonely from the lack of attention. it was the weekend so earlier, you texted up some of your other friends in hope for someone to interact with, but they were busy. so your last resort was your friendly roommate that you adored, and harbored a small crush on.

san was your age and worked as a personal trainer at a gym down the street. you had walked past his gym once and you were greeted with defined muscles covered in a sheen of sweat. he had damp hair and his grey tank top was drenched, making the shirt cling to his chest and you could see his pectoral muscles and abs on full display. you couldn’t help the rise of heat to your cheeks and the drop of your jaw if you tried. never have you seen your roommate so in his element, so sweaty so… fuck you felt a familiar heat in your lower belly and you had run back to your apartment and taken a cold shower in the shared bathroom.

since then, you’ve been noticing all the small things that San does that somehow turns you into a flustered mess. when he lounges around in grey sweats and a plain white wifebeater, your thighs clench together. when he’s in the tiny-ass kitchen with you and has to move past you, so he respectfully places his hands on your waist so he can maneuver around you, your tummy explodes with butterflies. when he makes you your morning coffee and presses a kiss to your forehead before he goes to get ready, fucking niagara falls accompanied by butterflies.

san also has a very rough voice when he first wakes up. he’s also a cuddler, which you did not expect. so imagine your surprise when you heard his alarm blaring at 7 am one morning and he wouldn’t turn it off, so you walked into his room and nudged him awake, making him groan and pull you by your arm right on top of him. then he proceeded to pull you flush against him and he nuzzled his head into your neck, groaning “not yet.” it would be an understatement to say you were burning red and almost shaking with desire.

san has never hidden his affection with you, and you’re sure that if people saw you two together, they would think you’re lovers. so now, waiting for 4 hours for some roommate bonding time, you were getting frustrated and sad. you really wanted to hang out with someone, and that someone being a buff-nerdy-gamer/personal trainer-roommate. building up your courage, you sheepishly knocked on his door and waited to hear a response. after nothing but more callouts, you sighed and opened the door. to your surprise, San was basically naked. he wore only a pair of basketball shorts and socks with his slippers. his black hair was fluffy and messy under the headphones, and his full chest was on display, hard nipples exposed to you. you swallowed hard and walked closer, making San finally notice you. he took off one headphone, seeming a bit sheepish, and he covered his chest with his arms.

“oh, hey, was i being too loud?” he asked, giving you a smile that made your heart burst. while he was taking a small break from gaming, he grabbed his water bottle and tipped it back, his throat swallowing deeply. your eyes locked on his throat and you felt yourself turning red. realizing he had asked you a question and was looking at you with a raised eyebrow, you stammered out a response.

“oh, n-no you weren’t. it’s just, you’ve been here for a while and i wanted to hang out with you for a bit… but if you’re too busy…” you trailed off, watching him fiddle with the rings he had on his right hand. your eyes greedily observed all the veins on his hands and his well-taken-care-of nails. his fingers were so nice and long, and so pretty with all the veins that clenched when he grabbed things. you imagined what his neck would look like gripping your neck, teasing your folds, finally sliding into you and curling upwa-

“hello, sweetheart?” he called you out of your filthy thoughts, a sly smile on his face and an eyebrow raised in a teasing manner. “your face is awfully red, what were you thinking about, hmm?”

you blushed even harder and nervously laughed, uncomfortably noticing how your panties were clinging to you, “nothing really, sorry i should go.”

his eyes seemed to narrow and a dark look came over his face as he grabbed your wrist, “i asked you a question and i don’t really appreciate you lying to my face.” his complete change in demeanor made you shiver with excitement and you weakly tugged at your arm. he didn’t budge and he pulled you closer to him. now your knees were touching and you looked down at him a bit.

you struggled to respond in the close proximity and you found it a bit hard to breathe, “ ‘m sorry. i was distracted by your hands.”

you wanted to die, the embarrassment heating your skin and making the room feel like a sauna. he hummed in thought, eyes flickering to your lips and then back to stare into you.

“what do you want with my hands?” he asked, voice low. his hand that wasn’t gripping your wrist reached to cup your jaw, and you felt your knees weaken at the intimacy of it all.

suddenly, his hand wrapped around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, making you whimper and fall to your knees. the sound you made spurred San on and his dick twitched in his pants at the sight of you on your knees.

“please,” you begged, not really knowing what you were begging for. you clenched your thighs together, seeking just a big of friction and he chuckled. his hand still wrapped around your throat and the other now tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“please what?” he asked, almost whispering, and he leant in so close that his lips were centimeters from your own. your eyes flickered down to his soft looking lips and you never felt a stronger urge to kiss someone than you did now.

“please touch me, hold me, anything!” you cried, one hand grabbing onto his thigh. he tsked, letting go of you and sitting back against the chair.

“you interrupted my game and now you want me to spend more time entertaining you?” he chuckled, messing with his headphones.

you felt ashamed and humiliated, but somehow that just made more arousal seep into your underwear. the way he was looking at you with lidded eyes, and his disinterested expression… you craved him. trying to express your apologies and desire, you leaned forward on your knees and nuzzled your head into his crotch. you mouthed wetly at his slightly chubbed cock through his shorts and he inhaled sharply, hand gripping his arm rest.

“fuck, you want me so bad, huh baby?” he laughed breathily and one hand gently raked through your hair. you just whined and mouthed at him again, wanting to express how much you wanted him. suddenly, his gentle caresses changed and he grabbed a chunk of your hair and pulled you, making your head snap up with a cry.

“my teammates are going to wonder where i went. i can’t let them down,” he said to you, sounding condescending and evil. you couldn’t help the flutter of your eyelids, and San laughed in shock.

“if you want me so badly, you can sit on me, princess,” he said, pulling you all the way upright onto your feet and then gesturing to his lap. you could see his hard outline sitting heavy in his lap through his damp shorts and you wanted it. you wanted him filling you up, pressing against your walls and all the nerves inside of you. you wanted him to twitch inside and fill you up with his hot release.

eagerly, you nodded and went to remove your panties from under your skirt. San’s eyes widened for a spilt second before it changed back into his nonchalant face. he leaned back into his chair and before you could step closer, he stopped you.

“you’re sure you want this? i’m going to be in you, love, and i truly want this. do you?” he asked, a bit of insecurity seeping into his voice. your heart stuttered in your chest at his consideration and you craved him even more. even though San was showing off a new exciting side, he was still your kind and loving roommate and your friend in the end.

you nodded and San cocked his brow. realizing he wanted verbal consent, you verbally agreed and he smiled with his cute dimple before he schooled his expression and motioned for you to come closer. he had you turn around so your back would be flush to his bare chest. he lifted his hips a bit and slid his shorts down a bit, pulling his cock out. he then pulled you down, so his cock rested against your folds. you ground gently a few times against him, addicted to the sounds that he made, and his cockhead caught on your entrance a few times. and then he finally slid into you. it felt a little painful from the stretch, but you were wet enough to make the slide easy. as soon as he bottomed out, you keened at how full you felt. he was thick enough to stretch you out and long enough to hit all the right places inside you. he kissed your neck, arms wrapped around your waist, and he whispered, “you doing okay? feels good?”

you moaned in response, wiggling around a bit before you tried to move. one arm wrapped tight around your waist and the other reached to hold your throat.

“i’m pretty comfortable right now,” San smirked and pulled you flush against him, making it impossible to move.

“s-san, what?” you whined, wanting to feel his cock catching on your walls and drilling into you.

“shh. sit still while i finish my round,” he bit your neck playfully while he unwrapped his arm from your waist and adjusted his headphones back on.

then he turned his mic back on and continued playing as if he wasn’t inside of you. you sat in shock but leaned back against his chest to stay comfortable. everytime he got too loud, you accidentally clenched around him, making him squeeze your neck and groan a bit.

“yo, san bro, you good over there?” a voice that was labeled Yunho in the chat called out.

he just squeezed your neck in a warning and your hips stilled (when did they start moving again?).

“all good, yunho. let’s counter-strafe,” he called out, clearing his throat. you whined softly when his hips bucked up into yours. san’s hand traveled from your neck to cover your mouth.

“shh baby, almost done and then i’ll fuck you for real. you can be good for me, right love?” he whispered, you clenched around him in response, making him curse and stumble in the game.

“clearly you can’t,” san grunted, trying to recover in the game. “don’t worry, baby. you’ll get what you deserve.”

[lanymme]

i think a lot about how people within the arknights world think about things like horns, ears, and tails as body parts.

we know beeswax's whole thing where she has model-beautiful horns and a bunch of horn care products and gives other operators horn care tips.

it's treated like hair, right? like she has a hair care hobby? and good for her and all that.

right? right.

okay, but tails.

the thick tail/thin tail factions in acahualla are in the same vein as people talking about what kind of butt is best, right? people talk about tails like they talk about someone's thighs or butt?

right? we agree on that?

so tomimi's prodigious tail would be seen by people on terra as like. equivalent to her having a ludicrously big ass? yes? like that's what we're supposed to take home from her up-from-behind E2 art?

do you think people on the landship talk about her with the same kind of hushed awe as, say, utage?

"i swear to god it's true, there's a 4'7" archosaurian girl who's no less than 50% tail walking around rhodes island, you've gotta believe me" is a phrase that has definitely been spoken by at least one short-term oripathy patient upon returning to their community, right? like we can agree on this?

imagine with me if u will. a hobby artist on Rhodes Island--perhaps, for example, known terminally online loser and partially closeted 2chan poster kirara--on her tablet designing a ditzy, clumsy OC who, oops! just can't stop knocking things over with her big, fat tail! and then posting it to her pixiv account, getting clowned on by people on the intercity net for drawing exaggerated unrealistic female bodies, and making a bunch of vagueposts on twitter about how riajuu can't appreciate an otaku's understanding of true beauty, only to step outside her room for the first time that week so she can go to medical for a routine oripathy checkup where she witnesses doctor gavial's goth yandere shortstack childhood friend knock a bunch of expensive equipment off a table and get spanked repeatedly on her IRL hyper tail, and then she immediately starts crying tears of blood.

[queenofcoquette]

confidence

introduction:

hey loves! one thing i’ve observed in self improvement spaces online is an obsession with confidence, and how to be confident. i’ve seen those red-pill guys give toxic confidence tips for guys, and self improvement girls give toxic confidence advice for girls. confidence is something we all desire because it's something we generally need more of, or help with.

what really is confidence?

confidence is shown internally and externally. internally it’s a mindset we need to work on. externally we present ourselves as someone who is secure in themselves. i think both are important- when you show it, you start to feel it a little bit.

internal- we walk into a room without comparing ourselves to others. we don’t think that we’re superior or inferior to anyone

internal- we still love ourselves after mistakes

internal- we recognize that we’re human and sometimes slip up

internal- we take care of ourselves and think positive thoughts

internal- we don’t view other people as competition

internal- we don’t care about what other people think of us

external- we treat people with kindness

external- we stay out of drama & gossip

external- we have straight posture

external- we make eye contact & smile when we talk

external- we’re friendly to other people

external- we try new things

external- we avoid making self-depricating comments

external- we don’t try to get validation from other people

internal changes:

writing down insecurities, fears, etc.- have a journal to write about how you feel, it really does help

avoid comparing other people. when you start doing it- just tell yourself to stop. it won’t work at first, but eventually you’ll stop doing so.

reminders. remind yourself that not everyone is judging you- people are caught up in their own lives and insecurities too. remind yourself we all fall and make mistakes, but you have the power to get back up.

meditation. i had to go back to this cuz i wasn’t feeling too good. i do 5 minute meditations- you can find guided ones on youtube. they’re very quick so it won’t take too much time out of your day.

external changes: (aka fake it til u make it)

walk with a straight back and lift your chin up

practice making eye contact talking

taking care of yourself. at my time at military school we were taught that self respect also means taking care of your appearance, and just looking good. you don’t need to put effort into your looks in terms of doing your hair and nails and makeup- but just look someone put together, and if you want then go above and beyond. when you look good, you feel good!

working out. exercise is proven to make you feel better, and when you put effort into yourself (which includes more than exercise, things like stretching, good hygeine) you’re going to feel better.

give people genuine compliments

stop self depricating talk. stop calling yourself dumb or ugly, or all those things. first of, it makes other people feel like they can do it to you, and it will make you feel worse about yourself!

surround yourself with people who make you feel good.

conclusion:

it takes time to feel confident, and you definitely won’t feel it 24/7. i still get horribly insecure sometimes and i know i still have a lot of growth to make, but by implementing these changes it’s a first step- and by staying consistent you’ll get closer to seeing yourself in a healthier light. of course if your self hatred is to the point where it’s causing serious damage to yourself/your mental health you should get treatment. 

[socialplatform799]

[saiidahyunie]

fake and true

minatozaki sana x f!reader || pt.2 pt.3

synopsis: you think you struck gold with an offer that's impossible to ignore, and sana thinks she's hit the jackpot in matchmaking. 

warnings: fluff ; cursing ; alcohol ; money talks ; reader is terrible at narrating ; sana is a few years older than reader ; tzuyu x shuhua pairing ; college student / tuition struggles ; jihyo mentioned but never appears ; not proofread

a/n: haven't wrote for sana in a HOT minute, also my first fic that actually uses a proper twice song?!?!

you first hear about it first from your best friend chou tzuyu.

“it’s an app,” she says while sitting on your couch, painting gloss on her nails with your little makeup box that you keep under the nightstand in your room. tzuyu then tosses the small bottle back into the box next to her with no care for it; she’s usually careless about most of the things in her life. “it’s just a way to make money.” 

make money? you think, and ask, with an eyebrow peaked up. isn’t that technically–like sex work? but minus the onlyfans biz—

“don’t be so reductive,” tzuyu corrects sharply. “it’s being called a sugar baby. and sometimes it’s not even that bad. sometimes the girls on there don’t even want sex. just company. they’ll pay you for dinner and that’s it. it doesn’t have to be so exclusive or that involved.” 

“have you ever done it for yourself?” you ask.

“me?” tzuyu snorts. “no, of course not. but it’s all online. a bunch of women have talked about it.” she looks up from her hand and gazes at you meaningfully. “i’m not saying that you should do it, but if you’re that desperate then why not? it’s really not that bad.” 

it’s really not that bad, you think, and just days later, you’re reminded with the numbers of your bank statements.

you rent was due in a week.

you just paid for the internet, drawing cash from whatever was left from your recent loan. most of the tip money you scrapped together for the necessary utilities in the house alone. there was also the debate if it was really necessary to cover the light bill when you could just go to bath and body works and use that money for strategically placed candles around the apartment instead. the water bill was necessary, obviously. and cheap, thank god—you never used it more than you needed to— but rent. rent. 

unfortunately, you can’t cut corners with that one. 

you take another bracing swig of your wine, staring hard into your computer screen. you phone rests right beside your elbow, and you glance at it, considering. mina had told you that you can always ask—

but no. your cousin never had much money to spare, and you can’t expect her to throw hundreds and hundreds of dollars your way every time you find yourself wanting, not when she needs it, herself. not when she’s the one who gave you the warning of going to grad school in the first place, having anticipated this happening. you can’t do that to her and live with yourself. 

but then again, you can’t pay your rent and live in general. you were already on your landlord’s ass for the last overdue payment as it is. 

so you let out an exasperated sigh, with your face in your hands, borderline breaking a sob, before ruthlessly scratching your hair and inhale through your teeth. you don’t know what to do.

you had a good case for compartmentalization. since you were little, you know that some parts of your life were meant to be separate and not coincide with the other. stress from school should not bleed into your work. a bad grade from an exam doesn’t mean that you can spend your day wallowing in the corner of your room and crying. your one option, the only option really, was to get better, try harder, and don’t cry. find your own solutions. it’s what mina kept preaching for you all throughout college: “find your own solutions.” 

find, you think again, distantly, and you look at the black screen of your phone. your own solutions. 

“it’s really not that bad.” 

you bite your lip hard, mind racing, pulse jumping beneath your throat. your adrenaline spikes as you reach for it, taping the screen and opening the app store. the thought in your brain rattles much like: i don’t want to, i don’t want to, but you have to, because you never have enough money, and you can’t afford to work a second job while being a full-time student, and even then it might not be enough. may never be enough. and you have to. the rent is due at the end of the day. 

a fingertip taps on the screen of the light pink app, and it’s downloading. once you open it, you refuse to give the urge to throw your phone across the room and forget that you ever thought of trying this; that you smash it into pieces and toss it into the garbage disposal. but that would be just another expense added onto the list, and you already can’t afford the one you have. 

with a deep breath and another sip of the expensive wine, you suck it up and make a profile. 

when the matches start coming in, you’re getting nervous. 

you drew the line of age range maxing it at just pushing 30 and above, you didn’t want to play with the idea of speaking to anyone older, even if it was just for dinner. most of the women you see are largely unappealing. most of their bios are either cookie cut with the similar story of their life or skevvy, worst comes to worst of the thought being that it wasn’t a viable solution for her money situation. 

the reality sinks in, and you’re nearly brought to tears. 

you’ve only ever had three semi-serious relationships. two of them were in high school, the last being with your ex-girlfriend when you were in your undergrad courses: elizabeth. she was kind to you, and sweet, and very patient. she had a predilection towards arrogance, having grown up with everything pretty much handed to her, but she was good, down to the marrow. it was because of you that the relationship broke; you had aspirations to go to school and elizabeth wanted to settle down, and you were unwilling to meet her in the middle, knowing that something was off. despite all of her vitreus and being aware, despite the fact that you loved her– truly, honestly— she wasn’t the one: she wasn’t the person that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. 

and, you think wryly, staring down at your phone screen, at the new message notification. neither is park jihyo sadly. 

but that doesn’t really matter, does it? you didn’t download the damn app to find a wife. 

you click on her name. her profile is as spares as it was an hour ago: a brief descpirtion of her job—district attorney, head prosecutor– and three photos of herself, none of them were too grand, just her in a well fit dress or blazer. the photos all lend an air of importance, however. of severity. this is a woman who clearly knows what she wants and is used to getting it. you’re simply another play-thing she gets to choose. the thought chills you. 

opening the message. it’s a matter of fact as you expected it to be: 

do you like dinner?

hi! you type back, cringing with a stank face while your thumbs twiddle with the phone screen. of course i love dinner!

great. a few seconds pass before her icon pops up again, and your heart jumps to the hollow of your throat when you read: would you like to join me for dinner this weekend? and before you can ask, yes, you will be compensated for it.

the upper row of your teeth are latched to your bottom lip, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. the edges of your phone slide agaisnt your clammy palms. you can feel the pulse booming in her ears, like a rush of a tsunami. if you wanted to, this could be the last chance to say no, to delete the app and pretend you were never in this madness to begin with. maybe you can ask mina for money. what cost is your pride, anyway, when compared to this? 

but you already had your mind set on what you were going to say before you could even type it out.

yes! i would love to. <3

it’s amazing for the bold courage you had to tell when you see her on campus, isolated in a corner of the library. tzuyu takes you completely by surprise when she shrieks in the quiet environment. 

“you managed to get a fucking sugar mommy?!” 

“shut up!” you hiss, looking around frantically. none of the other students nearby seemed to have noticed her outburst. “nothing is official. i only agreed to go out to dinner with her.” 

“still,” tzuyu adds, leaning back in her chair, eyes appearing like she’s caught in a daze. “i didn’t expect you, of all people, to actually do it. you barely just lost your virginity.’ 

“that’s not true.” 

“a vibrator doesn’t count.” 

“i was talking about elizabeth!” 

“who you broke up with two years ago. my point still stands,” tzuyu says. her bewilderment has melted from her face, leaving a begrudging amusement. “i still can’t believe you did it, though.” 

“you’re the one who recommended it to me.” 

“i know! but when the hell do you ever listen to me?” she retorts, setting her elbows on the table and cradles her chin with her palms, staring at you expectantly. “so? are you gonna show me pictures of her?” 

“i wasn’t really planning on it,” you say wryly, but pull your phone out anyway. “it’s not like she’s a girl that i’m actually talking to.” 

“oh, but she is,” tzuyu says, taking it. your attention shifts from her face to jihyo’s profile, flushing slightly when you notice the disappointed frown that tugs at her friends lips. “she’s cute, but i don’t know…” 

“what makes you say that?” 

“well….you know…” 

you bristle, shaking your head, “you said it yourself, some women will pay you for the company. she said that i’d be compensated for dinner but didn’t mention anything after.” 

“well, thank god,” tzuyu replies, scrolling through the messages now, pausing over the one selfie you sent to prove that you weren’t a catfish: her request to add by the way. “do you know what you’re gonna wear?” 

“probably some cocktail dress. she said we’d be eating at a restaurant in a hotel. so, i’m not picturing anything that fancy.” 

“i’ve looked through your closet, though. you don’t have any cocktail dresses.” 

“yes, i do. the blue one. with the long sleeves.” 

horror is drawn all over tzuyu’s face. “you mean the one you wore to your senior homecoming. when you were eighteen?” 

“yeah, it’s nice.” 

tzuyu takes your hand from across the table, giving you a look that makes your stomach clench form embarrassment; a look the precedes many of her statements about their different priorities, the vast gap between their socio-economic classes. 

“no offense, y/n. you’re drop dead gorgeous. you’d look beautiful in a black plastic trash bag, but that dress? are you kidding? at–tell me about the restaurant again?” 

“four seasons.” 

tzuyu then slams her palm down flat on the table, earning a glare from the girl sitting behind her. “at the fucking four seasons? hell no. absolutely not. you’re not wearing that, especially if it looks like you got it from fucking windsor.” 

to be fair, she was right about that one. although there’s no point in bringing it up now. “i mean, i don’t have anything else to fall back to.” 

“i’ll let you borrow something. i have, like, a million cocktail dresses.” 

“nothing you have will fit. i’m about your height but your waist is more snatched than mine.” 

“that’s very true, but i’m sure it’ll fit!” 

“should i ask shuhua for her input?” 

“you can! her and i are similar in size so we can ask for her help too and i’m sure she’ll find something for you to borrow.” 

you shift in your comfy chair, still uncomfortable. you’re not the kind of person to ask for anything. “are you sure? i think my dress would be fine.” 

“trust me, it won’t be. and shuhua loves you and loves playing these kinds of games even more. she’d definitely say yes to helping.” 

“if you say so.” you quip while leaning back, watching tzuyu pull up her other best friend’s contact, thumbs flying across the screen. a second passes before she whoops a little and shoves the phone in your face. you can see the clear—and predictable—dry text since she was at work and not with you guys: sure. i can give her the black one.

“do you know which black one she’s talking about?” tzuyu asks, brown eyes sparkling, unfairly dazzling under the muted fluorescent lights. “it’s this one i bought her. it’s a little tight and it has a sweetheart neckline. oh, t/n, you’re gonna look so hot.” 

“i don’t need to look hot,” you retort, flustered, “it’s only—” 

“dinner, i know.” she waves you off, texting again. “but trust me, you’re gonna want to make a good first impression. when is your date?” 

you nick your eyebrow and your mouth winces at the word date, it sets an uneasy feeling in your stomach, a perverse malformation of what romance is supposed to be. “this friday.” 

“perfect. i’ll come over with the dress and help you get ready. i’ll bring my makeup bag too, if you want?” 

you blink at tzuyu, a flush rising beneath your cheeks. you don’t know how to say no. how to remind your friend that this isn’t a date but a transaction, and that there really shouldn’t be any excitement about this. however, before you can try, tzuyu grabs your hand again, grinning widely. 

“this is gonna be so much fun!”

a week passes and friday rolls around frighteningly quick, giving you little to no reprieve or time to prepare, but tzuyu arrives just when she said she was going to. at 6:30 pm, right on the dot, smiling at your front door with a makeup bag in one hand and a garment bag in another. she waltzes in through the open door, gracefully, hair flaunting around, dressed like she was the one going out tonight. 

she jostles the makeup bag on her shoulder. “where are we getting ready?” 

you lead her to your room, crammed between her only bathroom and the small living room, directing her inside. tzuyu tosses the bag on your bed before walking towards the vanity and plopping down on the seat. she pulls the zipper of her pouch and starts pulling out miscellaneous products, an all-name brand: a small eyeshadow palette, a lipstick, bronzer. tom ford, chanel, MAC.

“so,” tzuyu says cherrily, hair up in a low ponytail swinging as she turns to look at you. “are you excited?” 

“no.” the answer comes easier than you expected it to, especially out loud, but it’s true. you’re not excited, rather, you’re— “i’m scared.”

“what? why?” 

“i don’t know this woman.” you walk toward your bed, slumping on the corner, shying away from the dress like it can burn you. “i’ve only talked to her a few times. she’s older and she’s important and she’s rich and—” 

“and?” tzuyu asks, swiveling towards her. “you’ve met my dad and brother. both of them are equally important and granted, one is an esteemed businessman while the other is a professional formula one driver.” 

“that’s different tzu. i’m not trying to be your dad’s sugar baby.” 

“i see your point, but—” 

“this is serious.” you snap, nerves fried, as they have been since you agreed to go on the fucking date. since you also realized that you were so dead broke that you had no other choice but that. “i’m going out with a stranger for money. i have no idea what’s going to happen and i’m scared.” 

“i’m sorry,” tzuyu says, sobered, all wry humor wiped off from her face. “i’m being an ass.” 

you look at the lingering wall, muttering your forgiveness, embarrassed at the outburst, but your friend stands up and makes her way over to you. she’s grabbing your shoulders, looking at you seriously.

“do you want to cancel?” 

“what?” 

“do you want to cancel?” she repeats. “if you’re uncomfortable then you can cancel. there’s no shame in that.” 

“i don’t…” you glance at your feet, eyeing the glossy hardwood floor below you. you’ve been needing to sweep up the place for quite some time, but since your mind has been caught up with other priorities that shifted away from simple house care—

“i can’t. i can’t afford to.” 

“there’s always other ways to make money. you can ask—” 

“i’m not asking mina,” you say firmly. “i’d rather sleep with jihyo than ask mina for anything.” 

tzuyu smirks and takes a step back with her palms up, held open in surrender. “it’s a good thing it’s just dinner than, right?” 

“yeah. just dinner,” you say. it’s as much as a reminder to yourself, and does little to calm your nerves. but it’s the truth, that’s the good thing about it. if she expected anything more, she would’ve mentioned it by now.

“okay,” tzuyu beams, hands on her hips, grinning again. “let’s help you get ready.” 

your uber—graciously paid by tzuyu—drops you off at the four seasons at exactly 8 o’clock; just when jihyo said she’d be there. 

you mumble a thank you to your driver as you step out, pulling your coat tighter around you. the dress beneath was black, the hem would just be a few inches above your knees, and tight. tiger than you thought it would be, but should’ve expected given who the owner is. you had always been slim, but your hips and breasts are—full, is a word for it. you’ve blossomed at seventeen and had a history of finding bras your size since then. 

tzuyu and shuhua, both tall and rail-thin, built like haute couture models. thus, the lent dress give to you would fit more snugly on you than you initially hoped, pulling tight across your hips, pushing your brasts up farther than you’re comfortable with. you feel like you’ve been put out on display, and the thought follows you as you steps inside the ritzy hotel, bundling up in the pit of her stomach like a coil: a woman who’s owned.

you want to vomit on the gleaming marble. 

the nice lady behind the front desk directs you to the restaurant after asking. when you walk away, you wonder if she can sens the anxiety and desperation wafting off of you, the fear. and if she did notice, what does she think? are girls in her situation common? do they all look the way that you do, with their cheap shoes and expensive dresses, hand-me-downs from nicer women? are they older? younger? you can’t fathom it. something being younger and doing this. 

when you walk into the restaurant, a sharply-dressed hostess in all black greets you with a smile. “hello, ma’am. are you meeting someone?” 

“yes, i have a reservation,” you say. it comes out in a breathless rush. “park jihyo. she said to come at 8. she might be here already?” 

“let’s see.” she walks behind the podium and picks up an ipad, tapping it. she scrolls down, brows furrowing, before looking at you. “oh okay. i do see a park jihyo here but she hasn’t checked in yet.” 

“oh,” you breathe, trying to ignore the rush of overwhelming relief. “can i…do i wait for her at the table?” 

she offers a sympathetic frown. “unfortunately, i can’t sit you until i get proof of ID from the person who made the reservation. it’s to prevent people from stealing other people’s tables.” 

“oh. um, do i leave?” 

“you can sit at the bar if you want?” she says, gesturing towards it. “i’m sure you’ll be waiting for just a few minutes anyway.” 

you nod and send a tight smile in thanks, walking towards the bar, angleed against the other side of the restaurant. like everything else in the hotel, it’s disgustingly opulent. the counters are a dark, shiny marble, as black as onyx. the tall stools have golden legs, the cushions soft and leathery when you move to sit atop it. a beautiful woman smiles at you while you settle in. to your relief, there are very few patrons around you. 

“hi. can i get you anything?” 

you consider it for a moment. drinking wasn’t the plan. and you were always a lightweight, and you don’t want anything in your system that could impede her decision making. but…

“a lemon drop, please?” 

she nods and moves towards the drinks, mixing with a quick, effortless efficiency that fascinates you, as eager for distraction as you were right now. the martini finds it’s place down in front of you, and you smile, fiddling with the straw. “i was a bartender for a little bit, you know?” 

“were you?” 

“yeah. i switched to waitressing, though.” 

“oh, really?” her eyes dart down to her fancy dress, alight with curiosity. you try not to blush. “you came here for a nice date then?” 

“um—” 

just then, an older woman sitting a few chairs down snaps at her, calling for her attention. she sends you an apologetic smile before stepping away. you sigh and take a bracing sip of your lemon drop, trying to pace yourself. 

you don’t. 

half an hour later, you’re still sitting at the bar, your second lemon drop in front of you, and more than a litte woozy. the bartender—seulgi, your new friend—stands on the other side of you, drying a crystal cup with a rag, as much of a cliche as she is. 

“do you want me to call a taxi?” she asks, concerned. 

“i think my friend irene would like you,” you say, sitting forward; her question doesn’t register. “she’s got black hair, and a bit shorter compared to you–” you’re holding your hand out and waving it around, slightly above your own head- “she’s really cute.” 

“i’m glad you think so,” she says dryly. “i don’t recall asking for a matchmaker, but—” 

“a lot of us don’t ask for a lot of things, but we get them anyway.” 

“that’s a bit of striking honesty.” 

“well.” you swivel in your chair a little bit, resentful. “my cousin always says that i’m a gloomy brat with a big mouth.” 

“and does your cousin live here? can he or she pick you up?” 

“no,” you pout. “she lives, like, two hours away. i came here for school.” 

“okay, what about your friend irene? can she pick you up?” 

“she’s probably sleeping or studying,” you say, wiving her off. a thought strikes you then, and you smile. “you wanna meet her, don’t you? i can give you her instagram.” 

she drops her elbows onto the counter and states at you. finally, seulgi shrugs. “yeah, let me see.” 

your smile widens and you reach for your coat, now rumpled from when you carelessly tossed it onto the chair next to you after getting overheated. you pull out your phone and quickly scroll through your messages. nothing from jihyo yet, but you expected that, having long since gotten the feeling that you’ve been stood up; not that you really mind. you mourn the money more than anything else. it’s why you haven’t left. 

“here,” you say, once you switched to instagram. “this is her username, renebaebae. you should message her.” 

“i might,” seulgi says, winking at you, before turning over her head. she straightens up, once again slipping into a professional veneer. “hi, welcome. can i get you anything?” 

curious, you turn over, blinking when you notice a woman sitting just a chair away from you. she’s thrown her suit jacket off and has her sleeves rolled up. her eyes follow the length of her toned forearm, lingering on her silver rolex, before moving up again, from the broad stretch of her back to the locks of brown hair. you only stop when you notice that she’s caught you, brown eyes twinkling, the flash of them almost fox-like. 

she has a whiskey in front of her. they’re alone. seulgi had journeyed down the other end of the bar. 

“do you need something?” she asks. 

“no.” you take another sip of your lemon drop, just to keep from looking at her. 

she doesn’t offer the same courtesy. “are you drunk?” 

“no,” you sputter. “obviously not.” 

she hums, disbelievingly and glances at the chair between you, as if in silent permission. you dip your chin and she moves into it, throwing her jacket onto the counter. if you inhale, you can smell her perfume: a rich, dark scent that settles into the pit of your stomach, slow-moving and warm. rich. her watch gleams beneath the golden lights, like her shiny oxford heels and the cuff-links she carelessly tossed into her pocket. she must feel at home here in the grotesque palace of wealth. you wonder if she can smell the fraud wafting off of you, thick as the victoria’s secret perfume you spritzed on just hours before. 

“are you on a date?” 

“no.” a wave of defensiveness rises up, bolstered by resentment, and the alcohol does little to dampen its sting. “and you? why are you here?” 

“i’m drinking,” she says, and takes another swig. your eyes flicker down to the line of her throat as she swallows. when you look back up, her lips quirk. “i had a meeting.” 

“a meeting? at the four seasons?” she really is rich. 

“no, a meeting at the new york-presbyterian hospital and then dinner at the four season. my co-workers are a bunch of old men who fall asleep at 9:30 so i decided to get drunk instead of joining them.” 

“you’re a doctor?” 

“trama surgeon. you?” 

“waitress,” you say dimly, ignoring the flush that warms your cheeks. you hastily add, “and i go to school here. finishing up my undergrad, actually.” 

“nice.”

you lean into your palm, staring at her. “you look very young to be a doctor.”

“so everybody keeps telling me.” 

“how old are you?” 

brown eyes cut to you, sharp like a knife and mirthful in a way you can only describe as mean. “are you sure you’re not on a date?” 

your flush spreads, hot beneath your skin, and you look away from her, taking another swig of the martini. you caught her meaning and you’re not sure if you actually like it, if she’s making fun of you. 

after a beat of tense silence, she sighs and shifts closer, pressing her wrist lightly against her own. 

“twenty-nine,” she says, “and my name is minatozaki sana.” 

roughly about seven or eight years, you think. not that old or too old for that matter. “my name is y/n.” 

“y/n.” and you never knew your name could feel like a caress in someone else’s mouth, but it does. “it’s nice to meet you.” 

“you too.” 

seulgi passes by you again, getting another whiskey for sana and a third lemon drop for you. you can sense that she’s reluctant to give it to you, and you know that you should be mindful of how expensive this tab can be, but you don’t care. after today, with the stress and fear and the adrenaline constantly pumping in your veins, you’ve lost the ability to; you’re numb. 

and so you ignore it. “wanna take shots with me?” 

“you’re really trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” 

“aren’t you?” 

“it usually takes a bit more than two whiskeys and a shot to do me in.” 

“so no?”

“how much have you racked up on this tab y/n?” sana asks, and you visibly stifle a wince. “three lemon drop martinis. that’s probably over a hundred fucking dollars, knowing this place. why the hell would you go to the four seasons to get drunk anyway?” 

the tone is definitely something you don’t like, the patronizing color to it. it makes you reckless. “i was invited.” 

“by who?” 

“someone that isn’t here.” 

“so you are on a date.” 

“no.” 

“then who invited you here?” 

“someone.” 

“a man? woman? probably someone your age.” 

you huff a bitter laugh and take another sip of the martini. “not my age exactly.” 

“so older.” it’s not a question but a statement, and she leans back in her stool, eyes flat. “not a date, but you—some random, pretty-grad student—were invited to the four seasons by someone older than you. i’m assuming or man or woman?” 

“mhm, a woman.”

“can i ask you a personal question?”

“you already have been.” 

“why did you agree to come?” 

why else? you’re pondering. “money.” 

she stares at you for a few seconds. you keep waiting for the disgust to bleed in, or the judgment, or—if worse really happens let alone the unthinkable—the excitement for your perceived vulnerable, but she gives you none of that. instead, she curses softly under her breath and sits up, carding a hand through her brown hair. “that sucks,” she says, looking at you. the intensity of her sympathy startles you. “i’m sorry.” 

“i-it’s okay.” 

“she’s terrible for doing that, what a piece of shit. it’s rare these days how women act like that. even crazier that some can’t find real love on their own so they look for it in people like you. the ones that can’t say no.” 

“i don’t think she wants love from me.” 

her mouth thins, fist clenching atop the counter. “you mean sex?” 

your eyes widen. “no, not sex.” 

“then what is it?” 

“company,” you say. “dinner. sometimes they’ll pay you for it. it’s all over the internet.” 

“yeah, said by fucking liars. what woman is signing up to be a sugar mommy so that she can take a girl that looks like you out for just fucking dinner? how does that make any sense?” 

you’re squirming in your seat, nearly cringing at the discomfort. sana’s saying everything that you’ve been trying to ignore for a week straight, and suddenly, you hate yourself for thinking that you could be so naive. that you have the privilege to be, like tzuyu.

“i—” 

“did you drive here?” 

“what?” 

she stands up, reaching for her suit jacket. a pang of mourning shoots through you when you realize that she’s leaving. “did you drive here?”

“no. my friend ordered an uber for me.” 

sana nods and looks over to seulgi, gesturing for her to come over. she whispers something to her, a request to her tab, probably, before looking back down on you. 

“what time was your date?” 

“eight o’clock.” 

“i think you’ve been stood up.”

“i know.” 

she shrugs the jacket on, fiddling with the cufflinks. she looks disheveled, but in a way that seems purposeful. enticing. seulgi hands her a black booklet, and sana pulls her wallet out. you glance away form her, always awkward around money. 

“you probably shouldn’t talk to this girl again.” 

“wasn’t planning on it.” 

“you should also delete the…app—? she raises an eyebrow at you. you nod—”that you met her on. shit’s already sketchy as it is.” 

“i know.” 

sana steps back, and you bite your tongue, just in case. 

"it's nice to meet you, y/n. maybe i'll see you around?"

unlikely but you’re entertaining with the idea, dipping your chin an acknowledgement because you’re still too afraid to speak. she turns on her heel, and you watch her, eyes following her back until she’s disappeared from sight. you’re hitting the one eighty to face seulgi, only to falter when you notices the black booklet in front of you. “am i cut off?” 

“yup,” seulgi says, a smile playing on her lips.

you brace yourself as you slowly open the bill, cringing away from it like it can hurt her. however, it’s not the sight of an exorbitant price that greets you, but a wad of cash; hundreds of dollars. more than that.

and a series of numbers are written on the receipt, with a note on the bottom, penned in a somewhat elegant writing that shows a sliver of sharp intelligence.

“for subjecting you to an interrogation when you were trying to get drunk. good luck with school.— sana.”

“she left me a hefty tip too. for both of you,” she says, smirking at you. “you must’ve made a very lasting impression.” 

a close of the hand slams the booklet, and your eyes were unseeing. 

five hundred dollars. 

you’re counting five hundred dollars. 

five hundred. now 480 from the twenty you forked over to your uber driver on the way home. but five hundred dollars, given to you by a veritable stranger, along with—

the receipt is in your handbag, not messing with the thought of throwing it away. if not for her company, then for her generosity. and you really should call her; to thank her, send the money back, ask why the hell would she bother throwing that much money away on a poor, drunk woman wallowing away at a bar. jesus christ almi—

the trill of your phone startles you, ducking your head while you’re scrambling to the couch to yank it from your purse. tzuyu’s smile flashes at you from the screen, and you sigh deeply before bringing the phone to your ear. “hello?” 

“hello,” she says, voice pitched in a lilting sing-song. “‘i’m with shuhua and you’re on speaker. say hi.”

“hi, shua.” 

“sup, y/n.”

tzuyu chimes again, “so, how was it?”

“uh,” you glance down at your handbag again, at the wad of cash sticking up from the top of it. your pulse jumps. “it went alright.” 

“was jihyo as scary as you thought she would be?”

she, well- uh– she never showed up.” 

“what!?” you scrunch up your shoulders at the screech. “what do you mean she never showed up?” 

“i got stood up.”

“oh, beb. i’m so sorry.” 

“it’s fine.”

“so it ended up being all for nothing?” shuhua asks, appalled. “you got all dressed up and went down to one of the most expensive hotels in the city for fucking nothing? you’re still broke?”

tzuyu shrieks again, this time shushing in scolding, but you huff a laugh instead of getting offended, still reeling in disbelief.

“not for nothing.” you mumble out. and the line stays quiet on their end. “what did you say, honey?” 

“not for nothing.” you repeat, louder. “i…i met someone, and she…” 

“and she what?” 

saying it out loud wouldn’t make it make sense, but you force the words out in vain hope. “she gave me five hundred bucks.” 

the other end went silent again, clearly digesting this, seeing what they can make from it. that is, until shuhua barks out a mean laugh and asks, “don’t tell me you got on your knees for her or something?” 

“shua!” 

“it’s an honest question! what kind of old, rich woman gives a girl money for free unless she’s actually interested in?”

“i didn’t—” the lump in your throat rises while the heat flushes your cheeks. “nothing happened between us. we just talked. and she isn’t old.” 

“...is she cute?” 

you’re thinking of sana’s strong side profile, rolled up sleeves, and the low registered tone along with the bite of her tongue. “yes.” 

“so if nothing happened, why did she give you money?” shuhua asks.

“i don’t know,” you reply softly, pulling up your knees to hug them. “i think…she just felt bad for me.” 

“felt bad for you? what makes you say that?” 

“i told her why i was there, pretty much. she seemed bothered by it.” 

“if god was a woman,” tzuyu says, a smile in her voice, and despite her generosity, you don’t even know if you’d consider sana your saving grace; there was an intensity to her, to her kindness that belied normal human decency. you can’t even tell if she’d do it for anyone else. 

but if that were the case, why you the? what did you do to earn that kind of attention?

“well, i think there’s something else happening that y/n is telling us,” shuhua says bluntly. “i don’t see why she’d be that nice otherwise.”

tzuyu hums along in agreement, considering. “what do you think, y/n?” 

“i don’t know either, if i knew exactly the i would’ve told you.” 

“maybe it’d be worth taking into account asking her then? let your curiosity get the best of you.” 

you’re reaching for your handbag, pulling the crumpled receipt from it, smoothing your thumb over the fine printed calligraphy of sana’s name. 

“maybe i will.” you whisper. 

later after the call, you text her while you’re tucking yourself into bed, hoping that it’ll be late enough that she won’t immediately respond. the nervousness and confusion rumbling in your head to even go forward into speaking to sana. you toss your phone on the nightstand and turn over, willing not-so-tired body to sleep. 

the hope diminsieses very quickly. phone vibrating for a few seconds to make you jump up, reaching over. you’re tapping at the unsaved contact and click on the text, trembling. your own message flashes at you innocently, and you just want to throw your phone into the toilet or damn fire: hi! this is y/n. the girl you met at the bar tonight. do you remember? 

sn: 

hey. and yeah i do. 

y/n:

cool! your thumbs hover over the touchscreen. unfortunately, i think you might’ve accidentally left something with me. 

sn: 

it wasn’t an accident. 

y/n: 

oh, you think, typing away. i’im so sorry, and thank you so much for your kindness, but i can’t accept that. 

sn: 

why not? 

y/n: 

it’s too much money and you’re a stranger. i can’t ask that of you.

sn: 

you don’t owe me anything. 

a second passes before she adds: can i call you? 

your heart skyrockets up to the opening in your throat while your adrenaline spikes. for a moment, you want to say no. you don’t know if you can handle it, hearing her voice after she’s done you such unnecessary kindness. but it’s the thought that loops around and convinces you: sana gave you five hundred dollars. the least that you can do is have a damn conversation about it. 

yes.

your phone rings just seconds after you’ve pressed send, and you take a deep, steadying breath, willing your heart to slow it’s pace. you pick up. “hello?” 

“hey.” 

the low timbre of her voice makes your breath hitch. she sounds like she’s been sleeping. like she woke up for you. 

“you wanted to talk?” 

“well, you did. mostly.” you can hear a slight rustling on the other line. her shuffling in bed. “you said something about owing me.” 

“i can’t,” you say firmly. “i’d have to repay you, and as you can guess, i’m not made of money right now—” 

“i didn’t give you that because i though you would owe me something. to be honest, i didn’t know if i had a chance in hell of seeing you again. i was trying to be nice.” 

“and i appreciate it, but i can’t accept it. five hundred dollars is a lot of money, and—” 

“i’m a surgeon.” 

“which is how i know you’ve worked hard for it. i’m sorry, sana, but i can’t accept it.” 

“does anyone do nice things for you?” 

you blink, “what?” 

“you just seem to have a hard time accepting kindness.” 

“i…i don’t…” 

“fine,” she huffs. “i’m not gonna force you to keep anything you can’t accept.” 

“can i give it back to you?” 

“i was thinking more along the lines of: you could toss the cash in a fire if you want it—” 

“no,” you say, horrified. “i want to give it back to you.” 

silence lingers on sana’s end. your pulse roars in your eardrums and your fingers are gripping the sheets. you have this distinct feeling that you’re dangling over the precipice, waiting for the ball to be dropped. 

“how about you meet me for lunch?” 

“huh?” 

“lunch. tomorrow afternoon at 2.” 

“i…um…”

“or i can give you my mailing address and you can ship it back to me. whatever you want.” 

“are you asking me out?” 

her voice comes in lower, barely over a rumble over the crack of the speakers. deliberate. “if you’re okay with it.” 

you remember sana at the bar, under the dim golden lights. how she leaned into you when you spoke, how she listened, the geunine sympathy in her eyes when you told her why you were there. the way you mourned the loss of her when she left, with an intensity to it that startled you. 

answering in a breathless rush. “lunch. i-i’d like to go to lunch. with you.” 

“cool.” you can hear her smile. “i’ll text you tomorrow?” 

“yes.” 

“okay. see you then.” 

“see you.” you whisper, and drop your phone once she hung up. about two seconds pass before you pick it up frantically, dialing shuhua’s number. 

she sounds annoyed, plus a giggle is heard in the background. she and tzuyu were definitely hooking up. “what?!”

“shua! i need another one of your dresses!” 

half an hour before your date, sana texts you: “there’s been an emergency at work. i got called in.” 

you, on the other hand, was in the middle of drawing a very sharp wing, not caring for the falling eyeliner when you reach for you phone, frowning. 

y/n: 

huh!? what happened? 

sn: 

one of the other surgeons had a heart attack this morning so i had to fill in for him

it’s been a shitty day. 

y/n: 

i’m sorry :( 

a fleeting attempt to stave off the wave of disappointment that threatens to consume you, feeling ridiculous for it. childish. 

but it’s not so childish however, to keep you from typing, “will you have to cancel? :(“ 

sn: 

for lunch, yeah. but i was thinking we can reschedule for dinner? 

y/n: 

will you be able to get out by then? 

sn: 

my supervisor said i can expect to be out by 6. i can pick you up at 8:30 if you want? 

you press a finger to your lips, smothering a smile. 

y/n: 

i’d love that. 

sana’s reply comes a second later. 

sn: 

i’ll see you then. 

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I want to start running...any tips?

I WAS BORN TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION. Thank you so much for asking! Unfortunately, I am a nerd about my hobbies so this got quite long.

Keep it simple ✨

Running is easy to get into; our bodies are built for it. Don’t stress over technicalities and just do what feels natural to you. My local races are full of 70-something white-haired pensioners who are kicking ass at it. Don’t let anyone tell you that running is meant to feel like dying, that’ll harm your knees, or that you absolutely need to have that specific smartwatch model to get into it. All you need is a solid pair of shoes, everything else is optional.

Medium effort is the way to go

The ideal aerobic running pace is a speed at which you’re able to hold a conversation, even if a bit winded. NO faster. If you’re able to sing along to your playlist or chat with a friend, that’s your ideal running pace. If you’re gasping or wheezing, slow down! You’ll get a bit faster as your lung capacity gets better, but that shouldn’t be a priority unless you want to train for a race. You get most of the health benefits of running just by keeping up a steady, sustainable, conversational pace.

Walking breaks are fine, actually

That’s the reason why I don’t love C25K as a beginner program — the way it’s structured sort of implies that walking breaks are something you should grow out of to become a more experienced runner. If you need to walk for a bit, go ahead.

If possible, jogging is preferable, just because the mechanics of even a glacial-pace jog are more similar to running than those of a faster power walk, so you might try switching to a jog after a bit of a walking interval. But walking is not a failure; there are serious marathon training plans out there that use walk/run intervals as a viable strategy.

(Related: picking up speed helps you keep going! If you feel like you are completely drained, try speeding up for a very short interval, then slowing back down. It’ll often give you an energy boost to keep going)

Run for time, not distance ⌚

Especially for beginners, I find that getting fixated on numbers can be counter productive, and the most important thing is to listen to your body. If you’re aiming to hit a certain mileage, you might get the urge to speed up at the end to get done faster. Instead, set yourself time-based goals and end every run with a cool down jog or walk.

SHOES!! 👟

Good running shoes are essential, and pretty much the only fitness-related purchase on which I’ll always support dropping money. If you get to the point where you’re consistently running 10 km (6 miles) each week, you’ll want to go to a running store — the kind of place where you’ll get fitted, and they’ll have you try on models and jog on a treadmill to evaluate your gait and let you know which characteristics your ideal shoe needs. I can’t stress enough how useful running store staff can be. They’re all running club nerds who LOVE getting new people into running, and they really want to help you find your ideal fit. Also get good running socks while you’re at it.

Be prepared to drop at least 100€ (or equivalent currency) but they usually have a great return policy if the model isn’t a good fit for you. Take care of your running shoes — maintenance, wearing them only for running, gentle cleansing etc — and the cushioning will last for quite a while (600km / 370miles at least). If you decide that you hate running, they’re still great for walking around. Once you find your ideal shoe model, it gets a lot easier to shop for it during end-of-season sales, or looking for online bargains etc. I love stocking on end-of-series shoes and rotating them so they’ll last even longer, and I buy online quite often! Just make sure your FIRST pair is fitted, for ideal injury prevention and joint health.

Injury prevention 💪

I’d love to still be running 10k races when I’m 70, but it takes some care to get there. When you run, you’re slamming your body weight up and down with every stride, and that might be hard on your joints if you’re not used to it. If you’re completely new to running, cap your runs at 15/20 minutes every other day. Do that even if you feel like you could keep going! If you have a good aerobic base already, you need to give your joints time to catch up with you lung capacity, and give your body time to recover. Do bodyweight exercises like lunges and planks and glute bridges to strengthen your core, legs, and hips. Dynamic stretches are great for warmups, and static stretches are better for cooling down. If you have the option, running on softer surface like grass or dirt is better than asphalt, which is better than concrete and pavements.

(If nothing of what I’ve said here makes sense to you, shoot me another ask, or look at some of the resources I’ve linked down below!)

Don't get bored! 🎶

I love running in groups. Running clubs are great. You can learn so much in a hands-on way from seriously experienced people, you can chat about gossip over a running job, and you can make some interesting friends. If you don’t have access to a running community, then personally I love just chilling on a run by myself listening to an audiobook or podcast or exploring a certain area.

Running form❓

Don’t stress about it. Just go out and move your body. Attempting to modify your ‘running form’ too quickly can do more harm than good. There ARE a few things you could pay attention to — I recommend trying to focus on one of these at a time for a minute or so, and alternate between them. After a while, it’ll start to feel natural to keep track of all of them:

1. Don’t slouch! But a slight lean forward is great.

2. Keep your shoulders pulled down and your upper back tense.

3. Swinging your arms in a way that helps with your stride is good, but I shouldn’t feel forced.

4. Even breaths, inhaling through your mouth and expiring through your nose.

5. Take turns to check with every part of your body, and relax them in turn: are your jaw and neck too tense? Are your fists tight?

6. Don’t overstride! shorter strides with quicker leg turnover are better than huge strides that feel awkward to you.

7. Use your glutes to drive up the motion of your legs, not just your quads. This can take a while to get used to, but it’s a game-changer.

8. ENGAGE YOUR CORE. This is a great skill to develop whether you work out or are just existing in the world — basically, let your inner abdominal muscles help you carry your weight forward. This is VERY intuitive once you know how to do it, but it’s hard to get a grasp of it if you don’t know what it means, so here are some resources about it.

an extremely fucking comprehensive article that improved my life and eased my big-boobs back pain

similar content but in video form

a running-specific form video

Personally, learning to do this made me feel like I unlocked a superpower. Go forth and brace.

Accessories and tips 🤓

Like I said above, the only thing I really suggest spending money on for real is running shoes. Everything else is details! However, I’m nothing if not wordy I have Thoughts about those details, too.

Run tracking: I suggest downloading Runkeeper if you want to keep track of your runs — it’s free, intuitive, and solid! If you decide to get into wearables, a low-level Garmin >>>>> anything else.

Self-care: use sunscreen and/or thick face cream as needed. Stop to sip at a public fountain if needed. Get a small fanny pack to hold your phone, keys, or lip balm if needed. If chafing is an issue, anti-glide gel is relatively affordable.

Outfits etc: I get all my running gear and clothes from Decathlon — they are in most countries and ship worldwide. I especially love this thermal shirt for colder weather

Safety: if you’re running on the road, make sure to run in the opposite direction from traffic and to wear something bright. If you run with headphones near traffic, keep the volume down, or get over-the-ear conductor headsets. I love shokz, they're fantastic.

Post-run snack: eating something small and carb-heavy within 30 mins of a workout is great for kickstarting recovery. I love dried fruit personally.

Various resources 📝

Routine basics: check out the r/running order of operations, which is a great “how to” guide to building a basic running routine. I also recommend that subreddit's wiki! Running programming gets exponentially more involved the more advanced you get, etc — if you ever have any questions, hit me up!

Dynamic stretching warmup: a quick leg swing workout to get your legs ready to go. If you’re feeling overachieving, here’s a lunge warmup routine and a how-to bodyweight squat video.

Cooldown routine! Check out Strength and Mobility, a great post-run quick cooldown routine that includes some bodyweight exercises to strengthen your hips and core. Video included.

that's all, folks! 🏃‍♀️

Sorry I got carried away! I love running. I love getting people into running. My mental health, cardiovascular system and my popping quads also love running. But FYI, some people hate running and that's also fine! If you decide it’s not for you, find something you like more. There are a lot of misconceptions out there and a lot of guilt-tripping and body shame-y rhetoric around exercising, especially aimed at women, and I want to make clear it’s all bullshit. Just have fun <3