#E Clinical Works

[specialized-billing]

How eClinicalWorks Transforms Modern Healthcare Operations

In the context of rapidly changing healthcare dynamics, technology continues to be instrumental in the advancement of service delivery and operational efficiency as well as financial viability. One of the distinguished platforms leading this digital transformation is eClinicalWorks, which is tailored to providers of various types and sizes, being a comprehensive and cloud-based solution.

From single independent physician’s offices to large multi-specialty groups, eClinicalWorks equips healthcare organizations with tools that streamline clinical workflows, enhance patient engagement, and optimize revenue cycle management. This blog discusses the core features, benefits, and practical use cases of eClinicalWorks in providing efficient, seamless, and patient-centric care.

What is eClinicalWorks?

eClinicalWorks (often abbreviated as eCW) is an integrated electronic health record (EHR) and practice management system designed to provide end-to-end solutions for healthcare providers. It interfaces with most of the clinical and administrative functions of a practice including medical charting, billing and claims processing, scheduling, telehealth, and patient communication.

Rather than operating in siloed systems which lead to friction and errors between departments, eClinicalWorks operates like a complete ecosystem. Data and workflows within eCW are synchronized and coordinated, reducing errors.

eClinicalWorks Highlights

1. EHR (Electronic Health Records) System

Operational efficiency improves with customizable templates offered by eClinicalWorks. Clinicians swiftly diagram patient charts and histories which includes medications, allergies, lab results, and diagnostics. Everything is accessible at the point of care, and decisions can be executed faster in routine matters. Having all data available instantaneously and effortlessly eliminates the chances of commiting a mistake.

Moreover, voice recognition, macros for specific specialties, and customizable notes add to the accuracy of documentation while saving time.

2. Telehealth Integration

Telehealth’s role was not significant in the past, but today it is an indispensable feature. Video calls are embedded into eClinicalWorks, enabling providers to give remote healthcare effortlessly. Healthcare services can be provided without the need for third-party software. With attendance verification, billing, and appointment scheduling telehealth becomes a superb companion to traditional visits.

3. Practice Management Tools

Apart from clinical documentation, eClinicalWorks Practice Management Tools also offer:

Automated appointment scheduling

Digital check-ins

Eligibility check in real-time

Advanced Reporting dashboards

Integrated Claims Processing and Billing Workflows

This minimizes the workload and allows better productivity from the reception and billing departments.

4. Revenue Cycle Management (RCM)

As far as any healthcare practice is concerned, revenue cycle management is the most vital part of any operation. With eClinicalWorks, practices are able to automate claim tracking from inception to completion. It manages the automation of charge capture, tracking of denials, resubmission of claims, and posting of remittances. Practices may choose to have outsourced RCM services while still having real-time access to collection and aging reports.

With healthcare as a service tightly integrated with clinical services, providers now have greater visibility on the operational performance and revenue inflow of the practice.

5. Patient Engagement Tools

Modern patients want ease of access and clear information. In an effort to improve patient satisfaction, eClinicalWorks provides and continues to develop several solutions such as:

Secure messaging portals

appointment reminders through SMS and email

Scheduling through online platforms

Lab results and visit summaries access

Completion of digital forms and questionnaires prior to the visits

All these tools equip patients to be more responsible in managing their personal health, which in turn, leads to better compliance and loyalty.

6. Population Health Management

The world of healthcare is moving toward proactive care, focusing on population health management. eClinicalWorks has integrated advanced analytics and care coordination features designed to support outcomes monitoring of at-risk groups and track health outcomes to support value-based care initiatives. Providers are able to divide patient populations into groups based on chronic illnesses, different risk factors, and gaps in care

Advantages of eClinicalWorks

1. All-in-One Platform

An exemplary benefit is the streamlined management of different areas of practice operations from one system. The juggling of vendors and multiple systems is eliminated. Everything is consolidated within the eClinicalWorks ecosystem, which improves data accuracy and collaboration while eliminating silos and redundancies among departments.

2. Customizability

Different practices have different needs. With eClinicalWorks, users can personalize templates, reports, workflows and dashboards to customize the software to best assist their practice.

3. Cloud-Based and Scalable

With eClinicalWorks being cloud-based, data is accessible from any location while also ensuring regulatory compliance. Whether owning a single-provider practice or a multi-site organization, eClinicalWorks can accommodate businesses of all sizes.

4. Data-Driven Decision Making

Business decisions arise from the analysis of various data sets, referred to as marketing intelligence, and with eClinicalWorks these vital metrics can be monitored. Administrators and providers are able to track the volume of visits, claim processing time, patient no-shows, and the quality score metrics, which empowers the organization to make strategic plans based on evidence.

5. Improved Compliance and Quality Reporting

From Meaningful Use to MIPS, eClinicalWorks offers tailored features that enhance and simplify compliance with regulations. Detailed dashboards along with automated alerts enable practices to track and report clinical quality measures, providing significant relief to providers.

Issues to Think About

Although eClinicalWorks is an integratedClinical Software platform, it does come with a few hurdles its users will likely encounter:

Interface Complexity: Usually new users will take some time getting used to the interface due to its comprehensiveness. Thorough training coupled with implementation support greatly enhances outcomes.

Disparate Standards Across Teams: The benefit of customization becomes a challenge with lack of standardization across groups.

Slight Lag: Occasionally, cloud based platforms tend to slow down due to congestion, and eClinicalWorks is no exception.

Obvious worries due to onboarding, inactive system checkups, and lacking retraining can easily be resolved.

How eClinicalWorks Serves Practitioners of Varying Sizes

Small Practices

Affordable subscription models along with all-in-one functionality makes eClinicalWorks an appealing option for solo practitioners and small clinics. Overhead is lowered, and management becomes more efficient as scheduling, charting, billing, and patient communication are handled through a single platform.

Group Practices

Larger practices take advantage of automated workflows as well as collaboration and advanced analytics. Data duplication is minimized in shared data environments while multi-provider coordination is facilitated through centralized dashboards.

Enterprise Healthcare Organizations

For multi-group practices and hospital systems, eClinicalWorks offers sophisticated functionalities like data interoperability, multi-facility organization, integrated care coordination tools, and other auxiliary capabilities. Its enterprise-level security and compliance safeguards also protect patients on a larger scale.

Support and Training Resources

eClinicalWorks’ support options include:

24/7 technical support

Personal account managers

Instructional videos and self-help portals

Live online classes and certification programs

Onsite or remote setup training

These additional resources protect users from becoming inefficient due to abuses of the system.

Is eClinicalWorks Right for Your Practice?

That answer varies for every client. If you are looking for an EHR system that does not merely provide patient record storage but instead optimizes operational efficiency and enhances financial performance and patient engagement, then eClinicalWorks is a strong contender.

You only pay for what you use, with the option to expand as your practice grows. Backed by telehealth capabilities, value-based care tools, and real-time reporting, eClinicalWorks positions your operations strategically for future growth.

If you are a startup clinic or a well established group practice, considering E Clinical Works as your next practice management and EHR system, could be an effective step towards a more streamlined and patient-focused clinic.

[miasmaghoul]

happy wip wednesday, so says @belle--ofthebrawl; here's a lil chunk of an absolute beast of a fic i've been chipping away at for months now bc its gonna have a little bit of everything:

mountain's in rut, and hes gonna need lots of help - and a muzzle >:)

(this one's for @forlorn-crows ♡)

[aliosne]

They should make a medimaps that doesnt fucking suck

[tahirkarim2244]

Advance EMF Security Pet Pendant

[lemuel-apologist]

Cody keeps calling me autistic

[miunachan]

Ultimate List of Business Ideas ♥ [UPDATED]

Hi ❀ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

Today, after hours of brainstorming and collecting impressions, I proudly present to you the ultimate list of business ideas for the newly released Businesses & Hobbies pack ✧. ✲ﾟ･｡✧･ﾟ

I've categorized the business ideas to provide a more structured overview, because there are so many  (๑❛ʚ❛๑). They are sorted into the following categories: 📌 Service-based small businesses 🍽️ Restaurants & entertainment venues 🛍️ Retail & creative shops 🛠️ Craft & manufacturing businesses 🎭 Fantasy & unconventional businesses.

Also for some of these ideas, I recommend using CC or mods to deepen the immersion, but that's completely up to you — sometimes using your own imagination does the trick too~ The recommended or sometimes necessary packs are included behind the business idea as well as CC/mod recommendation markers ❀✿❀

If you feel like something's missing, please comment your idea(s) and I will happily add them to the list so that the compendium can continue to grow (◕ω◕✿)

My other story ideas ✧. ✲ﾟ･｡✧･ﾟ ✿ Soft & Cozy Story Ideas ✿ Very Dramatic Story Ideas

Please take a look at my Patreon for more cute Sims 4 stuff~ You can find the original post here.

As always, happy simming! - MiunaChan ♥

📌 Service-Based Small Businesses

💉 Tattoo Studio (Hobbies & Businesses) 💆 Wellness Studio/Spa (Spa Day) 💅 Nail Salon (Spa Day) 💇 Hair Salon/Barbershop (CC/mods recommended) 💆‍♂️ Massage Center (Spa Day) 🧖 Sauna / Onsen Retreat (Spa Day, Snowy Escape) 🏋️ Gym & Personal Training (Fitness Stuff, Spa Day) 🧘 Yoga Studio (Spa Day) 🏔️ Rock Climbing Tours (Snowy Escape) ⛸️ Ice Skating Rink (Seasons) 🎢 Roller Skating Rink (Seasons) �� Pool (Seasons) 📖 Library

👶 Daycare for Infants & Toddlers (Seasons, Parenthood) 🤓 Preschool (Parenthood, High School Years) 🐱 Pet Daycare (Cats & Dogs) 🐕 Pet Training & Agility Classes (Cats & Dogs)

🏨 Hotel/Motel (Get to Work) 🧺 Laundrette (Laundry Day Stuff) 🎉 Event Planning Agency (My Wedding Stories) 🏥 Cosmetic Surgery Clinic (CC/mods recommended) 🗣️ Public Relations Agency

🏕️ Campground & Outdoor Retreat (Outdoor Retreat) 🏞️ Private Garden Maze & Fishing Lake (Cottage Living) 🏫 Lecture Hall & Public Speaking Center 🤖 Robotics Workshop (Discover University) 🎭 Improv Theater & Acting School (Get Famous, Get to Work) 📖 Creative Writing & Journalism Workshops 👗 Etiquette & Manners School (My Wedding Stories) 💻 Coding Bootcamp & IT Training 🎮 E-Sports & Gaming Coaching

🍽️ Restaurants & Entertainment Venues

💻 Internet Café 🐾 Pet Café (Cats & Dogs) 🎲 Tabletop & Board Game Café 🧋 Bubble Tea Shop (High School Years)

🍔 Fast-Food Restaurant (Dine Out) 🥐 Bistro (Cozy Bistro Kit, Dine Out) ☕ Traditional Tea House (Snowy Escape) 🥦 Vegan Specialty Store (Cottage Living) 🥘 Food Market & Culinary Stalls (Cottage Living, City Living)

🎤 Bar/Lounge/Nightclub/Karaoke Club (City Living, Get Together) 🎸 Live Music & Jazz Club 😂 Comedy Club 🎥 Cinema (Movie Hangout Stuff) 🎳 Bowling Alley (Bowling Night Stuff)

🍦 Ice Cream Parlor (Seasons) 🎂 Bakery/Pastry Shop (Dine Out) 🚚 Food Truck (Snowy Escape, Cottage Living) 🧑‍🍳 Cooking Classes & Culinary School (Dine Out, Cottage Living)

🍇 Vineyard & Wine Tasting (Cottage Living) 🍸 Barista & Mixology Courses 🏰 Medieval Tavern (Get Together, Seasons) 🎭 Movie Studio Tour (Get Famous) 🏦 Museum & Science Exhibition (Discover University)

🛍️ Retail & Creative Shops

🌸 Flower Shop (Seasons) 💐 Flower Arranging School (Seasons) 🕯️ Candle Shop (Eco Lifestyle) 🏺 Pottery Studio (Hobbies & Businesses)

🖼�� Art Gallery (Get to Work) 🎨 Artist’s Studio & Creative Workshops (City Living) 📚 Bookstore (Get to Work) 📖 Comic Book & Nerd Store (City Living, Journey to Batuu) 🖌️ Art Studio & Painting Classes (City Living, Get to Work)

🧸 Toy Store 🛎️ Souvenir Shop (Island Living, Snowy Escape, Journey to Batuu) 🔮 Crystal & Occult Store (Realm of Magic, Crystal Creations Kit) 💎 Crystal Workshop (Crystal Creations Kit) 🏺 Antique Shop (Eco Lifestyle) 🔥 Fireworks Shop (Seasons) 🎵 Record & Music Instrument Store (City Living) 🎸 Music School (City Living)

📷 Photography Studio & Workshops (Get to Work, City Living) 🧥 Thrift Store (High School Years, Eco Lifestyle) 👘 Costume & Formal Wear Rental (CC/mods recommended)

🛠️ Craft & Manufacturing Businesses

🪑 Furniture Workshop (Eco Lifestyle) 💍 Jewelry Design Studio (Crystal Creations Kit) 👗 Bridal Boutique (My Wedding Stories) 💡 Lamp & Lighting Workshop 🎸 Musical Instrument Crafting (City Living) 👠 Shoe Workshop (CC/mods recommended) 👜 Handbag & Leather Goods Studio (CC/mods recommended) 👕 Tailoring & Fashion Design (CC/mods recommended)

🏡 Tiny House Design & Sales (Tiny Houses, Eco Lifestyle) 🌱 Gardening & Herbalism Workshops (Cottage Living, Realm of Magic) 🔧 DIY & Handicraft Workshops (Eco Lifestyle)

🎭 Fantasy & Unconventional Businesses (CC/Mods Recommended)

🕵️ Private Detective Agency (Get to Work) 💘 Dating Agency 🧹 Cleaning Service 🧠 Psychological Counseling & Therapy 🏚️ Second-Hand Furniture Store (Eco Lifestyle)

🎨 Black Market for Stolen Art (Get to Work, Jungle Adventure) 🧑‍🔬 Secret Alchemy Lab (Realm of Magic) 🎲 Backyard Poker Club 🎰 Gambling Den or Casino (Get to Work) 💻 Cybercriminal Hacker Hideout (Get to Work) 🏚️ Brothel 💋 Woohoo Playrooms 🔮 Medium/Psychic Business (Realm of Magic) 🧪 Potion Bar (Realm of Magic) 🕍 Cemetery & Tombstone Sales (Live and Death, Realm of Magic) 🦇 Secret Occult Society (Vampires, Werewolves, Realm of Magic) 🏕️ Nudist Colony 🕹️ Arcade & Retro Gaming Lounge (High School Years, City Living) 💭 Bubble Blower Lounge (City Living) ⛪ Church

[lunaticamic]

to which saint do i have to consecrate my soul to schedule a fucking breasts ultrasound in this country

[ragingbookdragon]

She huffs lightly when she hears the low growl of the familiar soldier in the room next door, followed by her nurse griping and trying to work with him. Entering behind, she lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Go on, Paula, I got him,” she says with a smile and Paula practically screams in relief as she leaves the exam room.

She gives him a fond smile. “Now, Lieutenant, what have I said about antagonizing my nurses?”

He scowls at her. “I don’t like ‘em.”

“I know but I still need you to be kind when they’re simply trying to do their jobs.”

“I don’t like anyone touchin’ me but you.” He’s still scowling behind his mask, holding his side where she can see the black material stained a darker color.

“Well aren’t I special,” she murmurs, closing the exam room door before walking over. “You know the drill.”

He lifts his sweatshirt wordlessly along with the t-shirt he’s got underneath and she sighs at the sight of a cut about four inches long riding up his ribs.

“Do I even want to know how?” She asks.

“Trainin’ with Soap,” he mutters. “‘e’s a slippery lit’le bastard when ‘e needs to be.”

She snorts and goes about pulling on a pair of latex gloves before she begins to clean his wound with antiseptic. He doesn’t make a sound though she knows it stings like a bitch and the only show of irritation from him is the way his muscle ripple beneath her touch.

“I thought I said not to get wounded anymore.”

“Didn’t listen,” he simply shrugs.

“If I had half a mind, I’d assume you did this on purpose so you could come see me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter you’self. I don’t like you that much.”

A laugh escapes her as she checks the depth, ultimately deciding on a few stitches for his wound. “Oh I know you like me plenty, Simon.”

Simon.

She only says his name in privacy when no one can hear them. He hates the way his chest feels funny, sternum scratchy with an itch he can’t get to.

“‘S Lieutenant,” he retorts.

“Of course, of course,” she hums. “My most sincerest apologies, Lieutenant Riley.”

He scowls again but that itch returns when she begins to stitch his wound carefully.

After a few minutes, she sets the clipped thread down and admires her handiwork. “All done, sweetheart,” she says with a gentle smile and wipes it carefully before putting a bandage on it. “Don’t get it wet and—”

“Keep it dry and clean,” he finishes. “I know.”

She laughs and pokes the nose to his mask. “Maybe one day you will learn.”

She watches as he redresses himself before standing, waving off the bottle of pills she hands to him.

“Don’t need ‘em.”

“It’s just some ibuprofen, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” he repeats with a growl and she rolls her eyes.

“You are so stubborn for no reason,” she says and places her hands on her hips. “And after all the care I just gave you.”

He looks at her for a solid moment before he leans over and kisses her cheek through his mask. “Thank you, love,” he mutters. “For takin’ care of me.”

She goes uncharacteristically quiet, cheeks getting hot and he smirks at her.

“Ain’t got nothin’ to say? Cat got your tongue?”

She glares at him half-heartedly. “Get out of my clinic, Lieutenant.”

As he heads for the door, he pauses and looks at her. “It’s Simon, to you.” He says, and closes the door behind him.

[dakusan]

F I R S T   B I T E

Vampire!Bang Chan x Reader | blood ritual, silk sheets, first time he finally takes you

🔞synopsis: You weren’t looking for luxury. You were looking for survival. But then he chose you—Bang Chan. Now you sleep in silk, eat like royalty, and bleed for him on schedule. He’s fed from you before. Gentle. Controlled. Ritualistic. But he’s never fucked you. Not once. Tonight, that changes. Because his hunger is showing. His eyes are black. And you’re in that dress he bought you. And when he finally takes his bite—he doesn’t stop there.

💌a/n: OK SO LISTEN 🩸 Yes. I know I answered an ask ages ago about how Chan is so rich. but for this series? i said fuck it. switched it up. because he deserves it. you deserve it. silk sheets and bite marks forever. also no, i’m not making profiles for every member. that’s boring and I’m busy making them FEED AND FUCK INSTEAD 😌 priorities. if you’re not bleeding and shaking by the end, did you even read it? 🔪💋✨ p.s. reblog if it ruined you. reblog if you whimpered. reblog if you said “oh.” out loud. p.p.s. more members coming next Wreck Me Wednesday! p.p.p.s. blood tastes better when it’s yours. ok bye 🖤

⚠️ warnings: 18+ / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | biting kink | marking kink | blood drinking as foreplay (and during) | fingering + grinding | overstimulation | breeding kink language (explicit) | “mine” possessiveness dialled to 1000 | choking (light, erotic) | mirror of praise + filth | power imbalance | luxury kink | ritualistic aftercare | cum, blood, and luxury bath oils

📌 Please read responsibly. Hydrate. Bleed pretty. Stretch.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Criminal — Taemin « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:31 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

The idea of becoming a Blood Doll didn’t start as a fantasy. It started as a last resort.

You weren’t desperate. Just… cornered. By bills. By bruises you didn’t ask for. By nights too long and mornings that arrived with nothing but guilt and cold toast. Seoul was a city of glass towers and low shadows. You had lived in both.

You weren’t supposed to know about the Veil. About vampires. About what they offered behind silk-curtained doors. But you did. One overheard conversation in a blood clinic waiting room was all it took. A name passed like a secret. A dare:

“LUXE Health. If you’re lucky, someone will choose you.”

So you cleaned yourself up. Not for them. For you. You memorized their rules. Got the bloodwork done. Sold everything else. And when you finally arrived—dressed in borrowed black with lips bitten pink—you didn’t flinch.

Because somewhere beneath the hunger and the silence, you had a single thought: “If I’m going to belong to someone… make it him.”

You saw him before he saw you. Or maybe that’s just what you tell yourself now.

Bang Christopher Chan. The vampire who owns medicine. The one whose name is spoken in hushed reverence at trauma wards and whispered in moans between silk sheets.

Abnormal. Born, not turned. The kind of vampire the Veil fears because they cannot predict him.

He didn’t need to feed from you that night. He didn’t even touch you. Just read your file, looked into your eyes, and said—

“You’ll do.”

Not cruel. Not kind. Just… certain. And that certainty rewired you.

That was three months ago.

Now, you live on the top floor of a private Luxe facility in Gangnam. You don’t work. You don’t pay. You just exist—dripping in silk, gliding past glass, touched only by magic and occasionally by him.

You eat better than royalty. Your scent is monitored for health. Your sheets are laundered daily in blood-neutral detergent. Every book you ever mentioned liking? It's in your room. Your bath oils are imported. Your wardrobe is measured by hand.

But he hasn’t fucked you. Not once. Not yet. He’s fed. God, has he fed.

The first time, you thought you’d die from how soft he made it. The second time, you wanted him to bite deeper. The third time? You whimpered his name. He smiled, lips wet, but didn’t take you. Not then.

And yet—he gives.

A diamond choker with a spell-lock that hums when you're near danger. A dress you only wore once, now preserved in a glass case because he liked how you looked in it. Shoes hand-delivered from a Paris atelier, dyed to match the undertone of your skin. Perfumes keyed to his scent.

He gives like a man who has everything—except you.

Tonight, you had been his date. A Veil-chartered event in an underground gallery beneath Itaewon. Not that you paid much mind, except the fact that you stood by him looking all pretty, dressed by him.

And now? Now you’re back in the penthouse.

Your heels click across imported stone. You’ve just slipped off your earrings when you feel it—the hum in the walls. The signal. Feeding hour.

He’s never missed one.

You turn, heart already pounding.

He’s in the doorway. Loosened collar. No tie. Silver watch still on his wrist. And his eyes…

Black.

“Sit,” he says, voice silk-dark.

And you do, because God, you always obey.

He crosses the room like a secret unfolding—measured, lethal, beautiful. His gaze never leaves yours. Not even as he loosens the first button of his shirt. Not even as he sheds his jacket and drapes it over the back of a chair. The air shifts around him—cooler, heavier. The scent of cedar and clove curled in hunger.

You sit where he wants you. On the edge of the fainting couch, legs pressed together beneath silk that still smells like his cologne. Your lipstick is still intact. Your throat bare. The pulse at your neck, traitorous.

He kneels in front of you.

Not like a man worshipping. Like a vampire calculating.

His fingers brush your ankle, sliding upward in a touch so light it’s almost imagined—up the line of your shin, over your knee, until he’s nudging the hem of your gown higher, just enough to settle between your legs, kneeling. Commanding.

He doesn't speak right away. Just watches you.

Eventually, he reaches for your wrist. Not to feed.

Just to hold. “You're warm.”

You nod, breath shallow. "I always am. After we go out."

Something flickers across his face. Amusement? Possession?

He leans forward. Mouth hovering over your neck. Not touching. Just breathing. "Do you want the bite here?"

"Yes."

He doesn’t kiss you. He doesn’t ask again. He bites.

You gasp. His fangs are surgical. Smooth. Deep. You feel it in your blood, in your thighs, in the way your dress shifts against your hips as your whole body arches toward him.

It’s not pain. It’s pressure.

One of his hands at your waist, the other on your thigh, grounding you as he drinks your sweet blood in slow. His tongue flicks once. Just once. Over the wound.

And that’s what makes you whimper.

His groan is almost inaudible. Almost. He drinks a little deeper.

You clutch the shoulder of his shirt and try to stay still—but you can’t. You shift. You rub your knees together. You tilt your head further back like it’ll coax more of him out, like it’ll make him—

He stops. Pulls back. Blood on his lips. Collarbone flushed. Hands tighter now.

You’re panting.

"You should rest."

But he doesn’t mean it. Because his eyes are still black. And his cock is hard under his trousers. And you’re still in that dress he picked—silk, slit high, neckline low enough for his teeth to dip beneath.

“You’re still hungry,” you whisper.

He says nothing. But his hand slides higher up your thigh. Just barely. Just enough.

“Feed again,” you murmur.

He exhales. Shaky. Like he’s fighting something ancient. “If I feed again,” he says, voice wrecked, “I won’t stop.”

Your reply is immediate. “I don't want you to stop.”

His hand grips your thigh harder.

A beat. Two. And then—he snaps. His mouth crashes to yours like it’s the only law he’s ever obeyed.

Hot. Wet. Starving.

There’s no finesse. No restraint. Just tongue and breath and blood—your blood—smearing between your lips as he kisses you like he’s waited centuries. You taste iron and cedar and the slick salt of him groaning into your mouth.

His palm slides up your spine, yanks you forward. You gasp. He swallows it. You moan. He deepens it. Your fingers claw at his shirt, dragging it open, buttons scattering somewhere onto the marble.

“Chan—”

“Shut up,” he growls, biting your bottom lip, licking where it splits. “I told you. I won’t stop now.”

You don’t want him to.

Because you can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t survive if he doesn’t keep kissing you like that—like he’s drowning in you and wants to take you under with him.

He stands, dragging you up with him, your body flush to his. His hands on your ass, gripping through silk. You feel him—hard and heavy—pressed against your stomach. You grind against him. Shameless. He groans into your mouth like you just handed him your soul.

“On the bed,” he rasps, voice ruined.

You don’t walk. You stumble. He follows, eyes black, jaw clenched, pupils blown so wide you swear they swallow the moonlight.

Three steps from the bed, you spin and grab him by the open collar of his shirt—what’s left of it—and pull.

Hard.

He stumbles with you, low grunt in his throat, and you fall back onto the sheets like gravity’s been waiting for this moment.

Silk against your spine. Chan above you, braced on trembling arms. His shirt ripped wide open from your fingers, chest heaving. Eyes on your lips before leaning in again. Lips on your own. Tongue hot and deep, one hand gripping your jaw like he wants to brand his name there.

His knee shoves between your thighs and you start grinding against it. Moan into his mouth like a sinner under oath.

Your dress slips off one shoulder and of course he notices and his mouth leaves yours—trailing fire down your throat, tongue flicking the half-healed bite on your neck. You arch like a live wire. He sucks. You cry out. And then he speaks against your skin.

“You don’t understand what you’ve just done,” he rasps, voice shaking. “Letting me kiss you. Letting me taste it from your lips…”

He presses his forehead to your collarbone. His breath shudders. So does your body. “I’ve waited,” he says. “I’ve waited—every night. Let you heal. Let you rest. I was good.”

He lifts his head. Stares down at you. “But now you’ve ruined that.”

His hand slides under the slit of your dress. Fingers ghost over your inner thigh. He groans. "Fuck, you're so wet baby."

You whimper.

He leans down again, nose brushing your jaw, lips grazing your ear—

“One more bite,” he whispers. “Then I fuck you. And I don’t stop until your blood knows who it belongs to.”

"Please." You say. Desperate for it.

Chan's lips press against your shoulder, just below the dip of silk where your dress has fallen. He's slow, gentle, taking his time. Before finally, he bites and you gasp, sharp and wrecked.

His fangs in slowly this time. Not like earlier. No urgency. This bite is...savouring.

You clutch the sheets, back arching as he feeds again—mouth latched to your skin, tongue lapping slowly between pulses. Every draw pulls heat to your core. Every sound he makes against your skin echoes between your thighs.

And then you finally feel his hand parting your legs more, fingers brushing over your already soaked panties. You twitch and he groans into the wound.

"Dropping," he murmurs, mouth still on your flesh. "From being bit."

His fingers slip beneath the fabric. Contact. He traces the seam of your folds with two fingers before running them up again, pressing into your just enough to make your hips holt.

You moan out. That moan ripped straight from the center of you.

He chuckles darkly. Fangs still buried. Your blood on his tongue. Your cunt in his palm.

"So sweet," he growls. "Every part of you."

His thumb starts to circle that bundle of nerves. Not fast. Not hard. Just deep, tight pressure—rhythmic, possessive, hypnotic.

You’re panting now. Writhing. Your blood still feeding him as he works you from below.

His free hand grabs your thigh, pinning it open. “This pussy’s been waiting for me,” he hisses, licking over the bite again. “Wet and so so perfect for me.”

Two fingers thrust inside and your head snaps back. A choke moan spills out. You feel everything.

“Say it,” he demands, pulling back from your shoulder, licking the wound clean. “Say who owns you.”

“Y-You—fuck—Chan, it’s you—”

“Say it properly.”

His fingers curl just right.

“You own me,” you cry. “You own all of me—*fuck—*please don’t stop—”

“I told you,” he pants, mouth against your lips again, hand fucking you slow and deep, “I’m not stopping tonight.”

Chan finally pulled back, slowly. Fangs retracting from your skin. Mouth now painted with your blood again. He looks wrecked. Hair falling into his eyes. Chest rising like a storm's behind it. But his fingers? They've started fucking into you, a slow pace.

He sits back on his heels between your thighs, one hand fucking deep, slow, curling into that spot that makes your breath catch and your thighs twitch. The other hand trails up your waist until it cups your breast through the fabric. His thumb brushes over your nipple.

“Aw, look at you,” he coos, voice soaked in dark heat. “Dripping for me. Can feel it, baby girl.” His fingers move faster now—tight little thrusts that make your cunt clench, soak, squeal.

“You gonna cum?”

“Yes—yes, I—”

“I can feel it,” he growls. “All that sweetness pulling around my fingers. Fuck—so tight. So fucking good for me.”

He leans over, tongue lapping at the blood smeared down your clavicle while he finger fucks you harder. “That’s it. Let go. Be good. Cum on my hand.”

You cry out—knees jerking, hands clawing at the sheets, your entire body arching as heat snaps. Your orgasm crashes through you. But Chan doesn’t stop. Not until you’re trembling under him, cunt pulsing around his fingers, thighs soaked and twitching.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You give so fucking much. You always do.”

He pulls his fingers out slow, watching the mess string between you.

Then—finally—his hands go to your dress. He peels it off of you, revealing every inch of your body to his hungry eyes. "Now," he murmurs, eyes dark again. "Now I take what's mine."

You barely catch your breath before you hear it—

The sound of his belt unbuckling.

Fast. Sharp. Desperate. He’s done waiting. His slacks fall in seconds. Boxers shoved low. His cock now in full view. Heavy, thick, veins pulsing. He is already flushed, the tip angry red and dripping.

Your mouth parts in awe. Your cunt clenches in instinct. “Look at you,” he breathes, crawling back over you, cock resting hot against your thigh. “Already shaking… and I haven’t even put it in yet.”

He grabs himself—gives one slow stroke, tip dragging along your folds as he lines up. You feel the heat of it.

“You want it?” he rasps.

“Yes. Please—”

“Then take it.”

And he pushes in. Slowly, gently, wanting to savour the feeling of your walls around his cock. You arch with a cry—eyes wide, fingers scrambling to hold onto something. But it’s no use. You’re being split. He’s so thick, and the stretch is perfect—too perfect. Your pussy tightens around him like velvet glove, and he groans low, forehead dropping to yours.

“Fuck, baby girl—so fucking tight—so good for me—”

He bottoms out.

One perfect grind of his hips. You feel everything. But he doesn't move yet, his hips flushed with yours.

"You take me so well," he whispers. "This pussy was made for me. You were made for me."

You whimper, breathless.

"Please—move—”

"I can. Remind me, who do you belong to baby?"

"You—you, Chan—fuck, I’m yours—”

"Good girl." he whispers. Pulling back and then slamming back in. Hard. Deep. Merciless. His thrusts picking up pace. Harder into you. Your body jerks up over the bed. He grabs your waist, pulls you back onto him.

Over and over.

The sound is obscene—skin on skin, soaked and slick. Your name is gone. All that exists is his name—Chan, Chan, Chan—echoing from your mouth, screamed into sheets, licked from your lips by the man breaking you open.

“You feel that?” he grits, fucking you deep, jaw clenched. “That’s mine. This body. This blood. This fucking cunt—”

He slaps your thigh. You moan.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours—yours, yours, yours—”

He groans—fucks you harder. At least for a few more thrusts until he moves again. Shifts. Flips you over. Fast. Rough. Hands firm under your hips. One sharp drag and your body turns beneath him—your chest to the sheets, ass up, knees wide on instinct.

You gasp, caught off guard by the dominance of it. And he just laughs—low, filthy, feral.

“That’s better,” he growls behind you. “Now I can really fucking feel you.”

His hand spanks your ass and you jolt.

Chan drags his cock through your slick folds again. Lining himself up. "Stay still," he commands. "Take it.£

And he thrusts back in. Hard. Deep. Full.

You scream. Into the pillow.

He fills you so completely from this angle, cock hitting new spots you didn’t know existed. And when he grinds in deep—stays there—you feel your whole body shudder.

Chan's hand moves into your hair. Fisting it and yanking your head back just enough that you arch for him. And the other hand? It wraps around your throat.

"You look so pretty like this," he hisses into your ear. "Open. Dripping. Mine."

He starts moving again—fucking you slow and rough, every stroke long and deep and perfectly angled. You’re choking on moans now—your own breath caught in your throat where his hand rests, light but threatening. Possessive.

“You gonna cum again?” he pants, hips slamming into you. “Gonna soak me like a good little blood doll?”

You nod—whimper—beg.

“Say it,” he growls.

“I—I’m gonna cum—fuck, Chan, please—”

“That’s right,” he snarls. “Do it. Let go.”

He pulls your hair harder. His cock slams deeper. And you shatter. Second orgasm—harder than the first—slams through you like lightning. Your whole body convulses, cunt pulsing around him so tight he groans, slams in deeper, loses rhythm—

“Fuck.”

He lets go of your throat. Pushes you flat to the bed, still buried inside you.

And then? He pulls out—panting, ruined—and flips you again.

“We’re not done,” he breathes. “Not until I fill you.”

You’re breathless. Sprawled on the sheets on your back again after being flipped. Skin flushed, throat kissed red, thighs sticky and trembling.

But he’s not done.

Chan climbs over you again—eyes black, cock still hard, soaked with your slick and heat and ownership. He grabs your legs, lifts them, pushes them up high over his shoulders.

You whimper. He growls.

“One more,” he rasps. “You’re gonna take one more.”

And then he thrusts back in. His thrusts never easing up, except this time instead of being fast, they're harder, deeper. Hitting deep inside your pretty dripping cunt.

Your legs tremble where they rest on his shoulders, your hips arching up instinctively to meet his every thrust. He’s so deep now—your cunt swallowing every inch, fluttering around him like it already misses him when he pulls back.

“So tight,” he pants, sweat dripping from his jaw as he fucks into you. “So full. You feel that?”

He leans down—body folding over yours, pressing you into the bed. You gasp at the intensity—your knees practically touching your ears, your body caged beneath him. And before you know it, his mouth finds your throat again. Not the old bite. No.

This time it's lower. Right over your pulse. A new mark. A new claim.

He sinks his fangs in—again. But this time? He cums. At the same fucking moment.

You feel it—his cock twitching deep inside you, spilling into you with a primal, guttural growl against your skin. His hips still grind as he pumps you full, fucking it deeper, deeper, until your stomach coils from the pressure and the heat and the ache.

“That’s it,” he pants against your skin. “Take it. All of it. I’m gonna fill you—mark you—fuck it so deep into you it'll leak all night.”

He’s still feeding, slow now—tongue lapping, lips suckling, like your blood is the final part of the ritual.

And you? You’re crying his name.

“Chan—Chan—fuck—yes—yours—”

He lifts his head, face painted with blood and victory and crashes his lips onto yours.

Wet. Possessive. Full of cum and blood and everything he is.

“Good girl,” he whispers, against your swollen lips. “My good little blood doll.”

He pulls out—slow. Your thighs twitch. His cum leaks from between them. He watches it, chest heaving, and smirks before his eyes move on to you. Eyes no longer black, but softer now, sparklier. You’re wrecked beneath him, trembling and flushed, marked in blood and sweat and cum.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, fingers ghosting up your thigh. “You took me so well.”

You try to speak. Can’t. All you can do is breathe—shaky, grateful, undone. He leans down. Presses one kiss to your cheek. Another to your temple. Then the curve of your throat where your blood still lingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, so gentle it nearly makes you cry. “You’re mine now. And I take care of what’s mine.”

He moves with eerie speed after that, but never rushes you. One moment he’s gone, and the next—he’s back.

A warm cloth in his hand. Something for your bite marks. A glass of cold water. A square of dark chocolate—your favourite.

“Small sugars after feeding,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Prevents dizziness. Helps the body remember pleasure.”

You nibble it, fingers weak. He watches every movement like it’s precious.

Then he scoops you into his arms. You’re already drifting—high on oxytocin, on safety, on the way he smells like expensive oud and dark cherry blood.

“Where are we going…?” you murmur.

“Bath,” he says, already striding down the marble hallway. “You’re not sleeping with my cum leaking down your thighs onto silk sheets."

You huff a laugh into his chest. "Didn't you say you wanted me to leak all night?"

"I don't remember that. I never said that." But Chan is smiling, dimple smile and his ears are red.

In the bathroom, he takes the time to set you down on the edge of the tub gently while he takes care of filling it up with warm water, adding in jasmine oils. Whilst the tub fills up, Chan steps back to undress fully now, taking off that ripped shirt off.

By the time the tub is filled up, Chan makes sure to ease you in the tub, hands firm yet gentle before sliding in behind you and pulling your back to his chest, arms wrapping around your waist.

"You did so well tonight," he says softly, mouth brushing your shoulder. "I told you id' take care of you."

You nod. Too relaxed to speak.

His fingers draw idle shapes over your stomach, over the curve of your breast, over the softest parts of you that no one else touches.

“Sleep here, if you want,” he whispers. “Stay here. Forever.”

You simply relax, your head against his shoulder, eyes fluttered closed, breathing steady. "Mmm...forever." you murmur.

And Chan leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Forever,” he echoes. “Mine.”

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco , @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie

[fatliberation]

they have a point though. you wouldn't need everyone to accommodate you if you just lost weight, but you're too lazy to stick to a healthy diet and exercise. it's that simple. I'd like to see you back up your claims, but you have no proof. you have got to stop lying to yourselves and face the facts

Must I go through this again? Fine. FINE. You guys are working my nerves today. You want to talk about facing the facts? Let's face the fucking facts.

In 2022, the US market cap of the weight loss industry was $75 billion [1, 3]. In 2021, the global market cap of the weight loss industry was estimated at $224.27 billion [2]. 

In 2020, the market shrunk by about 25%, but rebounded and then some since then [1, 3] By 2030, the global weight loss industry is expected to be valued at $405.4 billion [2]. If diets really worked, this industry would fall overnight. 

1. LaRosa, J. March 10, 2022. "U.S. Weight Loss Market Shrinks by 25% in 2020 with Pandemic, but Rebounds in 2021." Market Research Blog. 2. Staff. February 09, 2023. "[Latest] Global Weight Loss and Weight Management Market Size/Share Worth." Facts and Factors Research. 3. LaRosa, J. March 27, 2023. "U.S. Weight Loss Market Partially Recovers from the Pandemic." Market Research Blog.

Over 50 years of research conclusively demonstrates that virtually everyone who intentionally loses weight by manipulating their eating and exercise habits will regain the weight they lost within 3-5 years. And 75% will actually regain more weight than they lost [4].

4. Mann, T., Tomiyama, A.J., Westling, E., Lew, A.M., Samuels, B., Chatman, J. (2007). "Medicare’s Search For Effective Obesity Treatments: Diets Are Not The Answer." The American Psychologist, 62, 220-233. U.S. National Library of Medicine, Apr. 2007.

The annual odds of a fat person attaining a so-called “normal” weight and maintaining that for 5 years is approximately 1 in 1000 [5].

5. Fildes, A., Charlton, J., Rudisill, C., Littlejohns, P., Prevost, A.T., & Gulliford, M.C. (2015). “Probability of an Obese Person Attaining Normal Body Weight: Cohort Study Using Electronic Health Records.” American Journal of Public Health, July 16, 2015: e1–e6.

Doctors became so desperate that they resorted to amputating parts of the digestive tract (bariatric surgery) in the hopes that it might finally result in long-term weight-loss. Except that doesn’t work either. [6] And it turns out it causes death [7],  addiction [8], malnutrition [9], and suicide [7].

6. Magro, Daniéla Oliviera, et al. “Long-Term Weight Regain after Gastric Bypass: A 5-Year Prospective Study - Obesity Surgery.” SpringerLink, 8 Apr. 2008. 7. Omalu, Bennet I, et al. “Death Rates and Causes of Death After Bariatric Surgery for Pennsylvania Residents, 1995 to 2004.” Jama Network, 1 Oct. 2007.  8. King, Wendy C., et al. “Prevalence of Alcohol Use Disorders Before and After Bariatric Surgery.” Jama Network, 20 June 2012.  9. Gletsu-Miller, Nana, and Breanne N. Wright. “Mineral Malnutrition Following Bariatric Surgery.” Advances In Nutrition: An International Review Journal, Sept. 2013.

Evidence suggests that repeatedly losing and gaining weight is linked to cardiovascular disease, stroke, diabetes and altered immune function [10].

10. Tomiyama, A Janet, et al. “Long‐term Effects of Dieting: Is Weight Loss Related to Health?” Social and Personality Psychology Compass, 6 July 2017.

Prescribed weight loss is the leading predictor of eating disorders [11].

11. Patton, GC, et al. “Onset of Adolescent Eating Disorders: Population Based Cohort Study over 3 Years.” BMJ (Clinical Research Ed.), 20 Mar. 1999.

The idea that “obesity” is unhealthy and can cause or exacerbate illnesses is a biased misrepresentation of the scientific literature that is informed more by bigotry than credible science [12]. 

12. Medvedyuk, Stella, et al. “Ideology, Obesity and the Social Determinants of Health: A Critical Analysis of the Obesity and Health Relationship” Taylor & Francis Online, 7 June 2017.

“Obesity” has no proven causative role in the onset of any chronic condition [13, 14] and its appearance may be a protective response to the onset of numerous chronic conditions generated from currently unknown causes [15, 16, 17, 18].

13. Kahn, BB, and JS Flier. “Obesity and Insulin Resistance.” The Journal of Clinical Investigation, Aug. 2000. 14. Cofield, Stacey S, et al. “Use of Causal Language in Observational Studies of Obesity and Nutrition.” Obesity Facts, 3 Dec. 2010.  15. Lavie, Carl J, et al. “Obesity and Cardiovascular Disease: Risk Factor, Paradox, and Impact of Weight Loss.” Journal of the American College of Cardiology, 26 May 2009.  16. Uretsky, Seth, et al. “Obesity Paradox in Patients with Hypertension and Coronary Artery Disease.” The American Journal of Medicine, Oct. 2007.  17. Mullen, John T, et al. “The Obesity Paradox: Body Mass Index and Outcomes in Patients Undergoing Nonbariatric General Surgery.” Annals of Surgery, July 2005. 18. Tseng, Chin-Hsiao. “Obesity Paradox: Differential Effects on Cancer and Noncancer Mortality in Patients with Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus.” Atherosclerosis, Jan. 2013.

Fatness was associated with only 1/3 the associated deaths that previous research estimated and being “overweight” conferred no increased risk at all, and may even be a protective factor against all-causes mortality relative to lower weight categories [19].

19. Flegal, Katherine M. “The Obesity Wars and the Education of a Researcher: A Personal Account.” Progress in Cardiovascular Diseases, 15 June 2021.

Studies have observed that about 30% of so-called “normal weight” people are “unhealthy” whereas about 50% of so-called “overweight” people are “healthy”. Thus, using the BMI as an indicator of health results in the misclassification of some 75 million people in the United States alone [20]. 

20. Rey-López, JP, et al. “The Prevalence of Metabolically Healthy Obesity: A Systematic Review and Critical Evaluation of the Definitions Used.” Obesity Reviews : An Official Journal of the International Association for the Study of Obesity, 15 Oct. 2014.

While epidemiologists use BMI to calculate national obesity rates (nearly 35% for adults and 18% for kids), the distinctions can be arbitrary. In 1998, the National Institutes of Health lowered the overweight threshold from 27.8 to 25—branding roughly 29 million Americans as fat overnight—to match international guidelines. But critics noted that those guidelines were drafted in part by the International Obesity Task Force, whose two principal funders were companies making weight loss drugs [21].

21. Butler, Kiera. “Why BMI Is a Big Fat Scam.” Mother Jones, 25 Aug. 2014. 

Body size is largely determined by genetics [22].

22. Wardle, J. Carnell, C. Haworth, R. Plomin. “Evidence for a strong genetic influence on childhood adiposity despite the force of the obesogenic environment” American Journal of Clinical Nutrition Vol. 87, No. 2, Pages 398-404, February 2008.

Healthy lifestyle habits are associated with a significant decrease in mortality regardless of baseline body mass index [23].  

23. Matheson, Eric M, et al. “Healthy Lifestyle Habits and Mortality in Overweight and Obese Individuals.” Journal of the American Board of Family Medicine : JABFM, U.S. National Library of Medicine, 25 Feb. 2012.

Weight stigma itself is deadly. Research shows that weight-based discrimination increases risk of death by 60% [24].

24. Sutin, Angela R., et al. “Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality .” Association for Psychological Science, 25 Sept. 2015.

Fat stigma in the medical establishment [25] and society at large arguably [26] kills more fat people than fat does [27, 28, 29].

25. Puhl, Rebecca, and Kelly D. Bronwell. “Bias, Discrimination, and Obesity.” Obesity Research, 6 Sept. 2012. 26. Engber, Daniel. “Glutton Intolerance: What If a War on Obesity Only Makes the Problem Worse?” Slate, 5 Oct. 2009.  27. Teachman, B. A., Gapinski, K. D., Brownell, K. D., Rawlins, M., & Jeyaram, S. (2003). Demonstrations of implicit anti-fat bias: The impact of providing causal information and evoking empathy. Health Psychology, 22(1), 68–78. 28. Chastain, Ragen. “So My Doctor Tried to Kill Me.” Dances With Fat, 15 Dec. 2009. 29. Sutin, Angelina R, Yannick Stephan, and Antonio Terraciano. “Weight Discrimination and Risk of Mortality.” Psychological Science, 26 Nov. 2015.

There's my "proof." Where is yours?

[milf--adjacent]

Hi! It's Nadica, your "local" Southern trans woman e-begging again! I'm lucky enough to be able to access an informed consent clinic, the problem is the way my insurance works doesn't pay for a damned thing. I work contract as a writer, and it's really boom/bust, so helping me cover these HRT fees (blood test, dr visit, several mos worth of meds) helps keep me and my doggies housed, fed, healthy, and happy. If you have a buck or two you can spare to keep me in titty skittles, I'd really appreciate it! I've been having a really rough time financially since my gf of a dozen years dumped me last year: affording rent and necessities is a lot more difficult on your own, especially when you don't have a normalized pay schedule to budget from.

$225/$420

Thanks in advance to anyone who can help me out at all!

[afloweroutofstone]

By all accounts, the Americans virtually ensured their own defeat [in the Waygal Valley of Afghanistan]: They repeatedly bombed their closest supporters here, showing just how little the United States understood about the war it was fighting… The Americans killed and maimed the very people who supported them most, swelling the Taliban’s ranks by turning allies into enemies. Convinced that Nuristan would become a transport hub and hide-out for Al Qaeda and its allies, the Americans built bases and aggressively patrolled an area that, for the better part of a century, had been granted autonomy from its own government… Only the Americans dared to encroach into the region, and in doing so created the very insurgent stronghold they feared most. The United States dropped more than 1,000 bombs in a place it never needed to be. Instead of winning hearts and minds, the Americans unwittingly sowed the seeds of their own demise here in the Waygal Valley — just as it did in much of Afghanistan — then stayed for years to reap the harvest. “You have to know when you are the problem,” said retired Col. William Ostlund, the commanding officer of the men who fought the battle in Want (sometimes referred to as Wanat)... In October 2003, the C.I.A. launched an attack against a suspected terrorist in a mountaintop village, sending a trail of fire and smoke into the ink black sky. Gunships strafed the forests where residents had run for safety. A cluster of wood-frame homes and a mosque were decimated; seven people were killed, some while fleeing. The Americans declared the strike a success, a refrain that would become so common it would lose meaning. In reality, the attacks had failed. Not only was their target not there, but the homes and mosque they struck belonged to a staunch American ally, a former governor of Nuristan named Mawlawi Ghulam Rabbani. Mr. Rabbani’s political party, Jamiat-e-Islami, detested the Taliban — so much so that it had partnered with the Americans to overthrow them. In fact, that very night, Mr. Rabbani was in Kabul as part of a delegation of pro-American forces. The only people sheltering in the mountainside home were his family and friends. Of the seven killed, most were women and children, and they included Mr. Rabbani’s son and daughter… Though the attack barely resonated in Kabul, much less in Washington, it changed the dynamic in the Waygal Valley. If people were not yet ready to give up on the Americans, they no longer saw them as infallible liberators. A creeping sense of resentment, and injustice, opened a crack for the Taliban’s message to grow… Perhaps the only person who stuck by the Americans was [Afghan villager] Rafiullah [Arif]. But his loyalty was growing untenable, and even the money his family was getting increasingly wasn’t worth it. Rafiullah and his family couldn’t even go to their local market without worrying that [Taliban fighter] Mullah Osman’s men would kill them. Now, with the Americans preparing to leave his village, he and his family would be completely unprotected. The Americans were coming under mortar fire for the second day in a row. Rafiullah and his family decided to leave for good. They packed up their belongings and fled in a pair of trucks with other civilians, including several doctors who worked at the local clinic. The fleeing vehicles caught the eye of the Americans, who mistakenly believed the Taliban were marshaling forces for another attack. U.S. officers called in an airstrike, sending a hail of gunfire from two Apache helicopters at the convoy, destroying them and nearly everyone inside. Rafiullah lost his father, mother, brother and nephew, along with his arm, an eye and any semblance of support for the U.S. war in Afghanistan. The Americans, once again, declared the strike a success… “They say they came here to help us, but they wound up killing us,” [Rafiullah] said, squinting into the sun with his good eye. “We supported their mission, and they betrayed us.”

[artdcnaldson]

tashi in the mix to this "teach me" verse hold on because..... tashi teaching you how to move your hips on a mans cock to make him crazy, on art because patrick would try to slip his tip in 😒,,,, hands on your hips, guiding you, you can feel her nipples on your back as she helps you rock back and forth over his dick.... art slipping and sliding through your slick folds, moaning when tashi turns your head to lick into your mou- i have another idea for patrick ill be back

hiiiii 🫶🩷

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (f!recieving oral, grinding, orgasm denial)

A/N: Your mind amazes me so bad it’s crazy. Patrick’s part is gonna be so 🤭🫶 I’m excited. Anyways. Need Artashi so bad it’s clinical

When you tell Tashi, her face contorts in a mix of annoyance and confusion. At you, for you, at them— it was hard to tell.

“Jesus, you’ve just been jerking and sucking them off for weeks now?” She asks, her lips turned into a frown

“I didn’t think you’d be upset about it,” you said shyly, feeling an uncomfortable knot form in your stomach. “It’s nothing serious between us, just—“

She stops you, laughing wryly. “No, I don’t give a fuck if they’re your boyfriends or not. I just can’t fucking believe that you’ve been getting them off and they haven’t even offered to make you cum.”

You feel heat in your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t ever ask. It’s too embarrassing.”

Tashi rolls her eyes. “Jesus, if you can suck their dicks, they can make you cum. It’s not hard.” And she’s right. It’s not like you haven’t wondered what it would feel like for their hands to fit between your thighs, how different it might feel for their fingers to be buried inside of you— long and thick, different than yours. Or their mouths— even though thinking about it makes your stomach twist with embarrassment. “Whatever. I’ll fix it for you.”

Tashi will fix it. And that’s that.

It’s not even a day later that Tashi texts you, inviting you over to her dorm. “They’re fucking chauvinists,” she explains, knees brushing yours as you face each other on her bed. “They’re treating you like a fucking fleshlight because you’re naive. But you’re not going to be naive anymore. You’re going to get exactly what you want. What you need.”

“But I like it,” you admit nervously, afraid to let her down. “Being wanted like that.”

She smiles, brushes her hand along your cheek. “We’re not quitting. We’re leveling the playing field. They’ve given you some lessons, it’s my turn.”

Art Donaldson is a weak link— needy, sweet, eager. He’d follow Patrick or Tashi off a fucking cliff if they wanted him to. Art’s so easy that it’s no surprise when he’s at Tashi’s door fifteen minutes after she texts him.

Between you and Tashi, it’s easy to get him where you want him— desperate, wanting. All it takes are a few kisses and rubbing his dick through his jeans.

He watches, almost dazed as you kiss Tashi deeply, putting all those lessons from him and Patrick to work. And she’s like a mix of the two in a way— like she’d taken the care and hunger Art kissed with and tangled it up in all of Patrick’s intensity and need.

“That’s nice. At least they’re good for something,” Tashi murmurs against your lips. You nod, mouth open, leaning back in to kiss her again. She smiles, leans back. “C’mere.”

Tashi sits against the headboard, pulls you so your back is against her chest. Art slots in between your thighs with no instruction. He tugs down your shorts and panties at once, and your face burns as your pussy is exposed to both of them.

“Look how pretty she is, Art,” Tashi says. She’s holding your thighs apart, keeping you spread open for them. Her lips brush against your jaw and you sigh contentedly. “Give her a kiss.”

Art obeys easily, and his mouth meets your cunt like he’s making out with it. Slow laps of his tongue through your slit, tasting how wet you’d gotten from kissing them. He moans softly, nuzzles closer.

Your eyes flutter, rolling back as your body melts into the new sensation— lips and tongue, the warmth and wetness and pressure. It’s better than your own fingers, or the cheap vibrator you’d gotten at the mall.

You squeeze Tashi’s hand when his lips seal around your clit, nails digging into her palm, forming tiny crescents. “See?” Tashi says. “He’ll do whatever you want, you just have to make him.”

Art’s tongue dips inside of your entrance, making you moan. Tashi relishes in it— in seeing you experience all of it for the first time. It wasn’t fair, she decided, that she’d been left out from the beginning.

“Use your fingers,” Tashi instructs. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, Art, you should just do it right the first time.”

He moans pathetically against your cunt as she tangles her fingers in his blond curls. You’re so wet that your body accepts his finger easily, like it belongs. He thrusts it slowly, curled just enough to brush against your sweet spot.

He’s grinding against the bed— desperate, needy. His brow is furrowed in concentration, desperate to make you cum so he can be rewarded and praised. He slips a second finger alongside the first, alternates between suckling on your clit and teasing it with soft licks.

You’re so easy to get worked up, especially when you’re sandwiched between Tashi and Art. Neither of them are surprised when you cum, hard and fast, clenching around Art’s fingers, grinding against his face.

Embarrassment and arousal mingle warm in your belly at the sight of Art’s face— all slick and wet. He leans in, kisses Tashi, then kisses you. He undresses while you’re coming down from it, wanting the two of you to lave him with attention, to take care of the aching need between his legs.

That’s not what he’s there for.

Tashi pushes him down onto his back, pins him there with nothing more than a look. He lays there trying to be patient, with his cock hard and resting against his stomach. You see it twitch as she peels off your shirt and your bra, throws her own shirt across the room.

Art watches in eager anticipation as Tashi guides you to straddle him, your wet cunt hovering right over where he wants it. His head falls back against Tashi’s pillows.

“Patrick’s going to fucking kill me,” Art groans.

“Why? She’s not fucking you,” Tashi said firmly. “You’re just going to lay there and be a prop. Be a good boy and lay still.”

His chest heaves as Tashi settles behind you, pressing her body against yours. “Alright, just move with my hands, okay? I’ll show you what boys like.”

You off wordlessly as she starts guiding your hips in slow, grinding motions. Art whines beneath you, as each slow pass of your hips makes your pussy slide along the line of his cock. His head falls back, and he tries and fails to buck up against you with his hips pinned under your and Tashi’s weight.

She guides your hips in slow circles and you whine at the same time as Art. “See?” She asks. You nod, head falling back against her shoulder. “All you need to turn his brain into mush is right here.”

Soon, the pressure of her hands on you is second to instinct— she lets her hands move up your body to squeeze and cup your tits. You turn, letting her lick into your mouth, relishing in the drag of her tongue against yours.

“Can you cum like this?” She breathes into your mouth. “Just using him like a plaything?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know,” you admit.

She just smiles against your lips, leans in for another hungry kiss. “Try.”

She guides your hand to the middle of his chest, giving you more purchase. The new angle makes you moan, eyes squeezing shut as your sensitive clit rubs against him.

“Good, keep going like that.” You almost whine at the loss of her warm behind you as she moves to sit against the wall. The perfect view of you and Art, both submitting to her whims. The sight of her with a hand between her thighs, watching you with a hungry, unabashed desire makes heat pool in your belly. Her fingers circle her clit with the skill of someone who knows exactly how to get what she needs in all things. “Look at him, not me.”

Art’s a fucking mess— red down to his chest, panting and whining beneath you. Without Tashi pinning his legs, he’s able to grind up against you, to seek that friction. Moans tumble past his full lips, and god, he looks so pretty when he’s pinned beneath you for once.

When you cum, it’s with panting moans and trembling thighs. Tashi finishes at the sight, of you— grinding down against the blond, who’s just lying there and taking it. Tashi rubs your back as you come down, smiling like she’d just coached you to victory.

You move off of Art and he’s still hard, still wanting. Pouting at the loss of the warm, slick pressure on his lap.

“Okay, you can go,” Tashi tells Art, with a soft pat against his cheek. He groans, chest still heaving, pouting. Tashi sighs. “You did your job, Art. Thank you.”

You watch him redress, obviously hard in his athletic shorts. He looks back, like he’s checking if Tashi’s going to change her mind (she doesn’t).

When he’s gone, she kisses you again, easing you onto your back, straddling your lap as she grinds her wet pussy against your thigh. “You’re such a good little student,” she praises against your lips. “No wonder they like you so much.”

tashi/patrick vignette next and they will match each others freak trust 🫶

[coolemmasulivan2]

You're the Worst (But Come Get Me)

Pairing: Ferran Torres x Reader

Summary: Ferran teases you during your "me time" and you give him the silent treatment. But when your car breaks down the next morning, he's still the first person you call.

Word count: 1226

Author's note: First time writing for Ferran. Let me know how I did!

Que tu cuerpo e' mi lugar favorito Y tu boca, mi comida favorita Porque tú ere' lo que yo necesito Porque yo soy lo que tú necesitas

It had all started over something stupid, the night before.

He knew it was stupid, he was aware, in the way only someone who had spent the last few years dating a woman with the patience of a saint and the zero-tolerance policy of a nurse working back-to-back shifts could be.

The night before, you'd come home tired, already peeling off your shoes before the door shut. He had just come back from training, full of energy from practice and zero awareness of volume.

You made tea, grabbed your blanket, and turned on your favorite show, the one you'd been looking forward to all day. It was your "do not disturb" time.

But of course, he'd disturbed.

Approaching you from behind the sofa, he cupped your jaw making you look up at him and kissed you passionately. His lips always took your breath away, but this was not his time.

You pushed him away, breaking the kiss. "Guapo, stop it." You said, looking back at the TV. (Handsome)

He flopped down beside you on the sofa, his hair still damp from the shower and a protein bar in his hand.

"¿Qué es este?" He asked, eyes on the screen and an arm over the back of the grey sofa. "Wait, is this the one where the twin brother ends up being the killer?" (What's this one?)

She stared at him, mouth opened in disbelief. "Ferran!!!"

He laughed at her reaction. "Lo siento, no sabía que no lo habías visto todavía." (I'm sorry, I didn't know that you hadn't watched it yet.)

"Today is the first time I sat on this sofa this week, when could I have watched it?"

"Well, I just summarised it to you. Now you know who's the killer and you don't need to waste your time watching it." He smirked and played with the hem of your t-shirt. "Maybe... deberíamos desperdiciar nuestro tiempo en actividades más productivas." (We should waste our time doing more productive activities.)

You stared at gin and without a word, stood up, took your tea, and walked away.

"Wait, babe, I'm sorry! You're not really mad, are you?" He waited for a response, but nothing, just the sound of the bedroom door closing. "Okay, you're doing the silence thing again. Shit!" He said to himself.

You woke up with his arm slung over your waist, his face buried in your hair.

The room was quiet, only the sound of the rain tapping against the window.

He was warm against you.Normally, your loved mornings like this. You would've rolled over, tucked yourself closer into his chest, and let yourself have just ten more minutes.

But not today.

You shifted slowly, pulling yourself out of his arm and slipping from the bed.

He stirred a little but didn't wake up, instead he let out a soft sigh and rolled toward the warmth you left behind.

You got dressed quietly and tiptoed downstairs into the kitchen. Your shift didn't start for over an hour, but you’d planned to stop by the grocery store first and then straight to the clinic. Easy!

The rain was heavier, by the time you finished shopping. You loaded the bags into the back seat and climbed into the car. But as you pressed the start button... Nothing.

"Are you serious right now?" You muttered.

You tried again. Still nothing. Just that sickly clicking noise and a dashboard that refused to light up.

You groaned and sat there in the quiet for a long moment, forehead against the wheel, before sighing and pulling out your phone.

The phone rang three times, before he picked it up.

"…Hello?" His voice was thick with sleep. Low, scratchy, confused. You were still annoyed with him, but the fact that you had woken him up, broke your heart.

"My car won't start!" You said flatly.

"You've broken your vow of silence." He said smugly. "¡Gané!". Silence. Then a slight shift in his tone. "You want me to come get you?" (I win!)

"No." You said sarcastically. "I just called to hear your sleepy nonsense."

He chuckled, voice gravelly but warming. "Love when you're sassy! Where are you?" You told him where you were. "I'll be there in ten." You thanked him and hung up before he could say anything else.

He pulled into the parking lot in nine minutes flat and parked next to you.

You grabbed the shopping bags from the back seat, placing them in Ferran's car.

You got into the car and rolled your eyes, seeing the smug smile on his face. In back joggers and a hoodie, he looked like he'd rolled out of bed and driven still half asleep.

Without saying anything, he handed you a steaming to-go cup of coffee.

"I added extra sugar." He said. "Figured that was appropriate."

She took a sip. "It's awful."

"But you're drinking it." He glanced sideways, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "You still mad about last night?"

"Yes!"

"Pero igual me llamaste." (But you still called me.)

"You were convenient."

"Ouch." He clutched his chest. "You wound me."

They drove in silence for a while, the rain drumming steadily on the windshield.

He kept glancing sideways at you, waiting for a smile, a glare, something. But you kept sipping your too-sweet coffee, looking out the window.

Trying his luck, he placed his hand over yours.

You looked down, before giving him a look. "Take your hand off, Torres!"

He only squeezed your hand, bringing it to him and kissing it. "Eres tan mala, hermosa. Ya te dije que lo siento." You only rolled your eyes. (You're so mean, beautiful. I said I was sorry.)

When you pulled into the clinic parking lot, he didn't let go of your hand.

"Ferran, I have to go."

He tilted his head slightly, lips twitching. “Can I kiss you or are you still pretending you don't miss me?"

"When you get home, don't forget to take the bags out of the car." You said, ignoring his question and reaching for the door.

"Wait." He said. You looked at him. "¡Por favor, solo un beso!" His voice lower now, softer. (Please, just a kiss!)

You didn't say anything. But didn't move away either. He tilted his head, lips just barely a breath from yous.

And then, at the last second, you turned your head, letting his kiss land on your cheek.

He pulled back slowly. "Oh no. You're not doing that."

His hand slid behind your neck, warm, his fingers brushing the edge of your hair. He pulled you toward him and kissed you passionately.

And even though you were still annoyed, you kissed him back right away.

Because you always did.

His mouth on yours felt like home. Like something you didn't want to admit you needed every damn day.

When you broke apart, your foreheads rested together. Your hand curled in his hoodie, anchoring him to you without a word.

He grinned, smug again. "See? You like me better when I shut you up."

"Te odio!" You muttered. (I hate you!)

"También te quiero." (I love you too.")

You groaned and opened the door. "Drive safe, idiot."

He reached across, tugged your wrist and stole one more kiss before you could climb out.

"Have a nice day, love."

You walked off shaking your head, but you couldn't hide the smile.

[mona-risms]

i just had a thought,,, imagine huntr/x w a partner who works for the shady clinic that zoey took rumi and mira to 😭

like during the whole thing, y/n is like "😶 here? you sure?" "u see what i have to deal with during work hours?"

- 🌒

HAHAHA 😭 OH MY GOD

Imagine you booking the day off to help with getting Rumi's voice fixed. And the next day Zoey's leading the three of you as she explains how the guy has these AWESOME tonics and the cogs in your brain's just going "this is Very Familiar.....surely Not.............." before you turn a Certain Corner 😭

Zoey is 100% sure that the clinic is 100% certified legit bc the internet is Never Wrong. Mira is absolutely doubting it. Rumi atp will take anything. And you? They really gotta ask you why your face is doing Something Strange (mortification probably). If you try to say you'll just wait outside, Zoey shepherds you in anyway and honestly why would you ever say no to Zoey?

The moment Han comes into the office, he freezes in his greeting when he sees you 💀 bc what are you doing here 💀 didn't you book today as your day off 💀 but then. A plan forma in his mind. Aka 😭 playing up your professional relationship w e/o ("ahh, I always appreciate [Y/N]'s help" "that's REALLY not necessary" "no but it is") to get them to trust him even more, like they aren't already hook line and sinker w his 'understanding the whole' shtick 😭😭😭😭😭 and then later he drags you off for a bit to ask How you managed to befriend these idols and to keep them coming back, which.......it's not like you promise but like 🤷‍♀️ bargain for the tonics to be at most half price so your girls get scammed less LOL

On the way back home Zoey WILL ask you if you can do the thing that Han did 💀 whether you go yes or no is up to you but honestly he probably did teach you HAHAHA

[sometimeslwish]

FEVER

Dreamt about this again on the night before june 7th, but only about Zayne's part. I considered expanding it on a reblog that day, but ultimately decided to move it over to a post on here because I got the feeling that it would turn into a whole thing. And boy, how right that fucking feeling was, because I churned out 1k while Sleeping Naked went crazy and wrote 1.5k more two days after that.

I didn't intend for it to go like this, I wanted to follow the dream to a T, but the story just looked at me and said "No no, we're gonna do it differently" so yeah... A lot of things have changed from that original post. N E gays, I hope you guys enjoy!

Word count: 2,527

Tags: Zayne x afab!reader, Zayne-centric (focused on Zayne but the rest of the boys are there), cat hybrid!reader, smut, slight dub-con because heat, vaguely inspired in a/b/o heats and nesting habits, pet names (darling, sweetheart, sweetie, angel, cutie), temperature play, scent kink, fingering, voyeurism (the rest of the guys watch as he fingers you), bit of exhibitionism, mentions of praise, kissing, multiple orgasms (reader), biting kink, discussions, heat talk, hints at polyamory

“It hurts.”

You whisper with frustrated tears in your eyes as you look up at Zayne. You're curled up to him, in his lap but also not quite. You're halfway between sitting and lying down, supported by him as he holds you. There's a hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back– you think it's Caleb's or Sylus, both of theirs are the biggest but you can't really tell right now.

Zayne's focused on using his evol to cool you down a little, enough that you can be less delirious. It's obviously working, because those are the first words you've said since they came back home and found you in the nesting room.

There's a thin layer of ice on his fingertips, which are currently rubbing soothing circles into your temple. As comforting as it is, you can't help but wonder, how much better would it feel if his touch was someplace else?

"Where does it hurt?” His voice lacks the usual clinical edge it takes during situations like these, softened by his worry for you.

You sniff and lift the hoodie you stole from Xavier's closet before bending your knees to open your legs, revealing the soaked underwear and the wetness clinging to your thighs. You hear gasps come from other parts of the room, and the scents that were faint grow into darker notes that make you even wetter. "Here, it hurts here. No matter what I do, nothing makes it better.

“Help? Please?" You can't help curling closer to him and wincing when a fresh wave of ache hits. "Please." You're not above begging in this instance, not when there's so much pain you don't know what to do with.

He falters, his cold hand caresses your fever tinted cheek, "Are you sure?”

You nod repeatedly, clinging to his shirt and whining, "Yes, please, it hurts so much."

"Okay, darling, okay." You melt into him when he kisses your forehead. He shifts to get more comfortable, lies you on your back and leans on his elbow beside you. "Tell me when you want to stop, alright?"

"Promise." You shift closer to him, tucking your head into his chest and purring at the warmth.

"Just be gentle, please."

“Should–” Xavier's voice comes from some part of the room as you take off your ruined underwear with Zayne's help, “Should we leave?”

The question sinks like a rock in a lake, disturbing the clear water and murking everything with sour notes “No!” you unintentionally yell, instantly sitting up. The sudden movement makes you dizzy, and Zayne has to steady you as you try to regain your senses. It's hard when your sight is so blurry that you can only guide yourself by colors to know who is who and where they are, “Stay.”

“Please.” You add, your voice softer, weaker under the crushing silence. The longer they stay quiet, the more suffocating it is. You hope they want to stay, “All of you?”

Someone breathes a sigh of relief and the scents flourish so sweetly it helps you relax a little. But what calms your frayed nerves down is Sylus's reassurance, "We won't leave, sweetheart.”

He reaches for your hand and the kiss he gives to your knuckles makes your chest warm, “Lie back down for us.” You give his hand one squeeze before letting go, lying back down with barely any other coaxing needed.

The colors shift closer, and you get to see a little bit more clearly, just enough to distinguish eye colors but only Zayne and Sylus’s faces remain completely clear.

You exchange looks, a quiet question that receives a quiet answer. The first touch is light, a little cold, but it already makes everything feel better. Your eyes fall closed as you sigh and move your hips into it.

"Like this?" He asks, as he measures how much gentleness to use to handle you, fingers drawing circles over your clit. His eyes shift between his fingers on you and your face, taking note of every reaction and movement.

You moan, your back arching, colors pop behind your eyelids and pleasure dances its way through your body. "Just like that."

That starts your descent into the heat haze.

You know they whisper sweet encouragements to you, that Rafayel compliments you at every chance he gets, but none of it registers; you're too far gone, reduced to basic instinct under Zayne's hand.

You try biting back your whimpers when his fingers slide in– you were too wet for one to feel good enough when he attempted it, so he'd gone for two under your request.

Try muffling your moans by hiding half your face under your hoodie– “Don't hide, sweetheart, let us see your face.” Zayne's voice, the most affected you ever heard it sound, sent a pang of hunger through your body so strong, your hips bucked and your whole body twitched.

But it all failed when Xavier's scent hit your nostrils– so sudden and soothing, contrasting the darker notes of the room. It threw you further into the haze.

You're moving on pure instinct when you expose your stomach to them, when you bunch the fabric under your armpits and hold your boobs together, playing with your nipples. Their scents take an even darker note, and you can't help keening with satisfaction. It feels like approval, and that approval is what tips you over the edge.

“Fuck,” You gasp, clenching on Zayne's fingers as you shake with the force of your orgasm. It comes over you like waves breaking upon rocks, each one softer than the last as the tide recedes. Along with it comes some clarity.

You grab Zayne's wrist when he moves to pull his fingers out, “Can– Wanna keep them inside, please, can I?”

There's a bit of surprise pulling at his eyebrows but it all goes away once he nods, lips shaping into a soft smile filled with affection. He leans to kiss your forehead, and you keep him there to kiss his flushed cheek. But one kiss isn't enough, so you do it again; once, twice, thrice, each time closer to his lips, each one sweeter than the last.

When you finally do kiss him, it's softer than cotton candy and clouds. It's languid and slow, like the walks you would take with Caleb during spring or the hours you would spend with Rafayel in the water during the summer. Comforting like cuddling with Xavier during winter and relaxing like reading a book or listening to music with Sylus in autumn. And it's sweeter than Zayne's favorite treats for each season.

It's sweet, but there's a hidden undercurrent that you can't help but fall into, and soon enough, you're clinging to his arm and grinding into Zayne's palm as the kiss deepens.

“Shit, that's so hot.”

You pay no mind to the rest of the boys. Not like you could anyways, not with the way Zayne's kissing you. It makes you dizzy, unable to think of anything but his lips on yours. He kisses like he adores you, like he needs you, like there's so much he's been holding back that it now spills out of his control.

More than making you feel powerful over him, it makes you want him just as much in turn.

You mewl when his fingers start moving inside you again, pulling away and gasping for breath. You hide your face in his neck, greedily taking in his scent. It's still sweet, but deeper, darker; it reminds you of dark chocolate covered almonds.

It's too much and not enough.

You take off your hoodie– with Sylus’s help after struggling with the sleeves– leave it aside but not too far out of reach. You follow with undoing the buttons on Zayne's shirt, barely getting to the fourth before shoving your face into his shoulder.

“Zayne,” His name spills from your lips in a whimper as he fucks you faster, following the desperate undulation of your hips. You open your eyes and pull away to find his gaze already set on you– his already enchanting eyes pull you even closer with the hunger, awe, and devotion swirling in them. You don't want to look away, don't want to blink. You bite your lip with the effort, it still doesn't stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when he continues to make you see stars with his fingers.

You throw your head back, and who is he to deny your temptation?

His lips find the skin of your neck, and when you moan out his name again, he groans against it. You swear you could come from his sounds alone. Your fingers tangle in his hair and his response to you pulling on it is to nibble on your neck in retaliation.

The feeling of his teeth on your neck throws you into a frenzy. One you're not even aware you're in as you hold him close, and whisper a string of “please” that seems to have no end, head tilted back and neck completely exposed for him.

“Please, what, darling?” He kisses the center of your collarbones before slowly going up, up, up, one kiss at a time, “I can't give it to you if you don't tell me what you want.”

“Bite me, please, please, Zayne, please, I need it, please.”

And oh, the gentle way he shushes you. The gentle way he kisses your lips, a complete contrast to the relentless way his fingers are moving inside of you. He teases you a little bit, just to see what you'll do or hear what you'll say, leaves open-mouthed kisses, hickeys and barely nibbles on your skin.

Until you say, “Please, wanna be yours, make me yours.” and well, if you're gonna say it like that.

The moment he properly bites you is the moment you cum, wrecked and unprepared for the earthquake of an orgasm that runs through your body. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you squirt all over his arm and the bed.

You don't register the gasps, nor the curses, nor the groans. You don't register anything, completely lost as the euphoria overcomes you.

When you come back to yourself, you feel much more clear-headed. Zayne is unable to pull his hand away, as your legs are firmly closed around his arm and your hand is holding it in place. You feel a little shy when you let go, and you use the sleeves from the discarded hoodie to cover part of your face.

He chuckles, “Look at you, giving a show for us one second and getting shy the next.” His lips find your temple and leave a soft kiss there before his fingers slowly leave you. The squelch is loud, and you feel a little embarrassed as he helps you sit up.

“Since you're feeling better now, we should talk about it, we don't know how long that will last.” Xavier and Caleb snap into motion after Zayne's words. Xavier walks closer and gives you a bottle of water to drink from, already snapped open. While you drink, Caleb looks through the mini fridge to find you some coconut water, and the empty water bottle in your hands gets replaced in the blink of an eye.

“What do you want to do?” Xavier says one thing, but his eyes and his scent convey another.

“I want to spend it with you– all of you.”

There are several intakes of breath, and you can't help the teasing words that fall out, “Alright, but don't take all the oxygen in the room, I need air to breathe too, you know?”

Some of the tension in your body leaves when they laugh, the rest gets hidden behind your drink as you try to finish what remains of the coconut water.

“I'll be in charge of the food.” Caleb proclaims, and that's the kickstart to making preparations. Your instincts pull you away from the conversation, and you start shifting some things around in the nest.

“We'll need to take turns helping her, everyone will have to cook at some point,” Zayne counters gently, after drinking a bit of his own water. Their eyes follow you as you move, add the hoodie you were wearing here, move a plushie there, take the hoodie back and put it on…

“Except Xavier, don't let Xavier into the kitchen,” Rafayel adds. You stare at Zayne– or rather, the shirt he's wearing, and he smiles fondly as he lets you take it off to add it to the nest. You pull Sylus towards that spot, and they realize you've made an area for sleeping and another for fucking as you settle on top of him.

“Oh, come on, my cooking has gotten better.” Which is true, with your help, he's been getting much better. But the rest don't know that, they only remember the times he made the kitchen blow up. You're the only one who doesn't side-eye him, much too focused on the feeling of Sylus's warm hands as he massages your hips.

“Angel, tell them–” he turns to you for defense and stops once he finds you purring on top of Sylus, who looks all like the smug bastard he is. Xavier ignores the look he throws their way and calls for you again, crawling over and being careful to not mess up the changes you made, “My cooking has gotten better, right?”

You don't know why he's asking that, but you nod and hum an affirmative nonetheless, much to the others' shock and dismay, “Today’s pancakes were the best you've made so far, we should try doing waffles next time.” You rub your eyes and yawn right before stretching, making a little pleased noise as you settle between Sylus and Xavier.

Rafayel whispers, “Ooh, a big stretch,” as he makes his way over. You open your eyes to find him hovering over you, “Was it good, cutie?” You nod and before you know it, you have a new, special edition, mythical, once in a lifetime, weighted blanket named Rafayel. You purr as you wrap your arms around him and leave a kiss on the top of his head.

“You’ve been letting a criminal into my–” Caleb starts, only for his spiral to be stopped with a gentle touch from Zayne.

“Don't fall asleep yet, sweetheart, we still need to talk about boundaries.” But it's already too late. Sleep is coiling around your spine like a snake, tangling itself into your bones. You still try, for him.

“Mm, I like biting… and leaving marks, I'll probably ask for you to bite me more and breed me, so there's that… you can restrain me if I go too far, just tie my wrists together or something… I don't know about anything else though, I've never… done this before.”

“You’ve never spent your heat with anyone?”

“Never had a heat before.” You correct softly, eyelids getting droopier by the second.

“Sweetie, is this your first heat?”

“Yeah, doctors said I couldn't keep suppressing it…”

And you fall asleep, leaving behind one hell of a bombshell for them to catch.