#precise narration

[zentarablog]

Meet Ty Laskey

At Zentara.blog, we’re all about diving deep into fascinating topics and making complex ideas wonderfully easy to grasp. We couldn’t be more excited to introduce you to Ty Laskey, one of the brilliant human narrators who helps bring our audiobooks to life with clarity and enthusiasm! Ty brings a truly unique perspective to his narration. With a full career as a researcher in robotics and…

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

"not above upsetting healer"-- how often does plain yogurt upset healer? is it always intentional? does he apologize, does healer give him benefit of the doubt ("not inherently malicious")

does plain yogurt end up making sure healer eats regularly? good job making shadow milk an unreliable narrator, I'm getting the sense he cares more about healer than he admits to even himself

funnily enough, plain yogurt doesn't actually upset healer all that often - that line in particular is moreso in reference to what shadow milk is willing and/or planning to do in the future, almost an internal assertion. plain yogurt will sometimes say something upsetting on purpose to corner healer in a conversation, or to press his buttons, but he plays it off as innocent curiosity and healer takes that at face value

and yes!! i mentioned it in a previous ask, but plain yogurt does end up putting a decent amount of effort into making sure healer eats

[cynicalmusings]

a thought that came to me regarding socrates!reader: i think they’re illiterate, partially because i imagine they come from a humble background where they weren’t given the opportunity to learn in childhood, and partially as a nod to socrates’ scepticism of writing as something which would weaken memory. they also simply don’t see a point in learning: their reasoning is something like, writing only serves to put down what is already thought — so as long as you converse with somebody and learn about their thoughts, you don’t actually learn anything new from reading, anyway. so, considering the effort and time they’d have to spend learning to read as opposed to how much they could discuss and learn in that same about of time, they don’t see it as worth it. (also, hearkening back to the socrates point — they have crazy good memory for things that have been said. if you put everything they keep in their head onto paper, it would be enough to fill a hefty stack of tomes in the library of philia. people are often shocked by their ability to recall minor details from conversations which happened months ago.)

anyway, they’re not ashamed of their illiteracy, but i do think it gets them a pretty bad rap among most of the students. like, ‘lmaooo that crazy person loiters around the biggest library in amphoreus but can’t even read. what a weird loser.’ in any case, it doesn’t help their reputation.

i feel like the way anaxa found out was pretty chill, though. like, he’d heard rumours around, but didn’t pay them any mind because he never pays that kind of circulating gossip any mind anyway. one day, reader just comes into his office/ lab or whatever, and says:

“good anaxagoras, would you do me a favour? i was given this message earlier today. could you tell me what it says?”

anaxa takes the slip of paper you’re holding out to him, raising a brow as he reads the words aloud. “‘hey, philosopher — if you’re so clever, write back to me when you get this message.’ they have also signed their name at the bottom.”

“well, that’s not particularly kind,” you remark, taking the message back. your eyes scan over the page as if you are trying to solve some kind of mysterious puzzle.

“you can’t read, then?” anaxa asks.

“no. i never learned, but i hardly see the point in doing so now, when i am already so advanced in years [for the record, they’re like, 20-something].” you turn an acute stare his way. “do you think less of me for it?”

he leans back in his chair and returns your gaze. “why should i?”

“there seems to be a widely-accepted association between the ability to read and the ability to participate in complex thought among those at the grove. it is not impossible that you share it.”

a dry laugh slips past his lips. “do you truly think i would partake in such misguided conceit?”

“i did not think so, no; but one can never rule out possibilities without sufficient confirmation.”

(and now whenever anybody gives reader shit for not being able to read, anaxa gives them the stink eye.)

[the-feathered-dragon-hoard]

There were many different ways to use [Incite], Cheon Inho's exclusive skill. The basic ability, of course, is to literally impulse others with words. However, [Select a target to incite.] What if the target weren't 'others'? 「I am Yoo Joonghyuk.」 I will incite myself from now on.

— Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint, Side Stories, Episode 3: Protagonist(?)

Bonus:

Little by little, I began to have strange thoughts. Maybe I really am Yoo Joonghyuk? ['Incite' is in full effect.] Suddenly, I felt skeptical of everything I was about to do. I don't know why, but I also felt like finding and killing Kim Dokja. 

[luguangs]

objectively i know not everyone has the same taste in books and stories reach us in different ways at different times of our lives and that's beautiful and part of the human experience etc etc but also seeing my irl friend rate one of my favorite books 3 stars on goodreads makes me want to commit real life murder

[fightinggamegirlfriend]

I wish whoever made Hayate’s Raijin’s combo throw string in DOA4 so fucking difficult a very step on a Lego for the rest of your life and I hope you NEVER touch fighting games EVER AGAIN.

[purplecelestial-buddy]

And the prize for being the most malleable person goes to.... Me!

[agnesandhilda]

I'm not done reading beowulf yet but unferth gets such a raw deal from the narrator it's hilarious. yeah beowulf defeated grendel sicknasty style with the help of the man upstairs and it made unferth, that raggedy bitch, finally shut up

[phoenixcatch7]

Fanfiction is great because you can see so clearly how people learn to write.

Some people, it's clear, learned almost entirely through absorbing the world around them. Grammar and punctuation will be all over the place, spellings are approximate, but the voice of the narration will come through so clearly. You can hear the dialect of the people around them as of they're telling the story. It's not a written story, it's a transcription of how they talk in their day to day life.

Some people learned through reading a gazillion books as a kid. Grammer and spelling will be rock solid, formatting occasionally based on the single tab of physical books rather than the double tab of online scrolling, but dialogue is often stilted and overly formal. You might notice a lack of contractions and very rigid rules they made for consistency that actually have a lot more flexibility than they think. They tend to have a fantastic grasp of sentence flow, though.

And other people formally learned how to write. This could be anywhere from taking school classes seriously because they enjoyed writing stories as a kid to literal certifications and jobs in the field. Grammer is flawless. Punctuation is triple checked. Foreign words are in italics. Characters have distinct voices. But their self indulgence is tempered by perfectionism. They know precisely what they want from a fic. Authors notes often feature mutterings about their happiness with the chapter. Kaomojis often appear! They seek a style to their writing, and it makes for some wonderfully clever plots! These are the ones most likely to get fun with formatting!

And some people.... Some people examined it all. They dissect dialogue, people watch, cross reference behaviours and compare characters to people irl. You can tell almost immediately who had formative experiences with Terry pratchett and/or ghibli, because it's these people. While others see writing as fun, expression, craft, they see it as art. Plain and simple. Sure, the grammar is occasionally sacrificed on the altar of creative freedom, and the occasional sentence might miss a full stop, but these people seem to self reflect on themselves as part of the art making process. On occasion, these people have the most masterful grasp of dialogue and invocation and hand sewn characterisations. Formatting is pretty standard because all the focus is on the actual words. These fics can be edited to the moon and back!

All of these can vary wildly in forethought and quality, and betas can often catch individual problems before they hit post, but just. Isn't it so cool? What's that one Oscar Wilde quote about every mask just being another fragment of yourself?

Did you recognise yourself?

[bewarethewolfarmy]

This is fascinating and I am delighted by how much more this fandom can get into. Like the idea that Severus put effort into it, actually tried, but because Harry is of course biased, it comes out being more "he's gross" than "he's actually putting in an effort to look good". But the fact that the translation from one language to another helps bring about this idea is all the more interesting.

Greasy or Oiled? A Translation Twist

When I first read the Harry Potter books in my native language, I had no idea that Snape’s hair was being used as a way to mock and belittle him. Quite the opposite, I actually thought he was someone who cared about his hairstyle and aesthetic appearance and was trying to keep up with 1990s trends! like these:

In the English version of the books, Severus Snape's hair is famously described as "greasy," giving off a certain image of neglect and uncleanliness. However, in the translation to my native language, his hair is described as "روغن زده" (oiled) instead.

This is the Persian translation of the book Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Well, I’m not sure what the exact equivalent of "روغن زده" (oiled) would be in English, but in my language, this adjective is used when someone applies special oils to their hair for styling and beauty purposes.

This subtle shift in wording changes the way we perceive Snape's appearance. While "greasy" makes you think of someone who doesn't take care of themselves, "oiled" feels more intentional, like Snape might have styled his hair that way on purpose. It’s almost as if Snape would wake up every morning, take a refreshing shower before classes, then sit down in front of a mirror in the dungeons to start his precise and delicate oiling ritual, carefully styling his hair to perfection.

Maybe Snape really was indulging in a bit of hair oil therapy or just trying to keep his locks in line with the trends of the time. But, of course, Harry’s biased perspective ruined any chance of appreciating the poor man’s grooming efforts. Who’s to say?

[plutotheplum]

ᡣ𐭩 zayne | scrubs ᡣ𐭩

cw: vaginal fingering, p in v, finger sucking

zayne has an inkling that you have some sort of obsession with his scrubs.

he doesn’t exactly know why, but there’s been too many instances of you ogling him in his scrubs for him to pass as simple coincidences. the first time, he’d just finished up in surgery, the complications making it run longer than most, his body weighed down by exhaustion that he’d simply decided to return to his office, without changing. he hadn’t expected to find waiting for him was you, a cute, little bento box clutched in your hands, wrapped up in a snow-patterned cloth. 

he’d been thankful, he always is, what kind of boyfriend would he be otherwise?

but you hadn’t smiled at him that night, instead stared at him blankly with wide eyes and parted lips. he’d tried talking to you, but it was as though your mind was preoccupied, your gaze solely fixated on his scrubs, every flex of his lithe fingers as he’d undone the knot of the cloth. zayne thinks he might’ve heard your breath catch when he sat down in his chair, his thighs spreading slightly to get comfortable, scrubs pulling over his thighs a little.

you’d excused yourself with a flustered air, not without kissing him, however, the movement of your lips a little too desperate for him to consider normal, the scrape of your teeth against his lips enough to have him readjusting his half-hard cock in the privacy of his office.

the next few times it happens, zayne can’t help but be intrigued.

you’re handsy, the desire in your eyes barely concealed, the press of your thighs hard to miss when he spins a pen between his fingers, pretending to think. but it’s not his scrubs only, his glasses seem to have some hold over you too.

like when his glasses slide too low on the slope of his nose and he pushes them up, zayne can spy the way you bite your lip, your hand curling into a fist on your lap. he wishes you’d just act on your urges, but all he gets are eager, little kisses, your hands drifting over his chest for a moment before you pull back with a sweet smile and a kiss to his cheek and say you’ll be waiting for him at home.

he can’t have that. when grayson mentions next month’s observational surgery for medical interns, zayne knows exactly what to do. 

one call later to akso hospital’s chief of surgery, with the promise of attending whatever upcoming medical conference is next, he’s managed to get you a front row seat.

zayne hopes it’s enough to make you finally snap.

- 

you don’t know how you’ve managed to find yourself here.

you thought observing surgeries was strictly for residents and interns, but apparently the invitation extends to doting girlfriends too. to your mortification, you think zayne might be catching onto your blatant, although extremely appreciative, ogling of him in his scrubs. which is why you’re sitting here now, perched on a metal bench, watching as your boyfriend’s gloves slip on, a mask covering the lower half of face.

aortic aneurysm, grayson had mentioned. 

any longer and you may as well have had an aneurysm yourself. 

you can hardly sit still, teeth sinking into your lower lip as zayne’s low, commanding voice comes through the speaker, narrating the surgery with precision. you shouldn’t be feeling this way, thighs pressing together under your skirt as you listen to his voice, watching the way he works, completely in his element with such professionalism that has you feeling hot and entirely too bothered. 

which is probably why you’re pawing at his broad shoulders and pulling him down with a rough tug, lips pressing against his in a feverish kiss the moment he’s out of the operating theatre.

“sorry,” you whisper against his lips, “you just- you look really good, zayne. really, really handsome and if you don’t fuck me right now, i think i might die.”

zayne huffs out a laugh, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth affectionately.

“yeah, sweetheart? i suppose it would be against my oath to neglect someone so direly in need.”

you nod rapidly, pulling him down for another searing kiss, fingers slipping into his hair, pulling at the soft strands. zayne smiles against your lips, guiding you towards his desk, your lower back hitting it as he boxes you in against it, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

a soft moan leaves you when he squeezes at your ass, groping at the fat, his breath hot against you as his other hand slips under your skirt, rubbing up against your embarrassingly drenched panties. 

“you’re this wet?” zayne asks hoarsely, groaning when he pulls your panties to the side and feels your slick sticking to his fingers stubbornly as he rubs the pads of his fingers against your slippery, puffy folds. “just from watching me perform a surgery?”

“surgery, scrubs,” you mutter absentmindedly, half-lidded and drunken gaze dragging over the length of his arm, pussy clenching at the visible flex of his bicep and the muscles in his forearms, the sinewy skin littered with scars nearly enough to make you cum right and then there. “i think i’m just always wet around you, zayne.”

his smile against your cheek makes your heart flutter, an airy, contented sigh leaving you as he sinks two fingers inside of you, curling them with practised ease. 

“it is flattering,” he whispers, pecking your lips gently, his hand pulling your sweater up until your bra is exposed, fingers unclasping your bra quickly. zayne sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your breasts, his jaw clenching. “fuck- you’re beautiful, love.”

“thank- ah- thank you.”

you flush under his gaze, head tipping back as he thrusts his fingers into your clenching cunt, the low, hoarse groans he lets out into your ear making you curl your hands into his scrubs, pulling him impossibly closer. the praise he gives you makes everything spin around you, swirling and melding into nothing until all you can hear are his soft whispers.

“good girl… taking my fingers so well, yeah? pretty, pretty fucking baby… all mine… you sound so pretty, sweetheart… i love you…”

you can barely handle it all, mouth opening for his fingers when he slides them inside, sucking dazedly, hips rocking down against his hand, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, gasping when he curls them further and presses his thumb against your swollen, aching clit. when his mouth latches onto your breast, kissing and sucking, tongue flicking at your nipple before he bites down with measured restraint, you know you’re done.

he groans when you pull at his hair, muffling your sounds with a sloppy kiss. zayne’s arm wraps around your waist to hold you up when he feels you shake, licking into your mouth with such fervor that has you whining and whimpering until he pulls back to shush you.

“what- what are you doing?” you ask, voice slurring, shaking your head in a panicked gesture when he tries to pull his scrub top over his head, “don’t do that. the scrubs and glasses stay on.”

“you’re serious,” zayne muses when you stop him again, his fingers lacing with yours. “so, i was right.”

“mhm,” you smile up at him, tongue licking over his lower lip playfully.

he smiles lazily, pushing his glasses to sit higher on the slope of his nose, sitting in his chair, his thighs spreading invitingly, the fabric tight around the hardened bulge that makes your pussy throb.

“c’mere, sweetheart.”

as if you needed an invitation. you’re pulling your skirt and panties off, clambering up onto his lap, his chair creaking as you kiss him, hand slipping between your bodies to free his hard, thick cock that’s smeared with milky beads of pre-cum. 

there’s a collective sound of relief leaving both of you when you sink down on his warm length, his hands grasping your waist as you rock your hips down, whining softly into his mouth.

you lean back, rising and falling on his cock, setting a rhythm that has zayne’s eyes fluttering shut, his head tipping back to rest against the back of his chair. the bob of his adam’s apple has you growing wetter, pussy fluttering around his fat cock, zayne’s hand roughly squeezing at your ass.

“that’s it,” he breathes out, hooking his thumb against your teeth to pull you closer, lips pressing against yours. “ride my cock, love. take what you want.”

his collarbone is exposed, peeking through the v of his scrubs, your hands guiding his hand to your throat, whimpering when he squeezes your neck gently. his fingers are pushing back into your mouth before long, the same fingers that were moving so precisely only hours ago; saving someone’s life.

you let your tongue lave between his fingers, head bobbing as you ride his cock, fingers pushing at his scrub top, walls clenching around his cock when zayne bites the hem, holding it between his teeth. he looks good like this, almost as fucked out as you are, a hazy smile spreading across your face as you lean forward, breasts squishing up against his warm chest while you work your hips, bouncing on his cock, your hard nipples brushing against his pecs.

“i love you,” you mumble, voice shy and airy and cheeks flushed, despite the fact that his cock was currently stuffing you full.

“i know,” zayne whispers, hand pressing against your back to keep you flush against him as he picks you up, laying you down on his desk. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

which is why he fucks you like he means it, because he does, guiding your ankles to lock around his back as he leans over you, pounding his cock into your cunt, forcing your pussy to stretch around his thick cock, his hand cradling the back of your head so it doesn’t bang against the desk.

his glasses slip off with a clatter, but neither of you can find it in yourselves to care, too consumed by pleasure and lust, your teeth sinking into his shoulder when he grinds his hips into you, cock buried so deeply inside of you that your thighs are twitching, eyes squeezed shut. 

“zayne,” you gasp, “zayne, i- i can’t-”

“gonna cum?” zayne asks, his voice hoarse and trembling from the pleasure, “please, sweetheart? cum on my cock, wanna see you look all pretty and undone, my love.”

the brush of his thumb against your clit is all it takes to send you over the edge, that and the way he drives his cock into you, in one measured, deep thrust that you’re almost sure you can feel his cock in your throat.

“c’mon,” he rasps into your ear, the lewd words accompanied by the sweetest, gentlest kiss to your cheek in encouragement, “c’mon sweetheart, cream my fuckin’ cock.”

you’re crying out, back arching, fingers scrabbling for purchase, wrapping around him, gripping the fabric of his scrubs desperately, your squeal muffled by zayne’s mouth slotting over yours, the heels of your feet pressing against him, trying to keep him stuffed inside of you. 

“fuck-” zayne groans, “oh fuck- sweetheart, take it, take my cum.”

he thrusts into you unevenly, grunting as he cums, his body falling over yours, hot cum flooding your pussy as his cock throbs and jerks inside of you. a contented sigh escapes you as you lay limp on his desk, nails scratching at his scalp gently, fingers running through his hair soon after.

zayne smiles at you when he props himself up, his lips brushing across your jaw fleetingly.

“maybe you should exclusively wear scrubs from now on,” you suggest, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes, pecking his lips.

“you’d never let me leave the house,” he whispers against your lips, amusement lacing his words.

“how could i?” you pout, your nose nuzzling against his, “not when you look this good.”

zayne lets out a low laugh, helping you sit up, cleaning you up with a few tissues before he does the same, helping you with your clothes after, his hands smoothing over your ruffled skirt.

you yawn contentedly, pressing yourself against him, rising up onto the tips of your toes to kiss him again, mewling softly when he pets his hands along your waist and hips.

“you did really good today,” you offer when he drags you onto his lap, curling up against his chest. “the surgery, i mean, i don’t know a whole lot about hearts and aortas, but i think you did great, zayne.”

“you don’t know a lot about hearts?” he muses, tipping your chin up with his finger, “that doesn’t sound right.”

“what?” you ask confusedly, brows furrowing as he kisses your forehead. “what do you mean?”

“how could you not?” zayne whispers, his gaze soft and riddled with overwhelmingly love and affection. “how could you not when you’ve completely captured my heart and soul?”

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Beginners Guide to Descriptive Sentences

Hi writers.

I’m Rin T, and in this post I’m excited to share with you a detailed guide on how to craft vivid descriptions and descriptive sentences for your writing. I’ve long believed that descriptive writing is the magic that turns ordinary text into an immersive experience. When done well, every sentence acts like a brushstroke that paints a scene in the reader’s mind.

──────────────────────────── Why Descriptive Writing Matters ────────────────────────────

I have seen how powerful descriptions can engage readers and establish a strong connection with the narrative. Descriptive writing is not simply about decorating your work; it is about building an atmosphere that transports your reader to a world. your world.

When you write descriptions, remember:

You are setting the tone.

You are building a world.

You are evoking emotions.

You are inviting your readers to experience your story with all their senses.

──────────────────────────── Step-by-Step: Crafting Vivid Descriptions ────────────────────────────

Below are my personal tips and tricks to help you build detailed and captivating descriptions:

Begin With the Senses

Description does not solely depend on what the eyes can see. Consider sound, smell, taste, and touch. For instance, instead of writing “The witch’s hut was eerie,” try elaborating: “The witch’s hut exuded an eerie aura. The creaking timber and distant echoes of whispering winds mingled with the pungent aroma of burnt sage and mysterious herbs.” In this way, you help the reader not only see the scene but also feel it.

Choose Precise and Evocative Language

Precision in language is vital. Replace generic adjectives with specific details to boost clarity and imagery. Rather than “The forest was dark,” consider: “The forest was a labyrinth of shadowed boughs and muted undergrowth, where the light barely touched the spindly branches, and every step unveiled whispers of ancient spells.” Specific details create tangible images that stay with readers.

Show, Don’t Just Tell

A common mistake is to “tell” the reader how to feel, rather than “showing” it through context and detail. Instead of writing “It was a spooky night,” immerse your reader: “Under a pallid crescent moon, the night unfurled like a canvas of foreboding whispers; broken branches and rustling leaves narrated the secrets of a long-forgotten curse.” By showing the elements, you invite the reader to experience the fear and mystery firsthand. (You don't need to be as dramatic as my examples, but this is simply for inspiration)

Use Figurative Language Thoughtfully

Metaphors, similes, and other figures of speech lend an artistic flair to your descriptions. When writing about a scene in a magical world, you might say: “Her eyes shone like twin beacons of moonlit silver, cutting through the gloom as if to part the veil of night itself.” Such comparisons evoke emotions and deepen the reader’s connection with the scene. However, be cautious not to overdo it; a little figurative language can go a long way.

Strike a Balance Between Details and Pacing

While elaborate descriptions are alluring, too many details can weigh down your narrative. Consider introducing the broader scene first and then focusing on key elements that define the mood. For instance, start with an overview: “The village lay nestled between ancient stone arches and mist-covered hills.” Then, zoom into details: “A solitary, ivy-clad tower sent spiraling tendrils of mist into the twilight, as if guarding secrets of a long-lost incantation.” This technique creates a rhythm, drawing readers in gradually.

──────────────────────────── Practical Exercises to Enhance Your Descriptive Writing ────────────────────────────

To help you practice these techniques, try the following exercises:

Sensory Detail Drill: Select a familiar scene from your fantasy world (for example, a witch’s secluded garden). Write a short paragraph focusing on each of the five senses. What do you taste as you bite into a magical fruit? What sounds resonate in the quiet of the enchanted night? This drill helps you to avoid flat descriptions and encourages you to integrate sensory experiences.

Revision and Refinement: Take a simple sentence like “The night was cold,” and transform it using the advice above. Rework it into something like, “The night was a canvas of shimmering frost and darkness, where every breath of the wind carried a hint of winter’s sorrow.” Compare the two, and notice how minor adjustments can dramatically heighten the mood.

Peer Review Sessions: Sharing your work can offer invaluable insights. Exchange your descriptions with fellow writers and ask for focused feedback, Does the description evoke the intended emotion? Does it deliver a clear image? Use these sessions as opportunities to improve and refine your craft.

──────────────────────────── Common Pitfalls and How to Avoid Them ────────────────────────────

Through my years of writing, I've learned that even the most passionate writers can stumble. Here are some pitfalls to watch out for:

Overloading With Adjectives: While it’s tempting to create elaborate descriptions, too many adjectives and adverbs can distract rather than enhance. Aim for clarity and purpose in every word. Instead of “a very dark, spooky, frightening forest filled with creepy sounds,” try “a forest shrouded in ominous silence, where every rustle hinted at unseen mysteries.”

Falling Into Clichés: Familiar images can sometimes render your work predictable. Try to avoid worn phrases. Instead of “as dark as night,” imagine “as impenetrable as the void that separates worlds.” Unique expressions capture attention and create lasting impressions.

Neglecting the Flow: Descriptions are vital, but the narrative must continue to drive forward. Check that your detailed passages serve to enhance the storyline rather than bog it down. Ask yourself: Does this description bring the reader closer to the action, or does it detract from the momentum of the narrative?

──────────────────────────── Advanced Techniques for the Aspiring Writer ────────────────────────────

Once you’re comfortable with the basics, consider these advanced methods to elevate your descriptions into artful prose:

Integrate Descriptions Seamlessly: Instead of isolating your descriptions, weave them into dialogue and action. For example, as a witch brews her potion, you might describe the bubbling cauldron and swirling mists as part of her incantation, not just as a standalone scene. “As she whispered the ancient words, the cauldron responded, its surface rippling like a dark mirror reflecting centuries of secrets.”

Reflect Character Perspectives: Let your characters’ emotions color the scene. If a character fears a looming threat, their perception will add a layer of tension to the environment. “I entered the dim corridor with trepidation, my heart pounding as the flickering torchlight revealed spectral figures dancing along the walls.” This technique makes the description both situational and personal.

Use Rhythm: The cadence of your sentences can mirror the pace of your narrative. In high-tension moments, short, abrupt sentences heighten the urgency. Conversely, in serene scenes, longer, flowing sentences can create a tranquil atmosphere. Experiment with sentence structure until you find a balance that suits both your style and the mood you wish to convey.

──────────────────────────── Final Thoughts and Encouragement ────────────────────────────

your narrative is your unique creation. you too will find your distinctive voice. I encourage you to keep experimenting with different techniques until your descriptions feel both natural and mesmerizing. Write freely, revise diligently, and most importantly, let your creative spirit shine through every line.

Thank you for joining me. I hope these tips can help you.

[amnhnyc]

🚀 A new Hayden Planetarium Space Show, narrated by Pedro Pascal, is opening June 9! In Encounters in the Milky Way, you’ll get a front-row seat to spectacular moments in our solar system's past and future, including the paths of stars, comets, interstellar debris, and visually stunning gas and dust clouds. 

🌌 Developed by a team that includes astronomers, science visualization experts, and artists, Encounters in the Milky Way is made possible by data from one of the most transformative projects of the past century: the European Space Agency's Gaia mission, dubbed the "billion-star survey" for mapping the precise positions, distances, and motions of nearly 2 billion stars in our galaxy.

🔗 Learn more.

[ravencromwell]

I have to add Archivist Wasp and its sequel Latchkey by Nicole Kornher-Stace. (Both those links lead to Weightless Books, an arm of the incomparable Small Beer Press that sells drm-free versions of numerous small presses' books for ease of reading and to avoid the amazon monster; to tout the awesome of Small Beer and Mythic Delirium, both primarily responsbiel for publishing Kornher-Stace would be a post of its own, but look them up if you're unfamiliar because they've provided some of the most envelope-pushing, queer-heavy scifi of the last decade.) Archivist Wasp is in the "destroyed earth" rather than the space category of scifi and...well, Amal El Mohtar can sell it better than I ever could:

An Archivist has two jobs. The first is to hunt and catch ghosts in order to learn about the precataclysm past from them; the second is to defend her life and position against “upstarts” — the other girls marked by the goddess Catchkeep’s claw-shaped scars at birth — once a year. Wasp has been Archivist for three years, and wants nothing more than to escape a dismal life of killing her sisters and obeying the Catchkeep-priest — so when an unusually powerful ghost asks her to help find his former partner in the underworld, she agrees. But, as is so often the case with the underworld, she finds both more and less than she bargained for. More than anything else, this book is sharp. You could cut yourself on the prose — Wasp’s world is one of thorns, knives, edges of thick, broken glass, a constant background-hum of pain that sometimes swells into a shout. Wasp’s perspective absolutely thrums with tension and violence, but also aches with a fierce, hollow loneliness to break the heart. The longing and gratitude for the smallest beginnings of true friendship make the betrayals more vicious, and the stakes just keep rising. I burned through this book in about three hours, desperately rooting for her. It’s also a brilliantly constructed narrative and world. The gods are cruel and absent. The underworld is a maze in layers, a twisting, turning palimpsest, one that allows Wasp to descend almost archaeologically through time by literally experiencing her ghost-partner’s memories. The pre- and post-apocalyptic worlds reflect each other in shards and fragments, all the more powerful for being subtle, for their resistance to being spelled out. It was also keenly refreshing — especially in something that’s ostensibly YA, where the Love Triangle of Doom is so annoyingly pervasive — to find a book in which all of the strongest, primary relationships are friendships; where friendship has the narrative, motive force usually reserved for sexualized romance. I very much wanted to see the A in QUILTBAG represented in this column, and this is a fine example: while the connection between the ghost and his (female) partner is intense and loving, it is never represented as sexual, and sex is in fact completely irrelevant.

Sci-fi books where a queer woman has the ghost of an annoying dead guy in her head

*Misery is nonbinary (she/they) and who’s in her head is not dead or a guy but I’m counting it, okay

[lascvitae]

ON MY MIND ✵ NISHIMURA RIKI.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. YOU MAY BE ON MY MIND

EVERYDAY BABY, SAY YOU’RE MINE .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ you ask your boyfriend to narrate your makeup video and he says yes, but you don’t expect what he leaves in.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. gamer bf!niki x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. teasing, you do vlogs/make videos, established relationship, domestic fluff, niki lowkey bullies you

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 1k

(🎧) now playing — cool with you by njz.

masterlist.

NIKI SLIDES ONTO YOUR DESK chair like he lives there. (he kind of does at this point.)

you left hours ago, sending him a link to the footage and a simple message:

“do my voiceover plz haha”

he sent back a thumbs up emoji and a picture of him playing valorant at your setup with a bowl of dry cereal.

but — finally — the video’s up on your editing laptop. you’re centered in the frame, lips already glossy, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder like you didn’t plan that. he rolls his eyes and hits record.

“alright. this is my girlfriend. she’s about to spend thirty minutes proving she doesn’t need makeup by putting on a full face of makeup.” he says, voice flat.

you hold up your primer and flash a peace sign at the camera.

“step one: mystery goop. i think it makes your face sticky. which is apparently good. don’t ask me why.”

you start patting it in with your fingers, totally focused.

“she’s acting like she’s doing heart surgery right now. it’s not that deep, bro.”

a moment.

“okay, maybe it is. her skin looks good. whatever.”

next up is foundation. you dot it on with practiced precision.

“here comes the skin colored lotion. as if her face isn’t already smooth.”

you blend quickly with your sponge, mouth moving like you’re talking to yourself off camera.

“she’s definitely complaining about something right now. probably the sponge. or the time. she’s never on time.”

concealer comes next. you do a triangle under the eyes, and a tiny bit to the chin.

“she does this everytime like she doesn’t sleep whenever she can. like it doesn’t make sense.”

you lift a brow at the mirror. he mirrors the look automatically, smirking.

“she makes that face every time. like she’s surprised it’s turning out cute. babe. it always turns out cute.”

you do your brows now. you go in with small, controlled strokes and niki hums under his breath.

“this part? she zones out completely. i could be talking to her and tell her i crashed the car and she’ll make faces then respond ten seconds later.”

then eyeshadow. you hesitate. consider. then go for the neutral and pink shades.

he nods like he predicted it.

“she does this every time. pretends she’s gonna experiment with brighterer colors and then picks the same color she always uses. at this point it’s muscle memory.”

eyeliner next. you draw a clean wing with one hand, barely blinking.

“i can’t look. i always think she’ll poke her eye.”

you pick up your lash curler and glance at the camera like you already know he’s going to say something.

“yep. the torture device.”

you clamp it, curling your eyelashes upward.

“why are you not even scared? like you’re not squeezing metal near your eyeball right now. couldn’t be me. actually, literally wouldn’t be me.”

you curl the other side with the same calmness.

“she does this in the car sometimes. i don’t know how she does it while moving. and i just have to sit there and pretend i’m not witnessing some shit out of final destination.”

you reach for your mascara next, open it and apply it to your lashes.

“this is the lash grower. like it’s literally magic.”

you pause mid swipe, mouth open, brows slightly raised like you’re trying not to mess up.

“this is the mascara face. you know the one. mouth open, eyes wide, like a fish.”

you finish one eye, then the other, blinking carefully toward the ceiling.

“honestly? she ate that. i’ve never seen someone do this without stabbing their own eye. i flinch just watching it.”

then blush. you apply it to your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

“she’s obsessed with this part. but i like watching it. it makes her look pretty and soft. and the way she uses like, nothing, and it still spreads out—“ he catches himself, laughing under his breath.

“yeah. i like this part.”

you smile at something off camera now. probably at yourself. or maybe at the joke you were thinking of when you were filming. whatever it was, it makes his heart squeeze.

“she smiles like that and i forget what i was talking about.” he says quietly.

highlighter next. it’s just enough to catch the light and you tilt your face toward the window.

“there it is. that little head tilt. she does that every time too. look at her trying not to smile. she knows she looks good. i hope she trips on her way out. just kidding. i’ll catch her.”

you’re reaching for your lip liner now, dragging it gently along the edge of your lips with precision.

niki squints.

“okay, now we’re doing… outlining. this part’s lowkey a scam. she lines her lips just to fill them in again. but i’m not allowed to question it.”

you lean in a little, still focused, overlining the top lip slightly.

“look at her. just casually redrawing her face like it’s a coloring book. i said something about it once and she was like ‘it’s called enhancing.’ okay then. my bad bae.”

you cap the liner and grab your lipstick next, a nudey pink, your go to. you tap it on lightly, almost like a stain.

“this one’s always in her purse. i don’t even know what shade it is but i like it.”

finally: lip gloss. his real enemy. you swipe it on, press your lips together, and pout a little.

niki sighs dramatically. “this part ruins my life. i go in for a kiss and she’s like, ‘nooo you’ll mess it up.’ like girl. you just spent thirty minutes turning into the human version of an angel and i don’t even get one kiss?”

you pose and he continues to talk.

“then when i finally get to kiss her i become one of those sticky mouse traps. but it’s okay. i secretly like it.” he admits.

you laugh at yourself then reach to cover the camera and the screen cuts.

he leans back in your chair, hoodie sleeves half pushed up, hand hovering over the stop button.

the room’s quiet again. the file’s done. he could stop recording.

but he doesn’t.

not right away.

he exhales, taps the desk once with his knuckle, then mutters under his breath, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s still talking into the mic.

“she’s so pretty it actually pisses me off.”

he pauses.

then speaks softer. more to himself than anything.

“…i’m so down bad for her it’s insane.”

click.

taglist — @saysirhc @blissfulflw @yuyuy90

[cherry-zip]

─ • CSC .ᐟ Heaven

› content ┆ Choi Seungcheol x fem reader ⊹ genre .ᐟ smut and cute ending ✎ word-count ┆ 3,2k. ⌁ summary ┆perhaps rambling about how hot Taemin was during his concert isn't such a bad idea when you're dating Seungcheol. ⨯ content warning .ᐟ smut with a little plot, jealous cheo (good way), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), coming inside, light bondage, light choking, coming inside.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › minor do not interact, you will be blocked

The concert was everything you’d dreamed of and more. Taemin’s voice echoed through the arena, powerful and mesmerizing, and his dancing—god, his dancing, was nothing short of breathtaking. Every move was sharp, precise, and dripping with charisma. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stage, your lightstick waving wildly in sync with the crowd. By the time the final encore ended, your throat was raw from screaming, your eyes were red from crying at how unbelievable he was, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Getting to witness his talent in front of your eyes felt almost unreal.

As you made your way home, adrenaline still coursed through your veins; you couldn’t wait to tell Seungcheol all about it. You had been excited about the concert all week, talking nonstop about how much you loved Taemin’s music and how you couldn’t wait to see him perform live. Seungcheol had smiled and nodded along, but you knew that deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a little… insecure. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. But he had been so sweet earlier, listening to you gush while helping you get ready, even though you knew he wasn’t exactly Taemin’s biggest fan—for boyfriend reasons. But that was one of the things you loved about him—he always supported you, even when it came to your slightly obsessive fangirling.

When you finally unlocked the door to your apartment, still clutching the lightstick to your chest, you were greeted by the soft glow of the living room lights. Seungcheol was lounging on the couch, phone in hand, looking effortlessly handsome in his oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. He glanced up as you walked in, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “How was the concert?”

You dropped your bag by the door and practically floated over to him, your excitement bubbling over. “Oh my god, Seungcheol, it was incredible. Taemin is just… ugh, he’s so perfect. His dancing? His stage presence? His voice? I feel like I died and came back to life. I might actually be in love!”

You expected him to laugh or tease you like he usually did, but instead, his smile faltered for a split second before recovering, forcing a chuckle. “That good, huh?”

“The best!” you gushed, pulling out your phone. “You have to see the videos I took. He did this move during ‘Heaven’ where he—okay, just watch.” You leaned closer, holding your phone up so he could see the screen.

Seungcheol watched the video with a neutral expression, though you noticed his jaw tighten slightly as you narrated every move. “Wow,” he said when it ended, his tone dry. “He’s… really flexible.”

You laughed, completely missing the edge in his voice. “Right? His arms, his hips, and his abs—oh my god, don’t even get me started. I mean, I know you work out and everything, but Taemin is just on another level.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, his smile now firmly in place, though his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Is that so?”

You nodded enthusiastically, still scrolling through your photos. “Yeah, like, I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that cute, hot, and talented at the same time. It’s not fair!”

He leaned back against the sofa, staring at your face as he crossed his arms over his chest, looking serious. “Sounds like I need to step up my game.”

You finally looked up, catching the hint of jealousy in his tone. “Aw, are you jealous?” you teased, poking the dimpled cheek you adored. “Don’t worry, babe. You’re still my number one.”

“Am I now?” he asked, his voice low and playful, though there was a darker edge beneath the surface. “Because it sounds like Taemin might be stealing my spot.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Never. You’re my Seungcheol. No one could ever replace you.”

He hummed, seemingly satisfied, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t quite done. Grabbing your chin so you had to look at him closely, he murmured, “Good. Because I think you need a reminder of who you belong to.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your waist and pulled you onto his lap, his hands firm against your hips. You squealed in surprise, dropping your phone on your lap as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “And I think it’s time you forget all about Taemin and only remember my name.”

You giggled, trying to squirm away, but his grip was unyielding. “Seungcheol, I was just kidding! You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Do I now?” he asked, his tone teasing but edged with something that made your breath hitch. “Because you were talking an awful lot about someone else’s abs.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off with a searing kiss, his hands sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed for an entirely different reason.

“Seungcheol…” you started, but he silenced you with another kiss, this one deeper and more demanding.

His tongue explored every corner of your mouth, playfully pulling out your own tongue and soothing every bite he gave to your bottom lip. He broke the kiss again, tugging your hair back so he could look at you—straddling him, flushed and beautiful. He loved seeing you like this, all completely wrecked for him. 

“Fuck, baby, you look so hot in this outfit. I can’t believe I let anyone else see you like this,” he muttered, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“Gonna remind you why you’re mine tonight. I don’t want to hear his name again,” he said, his voice rough as he trailed kisses down your neck, making you shiver. “From now on, the only name you’ll be screaming is mine.”

You can’t help but whine. He knew how much his words affected you. He knew everything about you. He was confident when it came to understanding every inch of your body: how it looked, how it felt, how it tasted, how it reacted to his teasing. Tonight was just another example of you falling deeper under his spell, trapped in a hold you never really wanted to escape. And… you couldn’t help but love it.

He groaned deeply at your whine, sucking at your neck, leaving marks for everyone to see. He lifted his head to grab your thighs,picking you up as if you weighed nothing. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his hips, clinging to him as his lips found yours again—knowing damn well you were about to protest with a breathless “I’m too heavy.”

“I’m strong enough”, he growled against your lips. 

He was right, you knew he was strong. Staring at his arms or his shoulders became a hobby of yours over time— especially when he was walking around shirtless at home, coming out of the shower, or even wearing one of those tight compression shirts you adored. He was working out to please himself and because he loves seeing you try to hide, secretly looking at his body without him looking. His ego felt good.

With ease, he starts walking up the stairs leading to your room. Unable to help himself, he gets carried away in you, having to stop and press your body against the wall, his kisses deeper than ever, travelling from your mouth down your neck. One harsh bite near your collarbone had you letting out a louder scream. He’s fueled by the desire to remind you that you belong to him. His kisses are getting faster, harsher than ever, his tongue wetting your skin with open-mouth kisses, the grip on your thighs tightening.

You honestly could not remember the last time you felt this wet, this good, this needy for more than kisses. All your thoughts and memories of the night flew out of your head—the only thing that mattered in that moment was Seungcheol and how you needed him more than ever.

You moan for more while he continues to attack your collarbones. He wasn’t gonna deprive you of your needs… even when being punished.

He continues to walk down the hallway, only stopping in front of your bedroom to open it - slamming it shut after entering. He drops you on the bed and starts undressing you, holding your wrists above your head with one hand, leaving kisses and bites all over your body. You're left at his mercy once your clothes are scattered around the room. He snatches a random tie of his from the closet and ties your wrists up to the bed frame. You couldn’t do anything, touch him, pull his hair, scratch his back, hold his biceps. You were only going to be able to scream his name tonight. 

Seungcheol looks down at you, smirking at what he is planning for you inside his head. The way he looked at you made you feel good inside your stomach; just his eyes on you could boost your confidence. Right now, it was a little bit different, you were so needy for him, you wanted him.

“Cheol, please, touch me.” You breathed out. However, he quickly shushed you and went down on your body, leaving kisses on his way between your legs. Grabbing your legs, he spread them apart, kissed the inside of your thighs while looking up to see your reactions. He loved seeing you close your eyes to savour this feeling, breathing heavier in anticipation. He couldn’t help but smile as he kissed and licked your pussy.

“Cheol- ah fuck.” Your back arched from the bed, your hips bucking into his mouth as his tongue entered your pussy. Rapidly increasing the speed of his movement inside you, his thumb found your clit. He was pressing and circling it just the way he knew would push you closer to the edge. 

“I’m so close, please don’t stop - please.” He sucks and licks harder at your inside, then everything stops. Seungcheol gets up from between your legs, licking his lips from your juice, smirking, watching you groan and squirming in need of release. 

“You really think I’m gonna let you come that easily?” Seungcheol sucks roughly on the hickey he placed above one of your nipples, biting into it making you moan in pleasure. “Want to cum so badly baby? You know how it is when you’re being punished.. Unless, do you still want Taemin ?”

“No,.. not Taemin. Just you, you, I want you.” You breathed out quickly, his face in your neck, his soft hair tickling your sensitive skin..

“You sure, baby? You seemed pretty excited about him just now.. Was I mistaken, or did something change your mind?” His fingers back to playing with your pussy, circling your clit with his thumb as two fingers slipped back into your hole. Moaning and dropping your head back as he moves his fingers inside you. Seungcheol groans against your neck as he feels your walls squeeze around his fingers. His dick was growing inside his grey sweatpants just from hearing you, the sounds you’re making was music to his ears. His fingers set a fast pace to drag you close to the edge again.

“Please ch-cheol. I’m sorry please - please fuck me.” You were desperate to come at this point, tears were forming in your eyes. Of course, Seungcheol couldn’t help but be satisfied, watching you stare at his face, mouth open, and glossy eyes. He wanted to make you forget about Taemin, and he did.

“Do you deserve it, baby ?” His smirk never leaves his face as he caresses your cheek with his other hand.

“YES! Please, yes, yes, yes! Cheol, I’m begging you.”

His gaze locked with yours—loving,  for just a moment–he felt so lucky to have you. He slipped his fingers out of you and untied your wrists, kissing each of them before turning you over onto your stomach. 

“On all fours, baby,” he demanded, tapping your hips and making room for you to undress. He unbuckled his belt and pants, throwing them across the room while you patiently waited on your knees with your ass on full display. You were growing impatient, swaying your ass in front of him, earning a firm slap for you to calm down. You could feel the mattress sink as Seungcheol positioned himself behind you, gripping your waist, dragging you closer to him. 

You knew he was smirking when you felt him tease your cunt with the tip of his cock, and it only grew wider when you whined for more. He continued teasing you, slowly pushing until he settled deep inside of you., resting for a moment, groaning as you squeezed around him - he was so big, you felt so full. He slowly slides out of you before gripping your waist tighter, thrusting into you without any warning. You moaned for more, needed more, you wanted him to move and almost destroy you from the inside. 

“Please, Cheol.. Harder”, he didn't say anything and simply chose to act. His thrusts were aggressive and deep. Your hands are holding on to the bed sheets to keep steady, gripping as he fucked you as hard as he could. You asked for it– from your behaviour and words– and he was delivering it all. Your hips matched his rhythm, meeting him in the middle of his thrusts, causing Seungcheol to groan at each thrust.

Your insides were twitching around him, which was hinting that your high was close. He knew you were close, and you honestly thought he was going to close down again, teasing you until the end, but you were so wrong. He slides out of you to turn you around so he could see your fucked out face. He thrusted deep into you, you threw your head back as your eyes rolled back. He loved seeing your reactions, his hand came to wrap around your throat, slightly squeezing it for you to look at him. Satisfied to see you look at him, mouth open, whining his name - he began to fuck you harder than before. His dick so big inside of you, none stop kissing that special spot of yours, pushing you further to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you told him, breath heavy.

“Seungcheol! I’m gonna cum, cheol..” you were panting but you got no answers. He didn’t seem to stop either, he kept his thrust inside of you steady.

“I’m not going to stop fucking your pretty pussy just yet. I’ll keep on going until I get to cum. I told you, I’ll make you remember only my name. You might as well scream it so loud even the neighbours know my name.” his grip on your throat was tighter, he meant every word he said. He didn't stop his movements, as if it was possible, he got rougher, making you come on the spot, and he kept going. 

You were completely fucked out for him, he was using you, making you his. You chanted his name over and over again, not growing tired of saying it. He won this time. 

Seungcheol’s groans got louder and louder. He called your name as his grip on your throat and waist tightened. He was on the edge of coming.

“Do you want me to come inside your pussy or no? Do you deserve it?” He asked, even throwing some more teasing as he was close to coming.

“Inside, I want you inside–please.”

And then, it hits you–you both came undone, hard, his trust deep, and stopped all his movements. You could feel your inside getting filled by his hot cum, coming so much your inside felt full. He pulled out of you smiling at himself to admire his work of art, his cum dripping out of you. He caressed your body, calming you as you came down from your high. This orgasm felt so good, your breath heavy as you watched him admire you, his eyes were full of love.

“Maybe I should make you jealous more often, it looks good on you”, you laughed at him and pulled him by the neck to kiss him on the lips.

“Shut up, I’m not jealous.” He had no reason to be; you were his, but you loved seeing him jealous regardless. You felt love.

The apartment was quiet again, the only sound you could hear was the soft rustling of sheets and mingled breaths. You lay curled against Seungcheol’s chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“So,” he said after a long moment, his voice casual but with a hint of amusement. “Still thinking about Taemin?”

You laughed, slapping his chest lightly. “Not even a little. You made sure of that.”

“Good,” he said, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “Just remember—you’re mine.”

“Always,” you replied, snuggling closer. “But just so you know, I’m totally going to his next concert.”

Seungcheol groaned, burying his face in your hair. “You’re impossible.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “And you’re jealous. But don’t worry—I’ll always come home to you.”

“You better,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind his words. “Or I’ll have to remind you again.”

You smiled, your eyes drifting shut. “I’m counting on it.”

You woke up to the smell of coffee and the sound of Seungcheol humming in the kitchen. You stretched lazily, your body was sore, but you wore a contented smile on your face as you remembered the events of the previous night. Seungcheol had definitely made his point, and you couldn’t help but feel a little smug about it.

You padded into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “Morning,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his shirtless back.

“Morning,” he replied, turning around to kiss you properly. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” you said with a grin. “Thanks to you.”

He smirked, handing you a cup of coffee. “Good. Just remember who’s responsible for that.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the coffee. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter. “But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” you admitted, smiling up at him. “Even if you are a little jealous.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Jealous? Me? Never.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sure, Seungcheol. Whatever you say.”

He pulled you closer, his expression turning serious for a moment. “Just remember—you’re mine. No matter how many concerts you go to.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection. “I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated! › anonymous review form & join my taglist

@ credits┆big big thank you @kyeomofhearts for beta reading & @kwanisms for the help on the banner vibe ☆彡

☘︎ taglist: @zozojella, @shinysobi, @kyeomofhearts, @codeinebelle, @eclipsaria, @nerdycheol

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip" 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮