#misplaced and missing commas

[spareham]

here some more unedited gemdev ... gemma...

[sapphic-won]

genuinely tragic that poor punctuation makes things fully fucking illegible to me

[hrts4-jay]

✘☙Romantic Solitude❧✘

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Reader(Yunji)

cw: 3.1k words (yes, I was desperate.)

A/N: listen to Call Out My Name by The Weeknd while reading this ;)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

The air in Kanghak High School hangs thick and heavy. Every corner holds a potential ambush, every glance a challenge or a dismissal. You were just like a ghost, a shadow hugging the edges, hoping to remain unseen. Your uniform is neat, your gaze fixed on the worn covers of the book clutched in your hands.

You. A shy, quiet, the kind of 'loser' who is easy to overlook. And that’s exactly how you like it. Your life exists between the pages of novels and the lonely, cavernous rooms of your parents’ mansion. They provide the privilege that affords you a place in this brutal school, Their indifference makes you feel completely alone.

Your routine is a carefully constructed defense: arrive early, jot down notes, find an empty corner in the library or a deserted classroom, read until the bell, attend classes keeping your head down, leave immediately. Avoid eye contact. Avoid crowds. Avoid them.

They are the Union, The leaders of the school’s social and physical environment..

And he is their leader, Geum Seongje.

You’ve seen him, of course. Everyone has. He’s impossible to miss. Broad-shouldered even under the loose uniform jacket, a face that could be handsome if not for the permanent set of his jaw, his smile. And the cold, calculating glint in his eyes. His reputation precedes him like a wave of fear – brutal, efficient, utterly merciless.

Today, your carefully constructed peace shatters.

You’re in the library, nestled in a back corner, lost in a scene where the finally confesses his tormented feelings. The world outside the pages has vanished. That’s your gift, or maybe your curse – total immersion.

The worn pages of your romance novel trembled in your hands. You huddled deeper into the corner of the Kanghak High School library, This place is a peaceful escape from the hectic life at school.

Another stolen moment, another page turned, another fictional love affair devoured. Your heart fluttered as the characters confessed their undying devotion. You, Yunji, the shy, bookish girl who blended into the background like a misplaced comma.

A shadow fell across your book. You flinched, startled, and looked up.

Geum Seongje.

Your breath caught in your throat. You scrambled to close the book, the lurid cover suddenly feeling like an open confession of your most embarrassing secret.

"What are you reading?" His voice was a low rumble, He was undeniably teasing you, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk that danced across his face, revealing a playful glint in his eyes.

You stammered, "N-nothing. Just… studying."

He didn't seem convinced. He reached out, his fingers, calloused and violent, brushing against your hand as he plucked the book from your grasp.

Your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird.

He examined the cover, a slow smile spreading across his lips. The smile didn't reach his eyes. "Romance, huh? You seem like the type." he laughed. This is so embarrassing.

He knew. He knew the kind of stories you lost yourself in, the fantasies that entertained your sleepless nights. Shame burned in your cheeks.

He didn't say anything more, just handed the book back to you. As he turned to leave, he paused, his shoulder blocking the sunlight.

"See you around, Yunji."

The way he said your name, like a secret promise, made your skin crawl. It wasn't a friendly farewell; it was a claim.

The suggestiveness, the sheer audacity of the implied comparison, makes your breath catch. You just stare at him, wide-eyed.

The tension in the air doesn't dissipate immediately; it lingers. You watch his retreating back, the way his shoulders shift under the uniform jacket. Shit, even his back looks good. Only when he’s gone do you dare exhale. Your heart is still racing.

The encounter is brief, maybe two minutes at most, but it lodges itself in your mind. Why did he approach you? Why the questions? How does he know your name?

For the rest of the day, you find yourself constantly scanning the hallways, anticipating another encounter. Every shadow seems to lengthen, taking on his form. You jump at sudden noises. You’re walking down a crowded hallway between classes, your book once again your shield. The usual chaotic energy of the school is intensified here – shouts, laughter, shoving.

Suddenly, the crowd parts like the Red Sea. Seongje is coming towards you, his minions trailing behind him like a dark cloud. He doesn’t shift from his path. He walks straight through, demanding space with his presence.

You freeze. Instinct tells you to step aside, press yourself against the lockers, disappear. But you’re caught in his direct line.

He reaches you. His gaze, cool and possessive, locks onto yours. He doesn't stop or slow down. His shoulder brushes yours as he passes, a deliberate, almost gentle contact in the midst of the hallway's rough and tumble.

It’s just a touch, fleeting and seemingly accidental, but it feels like a brand. His touch lingers on your skin for a moment, electric and unnerving. He doesn't look back. He just keeps walking, leaving you trembling slightly against the lockers, the hallway noise washing over you as you try to regain your composure.

He’s marking you. That’s what it feels like. A quiet, public declaration of interest that you never wanted.

The small interactions don't stop. They become a new, scary pattern in your school life.. He doesn't corner you again in the library, but you catch his eye from across the cafeteria, a long, assessing stare that makes you drop your fork. You would see him lean against the wall near your classroom door, watching you as you leave, his arms crossed, that unreadable expression on his face. He doesn't speak, doesn't approach. He just is there, a constant, looming presence.

It’s psychological warfare. He’s letting you know he sees you. He’s letting you know he's interested. And in the world of Kanghak, the Union leader's interest in a 'loser' like you isn't flattering; it's an intro to trouble.

One afternoon, as you're hurrying towards the school gate, desperate to escape the oppressive atmosphere, a voice calls out your name.

"Yunji."

It's Seongje. He's leaning against his motorcycle, parked near the school gates, a picture of casual menace. His minions are scattered nearby, keeping a respectful distance, their eyes on him, periodically sweeping over the other students hurrying past. Everyone gives him a wide space.

You stop, your heart sinking. There’s no ignoring him here.

He pushes himself off the bike, walking towards you with that predatory stride. "Where are you rushing off to?" He asks with a smirk, a cig between his teeth.

"Home," you say, your voice quiet. You grip your bookbag strap tightly.

He stops a few feet away, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His eyes travel over you, lingering on your face, then moving down your body in a way that makes you acutely aware of your skin beneath your clothes. It's the 'pervert' gaze you’ve heard whispers about, though directed at you now, the intensity of it making you feel exposed and vulnerable.

"Home," he repeats, eyes dropping to the ground, his voice dropping slightly, becoming more intimate, more private, despite the public setting.

"Such a boring place." He steps closer, reaching out. Your instinct is to recoil, but you hold still, frozen by fear and a strange, morbid curiosity.

He doesn't touch you. Instead, his fingers lightly brush your hair, pushing a stray strand behind your ear. The gesture is deceptively gentle, but his eyes are still hard, possessive.

He lets his hand drop, but his fingers linger near your face for a moment too long before falling away.

The message is clear: I see you. I want your attention. I want you out here, where I can reach you.

He takes another step closer, closing the remaining distance. He’s right in front of you now, your personal space completely obliterated. You have to tilt your head back slightly to look at him. His gaze holds yours, intense, demanding.

"You need a ride?" His lips curl into a smirk, and his voice drops to a sultry whisper, laced with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine.

You pause, the invitation hanging in the air like a thick fog. Should I accept this offer? A wave of exhaustion washes over you, making the idea of surrendering to his charm all the more tempting.

He raises a hand again, this time letting his fingers trace the line of your jaw, his touch surprisingly light, almost feather-like, yet sending jolts of pure dread through you. You feel trapped, cornered, even here, on the edge of the school grounds. Yet part of you wants more.

His thumb moves slightly, just barely brushing your lips. You can feel the rough skin, the calluses from countless fights, surprisingly gentle against your soft skin. It's an incredibly intimate gesture, made all the more disturbing by the predatory look in his eyes.

"You're pretty when you blush," he says, his gaze fixed on your face. "Like you're hiding something." His voice drops further, becoming a low, unsettling purr. "I like secrets, Yunji. Especially when I'm the only one who gets to uncover them."

His eyes move down again, lingering on your chest, then back up to your face. The 'pervert' aspect isn't just in his gaze; it's in the way he uses his power, his position, to make you feel vulnerable, to assert his creepy dominance, wrapping his desire in layers of threat and possession.

He leans in closer until his breath brushes your ear. "Don't run away anymore," he whispers, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "I don't like it when you try to hide from me."

He straightens up abruptly, the intimacy of the moment snapping. He gives you one last, lingering look, that possessive spark bright in his eyes.

"Will you take the offer or not?" he says, his voice back to that casual tone, but the underlying threat remains.

You remain rooted to the spot, trembling. The scent of him seems to linger in the air. You touch your jaw where he touched you, your lips where his thumb brushed. It feels unreal, a scene ripped from a dark, twisted romance novel, but terrifyingly real.

You cleared your throat. “I-I’ll go with you.” You said with no regrets.

He nods slightly, turning to stride confidently back to his motorcycle. You trail closely behind him, a little girl caught up in the thrill of the moment. The engine roars to life, echoing in the air and sending a thrill down your spine, a powerful reminder of the freedom that awaits on the open road.

He didn't just notice you. He's claimed you. In his own possessive, unsettling way.

You climb onto his motorcycle, the engine purring beneath you as you settle into the plush, leather seat. He carefully places the helmet atop your head, his warm hand gently patting the exterior as if to ensure a secure fit.

“Hold tight.” He says, starting his motorcycle. You wrapped your arms on his waist, heat creeping up in your cheeks.

The wind carries a hint of adventure, brushing through your hair as you secure your arms on his waist, feeling the vibration of the powerful machine ready to roar down the open road.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

The school gates feel less like an exit and more like the entrance to a world you've just been forced into. Your heart hammers with fear, but beneath it, a tiny, unsettling knot of something else begins to form – the terrifying realization of a feeling you didn't want to believe in.

The days that follow solidify this new reality. He doesn’t approach you at the gates again, but his presence is a constant pressure. You learn his schedule without trying. He knows where you’ll be. He doesn’t always look at you, sometimes just passing close by, a silent reminder. Other times, his gaze finds you across a crowded room, intense and unyielding, holding you captive for a moment before you manage to look away, heart pounding.

The small interactions evolve. They move from simple presence and intense gazes to more direct, unsettling gestures within the school walls.

One day, you’re sitting alone during lunch break in a deserted corner of the courtyard, trying to lose yourself in your book. You’ve barely taken a bite of your sandwich when a shadow falls over you.

It’s Seongje. He’s alone again.

He doesn't say anything. He just sits down next to you on the stone bench, his presence immediately shrinking your world. He doesn’t smile. His gaze is fixed on you, unwavering.

You stop eating. Your book lies open in your lap, forgotten. The tension stretches, heavy and awkward.

"Why’d you stop eating, hm?" he says tilting his head, his voice a low command.

When did he become such a caring person?

You hesitate, then slowly pick up your sandwich. You can feel his eyes on you as you take a small bite.

"What are you reading today?" he asks, a different tone this time, less like a demand, more… curious? Or perhaps just checking.

You show him the cover without a word. Another historical romance, and passionate, complex relationships.

He takes the book from you, your hand freezing as his brushes yours. He examines the cover, then flips through the pages idly. He doesn't seem to be reading the words, just scanning, his expression unreadable.

"Same old," he mutters, closing the book. He doesn't give it back immediately. He holds it, turning it over in his

hands. "Always escaping, huh? Don't you ever want to deal with what's in front of you?"

His eyes lift from the book to meet yours, and the intensity is back, sharper now. "Like me." He smiled widely.

Shit.

The bluntness, the sheer confidence that he is something you should be 'dealing with', is staggering. You feel a wave of heat rise to your cheeks.

"I… I just like the stories," you say softly, trying to explain, to distance yourself from the implication.

He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping. "Or maybe you like the idea of someone chasing after you. Someone who won't give up." He taps the book against his palm.

His interpretation is unsettling, twisting your simple love for reading into something about him, about his purpose. It feels invasive, like he’s looking into the private corners of your mind.

He places the book on the bench between you, but his hand stays on it, resting lightly. "This world is shit, Yunji. Those paper heroes won't protect you."

He pauses, letting the implication hang in the air. Then his voice softens, becoming alarmingly tender, a contrast to his usual roughness and the perverted possessiveness you've felt from him. It’s this switch, this unexpected softness layered over the threat, that is a bit disturbing.

"Maybe you need someone real," he murmurs, his eyes holding yours. "Someone who knows how to handle things. Someone who won't let anyone touch what's theirs." He smirks, poking his cheeks while looking at you.

Theirs. He already thinks of you in terms of possession. The neediness surfaces here, not as weakness, but as a demanding, controlling desire to own you completely. He needs to protect, to control, because in his twisted view, you are already something that belongs to him.

He covers your hand on the bench with his, his fingers warm and strong. The rough calluses are there again, a constant reminder of the violence he is capable of. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, a gesture that should be comforting or romantic in your books, but from him, feels utterly predatory and terrifyingly intimate.

"Let me take care of you," he says, his voice low, a promise and a demand intertwined. "Stop reading about it. Let me show you."

His perversion isn't just sexual; it's a form of 'love' or 'care' that is rooted in dominance, possession, and a complete disregard for your independence or feelings. He sees your vulnerability, your shyness, your escape into fantasy, and it seems to trigger a twisted instinct mixed with a potent desire to dominate and corrupt that innocence. He wants to be your reality, to fill the void left by your neglectful parents, but on his own brutal, possessive terms.

You can feel the blood pounding in your wrist under his touch. You want to pull away, to run, but you’re trapped by his gaze, by his hand holding yours captive on the bench.

"I don't… I don't need anyone to take care of me," you manage, your voice trembling slightly. It’s a lie, perhaps, or at least a desperate refusal to admit the need that makes you so vulnerable.

He smiles slightly, a slow, knowing smile that sends a chill down your spine. "Stop lying, Yunji. You know damn well." His thumb continues to stroke your hand, back and forth, a constant, unnerving contact. "I think you need me."

What a cocky asshole!

He doesn't give you time to respond. He squeezes your hand gently, possessively, then releases it. He stands up, leaving your book on the bench, but taking the silence, the peace, with him.

"Finish your lunch," he says, his tone back to normal, as if the intense, intimate interaction never happened. "Don't want you getting weak, babe." He smirks and winked at you.

He walks away, leaving you alone again, trembling, your hand tingling where his touched it. Your sandwich sits forgotten. Your book lies there, its familiar pages now feeling less like an escape and more like the reason you’ve been targeted.

The small interactions have escalated. They are no longer just glances or brief touches. They are direct confrontations, invasions of your personal space and your attempts at peace.

Seongje isn't just a looming presence anymore. He is a direct threat, a disturbing force that has fixed its sights on you, pulling you from the shadows into the harsh, dangerous light of his world. Yet part of you yearned for it.

You are caught in a story you didn't choose, with a protagonist who is brutal, demanding, and sees you not as a person with your own desires, but as an object for his twisted need and possessive protection. The pages of your romance novels offer no guidance for surviving this.

The school bell rings, a jarring sound that pulls you back to the immediate reality, but you know, with a sinking certainty, that the bell doesn't signal the end of this interaction, only a pause before the next.

Seongje's story with you has only just begun.

[todays-xkcd]

[desperately] Maybe this is from some country where they use commas as decimal points, and also as digit separators after the decimal, and also use random other characters for decoration???

Reading a Big Number [Explained]

Transcript Under the Cut

[A large number is written along the middle of the panel. Above and below the number there are 10 labels, (5 above and 5 below), and from each label a small curved line points to a part of the number. There is a heading above the top labels:] Thought process while reading a big number:

[The number is continuing off the edge of the comic to the right, the last digit is missing about a third:] 54,000,000,000,000,000,000,0000,0000,054,000"000,00c2ef46

[The labels are listed below in the reading order as from where the small lines are pointing on to the number, so both those above and below the number, not first all those above. Text in the brackets indicate where on the number the line is pointing:]

[To the first two numbers before the first comma, label above the number:] 54! Great! I know that number. Solid start.

[To the first zero after the first comma, label below the number:] Oh, a comma and some zeros. Cool. Must be at least 54 thousand.

[To the second comma, label above the number:] A second comma! I wonder if we're talking population or money.

[To the third comma, label below the number:] Yikes! If this is money, it's a lot of money.

[To the fifth comma, label above the number:] Why am I reading this? Whatever this number is, I'm not going to be able to visualize it.

[To the sixth comma, label below the number:] All right, either someone made a unit conversion error or this is one of those incomprehensible astronomy numbers.

[To the middle of a group of four zeros after the seventh comma, label above the number:] Oh no. Is this a misplaced comma or an extra zero? I guess we'll see if the next group has two zeros or three. If it's two, we can at least hope the digits are right.

[To the middle of a group of four zeros after the eighth comma, label below the number:] Oh no.

[To the last two numbers of the three digits after the ninth comma, label below the number:] What is happening.

[To a quotation mark, where the eleventh comma should have been, label above the number:] Someone messed up real bad.

[To the first number in a group with mixed alphanumeric numbers, where the thirteenth comma should have been, label below the number:] Someone messed up real bad and I hope it wasn't me.

[ask-the-crimson-king]

In case anyone is curious, here's the passage itself, taken from Know No Fear.

Very much the perfectionist when it comes to his own written word and how it is proliferated.

Lest I forget since I usually draw Lorgar looking very adorable, he does do shit like gutting scribes who make grammar mistakes. Thanks to @iapetusneume who shared the excerpt!

[hotchner-edu]

I was thinking about a cute scenario where Hotch misplaces his Rolex and is kinda bummed about it but reassures his girlfriend that he’ll just get another one someday. She has been saving up to get a new car but instead uses her money to surprise Aaron with a new rolax and he’s all like 🥹🥹🥹

The thought of spoiling that man consumes me.

The Watch | Aaron Hotchner

The case of the missing Rolex came to your attention before it did to Aaron's, and you were probably more devastated about it than your boyfriend was.

"Sweetheart, it's fine. I'll just get another one soon." He tries to placate you as you practically tear through his closet. Knowing Aaron, soon meant close to never due to how hectic his work life could get.

"It's not fine!" You call out from your spot on his closet floor. "A Rolex submariner going missing should qualify as an emergency situation."

You hear Aaron chuckle fondly and come up behind you, crouching down to give you a kiss on your temple, his hands moving down to stop yours before you could claw through another stack of his folded pants. "Honey, you won't find anything there. Besides, I mean it. I'll just get a new one."

Frowning, you lean back into him and sigh as he wraps his arms around your middle and drops kisses around your face. "You stress me out." You say lightheartedly, sagging in his hold.

He lets out an affectionate laugh, his chest rumbling under your back. "I love you, too."

To the misfortune of your bank account, your love for Aaron spurred you to endlessly research the variety of Rolex series available on their website. You have to fight back a grimace at every comma in the price tags.

After logging out of your bank account app (to protect your peace), you settle on purchasing the oystersteel model which resembled the one he lost.

You ended up digging into your car savings fund to purchase the watch, but you had no regret in doing so. Although it created a bit of a dent in your efforts to replace your current car, Aaron deserved to be spoiled. Plus, you’d be receiving your next paycheck soon enough.

The watch takes a little less than a week to deliver. Taking no risks, you had the delivery fully insured and tracked the package’s movements like a hawk for days.

The hard part of the entire ordeal came with having to actually give the gift to Aaron. Of course, he wasn’t above accepting gifts, but receiving gifts that cost thousands of dollars, especially on non-holiday occasions, was something else entirely for him.

One night as he’s laying beside you, watching tiktoks with you on your phone, you decide to bite the bullet.

“Honey, did you ever find your Rolex?”

He chuckles a bit sheepishly, seemingly still a bit embarrassed to have misplaced something so valuable. “No. I think I might’ve taken it off during a case somewhere and left it in the hotel.”

Nodding, you suppress an excited smile as you suddenly sit up, causing his hands to grip your waist in surprise. “Where are we off to, sweetheart?”

“I need to pee really quick.” You say smoothly, giving him a sweet kiss. "And no, you can't come this time." He gives your ass a quick slap as you crawl out of bed, causing you to shake your head playfully as he chuckles.

Locking yourself in the bathroom, you gently open one of the sink drawers containing your skincare items. Digging to the bottom, you pull out the green leather box containing the Rolex, taking a deep breath before opening the door again.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" Aaron's voice sounds from across the room immediately, noting how fast you left the bathroom.

"I forgot something." You say and hurry toward the bed, unable to hide the giddy grin on your face.

Aaron props himself up on his arm and raises an eyebrow as you practically launch yourself back on the bed.

"For the best boyfriend in the world." You coo sweetly and extend the box toward him.

Aaron stares at you like you have three heads for a moment before frowning and carefully taking the box. "Sweetheart, you didn't have to..."

Your mood dampens a little at that and your shoulders sag. Aaron picks up on it immediately and sits up fully, eyes widened as he places the box aside and cups your face. "Thank you, really. But it must have cost a fortune, baby."

"You deserve to be spoiled, Aaron. Besides, I'm still being conscious with my money, so don't worry about it." You say, smiling when he tucks you into his chest and kisses your forehead.

"It's my job to spoil you, y'know." He grumbles playfully, squeezing your hip.

Accepting his affection, you reach for the box again and wiggle it in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, don't you want to see what I picked out for you?"

Before he opens the box, he showers you with more kisses, unable to ignore the fuzzy warmth that filled him.

"The watch, Aaron!" You protest in a fit of laughter.

He grins against your skin as he kisses your cheek. "Thanking my woman comes first."

When he finally does see the watch, he wants to just freeze time and take a picture of your expectant grin, thinking you look absolutely beautiful as you wait to see his reaction.

So while you fuss over putting the watch on for him, all he can do is stare at you lovingly and debate on whether to buy you a new car or an engagement ring first.

[dakusan]

M i n e .   S o f t l y .

SoftDom!Felix x Reader | velvet shadows, aching touches, and love laced with need

🩸synopsis: He comes back starved. Not for food. Not for sleep. For you. For the tilt of your chin when you tease. The slow curve of your smirk when you say no and mean make me. And you—You’ve been waiting too. So when the door clicks shut, it’s not a reunion. It’s a reckoning. His mouth is on your throat, his voice breaking as he begs to taste you again. He falls to his knees like he was meant to. And when he finally sinks into you—bare, breathless, trembling—he forgets everything but the sound you make when you take him whole. This isn’t about release. It’s about ownership. He doesn’t want you undone. He wants you ruined.

💌a/n: this entire piece exists because @juskz whispered the filthiest little idea into my comment section. softDom!felix was supposed to be gentle. reverent. calm. but then he said "mine" and i blacked out. also shoutout to my cat, who decided to reenact parkour olympics on my keyboard mid-thrust description. if there’s a misplaced comma, it’s because mittens decided that was the perfect moment to go feral. anyway. he wants to love you slow. and wreck you softer.

⚠️warnings: smut (MDNI), soft dom!felix, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, possessive language, praise kink, cockwarming mention, crying kink (soft tears, soft hands), slight public tension, desperate reunion sex, post-tour hunger, emotional intimacy laced with filth, aftercare so tender it might undo you.

🎶now playing: “Heaven and Back” — Chase Atlantic

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

SCENE 1: BACKSTAGE REUNION

Felix's ears were still ringing with the last notes of the encore, sweat clinging to his jaw as the stage lights finally dimmed. The crowd’s echo faded, replaced by the chaos of crew members shouting directions, mics being unclipped, and bottles being passed around. His heart was racing—not from the performance, but from something worse. Something far more dangerous.

You were here.

Felix had seen your name in the guest list. He’d reread the confirmation text three times before the show. He knew you were backstage. Somewhere in the sea of noise and bodies and adrenaline.

He hadn't touched you in months. Not properly. Not without the sterile distance of phone screens and choppy calls and late-night messages that always ended with "god, I wish you were here." And now, you were close enough to breathe in.

And the moment he spotted you—half-shadowed behind a tall speaker stack, tucked near the green room hallway—everything else fell away.

No more stage. No more staff. No more members.

Just you.

Standing there like a mirage in that little black dress he remembered peeling off of you the night before he left. It hugged you obscenely well, clinging to curves he hadn’t touched in weeks, months, forever. You weren’t doing anything—just waiting. But you knew. God, you knew what you were doing.

Felix’s chest tightened. His throat went dry.

"Don’t panic," he told himself. "Just walk over. Say hi. Be normal."

He wasn’t normal. He was starving.

And you looked like the only thing in the world that could satisfy him.

He moved toward you slowly, tension radiating off his body like static. He could feel the others watching him. Could hear Seungmin snickering behind him. Could sense Chan's judgmental dad-eyes activating in real time. But none of it mattered.

You looked up as he approached, lips curling into that sweet, devastating smile—the one that made his knees weak and his brain short-circuit.

“Hi, baby,” you said softly.

Softly. Like you weren’t already committing a felony by existing in that dress with that smirk.

His hands found your waist like instinct. Tight grip. Anchor-like. He didn’t care that he was still drenched in sweat. Didn’t care that his team was literally behind him. He crushed you against his chest and just held.

You smelled like home. Like everything he’d been missing.

“You look like you need CPR,” you teased, voice low, breath tickling the shell of his ear.

He shuddered.

And then you touched him. Light fingers, feathering over his collarbone, trailing down the center of his chest. Casual. Innocent. Calculated.

“You’ve been working out,” you mused, lips brushing his jaw. “Missed this. Missed you.”

Felix clenched his jaw. His grip on your waist tightened. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Baby,” you whispered, smile widening just slightly. “You’re kinda quiet.”

He forced himself to pull back half an inch, eyes locked on yours. Pupils blown, freckles flushed, sweat still glistening on his temples.

“Don’t,” he warned under his breath. “Not here. Not now.”

“Don’t what?” you tilted your head, all mock innocence. “I’m just saying hi.”

You weren’t. And he knew it. Knew you were playing with him. Testing the limits of his self-control while he was already so close to snapping. The months of longing, the nights of lonely hotel beds, the dozens of times he’d fucked his hand while whispering your name—you were undoing it all with a single, smug smile.

Jisung walked past, took one look at Felix’s face, and muttered, “Bro, you’re drooling.”

Chan sighed. “Felix. Contain it.”

He didn’t even blink. Just stared at you like you were made of fire and he was dying to burn.

“Five minutes,” he growled against your ear. “That’s all I need. Five minutes alone and I’ll have you moaning my name so loud the mics’ll pick it up.”

You laughed—light and breathy. And that was the moment Felix knew: you were trying to ruin him.

And it was working.

SCENE 2: THE CAR RIDE

They piled into the van like they always did—noisy, chaotic, post-show high still fizzing in the air—but Felix was quiet. Too quiet.

He sat next to you in the far backseat. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was the way he couldn’t seem to stop twitching.

His leg bounced, fingertips tapped an erratic rhythm against his thigh, jaw tight like he was clenching something back. Because he was.

You.

Your perfume was still driving him insane. Subtle but devastating. And the way your bare thigh brushed his every time the car hit a bump? He was going to spontaneously combust.

And you knew it.

You weren’t even trying to hide the way you leaned into him, voice soft and sweet as you asked, “Tired, baby?”

He nodded once.

Lied.

He was fucking wired. He was drowning in you and you weren’t even touching him yet.

“Oh.” You rested your hand on his leg. High up. Too high.

Felix froze.

Your thumb traced slow, innocent circles over the fabric of his pants. Completely normal. Completely devastating.

He let out a quiet, shaky breath. Tried to keep his gaze forward. Tried not to imagine you dropping your hand just a few inches lower.

But then you leaned in again, voice a whisper only he could hear:

“You’re being so good for me. Sitting so still.” “You miss the way I taste, Lix?”

He choked. Audibly.

Jisung, in the row ahead, turned around like a nosy older sibling. “You okay, bro? You sound like you swallowed a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” Felix muttered, voice strained.

Chan didn’t even look up from his phone. “No, he’s not. He’s vibrating.”

You didn’t move your hand. You tightened your grip, fingers subtly pressing into the meat of his thigh like a silent dare.

“God,” Felix whispered, half to himself.

Your lips grazed his ear again. “Think you can hold out ‘til we get home?”

He gritted his teeth.

“If you keep touching me like that,” he murmured darkly, “I’m gonna fuck you in the backseat.”

You laughed softly. “Not in front of the hyungs.”

“Then stop teasing me.”

But you didn’t. You just sat there, all soft smiles and bare skin, pretending like you were just another supportive girlfriend riding home with her boyfriend after tour.

Only you were a menace, and you knew exactly what you were doing.

Felix stared hard out the window, jaw clenched, pulse hammering.

You were going to ruin him.

And the second you got through that front door?

He was going to ruin you.

SCENE 3: THE DOOR SLAMMED

Felix kept it together. Barely.

He walked you to the door like a perfect gentleman, hand resting just above the curve of your hip, close but not too close. His lips brushed your temple as he said goodbye to the others—voice calm, steady, like he wasn’t imagining bending you over the kitchen counter the moment they were out of sight.

Jisung threw him a suspicious look as the elevator doors closed behind them. “Don’t break any furniture.”

“I’ll try,” Felix called back with a grin. Then, under his breath: “No promises.”

You didn’t say a word. Just slipped your fingers between his, leading him down the hallway toward your apartment like you hadn’t just spent the entire ride pressing on his thigh and whispering sin into his ear.

Felix was breathing through his nose. Counting the steps. Repeating mantras in his head like “Be good. Don’t fuck her against the wall. Yet.”

But then you looked back at him over your shoulder with that smirk, and all his restraint cracked.

You unlocked the door. Pushed it open.

And the second it clicked shut behind you—

He broke.

You gasped as your back hit the wall, hard but not painful, your hands scrambling for balance as Felix devoured you.

Mouth on your throat, tongue hot and desperate, hands already shoving your dress up around your hips. He groaned into your skin, voice low and ruined, “Couldn’t wait. Baby, I couldn’t fucking wait.”

His kisses were messy—sloppy, like he couldn’t decide where he needed to taste you first. Your lips, your neck, your jaw, down to your chest and back up again.

You tangled your fingers in his hair. “What happened to being a gentleman?”

He laughed against your collarbone, breath ragged. “That ended the second you sat in that car with no panties on.”

Your dress was already bunched around your waist. Felix dropped to his knees, groaning like he’d just come home after months in the desert and you were water. His hands gripped your thighs tight, spreading them apart as he muttered, “Missed this. Missed you.”

You braced against the wall, heartbeat spiking.

And then he licked.

One long, slow, deliberate stripe up your center, ending in a suck at your clit that made your knees buckle.

“Fuck—Lix—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he panted, tongue diving back in, voice muffled against your skin. “You sound so pretty when you cry for me.”

Your head tipped back, a broken moan slipping out. He didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Tongue lapping and sucking, switching between slow, cruel circles and fast, devastating flicks. His grip bruised into your thighs like he needed to hold you there—needed you to take everything he was giving.

You came hard, body shaking, a desperate cry tearing out of your throat.

But Felix didn’t stop.

He growled, lips still wrapped around your clit as your legs trembled. “You’re not done. I’m not done. Keep taking it.”

“Felix—oh god—Felix please—”

He finally pulled back, face wrecked and soaked, lips shiny, pupils blown wide.

“Bed,” he rasped, breath hitching as he kissed the inside of your thigh. “Now.”

You didn’t argue.

You ran.

And he followed.

The bedroom door had barely shut before Felix had you flat on the mattress, his hands already skimming up your thighs with frantic reverence, like he was trying to memorize every inch of skin all over again.

You reached for him, already pulling him down for a kiss, but he caught your wrist and pinned it to the bed, eyes wild and glowing.

“Not yet,” he whispered, breathless. “Let me. Just let me taste you. Please.”

He said it like he was begging for water. Like he’d die if you didn’t let him.

You nodded—barely a breath—and he sank between your legs like it was his throne, his altar, his final destination.

Felix kissed your knees first. Then the insides of your thighs. Slow. Lingering. Filthy. His hands caressed over your hips, thumbs pressing small circles into your skin while his mouth worked its way up, inch by inch, until you were twitching under the anticipation alone.

When he finally pressed a kiss to your wet center, you gasped—hips jerking reflexively. He moaned against your cunt like it was him receiving the pleasure.

“Oh my god—” your voice broke on a whisper.

He looked up, lips parted, chin already slick. “I dreamed about this. Every night.”

And then his tongue was everywhere.

Felix didn’t rush. No, this wasn’t that. This was a slow unraveling—a masterclass in torment. He circled your clit in lazy figure-eights, then flicked with feather-light precision, just enough to make you squirm.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, lips dragging across your folds. “That’s so hot, baby. So fucking hot.”

He gripped your thighs tighter when you tried to close them around his head. “Uh uh. You wanted to tease me? Now you take it. Keep those legs open.”

His tongue dove deep, licking into you like he was starving—like you were made of sugar and sin and something only he was allowed to have.

You cried out, back arching. “Felix—shit—feels so—so good—”

“I know, love,” he cooed. “You’re doing so well. Just like that. Give it to me.”

He alternated pressure like a damn expert: soft licks along your slit, then a pointed suck on your clit that had your vision blurring.

When your hand clawed into his hair and your thighs began to tremble again, he only groaned louder. “That’s it. That’s what I needed. I need to see you fall apart.”

You whimpered. “I can’t—Felix, I’m gonna—”

“Do it.” His voice was low, commanding, yet tender. “Cum for me. Let me taste all of you.”

You shattered.

The orgasm ripped through you—sharp, sudden, full-body. He never pulled away. Just kept licking, kept worshipping, moaning into you like your pleasure was his drug.

But you were too sensitive now—your hips bucked, thighs twitching, body trying to escape the overwhelming sensation.

“Please—please, too much—”

Felix didn’t stop.

“You’re not done. I’m not done.” His voice was wrecked, hoarse, muffled between your thighs. “You taste so fucking sweet. I missed this. Missed you. One more, baby. Give me one more.”

And because it was Felix, because it was his voice, his tongue, his need—

You did.

The second orgasm hit harder. Your hips jerked up into his mouth and your voice cracked on a sob as your hands scrambled for something to hold onto. Sheets, him, reality—it didn’t matter.

He finally let up only when your body had gone boneless and you whimpered his name like a plea. Felix looked up at you from between your legs—his lips swollen, face soaked, eyes blown and soft and so full of love it ached. “You okay, angel?” he asked gently, crawling up your body and kissing your cheek, your jaw, your lips. “Too much?”

You shook your head. “Perfect. That was—fuck.”

He chuckled against your skin, voice warm and fond. “God, I missed the way you taste. I could eat you for hours.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you mumbled, still trembling.

“Not a temptation,” he whispered, pressing kisses over your chest. “It’s a promise.” He laid over you like a blanket, letting your breathing calm—but his cock? Hard and leaking. And that’s when you whispered, voice small and teasing, “Lix… do you have a condom?”

He froze. His breath hitched. And when he pulled back to look you in the eyes, his expression had changed.

Soft. Intense. Something else entirely. His lips parted, but the answer didn’t come right away. You reached up, gently tucking a damp strand of hair behind his ear.

“Baby?”

“I…” he exhaled sharply. His eyes fluttered shut, and when he opened them again—everything was written there.

All of it.

The longing. The ache. The weeks of separation. The nights he’d stared at the ceiling wondering what it would feel like to be completely inside you, no barrier, no distance, no protection from how much he needed you.

“No,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t bring one.”

You blinked.

“I didn’t forget,” he added, voice strained. “I didn’t want to.”

Your breath caught. Felix stared down at you, every inch of his body strung tight. He ran his fingers down your side, slow, reverent, voice low and shaking.

“I’ve been thinking about it. So much. Too much.” His lips ghosted over your shoulder. “Every time I touched myself on tour… I imagined this. You. Around me. Raw.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes locked on his. He looked wrecked. Not just with lust—with love.

“I want it all,” he whispered. “I want you. I want to feel you. I want to cum inside you and not stop. I want to fill you so deep it doesn’t go away. I want to know it’s still there hours later—days later.”

He paused, forehead resting against yours, and what came next was barely audible:

“I want to start a family with you.”

You gasped. Your whole body tensed beneath him.

Felix cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “I’m not saying now. Not unless you want it. But the time away—baby, it messed me up. I missed you so much it hurts. And when I think about our future… I just see this. You. Me. Something we made together.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. “You really mean that?” you asked, voice shaking.

His answer was immediate. “More than anything.”

He kissed you then—slow, sweet, like a promise—and you felt it all: the heat, the hunger, the hope. You looked up at him, heart pounding, and whispered: “Then do it.”

He blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Felix,” you whispered, hooking your legs around his waist. “I want to feel you. All of you. I want you to cum inside me. I want you to have me.”

That’s when he snapped.

It was silent at first. Just a shift in his breath. A flicker in his gaze.

But you felt it.

Like a tremor under your skin—like the storm was about to hit and you’d just told it to take everything.

Felix sat up on his knees between your thighs, hands shaking as he yanked his shirt over his head in one smooth, desperate motion. The way the muscles of his torso flexed under the soft lamplight, skin flushed, chest heaving—it made your mouth fall open. He tossed the shirt somewhere behind him, already working at the waistband of his sweats, muttering curses under his breath as his fingers fumbled.

You propped yourself on your elbows, watching—devouring him with your eyes. The sharp line of his V-cut, the curve of his waist, the way his boxers tented forward so obscenely it almost hurt to look at. His cock—thick, flushed, leaking—slapped against his abdomen when he finally kicked his clothes off.

Your breath caught audibly. “Felix—”

He crawled over you like he’d been waiting years. No teasing smirk now. Just pure, devastating hunger.

“Not gonna last long,” he murmured, voice wrecked and low, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he hovered over your heat. “Not after seeing you like this. After tasting you like that.”

You were soaked. Dripping. From his mouth, from the words, from the sheer ache of wanting him bare. He slid the tip of his cock down your folds—slow, teasing. Soaked in your slick, he rocked it up and down, dragging it over your clit, slipping it back down to your entrance.

You whined.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his jaw clenching. “You feel that? That’s how bad you need me.” You bucked your hips up, trying to take him in—but he held your waist down firmly. “Not yet,” he whispered. “Wanna feel you open up for me. Let me savor it.”

He pushed forward just an inch—barely breaching your entrance—and the sound you let out was nothing short of pleading.

Your head fell back. “Felix, please—please—”

He kissed your neck softly, cock still nudging at your hole, slick and thick and taunting.

“I know, baby. I know.” His voice broke a little. “You’re taking me so well already. Just a little more, yeah?”

He slid in another inch.

You cried out, arching under him, and he groaned like the sound physically hurt him—in the best way. “God, you’re tight. You’re—fuck—I can feel everything.” He pushed in fully, inch by inch, burying himself to the hilt with one deep, aching thrust—and you both gasped in unison.

You felt full, stretched, completely claimed. And he?

He looked wrecked. Eyes fluttering, mouth open, forehead shining with sweat. His chest heaved as he held himself there—deep inside you, unmoving for a moment, trying so hard to hold back. “This is it,” he whispered, leaning down, hips twitching. “This is what I’ve been dreaming of. You. Just like this. So fucking warm. Letting me in.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist, clinging to him like you never wanted him to leave.

“Move,” you begged. “Please.”

He did.

He started slow, grinding into you with devastating precision—deep, deep, so goddamn deep, like he was trying to stay inside even when he pulled back.

Every thrust was a confession.

“I missed you.” Thrust. “You’re mine.” Thrust. “You feel so good, so perfect.” Grind.

You could feel him leaking inside you with every push, his cock hot and hard and raw, and you loved it. Every slide, every stretch, every inch of skin against skin made you ache for more.

Your nails raked down his back.

He hissed, head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re milking me. You want it, don’t you? Want me to fill you up?” You nodded, sobbed, moaned something incoherent. “Say it,” he growled, his control cracking. “Say you want me to cum inside. Say you want it dripping out of you.”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Want it. Want everything. Fill me up, Lix. Make me yours.”

That was it.

His rhythm stuttered, thrusts turning erratic, filthy, needy.

You clenched around him, crying out—right on the edge, again—and he felt it. He always did. “Cum with me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Please. Wanna feel you when I let go. Wanna know you’re taking it all.”

And when it hit?

It hit hard.

You shattered—body arching, legs locked around him, his name ripped from your throat.

And Felix?

He spilled deep inside you with a groan that sounded like it came from his soul, hips jerking as he emptied himself, hot and messy and yours. He didn’t stop moving. Not at first. Just slow, tiny thrusts, like he was trying to stay inside—trying to push it deeper, like he didn’t want a single drop to go to waste.

You whimpered, still trembling, still high on him.

Felix finally stilled, collapsed against your chest, breath hot on your neck.

Neither of you spoke. Not yet.

Because what just happened? That wasn’t just fucking. That was everything.

Felix lay over you, his breath slowing as he pressed soft, scattered kisses to your skin. Shoulder. Collarbone. The dip between your breasts.

You felt full—in every sense. Breathless. Boneless. Loved. His soft curls tickled your cheek as he whispered, “You okay?”

You nodded weakly. “I think you melted my spine.”

He chuckled, but it sounded broken—tender, like he’d barely recovered either. “Good. You ruined me first.”

He kissed your temple, your jaw, the corner of your lips. Then he pulled back and looked down at your body, like he couldn’t quite believe it was real.

The way your thighs were still trembling slightly. The way his release—his cum—was slowly beginning to seep out of you.

And something primitive passed through his expression. He touched your belly with the backs of his fingers. Reverent. He looked up. “Too much?”

You shook your head, lips parting. “No,” you whispered. “Not too much.”

He stared at you—like you’d hung the stars.

And then he was moving again, gently shifting your legs back down, hands warm as he whispered, “Come on, angel. Let me clean you up.”

You whimpered in protest when he slipped out of you, body instinctively tightening around nothing. He kissed your inner thigh. “I know, baby. I know. You were so good for me.”

He scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing.

Cradled against his chest, you felt his heartbeat—it was still fast. Still erratic. And so close to yours.

The bathroom was dim. Soft light glowed from the wall sconces, and Felix lowered you onto the counter for a moment while he ran the bath. His fingers lingered on your waist. His lips kept brushing your shoulder, your neck, your hair.

Once the water filled, warm and steaming, he lifted you again—carrying you into the tub like you were porcelain.

The second your body hit the water, a soft moan slipped from your throat. Felix sat behind you, legs spread, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you back against his chest.

You let out a shaky sigh.

He pressed his lips to your ear. “I love you so much,” he murmured. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You leaned back into him. “I think I do now.” He chuckled. Then reached for the sponge, gently soaking it, squeezing warm water over your chest, your belly, your thighs. His fingers moved tenderly—not sexual, not teasing. Just love.

After the bath, he dried you gently, dressed you in one of his oversized shirts, then tucked you into bed like he was afraid you’d disappear again.

He laid beside you, spooning you close, his hand splayed over your stomach. Neither of you spoke for a while.

Just breathing. Just holding. Until finally, half-asleep, you heard him whisper:

“With you, I’m already home.”

[currentloser]

! MDNI !

prove your worth

pairing: CEO!kwon ji-yong x reader

word count: 4503

summary: You work as an unpaid intern for your strict boss Ji-yong, the dynamic completely changes when he offers another form of payment.

tags: explicit smut, power imbalance, boss/employee relationship, dubious consent, descriptions of intercourse.

( ao3 link )

The clock on the wall ticks tauntingly in your mind, well past midnight. Your schedule dictated you should’ve been gone by now, but of course you weren't.

Your cheap desk was finally empty, the papers you had been grueling through pushed forward onto your boss’ desk. The other interns and employees left hours ago, escaping this stuffy office. Meanwhile you remained trapped, sparing a glance to yourself against the glass wall, not missing the tired look in your eyes as well as the CEO, Kwon Ji-yong, was already musing over your paperwork. Unpaid, overworked, and stuck beneath a man who didn't remember your name.

Ji-yong famines seared across from you, his hand clasping over the stack you slid his way. His face remains casually neutral as he grabs onto the edge of the paper and starts to thumb through the stack of documents. He hadn't spoken to you the entire time you'd worked on this stack. He kept quiet, assessing you while you worked.

Without looking up, he sighs, “You made another mistake.”

The words send a cold shock through you, “Where?” You straighten instantly, your fingers tighten around your pen.

Instead of answering you verbally, he grabs the paper in question and slid it toward you. He moved to stand, hovering above you and pointing to a single line of text. You squint at it for a moment, confusion plaguing you as you read the line over again. Finally, you make sense of it, barely an error- a comma misplaced.

“Sloppy,” He muses, leaning back and running a hand through his slicked-back hair, “If I gave this to a client, do you know what they’d say?”

“That I wasn't paying attention,” You swallow as you meet his dark and unreadable eyes.

A slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, “Wrong answer. You aren't taking this internship seriously.”

Finally, he leans back in his chair and sighs, grabbing a cigarette from a pocket inside his jacket. He didn't care if you were in the room with him, he still lit the end and placed it in his mouth. He let the silence hang as he took a breath of it, deliberately pointing towards you and blowing the smoke your way.

“You want to stay here, don't you?” He asked, his voice smooth as smoke flowed from his lips.

Beneath the desk, your fingers curl into the edge of your skirt, “Yes, sir.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval, but despite it he smirks, “Then try harder.”

Reaching across his table, he grabbed another stack of papers. Your eyes widen as you take it in- twice the size of the last stack. Realization sinks in as he takes one off the top and puts it where you’d been working on the previous paper. Your head pounds just gazing over the text. The first one you started with.

“Redo them. From the beginning.”

“But-”

His eyes flick up, cutting you off before you can try to speak, “Did I hire you to complain?”

You shake the heat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal answer. Ji-yong hums, pleased. He sets down his cigarette onto his ash tray and picked up his pen instead, returning to his own paperwork. Your eyes twitch as he dismissed you.

Sleep teases behind your eyes the moment you close them, but you sigh and accept your fate. Again, the silence stretched thin punctuated by the soft scratch of his pen and your own. Every so often he'd blow a waft of smoke in your direction if only to pester you further, and you could’ve sworn you caught him smirking when it forced you to wave the cloud away. His gaze is all-encompassing, stopping you from any shifting or distractions from your work.

As you finally begin to reach the end of the pile, he speaks again, “Are you nervous?”

Your throat bobs and you squeeze your own, “No, sir.”

At that he gives a quiet chuckle, finally stubbing out the bud of his cigarette. He glanced out the window, the dim glow of the dusk casting shadows across his face. His already dark and leering expression only became worse.

“You're a terrible liar,” He mutters, glancing toward your finished paperwork.

“I only want to do a good job,” You hold firm, squeezing your pen as you finish off what you can only hope is the last correction.

He hums, considering you, “And yet, you keep making mistakes.”

You flinch involuntarily. The words strike a nerve deeper in you, even if you tell yourself and you know he does it on purpose. All of this exhaustion and taunting merely to humor himself. He enjoys dangling approval just out of reach, to watch you scramble to prove yourself worthy of his attention.

“Tell me something,” Ji-yong tilts his head, his gaze dragging over you slowly, “Are you the type who needs praise to stay motivated?”

You hesitate, “No, sir.”

“Good,” He smirked, sharp and cruel.

Without further warning, he rose from his chair. He moved smoothly, a fluid grace more fitting for a dancer rather than your stuck-up boss. He rounded the desk, coming to a stop just beside you. He stood much taller than you, his scent enveloping you. A clean, crisp cologne flirted with the sharp smell of smoke, nearly suffocating you.

Over your shoulder, he grabs the paper from underneath your hand. The last you finished. You refuse to look up at him, instead studying the grain of the desk beneath you. All at once the paper lands in front of you again, lazily floating down from where he dropped it.

“Better,” He muses, “But not perfect.”

Heat crawls up your face, flushing your cheeks. You duck your head before he can catch the way your shoulders rise in response. Ji-yong leans in closer, enough that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, “Do it again.”

“You just want to see me squirm,” You mutter, your jaw tightening.

Ji-yong straightens out, returning to his chair and drumming his fingers against his desk, “You're an intern, so you do as I tell you.”

Your nails dig into your palm, to stop yourself from screaming and to keep yourself awake, “How long are you going to keep me here?”

Ji-yong looks surprised at how straightforward you were. He rested his chin under his knuckles, glancing from your paper back up to you. Expectantly, silently instructing you to get back to it. He holds that silence, his eyes twinkling with something dark.

“Until I get bored,” He shrugged simply, then smirked yet again, “Get back to work.”

Your hand starts to tremble as you get to writing again. Each stroke of the pen sends a little jolt of pain through your hand as you painstakingly rewrite it, again. At some point you're not even sure if the words have meaning, or if they'd gotten any better from the first two times you've written it. Improving wasn't the point, torture was.

He spelled it out to you. As you finish you push the paper forward over your desk onto his. He doesn't acknowledge you at first, at some point he'd begun scrolling through his phone and serenely ignoring your work. Just as you're about to knock on the table to divert his attention he grabs the paper, slowly.

He skimmed the contents, his dark eyes flickering over your writing. His expression remained unreadable, yet after an eternity he finally set it down with a small nod.

“Looks like you can learn after all,” He admits, absentmindedly.

Relief floods through you, suddenly that pain and exhaustion lifted and was replaced by it. You grab onto your chair and push it back, glancing to him for approval before you run off. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head in your direction.

“Since you're so eager to prove yourself, I hope you won't mind one more assignment.”

“It's so late,” You try, keeping your voice low, “I have other assignments-”

“Now you have mine,” He tapped his fingers against the paper, pushing it forward before looking back to you, “Unless you'd rather go back to coffee runs and filing paperwork.”

You don't want to argue you might rather be doing that instead of facing this strange torture hes concocted. You can't read whatever he's calculating, the wood echoing the pattern he taps out. You swallow hard and shake your head before you can think better of it. For once his expression changes into something more domineering than the flat grin he'd put on before.

“Good, let’s make you've really earned this internship. Come here.”

Pushing your chair back, you step around the desk and close the space between his own desk and yourself. Still too shy to completely come around it, glancing at him. He tilts his head as he studies you, his gaze raking over your form yet again.

“You've been working so hard,” He purrs, his tone becoming something darker, “It would be cruel of me not to reward such dedication.”

Your stomach twisted in response, heat rushing to your cheeks. He'd never given you a reward for anything before. You're not sure whether to brace yourself or to courteously accept, maintaining your eye contact with him. Waiting for him to speak up first.

Ji-yong finally moved and reaches into his desk drawer. There’s a moment of shuffling through paper before he pulls out an envelope and slides it across the surface toward you. He looks up at you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Your stipend,” He says, “You've been waiting for it, haven't you?

Your eyes bug slightly. You've been working weeks on end with the understanding it would be entirely unpaid. It doesn't look like a lot of money- maybe a check?- but the wording makes you hesitate. You aren't sure what he means. You swallow and nod, not sure how else to respond and start to reach for it.

“Tell me,” His hand lands atop the envelop, interrupting yours, “What do you think you've done to deserve this?”

You straightened your shoulders, meeting his gaze with an edge of defiance underneath your corporate façade, “I've been working for weeks, unpaid. I think I've more than earned something.”

“So does every one of your colleagues,” He clicks his tongue, unimpressed and shakes his head.

Your gaze meets the smiley-face tattoo on his hand as he runs his hand through his hair yet again. “I've put in extra hours, stayed late to finish your work, given my all to this company. It warns me something, wouldn't you agree?”

“You’re being awfully bold,” He murmured, tilting his head, “Is this confidence, or desperation?”

Your lips parted but you hesitated- just long enough to make his smirk deepen.

“I asked you a question,” His voice was smooth, expectant and low. Just enough to make you shiver.

“Confidence,” You managed, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Impressive… but I'm still not convinced, confidence alone doesnt cut it here. As I keep repeating- I want to see proof.”

“How am I meant to do that?” You finally ask, breaking the tension holding in the room.

Pushing his chair back, he pats his lap and nods you over. Slowly, you go around the edge of his desk. You weren't sure what you expected besides the image of your boss leaned back in his chair, his legs splayed out. His hand still rests in his lap, teasingly covering over himself. He manages to look powerful, even when sitting.

“Here’s a trick I could teach you: Down, girl,” He motions with his pointer finger, right between his legs.

You step closer, unsure of yourself. He nods to you and keeps motioning, the way a trainer might handle a startled animal rather than a faithful employee. As you get closer he glances down to your feet and nods, fully expectant on your cooperation. You glance around the room.

Inwardly, your eyes flicker from his form to the door just out of sight. Without a paycheck, this job was only for the sake of experience. The size of the company, and the notoriety wouldn't be forgotten on your resume, though. You battle the options in your mind, and you decide on lowering yourself to your knees.

“So you know your tricks,” His smirk widens, patting his lap again.

You can't imagine how face your red has become as you crawl between his legs, stopping in front of his hand. You can feel his gaze on the back of your head, keeping your gaze ducked to where his hand kept over himself. Slowly, he moved it to the side. You could see his hard-on straining his slacks.

Above you, he hums, “You wanna treat don't you? So get it.”

Your shakes shake as they come up to his lap and grab onto his belt. Slowly, you lift your head and meet his gaze, seeking his approval. He gives a curt nod, his eyes sparkling yet again. You look back down to work on his belt, tugging it off of him and leaving it on the floor beneath you. You slowly pop the buttons- one, then two.

The back of your mind tells you that you shouldn't play into his games, but his sweet words of approval and his gaze were enough to keep your hands moving. Beneath it are plain dark red boxers, matching his tie dangling just out of your vision. Sensing your hesitation, he reaches between the two of you and opts on pulling himself out of his pants instead.

His cock waits for you, hard and already leaking precum. He slowly strokes over himself, and you could still feel his gaze squared on you.

“I've never… done this before,” You admit, your voice barely coming out as a squeak.

Ji-yong scoffed, letting go of himself and caressing the back of your hand instead, guiding it to the base, “Don't worry. I expected that. I'll show you how.”

He guides you along a vein that pokes out from the bottom, squeezing there and slowly rubbing over himself. He lets go of your hand once he's shown you the motion, his leg shifting from your side to between your legs. You finally dare to glance up at him and give him a questioning eyebrow raise, before you feel it.

His smooth shoe raised up between your legs, pressing over your clothed cunt. The toe of his shoe pressed up against you, teasing over your sensitive heat. You whine despite yourself, your thighs clamping down around his foot and looking at him with a wild, desperate expression.

“It's a treat for both of us. Don't look at me like that,” He teased, his hand finally moving to cup the side of your face.

His pinky finger hooked beneath your jaw, forcing your gaze up to his. You could feel him buck his hips up into your hand as you moved with the pace of his foot. Slowly dragging over you, teasing where you were most sensitive. Every time he brushed against it a rush of pleasure sent goosebumps up your spine.

Your face was burning up, panting in response to his teasing as it took everything you had not to fuck yourself against his foot. You could feel his cock begin to twitch, his hips lifting off the chair beneath him.

“Ahh-” Ji-yong panted, “Yeobo, keep going.”

It was the lightest he'd ever spoken to you, breathless and leaning into your hand out of pure desperation. Watching his mouth draw open and drool lazily drip down the side of his face, you decide to take revenge. You let go of him, instead letting your hand slide down to his inner thigh.

Panting for a few moments, Ji-yong shook his head in confusion before looking down to you, “Huh?”

“I don't want to be on all fours like a dog,” You point down to his shoe, still pressed up against your heat, “Sir, allow me to sit with you?”

Still caught in the heat of his cut-off orgasm, Ji-yong dumbly allows you to sit with him. It's an awkward fit in his rolling desk chair, sliding yourself into his lap. You spread your legs, hiding your face from him again as you go back to rubbing over him. Slowly, he trailed his hand up your thigh and hiked up your skirt, teasing over your wet panties.

Ji-yong’s grip tightened as you shifted in his lap, teasing him enough to make his breath hitch, “Careful, keep that up and I won’t be so patient with you.”

You smirked, hiding your need with a daring expression, “Who said I wanted you to be?”

“You really are confident, aren't you?” His hand hovered over the fabric, his touch leaving and merely teasing.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, enough to drive you further into a desperate madness. His gaze lowered, lingering on the way your chest rose and fell as he held you so close to what you wanted.

“Come on,” He coaxed, “You can do better than this.”

His words stuck you, sharp and quiet like a challenge. Suddenly a fighting spirit gave you every intention of standing your ground, but of course your body seemed to have a mind of its own. Every slight shift, of trying to hold your breath only furthered your own desperation.

His hands rested just on the insides of your thighs, his thumbs drawing little circles on the sensitive skin there. Just enough to feel the slight tremor in response to when he teased at the edges of the fabric, never quite touching. Amusement flickered in his eyes at your reaction.

“You try so hard to act unaffected,” His thumbs caught on the fabric again, then wandered away again, “But your body’s telling me everything.”

You grit your teeth in response, trying to keep your composure. The scent of cologne and smoke pulled you in. The warmth so close to your own made it impossible to think clearly, attempting to press forward and just force his touch where you needed it.

“You're not going anywhere,” Ji-yong’s voice was low but firm, “Not until you admit it.”

The teasing was unbearable. Every second stretched into eternity, stuck with the feeling of teetering on the edge of something so thrilling yet terrifying at the same time.

“Admit what?” You whispered, though the words barely escaped you.

“That you want this,” Ji-yong breathes a velvet rasp, “That you want me.”

You couldn't speak. You couldn't do anything but feel the heat, your body fighting for control. Every last inch of you screamed to face into him, but your own stubbornness stood in the way. It only worsened when his thumb flicked over you through the fabric, teasing you yet again before his touch wandered away.

“You want me too,” Ji-yong added, his voice darkening, “I can feel how wet you are. Don't lie to me.”

For a moment, your mouth felt forced shut. You were frozen in place, stuck between the push and pull. As his hand slid over you, the tiny undeniable shiver that ran through you couldn't be hidden any longer.

“Damn it, Ji- sir,” You breathed, your voice shaking with the weight of your admission, “I want this. I want you.”

Ji-yong’s lips curled into a victorious smile. The sparkle in his eyes said it all. He won this battle between the two of you. His grip tightened on you ever so slightly, a silent promise he would make you pay for making him wait.

“I knew it,” He whispered, his voice soft and pleased, “I knew you couldn't resist me.”

Your boss rubbed over your soaked underwear, a low snicker you nearly didn't catch with the shock of the direct pressure to your folds, gently rubbing over you. You whined as the fabric caught against you, shifting your legs and attempting to close them around him.

“I didn't know you had this in you,” He murmured, his finger curling beneath your panties and tugging them to the side.

A single finger pressed between your folds, rubbing up over your twitching clit then teasing your waiting hole. With a dexterity you didn't expect, he shifted his thumb over your clit and pressed his pointer inside you. You gasp as it pressed inside you, you could feel yourself dripping over him.

Your hand stopped moving, completely forgetting to help him as he curled his finger up right against the spot that made your knees buckle.

“Sir,” You whine, letting your head fall forward against his shoulder, “S good, feels good…”

“If you want something, you should ask for it properly,” He murmurs against your skin, his breath warm.

Dumbed down by the pleasure you dumbly moved with his fingers, trying to get what you needed, “Please sir. Please fuck me.”

He answered your pleads by closing the distance between you, his lips connecting with yours. His lips were soft and so warm, kissing you with a sense of urgency you hadn't felt before. It made your head spin, every brush of his fingertips inside you sent heat crashing through you. Your breath hitched, your heart racing with the chaotic rhythm of your chest rising and falling.

More fingers join inside you, opening you up further. Ji-yong’s warm breath ghosted your cheek as he leaned in close, pulling you forward into his lap. He bucked his hips in response to your pretty moans, his fingers filling you. He panted from in front of you, giving his own groans in response to your noises.

“I knew you wanted this,” His voice dropped down low, his touch almost revenant, “I knew you couldn't keep pretending you didn't want me.”

His words made you dizzy, his fingers hitting that sweet spot and driving you wild.

“You’re making it so hard to be gentle,” Ji-yong huffed through his nose, squeezing where he held onto you.

Just your performance was enough to keep him going, curling his fingers up into you until all his fingers fit inside you, rubbing over your clit again. The pleasure building up inside you finally all came to a rushing haunt, bucking yourself forward against his thumb and muffling your moans as you came around his fingers, clawing at his shoulders.

“You look good like this- completely at my mercy,” He teased, even if you were still too far gone to hear him.

You lean back, your face fuzzy from the rush of it all. His finger still hasn't stopped rubbing over your clit, forcing more jolts of pleasure through you as you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm. He was still half-hard, forgotten as he focused on taking care of yourself. You could feel his heartbeat rushing through his fingers.

You nod dumbly and press yourself down against his fingers, restless after everything, “Thank you, sir.”

Ji-yong noticed your desperation and smiled, “You still want more, right?”

“Wha?” You pant, rubbing your eyes to meet his gaze, your gaze still unfocused.

“You haven't earned it all yet,” He purred, grabbing your hips and pulling you up, hovering you over the flushed tip of his cock, “That's what you're thinking, isn't it?”

His voice has dropped lower, something more dangerous. You glance down at him, then grab the side of his face for purchase. Getting his fingers was one thing, but this…? You only find yourself wanting more, your cunt dripping over him with need.

Without speaking, you nod slowly and lower your hips. Grinning, Ji-yong reaches brown and guides himself into you. He pressed until his cock pressed into your hole, holding you down until his cock slowly slid into you. The fit was tight, but dizzyingly hot.

“Wow. You take it so well,” Ji-yong praises, slowly thrusting up into you, “There you go. Earn it.”

“Ji-yong, I can't…” You whine.

His words drew you in despite it, each slow thrust filling you to the damn hilt. Leaning back to watch you, sweat slid down the side of his face as he thrust into you. Even if as he instructed you he happily took control over you, guiding your hips as he pressed up inside you. Each thrust hit that spot that made you melt.

You quickly felt yourself melting under the treatment, attempting and failing to move with him. He moaned in approval, letting his hand wander up to your chest and squeezing at you, freeing you from the top of your shirt. He purred at the mess he made of you, undone and messy from his touch.

“Sir,” You moan, “Ji- Ji-yong, please-”

Obliging you, Ji-yong cooes at your pleading, his pace getting more brutal. He forced himself in as deep as he could get inside you, burying himself with each rough thrust. The feeling of the rough fabric against your thighs drove you mad, rustling as he started to get closer. His hips bucked off his chair beneath him, the plastic squeaking beneath you.

“Is this what you wanted?” He murmured, his voice husky with pleasure.

His dark eyes snap something inside you, a silent order making you nod along with him. Heat pooled in your stomach as his cock hit deep inside you, grabbing your leg and pulling it over his waist.

“Tell me to stop,” He pants, a warning as a bruising grip squeezed your hips.

Despite yourself, you find yourself nodding along, “Don't stop, please-”

“Let go,” Ji-yong whispered, his words strung out yet commanding, I want all of you, now.”

With all the permission he needed, he finally let go of what little bit of control he still held onto. His hands lose their purchase on you, for only a moment as he gets closer. Forcing the contact of your bodies just that much closer, he moaned as he came inside you. You squirmed as he filled you, wiggling as he filled you, his cock throbbing as he rocked his hips slowly through the waves of his orgasm.

“You're shaking,” He chuckled through harsh pants, struggling to catch his breath as much as you were, “I can feel your heartbeat. It's so fast.”

Letting yourself slump against him, you gently hit your fist against his chest, “You bastard- was too good. Too much.”

Humming, Ji-yong grabbed the bottom of your chin and guided your gaze to his again. He tilted his head, teasing at a kiss. He leaned in close, admiring how much he’d made you flush and drool with his rough treatment. He closes the distance with yet another sloppy kiss, his own drool mixing in with your own.

You kiss him as best as you can, his tongue pressing into your mouth and claiming every last part of you. He finally pulled away with a short breath, leaning back to gaze over you yet again.

“Mmmh?” You demand, trying your best to make sense of yourself.

Ji-tong grins at you, “You have no idea how long I've wanted this. So much better than a paycheck, isn't it?”

Oh, this asshole.

taglist: @loveesiren

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Proofreading

Proofreading - the part of the editing process that involves re-reading your own work or someone else’s piece of writing in order to catch mistakes like typos, grammatical errors, formatting errors, and missing words.

Tips for Proofreading

The following editing and writing tips can help your proofreading skills and make sure you catch all the errors in your final draft:

Edit a hard copy. If you’re looking at your computer screen or reading off a cell phone for too long, chances are you’ll miss common errors. Editing from a printed copy is a proofreading technique that may allow you to see various misspellings and other punctuation errors you did not catch the first time through. A print out is less strenuous on the eyes, and can make it easier to find typographical errors. Also, be sure to check to page numbers for sequentiality if your writing spans more than one page.

Double-check for homonyms. Words that sound alike but have different meanings are homonyms. Homophones are words that sound alike but have different meanings and spellings. Sometimes it can be easy to overlook words like these and they can be easy to mix up.

Watch for punctuation errors. Aside from misspelled words, special attention should be paid to misplaced apostrophes, commas, and other punctuation marks. Making sure to include endings to your parentheses and quotation marks is another error to look out for.

Read aloud. Reading aloud can help you spot places for better word choice or improving sentence structure, like run-ons and fragments. Hearing the words you’ve written either by yourself or read by someone else may give you a new outlook.

Take a break. Walking away from the writing and coming back to it later with fresh eyes can greatly improve your ability to spot spelling mistakes and various other errors. Take a stroll outside, get a drink of water, or try meditating for a few minutes to reset your mind and come back to it anew.

Proofreading should not be confused with copyediting, which is the act of making sure organization and word usage stay as clear and understandable as possible.

A copyeditor works to ensure the reader will not get lost in extraneous detail, or bogged down by poorly-structured phrases.

A copyediting job may also involve research of a written topic, and the vetting of sources.

Proofreading, however, is reserved for the final stage of your draft.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Editing ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[eat-your-milk]

Hey yall, just wanted to say-please don't criticize AO3 authors without asking first, especially when its something small and easy to ignore.

To quote another comment that I got a while back, saying-

'However, I did notice some grammar and punctuation errors (it wasn't distracting but I'm in honors English so I notice this stuff). There were some sentences you could've combined, misplaced commas, and a missing apostrophe at the beginning.'

-Is just so unhelpful and disheartening to me.

Like I get that you are coming to me with the best intentions, but ASK me first if I even want it. Because, chances are I already know it is a problem and I just haven't had time to fix it.

Now, I don't want this to detract from actual solicited criticism. If you ask beforehand and I say yes? PLEASE tell me what's wrong! I do want to improve with feedback, and as someone with severe ADHD, I have a really hard time catching spelling errors. (and if it actually is a severe problem that makes it unreadable? Go for it!)

But this? It just about destroys my want to write. I was preparing to release a chapter yesterday, but one comment I received yesterday really just blew away all of my drive (even though I know they didn't mean to). I have enough criticism for my own writing (especially for my older stuff). In fact, I severely struggle with even posting anything at all. I battle with deleting my fics every day because I feel like they aren't good enough on a regular basis.

Please remember, I am basically reteaching myself how to write from the ground up right now, and I am sorry that you have to witness that journey. I will improve, and when I reach a stopping point in my fic, I will fix paragraph spacing and minor misspellings.

Just don't come up in my fic and point out every little thing that's wrong without asking first, even if you have the best intentions!

I know its silly and stupid to whine about this but, it really just does get to me, even if its not intended to harm. I write fanfic to write what I want with my favorite characters and to learn more about writing as I go. I am not trying to make a flawless novel to sell. (of course, I will try to make it as flawless as I can, but this is fanfic, not the New York Best Sellers list.)

I don't need to doubt myself anymore than I already do.

[sunnylandsworldwithwords]

No shame! here’s proper punctuation with a simple format and the dictionary definitions because i used to be that writer who was where some of you are now. 💖

1. Full stop

A full stop is the punctuation name for a mark that is used to show the end of a sentence, as shown in this punctuation example:

'Lucy went clothes shopping. She bought a lovely new skirt.'

Full stops are used to indicate that it is the end of a sentence, usually communicating a complete point or thought. It highlights a new sentence is about to begin.

2. Commas

Commas is the punctuation name for a mark that aregreat for breaking down sentences, combining two clauses or showing us when to pause.

'Despite the fact I hate maths, I quite like learning about fractions.'

This shows how commas can add emphasis and tell the reader when to pause. Sometimes, commas can be misplaced. This is called a comma splice, where two independent clauses are connected by a comma, when they should really be separated with a full stop or semi colon or connected with a connective.

3. Question marks

Question marks simply indicate that the speaker is asking a question. They're used at the end of question (or interrogative) sentences.

'Do you still want to keep your teddy bear?'

4. Exclamation marks

Exclamation marks is the punctuation name for a mark that can change the meaning and tone of a sentence. They still end a sentence, but they can add emotion - whether that's excitement, anger or nervousness!

'Look, it's a cat!'

'I'm so nervous about my SATs exams!'

'I can't believe you just said that!'

All three of these sentences convey very different emotions using an exclamation mark, so it can be confusing. Yet imagine if they used a full stop instead - these emotions would be much harder to read and understand.

A sentence which needs an exclamation mark is called an exclamatory sentence.

5. Colons

A colon is the punctuation name for a mark that is used to connect two clauses.

'Never go out in the sun without sunscreen: you#ll damage your skin.'

They're also great for introducing a list of three or more things.

'I'm visiting four cities this summer: Rome, Florence, Paris, and Seville.'

6. Semicolons

Semicolons get a bad reputation for being difficult, but in truth, they're super handy!

You can use a semicolon to join 2 main (or independent clauses) which have equal importance. For example,

'Katie was hungry; she hadn't eaten all day.'

Semicolons show a closer relationship between the clauses than a full stop would show.

7. Apostrophes

Apostrophe is a punctuation mark that can be quite confusing for many children, but it's really important that children learn how to use it properly.

Apostrophes are used to identify something that belongs to someone or to show a letter or multiple letters are missing from a word. Yet as simple as this sounds, many children and adults often misplace or forget apostrophes, even putting them somewhere they shouldn't be altogether. The following sentence shows how to use an apostrophe for contractions, where letters are missing from "were not", "of the clock" and "cannot".

"We weren't meant to leave before 4 O'clock, so we can't go yet."

Apostrophes can also be used to show the possessive form of a singular noun.

"The student's job was to make sure no one touched the pet rabbit's breakfast."

With plural nouns where the word already has an 's' at the end, an apostrophe just gets added at the end.

"The girls' toy truck had broken."

If the word is plural and doesn't have an 's' at the end, again one can be added.

"The women's business meeting had been delayed."

One of the most common misuses of apostrophes is putting them in words which are just plural and don't show possession or contraction. For example, words such as pencils, ghosts, houses, or guests never need an apostrophe.

8. Dash

A dash is the punctuation name for a mark that used to separate words into statements. There are two common types of dashes: en dash and em dash which vary in length. The en dash is twice as long as a hyphen and is most commonly used to signify a range between two words or numbers, for example the date range:

1990-2014.

Meanwhile,the em dash can be used in place of a comma, parenthesis, or colon to enhance readability or emphasize the conclusion of a sentence. For example:

She gave him her answer—No!

8. Hyphen

This list of punctuation marks isn't exhaustive, but it does contain the most commonly used punctuation marks with names. For example:

Sarah had a part-time job that she worked on a Saturday

9. Parentheses

A parenthesis is a word, phrase, or sentence that is inserted into writing as extra information using brackets, commas or dashes. For example:

'James (who was terrified of heights) was going to ride the biggest rollercoaster in the theme park

When a whole sentence is written inside a parenthesis then the full stop will be included inside the parenthesis, for example - Please read this story. (You'll be amazed.). However, if the majority of a sentence is written outside the parentheses, then the full stop should also be used on the outside, for example, You are late (aren't you?).

10. Brackets

Brackets is the punctuation name for a mark that is a curved symbol that looks like () and they are used to separate non-essential or additional information from a sentence. For example:

She finally answered (after taking five minutes to think) that she didn’t understand the question.

11. Quotation marks

Quotation marks is the punctuation name for a mark that is the primary type of punctuation used in quotes. These are inverted commas that are used as either single (‘ ’) or double (“ ”) sets. They are used either to mark the beginning and end of a title or quoted passage. For example:

Walking across the beach Mary said, "the weather is very sunny today".

12. Ellipsis

An ellipsis(plural ellipses) is a punctuation mark made up of 3 dots. Ellipses are commonly used to indicate the omission of words, lines or paragraphs from a quoted passage. For example:

'Today...we are proud to announce our new product.'

Dictionary version [better version In my opinion]

What is a typographical symbol?

The term typographical symbol, or any other number of phrases, refers to a character or symbol that isn’t considered to be a punctuation mark but may still be used in writing for various purposes. Typographical symbols are generally avoided in formal writing under most circumstances. However, you may see typographic symbols used quite a bit in informal writing.

Typographical symbol examples

The following examples show some ways that a writer might use typographical symbols. Keep in mind that some of these sentences may not be considered appropriate in formal writing.

The frustrated actor said she was tired of her co-star’s “annoying bull****.”

For questions, email us at anascabana@bananacabanas.fake!

The band had five #1 singles on the American music charts during the 1990s.

My internet provider is AT&T.

Period (.)

A period is used to end a declarative sentence. A period indicates that a sentence is finished.

Today is Friday.

Unique to them, periods are also often used in abbreviations.

Prof. Dumbledore once again awarded a ludicrous amount of points to Gryffindor.

Question mark (?)

The question mark is used to end a question, also known as an interrogative sentence.

Do you feel lucky?

Exclamation point (!)

The exclamation point is used at the end of exclamations and interjections.

Our house is haunted!

Wow!

Comma, colon, and semicolon

Commas, colons, and semicolons can all be used to connect sentences together.

Comma (,)

The comma is often the punctuation mark that gives writers the most problems. It has many different uses and often requires good knowledge of grammar to avoid making mistakes when using it. Some common uses of the comma include:

Joining clauses: Mario loves Peach, and she loves him.

Nonrestrictive elements: My favorite team, the Fighting Mongooses, won the championship this year.

Lists: The flag was red, white, and blue.

Coordinate adjectives: The cute, happy puppy licked my hand.

Try out this quiz on the Oxford comma!

Colon (:)

The colon is typically used to introduce additional information.

The detective had three suspects: the salesman, the gardener, and the lawyer.

Like commas, colons can also connect clauses together.

We forgot to ask the most important question: who was buying lunch?

Colons have a few other uses, too.

The meeting starts at 8:15 p.m.

The priest started reading from Mark 3:6.

Semicolon (;)

Like the comma and the colon, the semicolon is used to connect sentences together. The semicolon typically indicates that the second sentence is closely related to the one before it.

I can’t eat peanuts; I am highly allergic to them.

Lucy loves to eat all kinds of sweets;lollipops are her favorite.

Hyphen and dashes (en dash and em dash)

All three of these punctuation marks are often referred to as “dashes.” However, they are all used for entirely different reasons.

Hyphen (-)

The hyphen is used to form compound words.

I went to lunch with my father-in-law.

She was playing with a jack-in-the-box.

He was accused of having pro-Britishsympathies.

En dash (–)

The en dash is used to express ranges or is sometimes used in more complex compound words.

The homework exercises are on pages 20–27.

The songwriter had worked on many Tony Award–winning productions.

Em dash (—)

The em dash is used to indicate a pause or interrupted speech.

The thief was someone nobody expected—me!

“Those kids will—” was all he managed to say before he was hit by a water balloon.

Test your knowledge on the different dashes here.

Parentheses, brackets, and braces

These pairs of punctuation marks look similar, but they all have different uses. In general, the parentheses are much more commonly used than the others.

Parentheses ()

Typically, parentheses are used to add additional information.

I thought (for a very long time) if I should actually give an honest answer.

Tomorrow is Christmas (my favorite holiday)!

Parentheses have a variety of other uses, too.

Pollution increased significantly. (See Chart 14B)

He was at an Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) meeting.

Richard I of England (1157–1199) had the heart of a lion.

Square brackets []

Typically, square brackets are used to clarify or add information to quotations.

According to an eyewitness, the chimpanzees “climbed on the roof and juggled [bananas].”

The judge said that “the defense attorney [Mr. Wright] had made it clear that the case was far from closed.”

Curly brackets {}

Curly brackets, also known as braces, are rarely used punctuation marks that are used to group a set.

I was impressed by the many different colors {red, green, yellow, blue, purple, black, white} they selected for the flag’s design.

Angle brackets <>

Angle brackets have no usage in formal writing and are rarely ever used even in informal writing. These characters have more uses in other fields, such as math or computing.

Quotation marks and apostrophe

You’ll find these punctuation marks hanging out at the top of a line of text.

Quotation marks (“”)

The most common use of quotation marks is to contain quotations.

She said, “Don’t let the dog out of the house.”

Bob Ross liked to put “happy little trees” in many of his paintings.

Apostrophe (‘)

The apostrophe is most often used to form possessives and contractions.

The house’s back door is open.

My cousin’s birthday is next week.

It isn’t ready yet.

We should’ve stayed outside.

Slash and ellipses

These are two punctuation marks you may not see too often, but they are still useful.

Slash (/)

The slash has several different uses. Here are some examples:

Relationships: The existence of boxer briefs somehow hasn’t ended the boxers/briefs debate.

Alternatives: They accept cash and/or credit.

Fractions: After an hour, 2/3 of the audience had already left.

Ellipses (…)

In formal writing, ellipses are used to indicate that words were removed from a quote.

The mayor said, “The damages will be …paid for by the city … as soon as possible.”

In informal writing, ellipses are often used to indicate pauses or speech that trails off.

He nervously stammered and said, “Look, I … You see … I wasn’t … Forget it, okay.”

I don’t do not own any information listed above. This can all be found on google/chrome/safari

Divider credits go to @cafekitsune

[flythesail]

Me thinking I can quickly reread my fic before writing chapter 8 but all I'm seeing is missing and misplaced commas

[nahaerya]

Calmwrimo Journal, Day #4

No fancy banner, we die like the talentless bitches we are.

Two goals, two bullseyes . Ish? I guess?

I mean, I've been plotting and writing! WIP #1, 383 words so far, while WIP #2 is 1287 (I don't remember when I started it, let's pretend it's all November stuff, shhh)

Drinking water, uh. Chocolate milk, does that count? It's still liquid.

Also, also, I have no idea if this counts, but I have 15k to proofread. Amid all those misplaced commas and typos, a couple missing words should pop up, too.

How are you doing, fellow Calmers?

[zepttgp]

Comma Checker: Precision Punctuation for Perfect Writing

Ensure perfect punctuation with ZeroGPT’s Comma Checker. This free tool identifies misplaced or missing commas in essays, reports, and professional writing. Ideal for students and professionals, it ensures clarity and readability in your text. Enhance the quality of your writing effortlessly with ZeroGPT’s reliable Comma Checker. Start using it today for error-free punctuation at ZeroGPT.

[dailydosetech]

Why Every Author Needs Professional Copy Editing Before Publishing

Writing a book is a great accomplishment, but it’s just the start of your author journey. No matter if you’re going the traditional or self publishing route, one important step in the process is copy editing. Copy editing is not just about fixing grammar mistakes, it’s about polishing your work to its best. If you want your book to be noticed and connect with readers, you need professional copy editing. Here’s why.

1. Polishing Your Writing for Clarity and Flow

Even the most gifted writers can miss little things like bad phrasing, or unclear sentences. A professional copy editor will help make sure your ideas flow together well and your message is clear to readers. They’ll let you know what words to use and what sentence structure to use that will make your article readable and appeal to your reader’s eye. It keeps your readers focused without having to deal with the confusing or clunky writing.

2. Fixing Grammar and Punctuation Errors

It’s easy to miss grammar or punctuation mistakes in your own writing, no matter how careful you are. These little things can make your writing feel unprofessional, whether it’s a misplaced comma, inconsistent verb tense, or a subject verb agreement error. These errors will be caught by a professional copy editor, and you won’t risk losing your readers’ trust.

3. Ensuring Consistency in Style and Voice

The voice and tone of every book is different: serious, humorous, or conversational. This voice should be maintained throughout the entire manuscript, so consistency in style is important. Consistency is checked by professional copy editors in things like capitalization, spelling, hyphenation and even character names. Plus, they make sure your voice is consistent so it reads as one continuous, uninterrupted piece.

4. Improving Pacing and Structure

How engaging your book is depends so much on the structure of your book. A copy editor can also let you know how fast your chapters, sections, and paragraphs are paced. They’ll tell you where the story drags or where the action moves too fast. They help you adjust the pacing so that your readers are hooked from beginning to end whether you’re writing fiction or non-fiction.

5. Removing Repetition and Unnecessary Words

Revising on your own, authors tend to repeat themselves or use unnecessary words. If a copy editor spots these repeated phrases or redundant details that might slow the narrative, he or she can cut them. They’ll delete anything that doesn’t provide value, leaving you with fewer words but more power. This helps keep your book tight and to the point, which is an especially important thing in today’s fast paced world when readers prefer brevity.

6. Improving Readability for Your Target Audience

All books are written for a specific audience. A copy editor will not only make the text look and sound good, but they will also make sure that your readers will understand and relate to your text. They will adjust the tone, language and style to meet your audience’s expectations. However, the editor will make sure that your content is addressing your ideal reader whether you are writing a young adult novel, a business book or a memoir.

7. Correcting Formatting Issues

Copy editors concentrate on the text itself, but they also look at the whole manuscript. They will make sure that headings are consistent, that paragraphs are spaced consistently, that margins are consistent, that alignment is consistent. Whether you’re publishing a print or eBook version of your professional manuscript, it should look polished and well organized before it’s published. Copy editors check your manuscript to make sure that it is formatted correctly for publishing standards so you can either submit it or self publish your work.

8. Building Your Reputation as a Professional Author

When you publish a book, your reputation as an author is at stake. Errors in spelling and grammar can undermine your credibility and how readers perceive you if your book has many such mistakes. Investing in professional copy editing is an investment in the quality of your work and in delivering a high standard product. This professionalism can help build trust with your readers and hopefully bring better reviews, more sales, and a bigger fan base.

9. Avoiding Negative Reviews and Criticism

With so many books available in today’s digital age, readers aren’t afraid to leave reviews. Feedback on books that have errors or awkward writing can hurt your book’s reputation and future sales. Professional copy editing reduces the risk of negative reviews and criticism significantly, by eliminating those errors.

10. Increasing Your Chances of Success

Professional copy editing is one of the best investments you can make if you’re serious about making your book a success. A well edited book is much more likely to be picked up by a publisher, or to get good reviews. For self published authors high quality editing can make your book stand out in a crowded market.

Conclusion

Professional copy editing is a must for any writer, no matter how good you are. It lets you write a polished, error free manuscript that’s ready for the world. Copy editing is the process of making your writing clearer, more flowy, and more consistent, so your book resonates and leaves a mark with readers. It’s the last step before your book is ready to be published, and it’s the difference between a book that will be successful and one that will be overlooked.

That’s why, if you want to put your best foot forward as an author and make sure your book is the best it can be, don’t skip the copy editing process. It’s a small investment with a huge return!

[rockyschexneider]

Celebrating Dot Your Is Day: Little Details, Big Results, and the Affiliate Marketing Edge

Celebrating Dot Your I's Day: Little Details, Big Results, and the Affiliate Marketing Edge

In the world of words and wisdom, the saying "dot your i's and cross your t's" often flies around as a gentle reminder to mind the mundane details. Yet, once a year, an unknown someone decided that these trivial sayings deserved their own fanfare, hence, Dot Your I's Day—a day dedicated to excellence in the minutiae. While the history is as elusive as finding a misplaced comma, the lesson it imparts is priceless: small details have big impacts.

Imagine waking up on this day with a ping of excitement and a checklist in hand—each tick perfect and every expectation met. Is it a report you’re tackling today? Bask in the elegance of impeccable penmanship. House need a sparkling makeover? Watch as each corner transforms into a testament to tidiness. This pursuit of excellence requires not just diligence but a heartfelt passion for creating order from chaos. So, are you ready to embrace the ride?

Speaking of which, every move to embrace detail isn't purely philosophical. It offers a narrative on life's broader picture, very much akin to the personal journey of discovery in marketing—where a single overlooked element can flip success into an elusive pursuit.

Once upon a not-so-distant marketing campaign, there was confidence—projected and polished. The subject line promised intrigue while the call-to-action shimmered with irresistible allure. Yet, despite days spent refining the smallest nuances, the echoes of silence filled the aftermath. What went wrong? A solitary typo in the crucial link—a small error that rendered the entire strategy useless. For digital marketers, the link serves as the bridge to potential engagement; for me, it was an unintentional barrier.

This experience underscored the unshakable truth: details matter, in marketing and in life. The tiniest slip can disrupt the harmony of an entire project. But while vigilance over each small detail is vital, the real magic lies in having a system that prevents such oversights from occurring.

That's where a solution like BLOX enters the scene—a beacon for those who aim to simplify complexity while harnessing tangible results. BLOX unraveled the chaos—no convoluted setups, no tiresome tweaking. It’s the elegance of efficiency packaged into one seamless process.

The concept? Profiting from digital products without the typical promotional hassles. It prioritizes efficiency, focusing on time-tested strategies that guarantee results. Inspired by years of success since 2017, the BLOX method is ideal for novices and seasoned marketers alike. Consider their innovative Split Pitch System, which yielded $225 in a mere two days—a testament to what’s achievable when aligned with a system that works. It’s a call to arms for any starting affiliate marketers, showcasing how simple shifts in strategy deliver powerful results.

Here's the essence of Dot Your I's Day wrapped in one delicious nugget of wisdom: A missed detail can be the sinking stone, but a streamlined system allows you to sail smoothly. The real clincher lies in the balance—delighting in detail without feeling imprisoned by them.

And sometimes, crossing your t's isn't a marker for excellence but rather an embrace of simplicity and readiness. No need to complicate what's naturally effective. Sometimes, all it takes is to utter, "Yes, I'm ready."

Dare to explore what BLOX can unlock in this journey towards detailed success. Every decision, after all, is a stepping stone to achieving grandeur.

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