#how to do content optimization

[artgletic]

case study of the self-identified god

[thetriggeredhappy]

I HAVE NOW 100%’ed STARDEW VALLEY

THREE TIMES.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

OKAY, SILLY COMIC!!! Sorry to anyone that expected a proper intense comic at the mention of lore revelations but "absurd" had been the keyword. I was going to continue the wall of text but I realized if I went any further I mightve had to add content warnings on my post so I just left it as is. Anyway, I thought it would be funny if Finn's cooking skills and habits were more than just a hobby for him, and at some point he got tossed around doing some missions in all sorts of different kitchen environments over Europe, so not only does it reinforce his more fanciful cooking, but he's also been a witness to his own personal Hell's Kitchen moments, which also reinforced his morals and ethics because hhoooooooo boy.

Anyway, tap/swipe on the pictures and enjoy😊

[balkanlila]

it's fascinating how sometimes while you're studying you feel like you aren't getting anywhere then you wake up the next day and realise you've memorised more than you've given yourself credit for

[sasquach-scratches]

I Never Have Nor Will I Ever buy Dungeon DLC packs for ESO because any interest in running dungeons died with how often combat skills are overhauled

[antirepurp]

i hate it when the funny video game needs almost a fourth of my hard drive for all its files like can we just not

[dipdigitalpro]

How SEO Helps You Attract Quality Website Traffic

At Dip Digital Pro, we explain that Search Engine Optimization (SEO) is the process of optimizing your website to improve its ranking on search engines, which brings in more qualified and organic visitors. SEO works by improving your content, website technical health, and authority through backlinks.

The main pillars of SEO are:

On-Page SEO: Optimizing your site’s content, meta tags, and internal linking to make your pages relevant and understandable to search engines.

Technical SEO: Ensuring your website is fast, secure, mobile-friendly, and easy to crawl.

Off-Page SEO: Gaining authoritative backlinks and social engagement that increase your site’s trustworthiness.

Focusing on SEO will generate cost-effective and lasting organic traffic that is more sustainable than paid advertising. For a detailed explanation, visit the full article: What Is SEO?

[galaxyonknowledg]

How do I optimize my SEO results through content creation

Introduction: In the digital age, having a strong online presence is crucial for businesses to succeed. One of the most effective ways to improve your visibility online is through Search Engine Optimization (SEO). By optimizing your content for search engines, you can increase your website’s rankings and drive more organic traffic. In this article, we will discuss how you can optimize your SEO…

[kaleidoscopiclights]

I don't know why they're taking so long to reveal the next story and main characters in RS RS, but apparently the designer is Sara (Sari?) Takahashi and I'm excited for that! I wonder if they realized how popular Siugnas and his design were and decided to give her the reigns? I hope that's the case!

[staff]

Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience. 

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content. 

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up. 

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant. 

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are. 

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds. 

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs. 

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread. 

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads. 

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed. 

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.  

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it. 

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.  

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.  

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.  

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages. 

Test what the right daily push notification limit is. 

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users. 

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

[peachylynnie]

you make him lose his cool

word count: 900-1k per lead synopsis: in which you provoke them, and they love it. (inspired by kiss of life's igloo) contains: fem!reader x lads men (separate, non!mc), established relationship, downbad men, NSFW CONTENT MDNI (i'm talking grinding, oral sex implications, etc), song lyrics, and cursing. a/n: UPDATED WITH CALEB AS OF 2/1/25 i feel hot whenever i listen to this song. i hope you do too while reading. enjoy! do not plagiarize or translate. lads men do NOT endorse plagiarism. reblogs & comments appreciated. lads masterlist | tagged: @vvintqz (ik this is technically the reader teasing xavier but u said to tag u when i write xavier so i hope u enjoy)

caleb

What you heard? (What you heard?) But it's never what you think, trust

it's impossible to surprise caleb.

he always knows what you're up to.

whether you're just waking up from a heavenly two-hour nap or going out to get your hands on the latest edition of your favorite blind box series, he's always there.

last time you tried to cook yourself a meal (ever since you started dating, he hasn't let you lift a finger), he came home early and snatched the spatula away from you, insisting that you sit down and look pretty for him while he makes his signature braised wings.

you're not sure how he does it. maybe he has a secret camera or a tracker installed (ha). though, you don't have any complaints. you think it's fucking hot how he's never away from you.

even so, you've been wanting to surprise him for a while now. blame it on your desire to fluster him as much as he flusters you. you're going to surprise him AT LEAST once in your lifetime.

which explains why you're in an apron right now, with absolutely nothing underneath.

to be honest, you were hoping to surprise him with homemade apple pie since he's always cooking for you. but again, you want to fluster him. thus the apron, a long piece of denim fabric wrapped tightly around your waist and hung dangerously low at your chest. you can't deny how delectable you appeared when you looked in the mirror, admiring your exposed arms, legs, back, and neck—anything that would drive the esteemed colonel insane. you felt jittery just thinking about the look he would have on his face when he walked in through the door of your shared home.

however, your joy is short-lived when your phone rings while you slice up some apples in the kitchen.

"what's with the apron, pipsqueak?"

you put the knife down with a sigh. "do you have a camera installed in here or what?"

caleb chuckles into the phone. "wouldn't you like to know?"

"i would like to know so i can turn the damn thing off and actually surprise you for once, dipshit," you retort playfully as you adjust your phone between your ear and shoulder, picking up the knife to continue chopping. you suppose you should still make the pie since you already got the ingredients out.

"aw," he mocks, his voice dripping with arousal. "did my little pipsqueak dress up just for me?"

"yes," you snap, rolling your eyes. "but this little pipsqueak is about to change since you ruined her surprise."

your threat does little to faze caleb, as evidenced by his endearing laughter.

"don't be upset, pips," he teases into the phone. before you can scoff at his audacity to tell you not to be upset, your ears catch the hurried footsteps in the background of the call. it doesn't take long for you to hope your boyfriend is on his way home—on his way to you. sure enough, his next words cause heat to pool between your bare legs.

"keep the apron on. i'll be home soon."

after he hangs up, you put your phone down with a giggle, eager for what's to unfold once he arrives. however, you still can't help but wonder if he actually has a camera installed because how the fuck does he always know what you're up to? you frown as you turn your head left and right. you don't see any red flashing lights in places that could provide him an optimal view. nope. nothing in the corners of the ceilings and nothing in the walls either. before you can convince yourself your boyfriend is somehow omniscient, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

his dog tag. seems like he forgot to put it on after putting on his uniform. you pocket it, hoping to give it to him when he gets home.

but your mind is truly one of a kind. as caleb likes to put it, resourceful during the most critical moments.

because when he's balls deep inside of you, coaxing your second orgasm out of you, you get the bright idea to fish your shaky fingers into the pocket of your bunched-up apron and put. it. on.

caleb's eyes widen upon seeing his dog tag on you. there it was, the important item he forgot this morning, resting between the delicious valley of your breasts, bouncing up and down while jingling an enticing melody.

"fuck—pipsqueak, you—" he thrusts harshly, pistoning into your sopping heat. you throw your head back at the sensation, allowing him an even better view of his chain, mingling with the beads of sweat on your collarbone. shit, he's so turned on right now. not only were your swollen, sweet lips adorning his name, but so was your pretty little neck. it filled the young colonel with pride. and enough vigor to bring you to your third release, as evidenced by the endless slamming of his hips and the clenching of your thighs.

"good girl," he helps you through your high before letting go of your waist, hoping to give you a break. "i'll go get a towel. stay here."

but when your pilot of a lover goes to leave, you wrap your legs around him and pull him to you, causing him to collide with you. caleb hisses at the contact, sensitive more than ever.

"don't push it, pipsqueak," he warns as he plants both of his arms on the kitchen counter, caging you in. "you need to rest."

"i don't think so, colonel," you prop yourself on your elbows, meeting his eyes boldly. "i don't think so at all."

caleb swears he feels his mechanical arm short-circuit because what you do next is just fucking tantalizing.

you pinch his dog tag and bring it to your mouth.

his breathing quickens substantially when your teeth take the shiny piece of metal as their prisoner. it's not long before his dog tag is trapped between your seductive canines and your thighs are tightened around his waist.

with a shameless smile, you jut your chin towards the man, signaling to him to make his move.

caleb growls, seizing the chain with both hands and bringing you to his face.

"i warned you, pips."

extra (in honor of his official installment)

as you munch on some apple pie in caleb's embrace on the couch, you can't help but ask.

"how did you know about the apron but not the dog tag?"

your boyfriend sniffs before answering, a little bit of pie still in his mouth.

"i couldn't check the cameras on the way home."

"oh that makes sense."

"…"

"wait, what?!"

sylus

Glass room, perfume, Kodak on that lilac (alright) Slipping on my short dress, know he like that (like that)

there's nothing like getting ready in sylus' bathroom. not because of the sheer size of it (it takes at least a day to explore his residence), but because of how good you look in the mirror right now. you can't help but smile as you step back to get a full look at yourself.

sylus went all out for tonight's auction.

he gifted you a tight-fitting ebony dress, its gorgeous silk straps accentuating your shoulders perfectly. he also gifted you a pair of evening gloves, its velvet fabric wrapping around your arms flawlessly. of course, the dress came with priceless jewels and heels. as you twirl in front of the mirror, the scarlet gems on your ears glimmer, and the cherry kitten heels on your feet click. oh, you look so good, you can kill.

but what seals the deal is the neck accessory he got you.

an intricate, black choker made out of lace. fucking lace. a scoff leaves your mouth when you notice the ruby medallion hanging at the center. his taste is as clear as day.

as you reach behind your neck to clip the choker, the man of the hour walks in. you meet his eyes through the mirror, your hands still at the back of your neck. "sylus."

"miss," he acknowledges in return, an unmistakable smirk appearing on his lips. his eyes trail down your figure. "you look stunning."

"thanks," you giggle as you hook the choker clasp. "you don't look bad yourself."

and you're absolutely right. although he has his usual dress shirt on, his outerwear is completely new. a gorgeous red blazer, adorned with inky brush strokes, sits proudly on his shoulders. moreover, his accessories are new (he's never worn any before). cuffed around his right hand is a sleek platinum watch, spotlighting his forearm deliciously. hanging from his left ear are silver chains, shining unashamedly. you can't help but bite your lips as you admire your lover in the mirror.

yeah, sylus went all out tonight.

catching the hazy look in your glittered eyes, he tilts his head before grinning, "like what you see, sweetie?"

you roll your eyes playfully before returning to the sink. "yes, actually. didn't know you were capable of wearing something other than black."

sylus chuckles as he leans against the wall, arms crossed. "i've worn colors other than black before."

"if you're talking about the two outfits that have the belt around the sleeve," you list nonchalantly as you pick up your lip gloss. "they don't count. they have black on them."

"i'm talking about the red cardigan, sweetie," he counters smoothly, eyeing the lip gloss in your hand.

"ah." you run the wand over your parted lips, enjoying the feeling of gloss on them. "touche," you say, bending over the sink to see if you missed a spot. you do, however, miss the way sylus' fingers tighten around his arms when your dress hikes up. smacking your lips together, you lift the wand to reapply. "but you barely even wear that. so that doesn't count either."

sylus hums, barely paying attention to what you just said. his eyes are transfixed on the wand. he's mesmerized by how it travels across your lips, slathering them with sticky, shimmery syrup, leaving him thirsty for a taste. not to mention the sounds leaving your lips whenever you press them together. sweet, squelching sounds that have him pressing against you in mere seconds, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

at first, you were taken aback by his sudden proximity. but after feeling something prod at your back, you smile amusingly before placing the wand down. "i'm assuming," you swiftly turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, his eyes widening as you pull him closer. "there's been a change of plans." you slowly lick your lips, collecting some excess gloss. as it drips from the tip of your tongue, you ask with a tilt of your head, "how late are we going to be?"

that's it.

sylus crashes into you, his tongue desperately trying to lap up the excess gloss. his hands haphazardly roam all over your body before lifting you onto the sink, pinning you down as his lips smear your lip gloss everywhere. you moan, trying to match his fervor. the sinful mixing of breaths, saliva, and gloss floods your mind, causing you to wrap your legs around him and bring him closer to you. he welcomes the action, gasping and grinding into you.

by the time he pulls away for air, both of you are left panting like dogs, mouths and chins smothered in sheen.

your eyes never leave sylus' as you wipe your chin, a string of gloss and saliva hanging prettily from your gloved palm. with a groan, he dives into your neck and sinks his teeth into your collarbone. you throw your head back at the pain, whimpering when he soothes the spot with his tongue.

but when sylus traces a finger up your back, you freeze immediately.

why?

oh, because he's unzipping your dress.

"sorry, sweetie," he chuckles into your perfumed skin, savoring your surprised reaction when he drags the zipper all the way down. "we won't be late."

you look at him in confusion, barely processing the silk straps falling off your shoulders.

he leans in and whispers into your ear.

"we won't be going at all."

xavier

Heart attack, IV when I walk the street Vitamins that D, I'm good, I'm healthy

your starlight of a boyfriend collapses onto the bed, his legs hanging off the edge and his pants dangling pathetically from his ankles.

you giggle at the sight, wiping your lips clean of his release. as you rub a drop between your index finger and thumb, you notice the texture's a bit thick, almost like jelly.

"xavier," you call lovingly, rising from your knees and crawling on top of him. he barely responds; his eyes are screwed shut with beads of sweat trailing down his face, neck, chest, legs, everywhere. shit, what did you do to him? he can't get his chest to stop heaving, his mouth to stop watering, and his ears to stop ringing. he can't do anything. not with the way you looked so pretty on top of him, especially after making him release so intensely in your mouth.

"xavier," you repeat as you cradle his face, making his dazed eyes meet yours. "when was the last time you drank water?"

"water?" he pants. "i'm not sure. why do you ask?"

"well," you show him your fingers. he gulps, flushing a deeper shade of red. "this tells me you haven't been drinking enough water."

you get up to retrieve some water from the kitchen. xavier whines at the loss of contact. although he tries to stop you from leaving, you easily slip out of his weak embrace (he literally got his life sucked out of him; cut him some slack). after you reassure him with a kiss on his forehead, you open the door. "i'll be back soon."

he responds with a whimper before closing his eyes. before he knows it, he falls asleep.

not even five minutes have passed when you return to the room, a glass of water in your hand and a packet of vitamins in the other.

"xavier?" after placing the items down on the nightstand, you sit on the bed to admire the view. there he is, sleeping soundly with his shirt unbuttoned and pants unbuckled, his chest slowly rising up and down and his cute nose scrunching every so often. you almost feel bad when you wake him up. almost. as much as you like watching your boyfriend sleep, he needs his water and vitamins, considering how much energy he uses to fight wanderers.

"wake up, xavier," you coo. "you need your vitamins."

he stirs, peeking one eye open to look at you. cute, you think. "i'm too tired, angel." he whines before closing his eye again. "i'll have some later."

"come on," you chuckle. "at least drink some water. you're dehydrated."

hoping to keep him awake, you litter his face with kisses, repeatedly pecking his adorable features. his droopy eyelids, his button nose, his fluffy cheeks, his moist forehead, his small chin—not a single spot is missed.

his little laughs repay your efforts. before you can continue your bombardment of kisses, his arms wrap around your shoulders, successfully pinning you down to him. you're surprised by how quickly he replenished his strength.

"you're trapped," he points out cheekily. "now we can both sleep."

"xavier," it's your turn to whine. "you need to drink some water. besides," you try to get up but fail miserably due to his tight embrace. "you need to scoot up, and i need to lay down properly if we both want to sleep." still no signs of letting you go.

you sigh before poking at your boyfriend's waist, causing him to yelp.

he immediately lets go of you, rubbing the spot you just touched. taking the chance to escape, you stand up and reach for the glass and vitamins.

"meanie," he pouts. "i thought we agreed to not tickle each other for today."

"that's because you try to tickle me all the time," you retort playfully, opening the packet of vitamins. "besides, i only tickle you as a last resort. unlike you, i'm nice." you pop the vitamin in your mouth and bring the glass to your lips.

"as if." he yanks up his pants and crosses his arms. "last time i checked, being nice means letting your boyfriend sleep peacefully," he quips as he turns away from you, hoping his grumpy little act will coax more kisses from you.

instead, a hand comes into his view and grasps the sheets. furrowing his brows, he shifts back to ask what's wrong but is startled to find your face hovering above his. 

"angel, what—"

you press your lips into his, your free hand gripping his chin. on instinct, xavier opens his mouth, expecting your tongue to greet his. however, his eyes widen when he feels something pour in. oh. he greedily swallows the water and vitamin, his fingers weaving into your hair.

you pull away abruptly, a drop of water trickling down the corner of your lips. before he can say anything, you grab the glass of water and drink from it again, your hooded eyes never leaving his. xavier groans at the sight, his chest heaving for the third time today. and it's barely afternoon. oh, you're going to be the death of him.

he's sure of it when you return to his lips, water flowing into his mouth so sensually as his tongue reaches out for more. this time, you rest your entire body on top of him, allowing him to grab at your hips and thrust upward, desperately rubbing against your clothed core and seeking any type of friction that could relieve him of this growing desire you satiated with your mouth less than ten minutes ago. he never wants to drink water alone ever again.

“a-angel,” he moans when you pull away again. “why?” 

“you need more water, xavier.” you tease with a lick of your lips. “gotta make sure my boyfriend is hydrated, ya know?”

with that, you go to stand up and reach for the glass. however, the room spins as xavier pins you down, your positions switched and your wrists restrained above your head. your eyes widen, realizing you might've pushed your boyfriend too far. 

"angel," dark, cerulean eyes burn into you before glancing at the glass. “that's not enough water.”

rafayel

Yeah, white tippy-toe summer, I make him go dumb, duh He doubled down on that text, says that I'm the only one

(heads up, reader doesn't have to be mc but they know about rafayel's identity as the sea god and he calls you his beloved bride)

rafayel isn't sure how he got here.

you, on top of his bare chest, nibbling at his neck and dragging a finger down his clenched abdomen.

"c-cutie," he stammers. "someone might see."

he's not wrong. you're at the beach after all. but it's a private beach, one the artist rented for a date. so really, what's the harm in pinning your boyfriend down in the sand and showing him how much you appreciate him?

"you're the one who said this place was private, raf." you giggle before sinking your teeth into him, eliciting a moan. "besides, we both know why you suggested a date at the beach. don't tell me you forgot." you trail your finger along the waistband of his swim trunks. he jolts, his half-lidded eyes meeting your misty ones.

of course, he didn't forget. but considering the current, scandalous situation he's in right now, his memory is a bit hazy. as you twirl the drawstring with your index finger, rafayel bites his lip and tries to remember how exactly he got here.

last thing he remembers is you excitedly texting him about your package coming in.

a package, pft. no big deal, right?

wrong.

he almost dropped his phone when you sent him a picture of the package, more specifically, you wearing its contents.

a gorgeous two-piece swimsuit in the color of his hair. fuck, lavender has never looked so good on you. the way the tight, skimpy fabric hugged all the right places, making you seem so so malleable. the way you posed in front of the mirror, your face bridling with innocent excitement but your body positioned so so temptingly. shit, he hopes this exhibition ends soon because his slacks feel suffocating all of a sudden.

it wasn't long before he spammed you with a hurricane of texts consisting of flattering emojis and praises about how you're the only one he'll ever love (dramatic but heartwarming) and how he would love to take you on a date at the beach as soon as this stupid exhibition is over so you can swim in your new set to your heart's content (totally not because he wants to see the real thing).

yeah, now he remembers. he got himself into this situation. you even tried to stop him.

"uh," he recalls you hesitating through the call. "aren't you tired from your exhibit?"

"nope," he immediately answers, causing you to raise a brow. "not at all, cutie. i'm in tip-top shape. what better place for us to test your swimsuit than the beach?"

"us?" you repeat amusingly. "since when was testing a swimsuit a two-person thing?"

shit, he got caught.

"raf," you giggle at his silence. "if you want to see me wear this in person, you can always just ask, you know?"

"w-what?! no!" he acts as if you insulted his artwork. "i just thought it'd be a good opportunity for us to go on a date and to test the quality of your swimsuit! what if one day you go into the water and it gets untied or something? what if i'm not there to protect you from prying eyes? you can never be careful enough with swimsuits, especially shipped ones!"

"uh-huh," you drawl skeptically. "i'm sure a triple-knotted bikini will SOMEHOW get untied by the waves."

"come on, cutie," rafayel whines. "i know a perfect, private place! i'll even bring the food, the blankets, everything! please?" (he purposely emphasized "private" because no way in the seven seas is he going to let anyone look at you in a bikini)

you sigh before observing yourself in the mirror once more. the bikini DID look good, and you DID buy it for future swimming dates with rafayel. might as well, right? besides, you can't say no to him, especially when he begs so cutely like that.

"fine, raf," he remembers you giving in with an endearing sigh. "send me the address of the beach once you're done. i'll stop by your place to pack your swimming trunks."

and here you are, resting on top of him and drawing figure eights with your fingertips IN his swimming trunks.

he would laugh at the irony if it weren't for your provocative actions. you were the one who brought him his swimming trunks, and now, you were the one making him wish you didn't bring them so he could see how pretty your fingers looked right next to his—

yeah, he definitely got himself into this situation. he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament. it's his fault he's currently twitching and throbbing underneath you as you breathe into his neck and tease doodles into his thighs.

"oh fuck, cutie—" rafayel jerks his head back when you suck on his adam's apple. your mouth felt so good. you felt so good. 

after pulling back with a 'pop,' you trace the red mark with your free hand, admiring your artwork on your artist of a lover. unfortunately for him (fortunately, really), this causes him to squirm uncontrollably. the simultaneous stimulation from your right hand on his thigh and your left hand on his neck was just too much for the lemurian. he swears he's this close to bursting all over the sand like a messy, wet bubble. 

suddenly, you stop, withdrawing both of your hands from his body. 

"c-cutie?" he lifts his neck to look at you but finds himself confused as to why you're sitting up. though, his confusion is quelled when you reach behind your neck. 

oh. 

your hands come into view, each one tugging on the strings of your top.

oh fuck. 

he doesn't even see your top fall. no. he's completely frozen (and hard) when you lay back down on him, smushing your now-exposed chest into his abdomen, allowing him a view that brings roses to his cheeks. (he can feel your nipples rubbing against him).

"oh, god of the tides," you purr with a smirk as you press your ear into his chest, relishing in his rapid heartbeats. "you promised you would test this swimsuit with me." before he can deny your reminder of his mistake from the earlier call, you grab his hand and bring it to rest against your swimsuit bottoms, causing his breath to hitch. "won't you make good on your promise?" 

rafayel swallows shakily before nodding. 

"anything for my beloved bride." 

zayne

Mm, yeah, I make him lose his cool Yeah, I make him go mmmmmm ah! ah!

doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, reduced to this.

a red-faced mess, losing his cool in a rocking chair, thanks to his lover shaving his chin on his lap.

his lover, who just so happens to be wearing a nightgown, a silk, sapphire nightgown with lace ruffles and ribbons that drove the man insane.

to make matters worse (better), your bare thighs were on either side of his hips, caressing and stroking him whenever you would move to shave his chin.

don't even get him started on the fact that you're sitting right on top of his crotch. he prays to any merciful soul out there that you don't feel him growing down there-

he inhales sharply when you reach behind him for a towel, your chest mere millimeters from his face.

"you okay, zayne?" you ask with faux concern.

"yes," he clenches his jaw. it's taking him everything to not dive in and lick, suck, bite—anything to relieve him of this torment. "please hurry."

"hurry?" you pout with a tilt of your head. "but why?" you lift his chin to wipe some excess shaving cream. "do you not want me to shave you?"

"no, darling. it's just—" his hands fly to your waist for stability when you place the towel back in its place. shit, every time you lift yourself onto your knees to reach behind him, the chair moves more and more, resulting in a pattern where when he leans back, you press into him, and when you lean back, he presses into you. it's not helping that this pattern deliciously resembles a certain rhythm in bed.

"it's just?" you repeat to him, stroking his jaw to inspect for stray hairs.

he doesn't say anything. how can he? he can't just spill about how badly he wants to kiss your sweet lips, squeeze at your delectable chest, rip your enticing nightgown apart, and take everything you have to offer. no, he can't. not when you approached him so innocently with a cute smile on your face after he came home, asking if you could shave him. (he almost fell to his knees when he saw what you were wearing). not when you look so beautiful gazing at him from above, handling his skin with addictive yet gentle touches, and glowing underneath the moonlight from the open windows. shaking his head, he grips your waist with renewed resolve.

"it's nothing," he closes his eyes. "please continue." he would rather drink alcohol than misinterpret your innocent intentions.

except there was nothing innocent about your intentions at all. you admit, it's fun to tease zayne like this. the way his lips would chase after your fingers whenever you traced them, the way his eyes would falter whenever you leaned in, the way his breath would hitch whenever you moved your hips, oh it all made you feel wanted. and who could want more than a gorgeous, capable doctor who looks at you as if he's going to die if he can't have you?

you. you want more. you WANT him to have you, take you, right here on this rocking chair. you thought teasing him with a few shifts of your hips and some purposeful closings of distances between his face and yours would relay the message. but no. he's either completely oblivious or has the will of a steel that's been fortified ten times over. because even though he's made it incredibly clear that he wants what you want (his blushing cheeks and shortage of breaths are hard to miss), all he's done is sit there and take your teasing.

you frown, retracting your hand. what's it going to take for doctor zayne, the epitome of calm and control, to give in?

a lightbulb flashes in your head.

"hang on, i missed a spot," you lie, lifting yourself up once more to reach for the shaving cream next to you. "i'll make this quick."

and with that, you slam your hips down.

he groans out loud, eyebrows furrowing and fingers tightening around your hips. he still hasn't opened his eyes though.

"are you sure you're okay, zayne?" you ask innocently, twisting left and right. "i'm worried about you."

"w-why," he starts hoarsely, his fingers gripping for dear life, trying to stop you from moving so damn much. "why would you be worried?"

"oh, i don't know," you smear shaving cream all over his jaw before trailing your fingers down to his neck. "you just seem so…" you slowly trace a heart on his collarbone, eliciting a pretty gasp from him. "out of it."

zayne's eyes jerk open, glaring at you with unprecedented focus. you smile cheekily before pressing yourself deeper into him, eager to bear witness to what he'll do and say since he finally opened his eyes.

though, your smile doesn't last long. in an instant, his hands pin yours behind your back, causing your back to arch and your lips to part.

"i'm starting to think," he secures your wrists in his right hand and brings his left to his face, wiping away the mess you made. "you're doing this on purpose."

you grin. finally. he finally got the message. unable to hide your excitement, you lean in next to his ear and whisper, "what are you going to do about it, doc-tor?"

he inhales sharply, yanking your wrists.

"perhaps," he growls. "it's time you get a taste of your own medicine. prescribed by yours truly."

[doink]

Crafting Magic: How to Create a GIF with a Transparent Background in Green Screen by Do Ink

Unleash the power of visual storytelling with Green Screen by DoInk! In this blog post, we're delving into the enchanting realm of GIF creation, specifically focusing on how to achieve a transparent background. Whether you're a teacher looking to enhance your lessons or a content creator adding a touch of magic to your projects, this tutorial will guide you step-by-step through the process of crafting captivating GIFs with seamless transparency.

What you will learn:

Introduction to GIF creation with transparent backgrounds in Green Screen by DoInk

Step-by-step guide on achieving transparency in your GIFs

Utilizing the app's features for seamless integration and customization

Tips for optimizing your GIFs for various platforms and purposes

Real-world examples showcasing the versatility of transparent GIFs

Elevating your visual storytelling with captivating and dynamic animations

With Green Screen by Do Ink, creating GIFs with transparent backgrounds is a breeze. Whether you're adding subtle animations to your lessons or creating eye-catching visuals for your content, transparent GIFs offer endless possibilities for creativity and storytelling.

[here-there-were-dragons]

additions from op's tags that seem worth keeping

Funniest thing I've seen recently, and not funny in a ha-ha way, more funny in a "the endless entropic void gnawing at my will to live" way, was somebody asking around for alternatives to Neil Gaiman, in the light of Neil Gaiman's ongoing fall from grace. As though what we're currently sitting through isn't the collapse of the carefully curated "Good Guy Neil" image that caused people to parade Gaiman as the same kind of preferred progressive alternative to, say, Rowling. As though we won't be in the same goddamn situation in a few years or months, with some number of the new progressive sci-fi/fantasy darlings- not all of them, to be clear, but at least some of them- when their impeccably-curated marketing implodes in on itself and they're revealed to be the same kind of sex pest or abuser. Can you not see the wheel to which you are strapped. The game of human pinball you are condemning yourself to with this mindset. Maybe you do see, and you're just resigned to taking it one soul-crushing disappointment at a time, one "I never would have guessed" after another. I mean I think we all need to get resigned to that one way or another, sun's gonna go out before it stops happening

[txttletale]

I’ve changed most of my views on AI bc of your posts, but do you have any thoughts on/remedies for people losing their jobs to AI? Or is it a “people are gonna lose their jobs one way or another, it’s not actually AI’s fault” kind of deal…? Sorry if you’ve already talked about this before

there's somethign that riley quinn from the trashfuture podcast keeps saying -- "if your job can be replaced by AI, it was already being done by AI". which is to say, that jobs most at risk from AI replacement are ones that were borderline automated anyway. like, i say this as someone who used to write, not for the website buzzfeed itself, but buzzfeed-adjacent Slop Content for money -- i was already just the middlewoman between the SEO optimization algorithm and the google search algorithm. those jobs vanishing primarily means that middlewoman role has been cut, computers can tell other computers to write for computers.

& similarly this is why i keep saying that, e.g. stock photographers are at risk from this, because the ideal use case for generative AI content is stuff where the actual content or quality of the image/text doesn't matter, all that matters is its presence. and yknow, living in a world where many people's livelihoods were dependent on writing and art that is fully replacable by inane computer drivel is itself indicative of something about culture under capitalism, right?

& to some degree, like i'm always saying, the immiseration of workers by advancement in technology is a universal feature of capitalism -- i recommend you read wage labour & capital to see how this phenomenon has persisted for well over a century. it's simply nothing new -- like, the stock photographers who are most at risk from this already are already employed in an industry that itself decimated in-house illustration; think about how any dime-a-dozen reomance novel you can pick up at a store nowadays has a hastily photoshopped stock photo cover when fifty years ago it would have had a bespoke cover illustration that an artist got paid for.

of course, none of that historical overview is like, comforting to people who are currently worried about their lives getting worse, and i get that -- for those people, workplace organization and industrial action is the only realistic and productive avenue to mobilize those fears. the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes produced far more material concessions on gen-AI-based immseration for workers facing precarity than any amount of furious social media ludditism has

[ninisdollie]

pinky promise - park sunghoon 𓈒ིུ ❤︎

‎ ₊ㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Ⳋ᧙ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺

"In which Sunghoon is completely obsessed with his dumb, beautiful, sparkly girlfriend"

‎ ‎ ‎ ⁺ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❤︎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⊹　₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ͏͏✧ Content: +18MDNI

fem! reader x sunghoon, bimbo! reader, established relationship, i made reader extra bimbo so she has a boob job and a nose job, fluff, crack, not a full smut scene but dumbification, humiliation, unprotected sex, creampie.

hate comments will be deleted and blocked!! likes and reblogs are appreciated.

notes: this was on my drafts for so long omg, my bimbo reader x member saga continues, who should be next? let me know <3

The first time Sunghoon saw you, he didn’t really like you, he thought you were a walking headache.

You were in his economics lecture, twirling a glittery pen and chewing pink gum like it was a full-time job. You wore a tiny top which was definitely inappropriate for college, with the word “PRINCESS” bedazzled across the chest, your notebook filled with hearts and sparkly stickers instead of actual notes. You were staring at the ceiling probably thinking about which shade of pink was your favourite. He thought you were ridiculous.

He also couldn’t stop looking at you.

Your perfect blowout, impossibly shiny and curled at the ends like you'd just stepped out of a salon. The soft swoop of your lashes. The way your perfume, something sweet and expensive, lingered in the air whenever you walked past. The sound of your gum popping mid-lecture. It was maddening.

When you waved at him across the hall the next day, he looked behind him like you had to be talking to someone else.

You started sitting next to him in class. Talking to him between lectures. Asking him dumb questions like, “Do you think cats get embarrassed when they fall?” or “What if my lip gloss is too sparkly for school—like, legally?”

He tried to ignore you. He really did. But then you started bringing him little things, an extra coffee, snacks with cute sticky notes that said “Don’t forget to eat, cold boy” and before he knew it… you were just there all the time. 

Everyone knew who you were, daddy’s girl, had a nose job at sixteen  and a boob job at eighteen. Everything about you screamed money, privilege, and zero shame. You parked your bubblegum-pink convertible outside like you owned the damn place, engine still purring, music blasting some sugary pop anthem. Designer sunglasses perched on your nose, lips glossed and shiny like a reality show.

And Sunghoon hated girls like you. 

Until he didn’t anymore. 

You drove him fucking crazy.

And nothing pissed him off more than the fact that no matter how many times he rolled his eyes at you or snapped at you to “use your brain for once,” he always ended up with you curled up on his lap by the end of the night, pouting, giggling, and completely unaware of how obsessed he was.

The bowling alley lights glowed neon pink and blue, a dreamy haze over the slick floor and rows of plastic seats. You bounced up to the lane, pink ball cradled in both hands, wearing a pleated micro skirt that had absolutely zero business being worn in a bowling alley.

Sunghoon already had one hand to his temple.

“Okay, okay—watch me this time,” you chirped, sticking your tongue out with confidence that was completely unearned.

He watched. Unfortunately.

You swung horribly. The ball dropped with a loud thud that made a few kids in the next lane flinch, then rolled with tragic optimism straight into the gutter, again.

A long, painful silence.

You turned around with a hopeful smile, one acrylic nail to your bottom lip, your brows sticked together 

“Did I hit… like, any of them?”

Sunghoon stared at the untouched pins. 

“You hit my will to live. That’s what you hit.”

You burst out laughing, completely unfazed, trotting back to him with a giggle and zero shame. 

“It’s not my fault the ball’s heavy! And slippery! And the floor is so weird, like, what even is oiling the lane? Is that real?”

Sunghoon blinked, already regretting choosing bowling for your weekly date. 

“Yes. That’s real. It’s literally part of the sport.”

You leaned dramatically onto his shoulder, rolling your beautiful eyes decorated with pink shimmery eyeshadow. 

“Ugh, sports.”

He side-eyed you, lips twitching like he was trying very hard not to smile. 

“You are unreal. Actually brainless.”

“Brainless and beautiful,” you hummed proudly.

He handed you a bottle of water with the calmness of someone who had already accepted defeat on every level, of someone that loved his girlfriend so much even if she was getting on his nerves. 

“At this point I’m surprised you didn’t throw the ball backwards.”

“Oh my god, is that allowed?!”

He closed his eyes. 

“I’m going to need a refund on this date.”

You gasped, playfully smacking his chest. 

“You love this. Don’t lie.”

“I love winning. You’re making that impossible by association.”

You let out a dramatic whine and flopped down into the seat next to him, pink gloss shining under the lights. You looked up at him through your fake lashes, blinking innocently. 

“You could let me win…”

He turned to you, full deadpan. 

“Not even if I was dying.”

You pouted. 

“What if I kissed you?”

His expression faltered. Just slightly.

He hated how easily you got to him, how ridiculous you were, with your glitter and your fake tan and your complete inability to understand basic physics, and how despite all of that, his stomach still flipped like a middle schooler every time you leaned in close.

“…Still no,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

But his ears turned just a little pink.

You grinned. 

“Okay. One more try. Watch this.”

Sunghoon leaned back with a long, suffering sigh, arms crossed as he watched you approach the lane like you were about to do a runway walk, not a sport.

You tossed the ball.

This time… it clipped the edge. Wobbled. And one lonely pin wobbled, wobbled…

Then fell.

You screamed. 

“I got one!”

You spun around, throwing your arms up like you’d just landed a triple axel in the Olympics.

“Babe did you see that?! I got one!”

Sunghoon clapped once, dryly. 

“Congratulations. You’ve reached the motor skills of a toddler.”

But when you threw yourself into his arms, giggling with pride, he caught you instantly, hands settling at your waist like second nature. Your breath was warm against his cheek, your lip gloss a little smeared from all your shouting, and god, you looked so proud of yourself.

So happy.

He couldn’t help it. His jaw softened, and his eyes flicked down to your lips. You noticed, grin stretching a little wider.

“Still not letting me win?” you whispered.

He groaned softly, then finally leaned in, brushing your lips with his, warm, slow, and just a little smug. His kisses were always the sweetest, but also the neediest, like he couldn’t resist tasting your cherry gloss on his tongue and how your plump lips - natural, because your father refused to let you get another thing done - moved against his. 

“You’ll never win,” he murmured against your mouth.

“But I got you to kiss me,” you whispered back.

He pulled away with a tiny smirk. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re not terrible at bowling.”

You beamed. 

“So you admit I’m good at something.”

Sunghoon sighed, defeated.

“Yeah. Being annoying.”

Later that night, your legs were draped lazily across Sunghoon’s lap as you half-watched a rerun of Gossip Girl on his TV, spooning pink-frosted ice cream into your mouth with the tiny gold spoon you refused to let go of. Sunghoon had tried to take it from you earlier, saying it was impractical.

You nearly bit his hand.

Now he sat there, half-annoyed, half-smitten, poking at the remote and occasionally shooting side-eyes at your terrible taste in TV, which he was definitely not going to admit he had started following.

“I still don’t understand how someone could bowl that badly,” he muttered out of nowhere, shaking his head like he was personally offended.

“I have delicate wrists,” you said simply, licking ice cream from your spoon. “I’m not built for violence.”

“You’re built for chaos.”

“You’re built for being rude.”

“I’m built for reality,” he muttered.

You grinned, wiggling your toes against his thigh, until you suddenly sat up with a little gasp.

“Wait—I forgot!”

“Oh no,” he said immediately.

You bounced off the couch, your fuzzy pink slippers flopping, and grabbed your oversized Juicy Couture tote.

“I got you a present!”

Sunghoon looked like he was preparing for war.

 “A what?”

“A little something,” you said brightly, pulling out a small, glossy pink box wrapped in a glitter ribbon. “A sexy thank-you gift. Because I’m sweet like that.”

So, he opened it.

And immediately froze.

Inside was a pair of black boxer briefs. At first glance, normal. But upon closer inspection, covered in little high-res photos of your face.

Pouting. Blowing kisses. Winking. Tongue out.

He held them up in horror.

“What the actual hell—”

You squealed.

“Aren’t they adorable?! Look, I picked the kissy face from my summer vacation selfie. That one’s your favorite, right?”

His jaw dropped slightly.

“You put your face on underwear.”

“Your underwear,” you corrected proudly. “It’s a custom print!”

He blinked again.

“You seriously expect me to wear these?”

“You’re gonna love them.”

“They’re deranged.”

“They’re personalized.” You pouted, staring at the boxers on his hands so proudly “You’re so ungrateful. I almost ordered the thong version.”

His nose scrunched.

“Why is that worse?”

“They had hearts that said ‘Daddy’s Favorite’ all over the front. You would’ve looked so cute.”

“I’m going to take your access to online stores.”

“You’re in love with me.”

He groaned, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

“I feel like I’m in a relationship with a walking pop-up ad.”

You rolled onto your side and propped your chin in your hand. “You say that, but I caught you smiling. Admit it.”

He looked down at the boxers again, defeated.

“I’m going to burn these.”

“You’re sooo going to wear them to bed.”

“I am not.”

“I’m going to take a picture when you do.”

He looked at you with genuine concern.

“You should donate your brain to the science, i genuinely have no idea how the fuck it works.”

You grinned wider, then crawled into his lap and tugged the boxers from his hand, holding them up between you like a trophy.

“You know,” you said playfully, brushing your lips against his jaw, “you’re kind of hot when you’re annoyed.”

His hands settled instinctively on your waist, and despite the chaos, despite the insanity of your gift, he didn’t push you away. His fingers tightened slightly, eyes narrowing.

“You’re insane,” he muttered again.

“And you like it.”

You kissed him softly, sugary-sweet and smiling against his mouth, and he let out a low breath like he was surrendering to a war he’d already lost.

“Thank God you’re cute and have fake boobs” he said under his breath.

“I’m gorgeous,” you whispered, kissing him again. “And you’re obsessed with me.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

“Unfortunately.”

You laughed, nuzzling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, and somewhere on the coffee table, your face-covered boxers sat like the world’s most deranged declaration of love.

And the next morning, when you woke up early and peeked under the blanket?

He was wearing them.

In the bedroom, Sunghoon worshipped you 

He spoiled you, yes. Bought you pretty things, let you crawl into his lap just to be kissed, whispered soft pet names against your throat like they meant something sacred. But when it came to sex, he didn’t just spoil, he ruined.Constantly. Proudly. He loved how soft you got under him. How pliant. How you went quiet and fuzzy the second he touched you, all that usual chatter melting into breathy gasps and broken whimpers like you’d been made to be used.

It wasn’t just sex. It was a ritual.

That was the part that made his blood run hot, the way you gave in so easily. Like your body had memorized what he needed before he even asked. Like you were wired to fall apart for him.

You were perfect for him. Sweet. Obedient. Dumb in all the ways he liked.

Sometimes you wore lace just to catch his attention. Sometimes you whined for his hands in that sugar-sweet voice you knew drove him crazy. And sometimes, like that night, you were already breathless before he even undid his belt, squirming under his gaze like you needed him more than air.

And Sunghoon? He lived for it.

He lived for the way your thighs twitched when he called you his dumb little doll. For the way your breath hitched when his voice dropped and he ordered you to spread your legs. For the way you sighed his name like a prayer every time he said, “Good girl.”

He teased, he degraded, he controlled every second,  and yet never once crossed your boundaries. Even when he was deep inside you, voice low and filthy in your ear, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, the care never left his touch.

And when it was over, when you were limp and trembling in the sheets, too blissed out to speak, he always gathered you into his arms. Always pressed a kiss to your temple. Always whispered soft, quiet things while he cleaned you up and tucked you into his chest.

But tonight, you knew you were pushing it.

The second you made that little comment — pouty and venom-laced — about him forgetting his wallet at brunch, you felt the air shift. Saw that flicker in his eyes. Not anger, not quite. No, Sunghoon never wasted energy on petty things.

It was something darker.

And now, your wrists were pinned above your head with one of his hands,  fingers wrapped snug around your wrists, his rings cold against your skin. Your legs spread wide, your body flushed and trembling, caught in that hazy place between bratty resistance and desperate submission.

“Still got that attitude, baby?” he murmured, voice low and slow as his free hand traced a path down your torso, nails grazing just enough to make you twitch. “Or did I fuck it out of you already?”

You opened your mouth, maybe to whine, maybe to say his name, but all that came out was a gasp when his fingers slid between your thighs, two slow strokes over your soaked panties. He smiled like a man who knew exactly what he was doing to you.

“God, look at you. All that attitude earlier and now you’re fucking dripping.”

His hand cupped your sex through the fabric, warm and heavy. His palm pressed down, applying just enough pressure to make you buck into it, and he tisked, shaking his head like you were being difficult again.

“Didn’t I say you don’t get to be in charge tonight?”

His fingers gripped your jaw, turning your face to meet his. The heat in his eyes made your breath catch.

“You know the rules, baby,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “No thinking. That pretty little head of yours belongs to me tonight.”

You whimpered. Nodded. Your voice barely worked, hazy, pliant, floating somewhere between arousal and surrender.

“Mhm… yours.”

And fuck, did that make something snap in him.

He released your wrists only to grab your hips and flip you onto your stomach, not bothering to be gentle. His hands gripped your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he leaned over you, breath hot against your ear.

“That brat from earlier?” he growled, rutting his hips against your ass. “She gone now?”

You nodded frantically into the sheets, muffled moans escaping your lips.

“You sure?” He dragged his cock, hard and leaking, along your soaked slit, just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. “Because if I hear another whine outta that mouth, I’m not gonna let you come. Understand me?”

“Y-yes—” you managed, though it came out as more of a sob. “I’m sorry…”

He chuckled darkly.

“That’s better.”

And then he was inside you — deep — all at once. No warning. No slow stretch.

Just a sharp, claiming thrust that knocked the air from your lungs and left you shaking. You gasped, nails digging into the sheets, tears prickling at your eyes from the overwhelming fullness. He stilled for a second, letting you adjust because even mean, he never hurt you, and then he began to move. Hard. Every thrust deliberate, punishing, meant to remind you of exactly who was in control.

“There she is,” he whispered, dark eyes eating you alive. “My sweet, stupid girl.”

He set a brutal rhythm, one hand gripping your thigh while the other held your jaw in place so he could watch your expression crumble.

“Stay dumb for me,” he growled, voice ragged now, hips slamming into yours. “Don’t think. Just take it.”

“This what you wanted?” he hissed between clenched teeth, skin slapping against yours with a filthy rhythm. “Act like a brat so I fuck you stupid?”

You couldn’t answer,  your mind was blank, body on fire, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of him. He leaned down, pressing his chest to your back, lips at your ear. 

“You’re such a fucking mess for me. So easy to break. Just a few minutes and I’ve already got you drooling on the sheets.”

His hand slid under you, between your thighs again, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, fast circles in sync with his thrusts. You choked on a moan, loud, needy, helpless.

“Look at that. Can’t even form words anymore,” he mocked, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “My dumb little doll. All that sass earlier and now you’re too fucked-out to talk.”

Your thighs were trembling violently now, breath coming in shallow pants as the pressure built, your orgasm looming, cruel and inevitable.

Sunghoon knew. Of course he knew. He groaned, low and rough, hips slamming into you deeper.

“You close, baby?”

You sobbed something incoherent.

“Use your words. Come on.”

“Y-yes—yes, I’m—please—!”

He didn’t let up. Not for a second.

“You gonna come all over my cock after being a fucking brat in public? You think you deserve that?”

You shook your head, didn’t trust yourself to speak, but your body betrayed you, tightening around him as the orgasm hit. It crashed into you hard, like lightning through your veins, and you screamed, stars bursting behind your eyes. You didn’t even register him groaning your name, hips jerking as he came inside you moments later.

The room spun. Your limbs felt heavy. Your brain buzzed with static. And yet, even as your body trembled in the aftermath, Sunghoon’s touch softened, his voice dropped.

“Good girl,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your spine. “Took me so well. You did so good, baby.”

His hands rubbed slow, grounding circles into your thighs and lower back.

“You okay?”

You managed a nod, dazed, boneless, but safe.

Because no matter how rough he was, no matter how mean he got when you pushed his buttons, Sunghoon always took care of you after.

“Hoonie?” You whispered, soft voice after a while.

He stroked your arm, kissing softly on your shoulder before looking at you.

“Yes, babygirl?”

“Do you love me?” You batted your fake eyelashes, still perfect on your eyes even after the intense sex session.

He looked at you with shiny eyes, as if he couldn’t believe you were asking him that.

“Of course, baby. I love you.”

“Pinky promise?” You put out your hand, sticking your pinky and he laughed softly before locking it with his.

“Pinky promise.”

[asxgard]

Semper Fi | [1/8]

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!doctor!reader

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Summary: You’re the ray of sunshine to Jack’s rain cloud. What do they say about opposites attracting?

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: dipping my toes into writing for jack. i kinda love him and his dynamic with this reader, so that’s why there’s a question mark referencing the number of parts this will have. will likely be writing more for them.

(Semper Fi from the Latin “Semper Fidelis” meaning always faithful, which is the motto for the U.S. Marine Corps, but I also feel like it perfectly encapsulates his character)

starts roughly two years before The Pitt, making Ellis a PGY2 and Shen a PGY3 (also Langdon & Collins a PGY2, Mohan a PGY1/intern, and McKay & Mel would still be in med school, MS4). I also refer to the year by R#, meaning Resident Year#.

Word Count: 1.6k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content

Warnings: age gap (it feeds me/reader is late 20s, Jack is late 40s), foul language, people being bad at dealing with their feelings (…Jack), trauma, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, sunshine/grumpy dynamic, angst, mild gore relating to patients, death mentions, mild suicide ideation/jokes

not beta read

You rolled in from out of town like a spring day, warm and sweet. Jack Abbot really had no idea what to think of you at the start, assessing you silently — it had to be youthful optimism. It had to be. You were likely closer to half his age and only had a few years as an attending under your belt, with a persona that oozed family medicine or pediatrics.

How the hell did you end up in emergency medicine? He knew that whatever hospital you had come from, the Pitt would beat the cheery right out of you.

Just one shift and all your sweet smiles and doe eyes would sour.

It rattled him that you did not. Not even after your first week. Not even when your gloves and gown were soaked in the blood of a car crash victim, or when the trauma room was loud with a little girl screaming, or when you told the parents of a ten year-old-boy that he was dying. You walked out of Trauma-1 with a long sigh and then continued on about your day — like exiting back into the main area had reset something inside you.

Give it a few years, he thought bitterly.

Hearing your laugh echo through the halls of the ED sent alarm bells ringing throughout his system — how the hell were you laughing? What were you even laughing at?

Aside from the handful of conversations you had had together regarding patient care, you had not said much to him. Perhaps one of the nurses had advised you to steer clear of him, worried his no-nonsense, rigid exterior would rub off on you. It was clear as day to see most of the staff enjoyed having you on nights with them.

You moved with purpose throughout the ED, checking on several of your patients before moving to the charge desk to do charting, or scribble notes. He had to hand it to you, you were efficient, despite your soft edges.

The charge nurse on nights, Bridget, was talking to you quietly when he walked by, glancing up at the board. The lull was rare, like the quiet before the storm, and he found it interesting that you took time to enjoy it. He was brutal efficiency, checking crash carts and restocking, never letting himself grow idle.

He looked back at you, “Gonna chit-chat all day?”

Your eyes found his and you only blinked, unfazed by his tone. “Everything alright, Dr. Abbot?”

He frowned before gesturing to the board, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like that.” Said Bridget, with a simple shrug.

You only smiled at him before turning your attention back to Bridget. You picked up a tablet, focused more on that than on Bridget, but you nodded along as she told you about her son’s most recent football game, still clearly engaged.

He minded his tone when he directed you to the ambulance bay to help with a GSW victim being wheeled in. You assessed the man quickly, moving alongside the gurney into Trauma 1. You made quick work of it, paging surgery and ordering a handful of tests, before putting your hands to work.

Jack nearly sighed in relief, knowing he would not have to hand hold — the last thing he needed was an attending who he needed to keep an eye on. He knew he would do it anyway — perhaps it was the military in him, constantly taking in input of his surroundings, never allowing himself to miss anything.

How you guided Dr. Shen with an echocardiogram to show pericardial effusion and allowed him to drain the fluid. Or how you handed tough cases to Dr. Ellis to help her learn while you stood ever vigilant by her side. Or when you sat with the intern, Sullivan, through losing his first patient. He didn’t hear the advice you offered, but he noticed that Sullivan got back to work shortly thereafter, looking less miserable.

He realized that he still didn’t fully believe that you were a perfect fit for the ED, but you were a sound teacher.

—

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, or the Pitt as you had come to learn, was a welcomed change in your life. You had completed your residency and two years as an attending at New York-Presbyterian. You hadn’t fully intended to leave New York entirely, you just needed to get out of there — there was hardly any thought as to where you would end up.

Administration had needed you mostly on nights, which had not been your preference, but you didn’t argue. You took in your new workplace quickly, engaging with your new co-workers and trying to put your best foot forward whenever you clocked in.

While the Pitt was no less chaotic than the ED in New York, there was a particular restlessness you had begun to notice as the weeks ticked on. A never ending stream of patients, short-staffing and bad coffee seemed to weigh heavily on the ED, like it could never quite catch its breath.

The chief attending on your shifts, Dr. Abbot, took some adjusting to. He was nothing like the asshole at your last ED, but he usually had an stony, unreadable look on his face. You had never seen him crack a smile, and his gaze was more intimidating than you had expected. He had a habit of staring — not inappropriately, just assessing, just watching. Constantly observing the ED, patients, the board, you. It was not unkind, per se, but his eyes frequently held a heaviness that most backed away from — but instead of intimidating you, something instead took root in your gut.

You never took his demeanor to heart — he had been in the ED a long time, and with his calculated and calm practiced ease in which he operated, you suspected military training. The way he held himself, the way he moved, the way he demanded attention as soon as he stepped into a room did little to deter that thought.

The annoying little flutter made itself known every time you met his gaze in the weeks that followed, or when his hand met yours over a patient. It was frankly elementary, a stupid work crush — he was so much older, and he was your chief attending. Hardly appropriate. You still barely knew him, so it was easy enough to shove the feeling aside and work.

After one of the longer shifts where you had stayed an extra hour due to a hard to stabilize trauma, you wandered up to the roof. You had just intended to catch some air before returning to your apartment.

Just have a moment of solace to clear your clouded mind.

You were surprised to find you were not alone, looking across the roof to see Dr. Abbot. He was beyond the safety railing, overlooking the city, and a worry invaded your insides. Like in most things, he was just quietly looking over the city with a detached look in his eyes — not quite serious, but not entirely healthy.

You supposed this was how he dealt with a particularly gruesome shift. The topic of your own mortality was never a light one, but you could see how one might find comfort in the reminder of it. You liked to look at the sky, be reminded that life continues on, the world keeps spinning.

“So, you come here often?” You asked, startling him.

He turned to look at you, his eyes hard, “Do you?”

You shrugged with a smile, “I like to watch the sunrise.”

Abbot’s narrowed eyes held on you for several moments, before he turned back to the city, “Just spent the last hour and a half coding that kid…”

“I was there,” you said, stepping closer to the bars while still giving him ample space. “We did everything we could.”

His eyes were on you again. Sharp. Intimidating. “How do you do that?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “What?”

He sighed, putting his hands back into his pockets like he was removing as much of himself as he could. “I don’t even know why I do this anymore. This job.”

“Because it matters.” You told him, looking over to the sun rising on the horizon. “Because we’re good at it. Because they need us. Because we need it.” You shrugged lightly even though he wasn’t looking at you. “The little things keep me going, mostly.”

Silence encased you. Most of your mentors had called that nativity.

“You know, a little girl tried to give me her stuffed bear today.” You said, glancing at him. “Her mother was coding and she wanted to give the bear to me, for luck.”

A simple smile came over your features. The mother and daughter in question had been hit by a drunk driver earlier in your shift — the mother had come in critical, while the daughter had come out of it with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.

“And those little moments? They’re enough.”

You breathed in all the horrors you had seen before exhaling them, giving them to the wind. Your mind would always be haunted by the things you saw, but you did always try to focus on the good, on the things you could control.

You both stood there together for several minutes. His outlook was not likely to change, not over some pretty words when he had spent his entire career pushing it down, and you weren’t looking to change it. But the quiet now resting between you? It was warm. It was something that was seen, like a shred of light trickling through the darkness.

He came back from the edge and moved under the railing. You moved off the roof together, a quiet understanding finally settling between you.

[ Next ]

Solely inspired by this post/picture that I saw last week

I have a similar idea planned for Robby as well whoops

(still figuring jack out so please forgive this && this will not be as frequent/consistent as some of my other stuff while i learn to write for him lol)