Orbicularis Oris Muscle

"Ano? Sa tingin mo ba, I’d fall for you if you sweet-talked me?" Anya ni Claire na sinamahan niya pa ng nakakadismayang iling. "I waited for you for five long years, Luke. Five years and now that I am finally over you and dating your best friend," dagdag niyang pailing iling ulit habang unti unting umaatras si Luke sa pader, "—you dare do this to me, wreaking havoc on my emotions? Gago ka ba talaga ha?!" "I can't stop myself. I love you and I won't give you up that easily, Claire. I won't. I can't." "I want you." "You know you can't have me," she murmured and bit her lips, begging him to kiss her. Just kiss the hell out of her para matauhan siya sa kahibangang nararamdaman niya ngayong yakap yakap siya ni Luke. "It’ll be risky if you stay another minute, Claire. Get out now before I lose my mind completely," he murmured between heavy breathing and gazing at her lips. A muscle in his jaw twitched, knowing full well that their close proximity made his blood warm and tingly. God, he wanted this woman so bad. Yes, he wanted her so much that he risked his friendship with Owen. And yes, he was insane for doing so.

His hands were firm but careful as they slid down my sides, his lips brushing against mine in a way that left me breathless. “Are you sure about this?” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine, grey eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. I nodded, my fingers curling into the leather of his jacket. “I’m sure. I need this. I need you.” His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking there as if he were trying to hold himself back. “You don’t just need me, Aurora. You have me. You’ve had me for a long fucking time.” I swallowed hard, my heart hammering at his words. “Then show me.” *** Aurora, daughter of a powerful Alpha, thought she was living her perfect love story with Nathan, her destined mate and the future Alpha of a neighboring pack. But on prom night, her world shatters when she finds Nathan with another woman, revealing their entire relationship was a lie. Heartbroken and betrayed, Aurora flees, only to find solace in the arms of Noxon, Nathan's twin brother, where they had a night of passion before Noxon disappeared, leaving Aurora more broken. Six years later, a family tragedy pulls her back into the chaos she escaped. Old enemies, forbidden love, and hidden truths resurface, threatening not just Aurora's fragile peace but also the future of her son, whose extraordinary abilities mark him as a target in a deadly power struggle. As tensions rise, Aurora must decide: will she fight for her son and her pack, or walk away forever?

He was told to protect me and yet I want him to ruin me. “Zyran?” He didn’t turn. “What is it, Myra?” I took a shaky breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Our arrangement. I want to understand my part in it.” Finally he turned. His pale eyes gleamed in the dim light, his gaze fixed on me so intently, it felt like a predator tracking its prey. “Your part is to be my wife and mine to give you protection.” “But you are the only one giving. I want to give you something too.” “I’m tired of being just a painting on the wall,” I whispered, stepping closer to him, the air crackling with so much tension, I may have forgotten how to breathe. “You're my husband. In every way, so I want you to teach me.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes darkening with every word I said. “Teach you what?” “Pleasure.” I said, biting down on my lip out of sheer nervousness “Your kind of pleasure. Show me what you like. Let me learn how to touch you. Let me make you feel something…” I agreed to marry Zyran Theon because he was my brother’s best friend and by far the safest option. A year of cold indifference seemed better than a lifetime of horror. However I never expected to find a man shattered by his own psyche and a constant repression of his urges to claim me and even worse I never expected to want him too.

"You shouldn't be touching me." he growled, his voice low and ragged, every muscle beneath her nimble fingers felt the tremors of restrained power. The heat of his skin radiated through her gloves. "If I stop, you'll bleed out." His hand shot up, curling gently-but firmly around her wrist. His eyes, a shade of hellish red in the dim lights, locked onto hers. "No, doctor," he whispered, his lips forming a stern pressed line. "If you stop, it won't be the blood that kills me. It'll be the hunger." Dr. Eleanor Airlea never believed in myths-until the night a wounded stranger staggered into her veterinary clinic under a blood-red moon. The wolfs injuries should have killed him, but his body healed with a feral strength she couldn't explain. His piercing eyes, wild and magnetic, left her both terrified and captivated. Raphael is no ordinary man-he's a werewolf, royalty no less with a bloodline that binds him to the violent laws of his pack and the forbidden desire that burns whenever Eleanor is near. In a world where hunters stalk the night and betrayal lurks under every silver light, their passion becomes as dangerous as it is irresistible. She's the healer who should fear him. He's the predator who has set his eyes upon her. And when blood and desire mix under the next full moon, neither of them will be able to resist the pull of destiny. "I don't care what you are," she said, her pulse racing as she held his gaze. "You were bleeding. You needed me." His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Careful, doctor. Saving a wolf can make you his."

"I love it when you say my name, printsessa, how long has it been? Two-" "Three years." I snap unintentionally wishing I could take the words back. A sly grinspreads across his angelic-looking face, "You've been counting." He states in a cocky tone. I place my hands flat on his chest, and I shove him away. "Still a cocky son of a bitch I see." I hiss, hating the way he makes my body burn with fever. Slowly panting through my parted lips, I realise that he is shirtless, his gold skin and sinuous muscle put on full display for my eyes to feast upon. His eyes look darker than I remember, smouldering with carnal intent. The perfect curve of his lips etches with cruelty. He's so hot with lust and anger that it should be a crime. He's sin in human form and he makes me want to be a sinner. "And you're still a stuck-up printsessa holding a grudge." He snarls, throwing his hands in the air --- Today was meant to be one of the happiest days of my life. Today, I was turning twenty-one and everyone whom I love dearly has shown up to celebrate it with me. Including the one man in my life who should be off-limits; forbidden. Things quickly turn sour, the air smells of death, gun powder, and vengeance. CAUSING my heart to still with fear, loss, and panic. When I realise the one man I vowed to hate forever, is the one person I can rely on to keep me safe. I must build a wall around my heart, and pray like fuck, that he doesn't break through it. My name is Zeynep Volkov, and this is my story about survival, deception and a love triangle that no one saw coming.

I thought Christmas had already broken me. Betrayal, loss, and a miscarriage that shattered everything I’d built. So I did the only reckless thing a heart in ruins could do: closed my eyes, jabbed a finger at a map, and bought a ticket to wherever it landed. No plan. No hope. Just a wounded heart running from the wreckage. I wanted quiet. Snow. A place to breathe and heal. I found him instead. A man who feels too wild for this world, all heat and muscle and dark, hungry eyes. He kisses like he’s claiming something. Touches like he’s learning every secret my body holds. His strength borders on impossible. His presence, addictive. He calls me his naughty little Christmas gift. And every time he drags his mouth down my throat, I forget every reason I had to stay guarded. But the deeper I fall, the stranger things become. The room around him feels alive. The night listens when he speaks. His eyes flash with an animal glow that shouldn’t exist, and the sound he makes when he’s holding back, low, guttural, trembling the air between us doesn’t belong to any man. I should run. Ask questions. Save myself. But I’m far too gone. Even willing to be ruined by whatever he is. So I ignore the question whether I’m losing my mind, or whether the fear curling beneath the heat is real. And let him keep unwrapping me like the gift he thinks I am. Because whatever lives inside him…it’s the first thing that’s made me feel alive again.

After a brutal breakup and one too many whiskies, Arielle Lawson makes the mistake she swore she’d never repeat—she calls her ex. She never saved his number; she memorized it. Heart memory. Muscle memory. Bad-decision memory. But the man who answers isn’t Daniel. He’s calm. Controlled. Amused by the drunken stranger ranting about betrayal, wasted years, and ruined wedding plans. Arielle hangs up, mortified, convinced the mistake ends there. It doesn’t. Because the number she dialed belongs to Kael Virelli, the elusive leader of a multi-million-dollar anti-government underground syndicate known as The Black Ledger—a man feared by politicians, hunted by intelligence agencies, and obeyed without question. Kael should forget the call. He should erase the number. Instead, he calls back. What begins as anonymous late-night conversations becomes a dangerous ritual neither of them can break. Arielle finds comfort in the mysterious stranger who listens without judgment and understands her in ways no one ever has. Kael becomes addicted to the only person who speaks to him like he’s human—not a weapon, not a myth. Then fate intervenes. When Arielle unknowingly witnesses a violent operation tied to The Black Ledger, the voice she trusts becomes the name everyone fears. Overnight, she transforms from a stranger into a liability—a loose end that Kael’s world would normally erase without hesitation. But Arielle isn’t just anyone. She’s the woman who called him at his most human… and made him answer. Now Kael must choose between protecting the empire he built in shadows or protecting the girl who accidentally dialed her way into his life. Because in a world of secrets, betrayal, and blood money, the most dangerous mistake he ever made wasn’t answering the call. It was falling for the girl who made it.

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.

I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage. She paid my tuition with his father’s money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I’ll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose. Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me. So I moved into the Hunters’ mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell. Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more. I thought graduation meant freedom from him. I was wrong. Now he’s my stepbrother. He hates that I’m here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me. But hate isn’t clean anymore. It’s tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me, the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I’m shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more. He calls me Little Lamb, I call him every name I can think of under my breath. How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?

Crimson Bloomed: Ascend Post - Apocalyptic Horror | Action | Yuri Harem | Coming - of - Age | Rated R | Mature Content | Slow Burn The city looked like it had been devoured — chewed up by fire, time, and whatever came after — then spit back out in jagged pieces. Dead drones dangled from power lines like rusted ornaments. Neon signs flickered above fractured pavement, their broken scripts glitching into gibberish. Down the block, a half - melted smartcar burned slow, casting warped shadows across the skeletal remains of a coffee bar. Behind a crumpled tram car, someone crouched low, breath tight in her lungs. The shrieking hadn’t stopped. It came again — sharp, bone-deep, the kind of sound that latched onto your spine and refused to let go. She checked the signal jammer at her hip. Still blinking. Still active. Not for long. They were tracking her. She moved fast — boots silent over broken glass, slipping through the breach in an old laundromat’s wall. Her body moved from muscle memory now: slide through, duck left, over the washer, don’t look at the corpse slumped by the dryer. Out the back. Up the fire escape. On the rooftop, she halted. Not alone. Someone was already there — silhouetted against the bleeding sunset. Combat jacket. Short - cropped hair. Pulse rifle slung casually over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Like this was just another rooftop, just another war. “Don’t move,” the voice snapped. She lifted her hands slowly. “I’m clean.” “Everyone says that.” “Scan me.” beat. Then the girl stepped forward, rifle still raised but gaze locked in. Dark eyes, sharp, searching — not just for weapons, but tells. Fear. Lies. She lowered the rifle half an inch. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” That wasn’t the line she expected.