#Valentin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

blank-potato · 2 months ago

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Talking Body

Pairing: Valentin x Reader

Summary:

His hands hover just above your ribs now, and your breath hitches again, your whole body wound tight like a coil. “If you keep holding yourself like that,” he murmurs, “you’re going to snap.” You take a deep breath and try to shove the thought down—that you wouldn’t mind if he were the one to make you snap. Or You've been through a tough divorce with an unappreciative ex-husband. So when Valentin, your super-attractive wellness expert, comes into your life, you can't help but fantasise.

Warnings: 18+ Explicit content, choking kink, praise kink, hand kink

A/N: He's fine asl so I had to write something

𖤓𖤓𖤓

You loved Thailand. The sun, the people, the food. Everything about this trip was screaming new beginnings, but…you couldn't help but think about him.

This was your first trip since your spectacular and messy divorce. Your first trip alone in general, a chance to reset, to heal.

You were supposed to be relaxing, but instead, you were on edge—restless, tangled in a mix of emotions—and just… unbearably horny. Your ex-husband wasn’t the most accommodating man when it came to sex, and it had been months since you were last intimate with anyone. So no one could blame you for your desires, but it certainly didn’t help that your wellness expert was the hottest guy you had ever seen, built like a god, his body quite literally sculpted from marble.

Valentin would greet you with his usual warm smile, but all you could think was how good he’d look in your bed.

It was ridiculous—he was just doing his job, providing the wellness guidance you’d signed up for, but the way he looked at you, the way his voice dropped just slightly when he spoke to you, it made everything feel charged.

He kept flirting with you, his touches lingering just a second too long when he adjusted your posture during sessions, the playful glint in his eyes, and the way he smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing. Maybe it was wishful thinking or because you were touch-starved, but you loved the attention he gave you.

When he laughed at your dry jokes like they were the funniest thing he’d heard all day, or when his hand brushed the small of your back and stayed there, when he’d correct your form, it made you feel something.

You weren’t stupid. You knew the rules. Guests and staff weren’t supposed to do anything. But when he stood too close during meditation or whispered encouragement against the shell of your ear, your resolve thinned just a little more.

It only got worse when he booked you in for an energy massage with him.

You were too conscious of the fact that he was looking over your body, too aware of how close he was without actually touching you. The space between his hands and your skin felt charged, like static before a storm.

It was supposed to be healing or energy work or breathwork or whatever he’d called it—but all you could think about was how your heart wouldn’t stop racing. How his presence was riling you up and doing very little to relax you.

Your breath hitched as you felt his hands glide slowly down, still not touching, just hovering. But you could swear you felt every movement like a whisper across your skin. You notice the quick rise and fall of your chest and wonder if he notices too, or if the sound of your heart pounding in your ears is loud enough for him to hear.

And so, the horny thoughts returned. You think about how his beautiful hands would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would be if he just reached down and kissed you. Would you spontaneously combust on the spot? You might.

“You seem tense.”

You peek your eyes open at him, realising that your body had become as hard and firm as a brick wall.

“N-no, I'm great,” You say before squeezing your eyes shut again, unable to look at his handsome face any longer.

He chuckles softly, and the sound skims down your spine like velvet. “Sure doesn’t feel like it,” he says, voice dipping a little too low to be innocent. His hands hover just above your ribs now, and your breath hitches again, your whole body wound tight like a coil.

“If you keep holding yourself like that,” he murmurs, “you’re going to snap.”

You take a deep breath and try to shove the thought down—that you wouldn’t mind if he were the one to make you snap.

𖤓𖤓𖤓

You don't leave your villa the whole day, and it's such a waste, but all you feel capable of is crying. It wasn't often that you'd be alone, and it was suffocating. Even if your ex-husband was cold and distant and seemingly the most boring man on the planet, at least he was there. His silence filled the space, and sometimes that felt like enough.

Now, the silence feels like a scream you can’t shut out.

You spiral the rest of the day.

In your bed, staring at the ceiling like it holds answers. In the pool, letting the water cradle you because nothing else does. And even on your kitchen island, knees tucked to your chest, trying to hold yourself together between sips of wine and waves of regret.

The place feels too quiet and empty.

But the sudden thought of Valentin fills you with warmth again as you lie in your bed, his image lingering in your mind. The thought of his body brings you back to life and out of your crying streak. You had only seen him shirtless once, but the image had burned itself into your memory. It stuck with you, the way his abs seemed to curve, the tattoos on his chest, each one telling its own story, and the way his v-line tapered down, teasing you with its sharp angles.

It had your thighs squeezing together, and you know you shouldn’t, but you can’t resist trying to quell your need. Your fingers slide into your bikini bottoms and over your aching core. The desperate sound you make surprises you, but doesn’t stop you from touching yourself. You quieten your moans against your fist even though there was no one there.

Rocking against nothing but your hand and pillow, but thinking of what it would be like if it was his thigh. Imagining him caging you in with his arms and he looks down at you, loving how much you want him, how much you need him. The way he would talk to you, how well you would take any instruction he gave you.

His physique was breathtaking; even his hands were sculpted, capable of both grace and power. You wanted them to be your new necklace, their touch lingering on your skin, leaving marks that they'd leave behind as a constant reminder of how hard he fucked you.

As you imagine his hands choking you, imagining losing the ability to breathe because of him, your fingers move faster. You beg for air or release, you don’t know what, all you know is that you want to beg for him.

“Please…” you say to yourself, your breath hitching and wishing it was his touch on you.

You arch on the bed, as you dig your heels into the mattress. The image of his toned muscles, firm and defined, becomes clearer in your mind, igniting a fire inside you that only grows with each passing second.

You finish with a strangled moan, literally, your hand had snaked around your neck and squeezed until you came undone. The shame catches up to you relatively quickly but it was a no technology resort, it’s not like you can look at porn.

𖤓𖤓𖤓

Later that evening, you hear a knock on the door and stumble towards it.

It's Valentin, and of course, you look like a hot mess.

“Oh, hi.”

“You missed breakfast and all of your sessions today. Are you feeling alright?” He says with his usual smile, and a hint of concern.

You blink, trying to focus on his face, your hand still on the doorframe to steady yourself.

“I… yeah. Just didn’t sleep well,” you mumble, trying to pull your bathrobe tighter around yourself, suddenly very aware of your messy hair and the lingering smell of wine. The swimsuit, bathrobe combo was a dead giveaway that nothing was alright.

Valentin tilts his head, eyes soft but sharp; he doesn’t miss much. “Didn’t sleep, or didn’t want to get out of bed?”

You let out a dry laugh, too tired to pretend. “Little bit of both.”

He nods slowly, then steps forward just enough that you can feel the concern radiating off him. “May I come in?”

You nod and move aside, watching him as he looks around, and you’re glad that you’ve kept the place clean. He sits next to you on the couch, your knees just barely touching but close enough for you to take notice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” You say feigning ignorance, maybe if you ignored it, then you’d get away with it, but unfortunately, Valentin is perceptive.

“Whatever has you wound up so tight?”

He puts his hand on your shoulder, sending tingles down to the base of your spine. You swallow, suddenly all too aware of how close he is, of how warm his hand feels even through the fabric.

Moving soothing circles, his hands glide over your back, which sends a strange warmth through you, making the hair on your neck stand on end.

“I’m not that wound up. I’m loose, super loose,” you joke, trying to downplay the tension you feel, but your voice betrays you, a hint of nervousness creeping in.

He smirks and pauses for just a moment, as if weighing his next move, then moves closer to you, his presence engulfing you.

“I don’t like leaving my clients unsatisfied,” he says, his voice low and teasing. You can’t help but think of the double entendre and let out a weak chuckle.

“What is causing you so much stress? I felt it during your massage the other day,” he asks, his tone gentle but direct, as though he's already seen right through you.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “My ex-husband. This is my first trip without him, without anyone, actually, and it’s just been… lonely, I guess?”

He pauses, then gently presses, “You miss him?”

You shake your head, the words coming out more easily now, though still tinged with vulnerability. “Not him, specifically, but just someone. I miss the feeling of having someone, of being…”

“Touched?” he finishes for you, his voice quieter now.

You look over to find him already staring at you, his gaze not just warm but intense. The customer service smile is gone, replaced with something more raw, more fiery. His eyes seem to pierce through you, as if he's seen more than you're letting on.

“I… I suppose,” you admit, your voice faltering. The heat between you both shifts, thickening, making it harder to ignore the pull that’s growing stronger with each passing second.

“Did he not make you feel good?” His voice, low and seductive, slid through the air, making your pulse race. The sound of it, deep and smooth, made everything inside you tighten.

At this point, your knees bumped into one another, inching closer to him with every passing second. You hadn’t even noticed how the space between you had shrunk, his presence so overwhelming that it felt as if you couldn’t breathe without feeling him.

His cologne, subtle yet intoxicating, made you dizzy. Just being this close to him was enough to send your thoughts spiralling.

You wanted to scream.

“Not really,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. You’re surprised you’re even able to get the words out the way he’s looking at you, his eyes dark, focused entirely on you, and that intensity…it’s almost like he can see through every wall you've built.

You feel your pulse quicken, your breath shallow. His gaze is hypnotic, pulling you in, making everything else fade away. The words hang in the air between you, charged with something unspoken, something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

His lips part slightly, like he's about to say something, but instead, he moves a little closer, his presence swallowing up the space between you.

“You deserve to feel good,” he says, his voice soft but filled with something deeper, more intense. His hand gently caresses your cheek, his fingertips light against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I do?” The vulnerability in your voice makes you look innocent and unsure, like you're almost waiting for him to reassure you.

He lifts you onto his lap, the movement smooth and easy, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. Your hands instinctively rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, the solid muscle of him through the fabric of his shirt.

“Of course you do, will you let me?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter out, the excitement getting to you, a mix of anticipation and nervousness swirling in your chest. He cups your face and kisses you, the softness of his lips against yours leaving you wanting more.

The kiss deepens, and you smile into it, the warmth between you spreading like wildfire. You almost pass away on the spot when you feel his hand gently rest on your throat, not squeezing or grabbing really, but caressing. If only he knew the effect it had on you, how it sent a wave of heat through your body, how wet you had gotten from a touch that small.

When you pull back just slightly, he notices the way your gaze lingers on his body, almost as if you can’t help it. Every inch of him, every defined line, every curve of muscle, draws your eyes in with a fascination that feels urgent.

“You want to touch?” he asks, his voice low and inviting, a hint of challenge in it.

You nod, unable to speak, your breath catching in your throat. He smiles softly, then takes your hand, guiding it under his shirt. The warmth of his skin meets your fingers, smooth and solid, and you feel the hard contours of his muscles, each movement stirring something inside you.

His skin feels like fire beneath your touch, and as your hand moves slowly over him, you can’t help but marvel at how real it all feels. He watches you intently, his eyes dark with something that makes your heart race.

You bite your lip and start unbuttoning his shirt, fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. As each button comes undone, you feel the heat between you rise, the tension thickening with every inch of skin you reveal.

He lets go of your wrist, his hands resting on your thighs as he sits back, watching you with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. The moment you have his shirt off, he lifts you effortlessly and takes you to your kitchen island.

“Valentin!” You yelp, startled by the sudden shift, the cool surface of the island sending a shiver through your body as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

He smirks, his hands resting gently on your thighs, keeping you close as his eyes search yours. “Relax,” he murmurs, his voice husky, “I’ve got you.”

He pushes off your bathrobe, the soft fabric sliding away to reveal more of your skin, leaving you exposed to his touch. You’re breathless when you feel his fingers climb up your back to undo your bikini top, his lips trailing along your chest.

“Fuck,” you sigh out unable to say anything else.

You had to applaud Valentin’s attention to detail, kissing and gently testing you until he found what made you shiver, then attacking it with a kind of precision that left you breathless.

He found this one spot on your neck, a place you hadn’t even known was sensitive, but it was like a switch had flipped. The moment his lips brushed it, the sensation rippled through you, a rush of warmth and need, making your body tense, then melt.

“You like it when I touch you, when I…” His voice trails off, sucking a mark onto your neck and you wish that others could see it.

“You know I do,” you breathe, your words barely a whisper, the truth slipping from your lips with a desperation you can't hide.

He starts making his way down your body, and you hope it wasn't obvious that it had been so long since you were last touched.

“Relax, there’s nothing to stress about,” Valentin says as if reading your mind. He tugs off your underwear and starts to take it slow. His kisses against your thighs climbing higher until he reaches your pussy. You shiver at the first touch and don’t stop shaking after, especially when he looks up at you like he’s intent on devouring you.

“Please, Valentin,” You moan out, and he doesn’t disappoint. He pulls back and starts fingering you, his long fingers curling inside you until they reach that spot that makes you whine.

He’s still looking up at you, taking in all of your reactions, the way you tremble at even the smallest things he does.

“You’re so beautiful, I don't know how your ex could keep his hands off you.”

The unexpected warmth of his words has a surprising effect on you, leaving you momentarily speechless. Chuckling at how cute you are, he goes back to licking at your folds, which are dripping with your need for him. Adding a third finger as he stretches you out so good, you start bucking against his face. The combination of his tongue and his fingers was too much. It was like being consumed, every nerve on high alert, your body humming and buzzing with energy. He lets you ride his face, working you up closer to an orgasm, but before you can get there, he pulls away.

“I was so close.”

“Not yet,” Valentin says, his voice steady, almost teasing.

“But–”

“Not. Yet.” His words are final, leaving no room for argument..

Effortlessly carrying you, he bends you over the kitchen counter, the sudden move making you gulp. Your chest lays against the counter, your nipples hardening at the touch of the cool surface as your ass sticks out for his viewing pleasure.

He lines himself up with your hole but refuses to give you what you want. Teasing you by not putting it all the way, but grinding against you with his hard member.

“I can’t wait anymore,” You whine as you try to push back against him, needing to feel him, to feel his cock pulsing inside of you.

A large crack rings out when he slaps your butt, “Be patient.”

That stops you in your tracks and you quieten down, biting back the moan you wanted to let out. The juxtaposition of his usual wellness expert act and the Valentin in front of you now makes you dizzy. He soothes your pain, caressing your ass as he continues moving his hips against yours. The movements lull you into a false sense of security before he finally pushes in. His thick cock, filling you up completely, your walls tightening around it.

He doesn’t hold back, no hesitation or restraint, as he takes what he wants. You grip the counter, your arms shaking as you drool. Any sense you had, is fucked out of you. Your legs twitch as you try and squirm, but he holds them in place, not allowing you any reprieve.

“You need to stay still.”

“How can I, when you–?” You’re cut off by a particularly strong thrust that hits your sweet spot, shutting you up again, and you can’t help but think he did that on purpose.

"That's better," he comments, his voice low and satisfied, as he gently pets your head, his touch almost tender in contrast to what was happening. “Otherwise, I would’ve had to tie you up.”

“Fuck me,” You breathe out, half to him and half to yourself as your head lolls against the surface behind you. The thought of him, tying you up in silk ties and having his way with you, had you wanting to squirm all over the place.

“Your ex doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he says, and you cannot deny how good it feels to hear him say that. You had been ignored for too long, made to feel invisible, and now, his words are like a balm to a wound you didn’t even realise was there.

He pulls you back from the counter, and you’re grateful that he’s still holding you; otherwise, there’d be a you-sized puddle on the floor. He helps you back over to the kitchen island and lays you down, feeding his cock into you again. You had no idea how much you missed him inside of you until he started moving his hips against yours.

You scream out, his pace relentless and unflinching. He wasn’t afraid to take control; he revelled in it, pushing you to your limits. You fight to keep your eyes open, your gaze trailing down his arm, the veins in his muscles flexing as he moves. Down to his hands on your thigh as the other works on your clit, expertly keeping you on the edge. They were strong and masculine, like he could pick you up and toss you around wherever he wanted.

“Choke me,” You blurt out in a moment of weakness.

Pausing for a moment, he takes in your hungry expression, before you can wonder if you’ve gone too far, he holds your throat in his strong hand. He was almost too eager to oblige, revelling in how you reacted, how your breath hitched and faltered under his control. He would squeeze and release with each thrust, making your eyes roll back. You had never been the most adventurous in the bedroom, always preferring the safety of familiarity, but now, being completely at his mercy, it felt different—electric.

“You aren’t as innocent as you look,” he says, amused, as he looks over your wrecked form.

It’s like you’re a puppet the way he pulls you up by the throat, not in a harsh way, but with an undeniable dominance that makes your breath catch. His hands are gentle but firm as they guide you. You feel boneless, like you’ve lost control of everything except the way your body reacts to him.

“Beg me.”

His tone is blunt and uncompromising.

"Please, I need to, I need..." You start to say, but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes meet yours, dark and intense, as if he’s reading the unspoken words on your lips before squeezing that little bit harder. The lights around you flutter as you, struggling to breathe, can only make desperate gasps come out.

“Try again,” he says, his voice smooth, almost soothing, the calming aura he exudes cutting through the fact that he was currently choking you. His grip loosens slightly, just enough for you to breathe, the pressure on your throat easing, but not entirely.

“Please, Valentin. I’m begging you, I need you,” You sputter out, and from the smirk on his face, he’s satisfied.

He lets go of your throat, taking in as much air as you can, only for it to be knocked right out of you when he angles his hips to a spot that’s never been hit before. You surge forward, screaming his name so hard, you’re surprised your voice isn’t hoarse. You find yourself squirming again, and he holds you closer. “I know you can take it,” He looks you in the eyes, “Be a good girl and take it for me.”

Not wanting to disappoint, you nod eagerly, “I can take it.”

He smiles approvingly and continues to ravish you, toes curling at the pleasure he is giving you, wanting you to commit this feeling to memory.

Pulling you off the counter, and supporting you with his arms, he lifts you up and down on his cock to meet his thrusts. You’re not surprised that you started crying; in fact, you’re surprised you didn’t start crying earlier. The pleasure rising in you is like a volcano waiting to erupt, with every roll of his hips and moan against your ear. You grip onto his back, your fingers digging in, the muscles beneath your touch flexing as you pull him closer, urging him deeper. You can’t lie, but you wanted to leave your mark on him as much as he did on you.

“Never been so…” You whimper out, your words trailing into nothingness as the feeling of him overwhelms you, leaving you speechless.

And just like that, his dark gaze locks onto yours, watching with a mixture of satisfaction and something far deeper, as though he’s taking in every part of you.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, his voice low and filled with praise as he peppers kisses along your chest, the arms around your waist gripping you like a boa constrictor.

But you yearn for his touch and the next move, teetering on the edge of something beyond control, your body shaking with the need for release.

After a few more thrusts, you finish feeling temporarily weightless, like you were floating on a cloud, your senses overwhelmed by the release. But even as your body trembles from the aftershocks, he doesn’t stop. Instead, choosing to drive you, force you past the limits of what you’ve ever felt before, as he lavishes your body with kisses and marks. Marks that you’ll see in the morning and would bring back to this moment. So you surrender yourself to him. Let him have his fill of you because you didn’t want him to stop.

You'd give him anything not to stop.

Masterlist

#valentin x reader #x reader #the white lotus s3 #smut #white lotus #valentin #the white lotus fanfic #the white lotus #female reader

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