thaliora

[thaliora]

i had every intention of writing today… but it has been far too hot in the uk for me to sit and concentrate — i’m not used to these temperatures at all! i’m hoping for responses to come tomorrow, sorry to all of those who are waiting on a response 🩷

[thaliora]

she  lowers  herself  with  that  soft,  breathless  hum,  and  it  damn  near  undoes  him.  his  hand  flex  instinctively  at  her  hips  –  not  to  guide,  not  to  take,  just  to  feel.  to  anchor.  skin  to  skin,  her  weight  a  whisper  of  pressure,  and  still  it  hits  him  like  a  tidal  wave.  fuck,  she's  real.  she's  here.  just  for  me.  his  mouth  parts  in  a  quiet  exhale  against  her,  the  sound  almost  reverent.  his  nose  nudges  where  she's  most  sensitive,  and  the  way  she  gasps  –  the  way  her  thighs  tremble  around  his  shoulders  –  it  lights  something  deep  and  primal  in  his  chest.  she's  not  rushing.  neither  is  he.  he  doesn't  need  to.  he's  got  her  right  here.  his  eyes  flicker  up  between  her  curls,  caught  on  the  way  her  lips  part,  the  way  her  brows  draw  together  like  the  pleasure's  already  too  much.  beautiful,  he  thinks,  and  she  doesn't  even  know  it.  it's  not  just  lust  that  coils  in  his  gut  –  it's  everything.  admiration.  worship.  that  feeling  she  gives  him,  like  he'd  burn  down  the  world  if  she  asked  nicely.  his  voice  is  low,  thick  with  heat.  still  teasing,  but  softer  now.  intimate.  “  that's  it,  baby.  just  like  that.  ”  a  kiss,  slow  and  open-mouthed  against  her  –  deep  enough  to  taste  her,  to  memorize  the  shape  of  her  want.  his  tongue  flicks  deliberately,  lazily,  and  he  feels  her  hips  stutter.  he  hums  into  her,  smirking  against  her  skin  when  she  moans.  “  you're  doing  so  good,  yas,  ”  his  grip  tightens  just  a  touch,  grounding  her.  grounding  himself.  “  can  feel  how  much  you  need  it.  how  sweet  you  are  for  me.  ”  he  doesn't  open  his  eyes.  he  doesn't  need  to.  everything  he  needs  is  here  –  the  weight  of  her,  the  taste  of  her,  the  way  she  shudders  when  he  sucks  just  right,  tongue  circling  with  practiced  worship.  she  trusts  me  with  this.  with  her.  i'll  ruin  her  in  the  best  way.  and  maybe  he's  selfish,  the  way  he  drags  it  out  –  not  to  tease,  but  to  make  it  last.  to  make  sure  she  feels  every  damn  second  of  it.  “  you  taste  like  heaven,  yasmin.  ”  a  pause,  and  then  rougher,  wrecked.  “  gonna  make  you  come  so  hard,  you  forget  your  own  name.  ”  it's  not  a  promise.  it's  a  vow.

head  lowers,  curls  spilling  in  front  of  her  shoulders.  and  she's  thankful  for  it,  face  turned  away  from  the  soft  light.  cheeks  are  flushed  again,  pink  heat  flurrying  down  her  neck  and  over  her  bare  chest.  can  feel  the  rattling  thump  of  her  heart  from  where  he  lays  ?  "  never,  "  repeats  with  an  airy  laugh  of  her  own.  but  every  time  she  even  thinks  of  feeling  worried  or  insecure,  he's  there  to  uplift  her,  place  her  on  this  pedestal  she  isn't  sure  she's  earned  a  spot  on.  a  natural.  made  to  sit  right  there,  on  his  face.  god,  even  if  she  wanted  to  be  nervous,  arousal  wins  out  every  time.  "  maybe  that's  because  all  of  me  was  made  for  you,  "  counters  with  a  shaken  breath.  "  i  wouldn't  dream  of  being  here  like  this  with  anyone  else.  "  as  sentimental  as  it  might  sound,  it  also  happens  to  be  the  plain  truth.  can't  do  this  with  just  a  random  conquest  ---  not  when  it  seems  like  he's  come  to  unravel  every  single  part  of  her.  there  are  no  secrets  anymore,  no  urges  hidden  behind  stifled  words.  the  heat  between  them  is  palpable,  head  spinning  when  fingers  fall  down  to  her  hips  again.  he  makes  her  feel  alive,  reinvigorated,  free.  winces  softly,  lips  peppering  kisses  on  her  thigh  in  an  effort  to  tease,  draw  this  out  the  way  he  knows  to  do  so  well.  trembles,  hips  instinctively  stuttering,  wanting  more  of  his  mouth.  closer,  right  between  her  legs.  oh,  she  needs  it.  "  no,  i  don't.  i'm  too  distracted  by  how  good  you  look,  how  right.  "  allows  one  hand  to  fall  from  the  headboard,  fingernails  trailing  gently  through  his  scalp  in  encouragement.  "  mhm,  "  hums,  lowering  herself  against  his  mouth.  she  isn't  rough,  hardly  places  her  weight  on  him.  but  it's  firm  enough  to  feel  his  mouth  on  her,  nose  bumping  against  her  clit  ever  so  slightly.  just  enough  to  tease.  mouth  opens,  eyes  tightly  closed.  "  fuck,  "  whispers  through  needy  coos  of  pleasure.  "  please  show  me  ,  dame.  please.  "

[thaliora]

megan almost laughed. not because it was funny – because she didn't know what else to do with the right, aching feeling in her chest when dove said that. she didn't know what was worse, that dove meant it, or that megan wanted to take her up on it so badly her fingers trembled at her sides. the touch – light, careful – lingered like heat beneath her skin. dove's hand in hers. not pulling, not begging. just offering. megan could count on one hand the number of times someone had wanted her without wanting to change her, fix her, make her into something smaller and more manageable. “ you shouldn't let me, ” she whispered, almost like it hurt to say. it kind of did. because dove didn't get it. what it meant to kss someone like megan. what came after. everyone always made it sound like fun, like thrill and danger and bad decisions. they didn't see the way megan stayed up at night afterward, wondering what parts of herself she gave away this time. but god, dove was so close. so soft. so brave for someone who claimed she was intimidated. her thumb grazed dove's knuckles before she even realized she was moving, her body betraying her fear. she didn't feel powerful in this moment. she felt like a live wire – charged and unsure and way too willing to burn. “ you're not scared of me. ” megan said, quiet and stunned. not a question. a realization. she let the words settle, heavy and sharp in the air between them. she should've said no. she should've stepped back. but instead, she leaned in. just enough for her breath to brush against dove's cheek. just enough for her nose to barely skim hers. “ you remember the first time i got suspended? ” her voice held a flicker of her old grin, just a spark of the trouble she always wore like perfume. “ third grade. i punched that kid for calling you weird. ” there was something bitter-sweet in remembering it now. in remembering why she'd done it. dove had been her first soft thing. the only one she ever wanted to protect instead of push. and she still did. but now, she also wanted to kiss her until she forgot her own name. so megan kissed her. slow. gentle. nothing like the careless kisses people knew her for. it was terrifying. it was perfect. and it tasted like everything she told herself she wasn't allowed to have.

it had taken more than a little bit of coaxing from her roommate to convince dove that this party was a good idea. she'd been working so hard the last few months, what with the university's production of heathers just recently coming to an end. she'd worked her ass off to be the most perfect veronica sawyer and then just like that it was all over. she hadn't expected what the party turned out to be, teenage kissing games and excuses to touch one another. dove had a sneaking suspicion that surely someone had picked this game with the express purpose of trying to feel up someone in particular. it was nights like this she felt out of her league, because it wasn't like she was a virgin or something, but she hadn't kissed someone properly in a year. and stage kisses didn't count. then all of a sudden the bottle was landing not just on her, but on a familiar face. megan. part of her was relieved it was her and not someone else, but another part of her felt... uneasy. the blonde was well-versed in this kind of thing, she was sure and as dove got to her feet and followed to the closet, she couldn't help but forget how kissing even worked. they were closed inside and then the darkness conjuring a clock in her mind as the seconds ticked along. her head canted to one side, brows knitting together at the offer she was given, to not participate. she hadn't even considered it. then, on top of it, she was mentioning her reputation and dove was taken aback. "i mean, i've heard you're a really good kisser." she replied, her voice gentle and low. in the dark, she reached out between them, fingers finding her arm and then sliding down so she could hold her hand. "if that's what you meant. and i'm definitely, um, intimidated... but..." dove was startled by the strange magnetism she felt between them. she wanted to kiss her. that was the game, she was allowed to, she knew that and yet she remained still. "will you kiss me, meg? you can. you can do whatever you want."

[thaliora]

imani didn't turn around this time – not right away. she stood at the door, hand braced against the frame like she needed it to keep from falling forward, from falling backward. her jaw clenched, lips parting like she might say something, then shutting just as quickly. she hated how easily her got under her skin. hated even more that some stupid part of her still wanted to understand him, still held onto that flicker of the boy who used to make her laugh until her ribs ached and kiss her like the world would stop if he didn't. but that boy wasn't here. she inhaled through her nose and turned, slow and deliberate, like walking into fire. her eyes met his, and for a second – just a second – there was a softness there. longing. grief, maybe, for what they could've been if he hadn't always been trying to burn the house down just to see if she'd stay and rebuild it. “ you think this is just another tall on the ‘why i’m done with you' list? ” she asked quietly, too calm to be anything but dangerous. her arms crossed over her chest again, but this time the posture looked more like protection than defiance. “ god, sutter… i haven't been keeping score. i've been waiting. ” she stepped closer, just enough that he'd feel her presence, feel the ache of it, the closeness she used to give so easily. “ waiting for you to stop turning everything into a goddamn war. waiting for the version of you i fell for – the one who used to show up instead of show out. the one who didn't need to throw fists to prove a point. ” her voice cracked, barely. she blinked it away like it never happened. her hand lifted for a second – maybe to reach for him, maybe just to say one more thing – but she let it fall before it got close. “ i don't want to punch you, sutter. i want to stop hurting over you. ” a beat passed. her expression shuttered again – cool, composed, the storm quieting just enough to leave wreckage in its place. “ but if you can't learn how to care about what i feel until after you've destroyed it – us – then maybe you really aren't worth the trouble. ”

the thing was, this would have been out of character for sutter had he not been out of control as of late. something had snapped in him, something restless and reckless breaking free of his chest, possessing him like some sort of jealous alpha male asshole. he hated imani's boyfriend for more reasons than just his feelings for her, of course and he'd totally had that punch coming, but did he have a responsibility to try and preserve her feelings? he exhaled slowly as she spoke, as self-righteous as she deserved to be, really. he leaned on the broom he'd been using, his hands covering one another as his brows lifted, feigning sarcastic interest in her words. "i'm not asking you to be impressed, imani. i punched him, i own up to it. i don't know what else you want from me." he swallowed, watching her face as she sifted through thoughts, as she looked at him and he hoped she would see his perspective magically somehow, like she'd know suddenly that he wouldn't have done it for nothing. "you didn't punch me, though. which, you're welcome to do if it'll make you feel better, i guess." he leaned against the counter behind him, looking at the floor as she made her way to the door, poised to storm her way out of there. and boy was she a storm right now, a crackling, thunderous cloud, crashing her way in and then out again. he stood there for a moment, ready to let her go, but then he just couldn't. he abandoned his broom, following behind her. "so, what did he tell you exactly? that i just waltzed right up and threw a right hook for no reason?" he questioned, the anger building up again now. "just another strike against my name, another reason you get to add to your list of why i'm not worth the fucking trouble, huh?"

[thaliora]

joe keery via gallagherwalks

[thaliora]

CARLACIA GRANT via instagram

[thaliora]

damien's  world  narrows  to  the  sight  of  her  –  a  vision  above  him,  all  soft  curves  and  tangled  curls,  bathed  in  the  dim  glow  of  the  room.  she  doesn't  even  know  the  effect  she  has,  the  way  she  moves  like  she's  woven  from  sunlight  and  sin.  he's  never  been  good  at  holding  back,  not  with  yasmin,  and  right  now?  he  doesn't  want  to.  his  gaze  trails  up  her  thighs,  lingering  on  the  way  her  body  trembles,  every  subtle  shift  betraying  her  anticipation.  god,  she's  gorgeous.  wrecking  me  without  even  trying.  his  jaw  tightens  as  she  braces  herself  on  the  headboard,  a  flicker  of  hesitation  crossing  her  expression.  vulnerable.  trusting.  it  cracks  something  deep  in  him,  sharp  and  unrelenting.  he  lets  out  a  low  laugh,  rough  and  teasing.  “  never  done  this  before?  ”  his  hands  slide  up  her  thighs,  fingers  pressing  into  the  heat  of  her  skin  like  he's  anchoring  her  to  him.  “  you're  a  natural,  yas.  look  at  you.  ”  his  voice  dips  lower,  roughened  with  reverence.  “  like  you  were  made  to  sit  right  here.  ”  the  sight  of  her  sends  a  rush  of  heat  coursing  through  him.  she  trusts  me.  every  inch  of  her  trusts  me.  his  fingers  tighten  slightly  at  her  hips,  grounding  her  as  his  lips  curve  into  a  lazy,  knowing  smirk.  his  voice  softens,  but  the  heat  in  his  eyes  doesn't  waver  as  he  looks  up  at  her.  “  you  want  to  do  everything  with  me?  ”  his  thumbs  stroke  the  soft  curve  of  her  hips,  deliberate  and  slow,  his  breath  hot  against  her  thighs.  “  then  let  me  make  this  your  favorite.  ”  damien  doesn't  rush  her.  he  never  rushes  her.  instead,  he  leans  in,  lips  brushing  against  her  inner  thigh,  soft  and  tender,  like  he's  memorizing  her  skin.  she  deserves  this  –  deserves  to  know  how  good  she  is,  how  fucking  incredible  she  makes  me  feel.  he  tilts  his  head  back  slightly,  his  blue  eyes  locking  on  hers,  pupils  blown  wide  with  hunger.  “  you  have  no  idea  how  good  you  look  like  this,  do  you?  ”  the  words  roll  of  his  tongue  like  praise,  his  voice  dipping  to  a  near-whisper,  low  and  wrecked.  “  you're  so  fucking  sexy,  yasmin.  ”  as  she  shifts  above  him,  he  lets  his  grip  firm  slightly,  his  lips  twitching  into  a  smirk  that's  both  playful  and  utterly  wrecked.  “  go  ahead,  baby.  sit.  let  me  show  you  what  it  does  to  me  to  have  you  this  close.  ” 

why  frame  this  as  something  it  isn't  ?  she  likes  him,  plunged  herself  deep  in  the  abyss  of  her  own  heart.  she  never  asked  for  this  and  he  never  offered  it  up,  but  it  doesn't  matter.  rational  thoughts  won't  coax  the  adoration  out  of  her.  yasmin  is  far  too  deep,  too  comfortable  where  she  lies.  she'll  just  have  to  suffer  the  consequences  later.  right  now,  every  moment  feels  like  a  reward.  it's  like  damien  is  making  up  for  her  troubled  past  without  even  knowing  it.  he  can  fix  her,  turn  her  into  so  much  more  than  she  has  ever  allowed  herself  to  be.  always  holding  back,  always  afraid  to  be  seen.  not  anymore.  lips  curl  into  a  crooked  smile,  half  -  nervous  like  she  always  is.  truthfully,  she  hopes  that  feeling  never  fades.  the  burning  anticipation  for  what  comes  next,  the  satisfying  anxiety  it  riles  up  within  her.  "  hmm  .  .  .  the  second  one,  "  drawls  out.  draws  in  a  sharp  breath,  something  bordering  on  a  gasp  when  his  fingertips  press  into  her  skin.  hopes  she'll  see  the  pattern  there  when  she  wakes  up  in  the  morning.  sometimes  it's  the  only  confirmation  that  he  isn't  a  dream  —  that  this  is  real.  feels  real  with  his  breath,  hot  and  ragged,  blown  against  her  inner  thighs.  hands  reach  for  the  bed's  headboard,  finding  some  semblance  of  balance  there  as  her  body  shivers  excitedly.  and  she  can  only  ground  her  knees  at  either  side  of  his  head,  panic  surging  through  her  because,  "  i've  never  done  this  before,  "  admits  in  a  trembling,  albeit,  sultry  whisper.  probably  doesn't  need  to  explain  herself  when  her  body  speaks  louder  than  her  words.  she'd  been  wet  earlier  when  he  approached  her,  teased  and  tied  up,  but  it's  no  comparison.  arousal  pools  warmly  between  her  legs,  slick  and  throbbing  with  need.  "  but  i  want  to  do  everything  with  you.  "  grip  tightens,  eyes  closed.

[thaliora]

SINNERS (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

[thaliora]

amara  didn't  answer  right  away.  she  just  stood  there,  hands  gripping  the  edge  of  the  sink,  jaw  clenched  so  tight  it  ached.  god,  addison  had  always  known  how  to  twist  the  knife  with  a  smile  –  sweetly  toxic,  perfectly  detached  like  words  didn't  matter.  like  she  didn't  matter.  “  you  didn't  have  to  make  it  so  easy  to  forget,  ”  she  said  finally,  barely  above  a  whisper.  not  loud  enough  to  be  heard,  not  really  –  maybe  just  for  the  mirror,  maybe  just  for  herself.  she  blinked  once,  twice,  like  it  might  wash  the  heat  from  behind  her  eyes.  it  didn't.  “  don't  worry,  i'm  not  expecting  a  reunion,  ”  she  called  back  eventually,  voice  cool  but  cracked  along  the  edges.  “  i'm  not  here  to  fix  anything  either.  that  would  require  admitting  it  was  broken  in  the  first  place.  ”  god,  she  hated  this.  the  pretending,  the  way  they  danced  around  each  other  like  landmines,  pretending  their  history  wasn't  bleeding  through  every  look,  every  silence.  amara  ran  a  towel  along  the  back  of  her  neck,  slow  and  methodical,  like  the  act  could  steady  her  heartbeat  –  but  it  didn't.  “  sun  and  mimosas,  ”  she  echoed,  bitterly  amused.  “  sure  sounds  like  a  great  excuse  to  vacation  with  your  ex.  ”  she  pushed  off  the  sink,  forcing  her  expression  blank  before  opening  the  bathroom  door  again.  she  didn't  look  at  her.  couldn't.  just  crossed  the  room,  slow  and  deliberate,  and  reached  into  her  bag.  “  fine.  let's  just  get  through  the  weekend.  ”  her  voice  had  gone  quiet  again  –  not  weak,  just  exhausted.  “  i'll  be  out  of  your  way.  try  not  to  choke  on  the  ambiance.  ” 

addie’s mouth pulled into a crooked smile ⸻ the kind that didn’t touch her eyes , didn’t even try . “ yeah well , you didn’t have to come either . ” arms crossed , sunglasses still on , she walked back inside and leaned against the balcony doorframe like the posture alone might keep her from unraveling . “ no one put a gun to your head and forced you to go on this trip . ” truth was , she could’ve said no . she should’ve . if she had any pride left , she would’ve let amara go alone and pretended she didn’t care . but she did care , and that was the worst part . she cared enough to drag herself into this glittery slow - burn hellscape just to see if her ex might look at her the way she used to , even once . cared enough to risk being the villain of the trip , just for a maybe . “ i’m not here for a reunion , okay ? ” she added , chin lifting like it might shield her from the truth . “ i came because it’s a vacation and i needed one . you think it’s all about you , but maybe i just wanted some sun and unlimited mimosas . ” lie , lie , lie . she turned her head , like the view might agree with her . it didn’t . “ whatever . you wanna be mad about the room , be mad . but don’t act like i showed up begging to fix things . you think i can’t survive a few days pretending we’re strangers ? i’ve done worse . ” another lie , but she held it anyway ⸻ like a shield , or maybe like hope in reverse .

[thaliora]

callie's  smile  didn't  falter.  if  anything,  it  sharpened  –  all  gloss  and  danger,  like  a  knife  dressed  in  diamonds.  she  leaned  back,  arms  folding  across  her  chest,  weight  shifting  onto  one  hip  as  she  let  him  finish  his  little  monologue  uninterrupted.  “  you  done?  ”  she  asked,  voice  light,  but  edged  in  silk-wrapped  steel.  he  really  thought  he  was  saying  something.  like  she  hadn't  heard  a  thousand  versions  of  that  same  speech  from  men  with  less  charisma  and  cheaper  watches.  callie  didn't  blink  at  bravado  –  she'd  been  raised  on  it,  dated  it,  outgrew  it  like  last  season's  trend.  “  i  don't  need  your  brain,  baby.  i  brought  my  own.  ”  a  beat.  then,  casually,  like  it  was  barely  worth  voicing.  “  and  trust  –  i  won't  be  bored  enough  to  borrow  yours.  ”  her  tone  was  airy,  almost  sweet,  but  her  eyes  told  a  different  story  –  sharp,  discerning,  unbothered.  she  didn't  need  him  to  leave.  she  just  needed  him  to  know  he  was  playing  checkers  on  her  chessboard.  and  she  didn't  lose.

dakota's amused that she's still entertaining this conversation despite her apparent disinterest in it. rejection doesn't bother him in the slightest – he can handle a no and go about his night like nothing happened. but since she hasn't directly told him to go away , instead choosing to continue the conversation , he'll keep the banter going. it's refreshing to not get what he wants for a change. most people seem too insecure to tell him no , or are so desperate for the social clout that they say yes to everything. callie clearly has no interest in treating him like a king. “ cute. your perception of my worth means nothing to me.” cue a very fake smile. “ just like how what i think means nothing to you. but i'm the only other person in here with half a brain, and we've got...” he looks down to check his rolex, “ two more hours before this shit is over.”

[thaliora]

imani didn't flinch. not when sutter walked in like he owned the oxygen in the room, not when he said that. her mouth twitched – half smirk, half disbelief – as she leaned back against the edge of the marble countertop, arms folded tight against her chest. the overhead light cast a warm halo around her curls, catching on the small gold hoops on her ears. “ you know what's crazy? ” she began, voice smooth but edged with steel. “ you really think that's a valid excuse. like i'm supposed to nod along and be impressed because, what, you couldn't keep your temper? ” her tone wasn't raised, but it carried weight, cutting through the awkward silence that had settled the moment he stepped inside. she looked him up and down – slowly, deliberately – before letting her gaze rest somewhere just past his shoulder, like he wasn't worth the full focus of her eyes. “ he had a punchable face? cool. you had a punchable ego. guess we're even. ” there was a time when his chaos felt electric, when she mistook volatility for passion and thought storm-chasing counted as romance. not anymore. now she just felt tired – of explaining, of cleaning up his messes, of pretending that sharp one-liners made up for damage he never stuck around to repair. imani exhaled through her nose and stepped around him toward the door, her perfume lingering behind like a challenge. “ next time you feel like swinging at someone? make sure it's not someone i'm actually trying to build something with. ” a pause, then a final look – cool, unbothered. “ grow up, sutter. ” 

closed starter for @thaliora

"if your boyfriend didn't want me to punch him, he shouldn't have had such a punchable face."

[thaliora]

closed starter for @thursdaygrl

megan hadn't meant to come to the party. not really. she'd sworn she was done with half-warm beer and couches that smelled like frat-boy cologne and cheap weed. but then she heard dove was going. and suddenly, megan was leaning in the mirror, applying lip gloss like it mattered. now she was here, cross-legged on the floor, bottle spinning between them, heart thumping behind her ribs like a warning. seven minutes in heaven. high school game, college stakes. she hadn't played it since she was sixteen and kissing people just to feel something. but then dove's name was called. and then hers. the room whooped. someone clapped. she could hear her own laugh, automatic and careless, like she always sounded. but inside, her stomach dipped. don't do this to her, something inside whispered. don't pull her down with you. but dove was already rising to her feet, brushing off her sundress like she wasn't sunshine made flesh. megan followed, trying not to look nervous, even as her pulse skittered out of rhythm. the closet door closed. darkness. heat. silence that stretched too long. megan leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. she could feel dove standing across from her, not touching, not speaking. just waiting. she couldn't see her face, but she could picture it – those eyes that always looked at her like she wasn't a mess. like megan was worth something more than a warning label. “ you don't have to do anything, ” she said finally, voice low, not her usual flirty tone but softer, rawer. “ i know what people say about me. ” she hated that it came out like a confession. because she had a reputation. and dove had a future. everyone knew that. everyone. the professors, the ra, probably the whole damn dorm. but god, she wanted to touch her. she hadn't realized how badly until they were inches apart, no eyes on them, no rules to follow but the ones dove set. “ you're so – ” she swallowed, the word getting caught. “ good. ” it wasn't an insult. it was awe. she felt the air shift between them, subtle and electric. like dove was about to step forward. like megan might let her.

[thaliora]

damien  watches  her,  completely  transfixed,  like  she's  stolen  every  coherent  thought  from  his  head  and  replaced  it  with  her  name.  yasmin.  yasmin.  yasmin.  the  syllables  echo  in  her  mind  as  she  moves  over  him,  commanding  his  attention  with  a  quiet  confidence  that  leaves  his  pulse  hammering  in  his  throat.  she's  all  smooth  skin  and  soft  curves  her  touch  deliberate,  teasing,  like  she's  testing  how  far  she  can  unravel  him  before  he  snaps.  god  she  looks  like  she  was  made  for  this.  for  him.  her  words  –  velvet-wrapped  invitations  to  ruin  him  –  pull  a  low  groan  from  inside  his  chest.  he  grips  she  sheets  beneath  him,  jaw  tightening  as  her  nails  scrape  over  his  skin,  setting  every  nerve  ablaze.  his  breath  catches  when  she  says  it  –  sit  on  your  face  –  and  he  swears  he  feels  his  control  slip  another  notch.  his  lips  quirk  into  a  slow,  lazy  smirk,  dimples  cutting  deep  as  he  tilts  his  head  back  against  the  mattress,  letting  her  see  the  faintest  flicker  of  challenge  in  his  eyes.  “  careful,  yas,  ”     he  murmurs,  voice  low  and  edged  with  amusement,  though  his  chest  rises  and  falls  in  uneven  waves.  his  gaze  drags  deliberately  from  her  lips  to  her  thighs,  and  his  smirk  widens  as  he  meets  her  eyes  again,  heat  simmering  just  beneath  the  surface.   “  you  might  be  overestimating  my  appreciation  for  art…  or  maybe  you're  underestimating  how  far  i'm  willing  to  go  for  a  masterpiece  like  you.  ”   he  lets  his  hands  trail  up  her  thighs,  slow  and  reverent,  thumbs  brushing  over  the  soft  skin  with  just  enough  pressure  to  coax  a  shiver  out  of  her.  his  grin  softens,  gaze  dark  and  steady  as  it  locks  on  hers.  “  you  want  me  to  show  you?  fine.  but  don't  say  i  didn't  warn  you.  ”  damien  doesn't  wait  for  her  response.  his  fingers  tighten  at  her  hips,  tugging  her  closer  with  just  enough  force  to  let  her  know  he's  done  playing  coy.  his  lips  part,  and  his  voice  drops  to  a  whisper,  rough  and  wrecked  with  want.  “  come  here,  baby.  let  me  show  you  exactly  how  grateful  i  can  be.  ”  and  then  he's  pulling  her  down,  leaning  into  her  like  she's  the  only  thing  tethering  him  to  this  moment,  ready  to  lose  himself  completely  in  her.  in  yasmin.

swore  she'd  never  place  herself  in  this  position.  fixated,  longing,  bordering  on  attached.  had  been  so  easy  to  make  that  promise  to  herself  in  the  beginning.  he  was  all  trouble  hidden  behind  a  mesmerizing  face  and  chiseled  body.  too  good  to  be  true.  but  then  he  kept  coming  back  and  so  did  she.  and  it  stopped  being  all  lust.  started  being  something  she  can't  quite  put  into  words.  gentle  touches  paired  with  heated  whispers,  kisses  that  vary  from  chaste  to  heavy.  she  was  doomed  from  the  very  beginning.  coming  to  that  realization  doesn't  weigh  heavy  upon  her  heart  the  way  it  used  to.  on  the  contrary,  she  feels  empowered  by  this  ---  by  him.  way  she  settles,  measured  strokes  of  her  hand,  lips  twitching  with  words  withheld.  it  isn't  weakness,  just  like  his  quiet  resolve  isn't  a  slip  of  control.  "  i  wouldn't  mind  that,  "  informs  earnestly.  rise  of  his  hips  prompts  yasmin  to  comply  with  unspoken  wishes.  rise  and  fall  of  her  fist  quickens  ever  so  slightly,  brown  eyes  blown  wide  when  she  looks  at  him.  "  art,  "  she  repeats,  too  taken  aback  to  say  anything  else.  fuck,  she's  got  it  bad  for  him.  "  don't  worry,  "  begins,  smile  gentle  and  reassuring.  "  i  won't  let  you  finish  that  fast.  "  let  him,  as  though  she's  got  that  kind  of  power  over  him.  can  feel  her  entire  body  set  alight  at  the  thought  of  him  unable  to  hold  back,  though.  slows  her  touch,  pulling  away  as  soon  as  she  hears  him  confirm  what  they  already  know.  he's  hers.  "  and  i'm  yours.  have  been  from  the  moment  we  met.  "  words  are  spoken  carefully,  like  they  might  hurt  if  she  says  them  too  sharply.  shaken  fingers  tug  at  her  panties,  lifting  one  knee  and  then  the  other  to  get  them  off.  this  is  how  they  belong.  completely  bare,  flesh  to  flesh.  "  damien.  "  voice  is  rasped,  breathy,  almost  achingly  falling  past  her  lips.  "  i  needed  you  like  this,  laying  back  because  i,  "  breathes,  nails  scraping  up  his  chest  again.  "  wanna  give  you  exactly  what  you  asked  for.  "  all  of  her.  because  he's  hungry  for  it,  because  he  needs  it  just  as  much  as  she  does.  "  gonna  sit  on  your  face.  "  mouth  hovers  over  his  jawline,  soft  kisses  there.  "  and  you're  going  to  show  me  your  appreciation  for  art.  "

[thaliora]

    ›   open to anyone ›   olivia, thirty, bisexual, paralegal

the coffee shop was half-empty, golden hour spilling through its wide windows and catching the rim of olivia's glasses. she sat in the corner booth, papers spread out like a half-finished map – legal briefs on one side, a dog-eared notebook open on the other. her pen tapped absently against her lip, a smear of ink staining her thumb. she'd spent tie entire afternoon juggling depositions and dictated chaos, and now here she was, trying to shake the courthouse from her shoulders with caffeine and verse. outside, the city buzzed, but in here it was just her, a crooked stack of cases, and the beginning of a poem she hadn't quite figured out how to end. when the bell above the door jingled, she looked up – not because she expected anyone, but because she always noticed entrances. her gaze lingered for a beat too long. then she offered a tired, crooked smile, eyes bright beneath the exhaustion. “ tell me something interesting, ” she said to the newcomer, though her voice reached across the space like an invitation. “ or at least something better than what i've been reading all day. ” 

[thaliora]

blake  stood  motionless,  her  words  settling  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach  like  a  stone.  he  wanted  to  speak  –  needed  to  –  but  the  ache  in  her  voice,  the  quiet  crack  in  her  confession,  pinned  him  in  place.  she  came  here  to  end  it.  the  realization  hit  harder  than  he  expected,  sharp  and  cruel  in  the  way  truth  often  was.  she  thought  he'd  leave.  she  thought  she  had  to  make  it  easier  for  him  to  walk  away,  to  cut  the  cord  herself  before  he  could.  and  that…  that  wrecked  him.  she  doesn't  trust  it.  she  doesn't  trust  me.  his  jaw  tightened,  the  weight  of  her  words  pressing  against  the  parts  of  himself  he  kept  locked  away.  she  wasn't  just  scared  of  the  world  tearing  them  apart  –  she  was  scared  of  herself.  scared  of  the  version  of  her  the  headlines  painted,  the  one  people  loved  to  see  unravel.  and  somewhere  along  the  way,  she'd  convinced  herself  he'd  believe  it  too.  that  the  addison  they  saw,  the  one  in  the  grainy  photos  and  the  gossip  columns,  was  the  same  one  he  kissed  behind  closed  doors.  but  she  wasn't.  she  wasn't.  and  the  fact  that  she  couldn't  see  that  –  couldn't  see  how  deeply,  how  painfully  he  cared  –  twisted  something  inside  him  until  it  felt  like  it  might  snap.  he  wanted  to  shake  her,  to  make  her  understand.  to  tell  her  she  didn't  have  to  keep  bracing  for  impact  when  he  wasn't  going  anywhere.  blake  exhaled  sharply,  running  a  hand  through  his  hair  as  he  fought  the  storm  of  emotions  clawing  at  his  chest.  this  isn't  about  you,  blake.  it's  about  what  she's  been  through.  what  she's  had  to  survive.  you  don't  fix  that  by  being  angry.  but  god,  it  was  hard.  when  he  finally  spoke,  his  voice  was  low,  steady,  but  heavy  with  unspoken  pain.  “  you  don't  get  to  decide  that  for  me,  addie.  you  don't  get  to  decide  when  i've  had  enough.  that's  not  on  you.  ”  he  paused,  his  gaze  softening  as  he  stepped  closer.  “  i'm  still  here.  and  i'm  not  running.  ”  not  from  this.  not  from  you.

the silence after his question felt louder than any tabloid buzz . louder than the club music or the camera shutters or the screams of her own name in the paparazzi’s mouth . it echoed ⸻ in her bones , in her throat , in the hollow spot just beneath her ribs where his voice always settled softest . addie didn’t say anything at first . couldn’t . her mouth opened , then closed , her breath stuttering halfway through some flimsy retort that never made it past her teeth . because the truth of it ⸻ the ugly , exposed , aching truth ⸻ was that she had . she had expected him to walk . to shake his head , cold and clean and done . because that’s what people did , wasn’t it ? when things stopped being easy . when love turned complicated and messy and inconvenient , they left . that’s what she did . her eyes dropped , something sharp and shameful crawling up her spine as the full weight of it sank in . she came here to end it . not because she wanted to , but because she thought she had to . because some piece of her ⸻ the warped , survivalist part ⸻ believed that damage control only worked if she cut the cord herself , bled before he could bruise her . better to ghost than be gutted . “ i … ” her voice cracked again , the syllable too small to carry the weight she suddenly felt . her hands trembled at her sides , curling in like she could hold herself together just long enough to finish . “ i did . ” the admission fell quiet , but not hollow . it meant something . everything . “ because that’s what i would’ve done . if it were reversed . i would’ve run . i would’ve used it as an excuse to get out . ” there was no snark , no bite , no performance . just her ⸻ exposed , scared , unraveling in real time . she finally looked at him , and the guilt that bloomed behind her ribs felt bone - deep , scorching . “ and that’s not on you . that’s on me . ”

[thaliora]

megan stood over the girl like she wasn't the reason she was currently crumpled on the sticky floor of the mosh pit, ankle swollen and pride barely intact. she had the decency to look guilty, but in classic megan fashion, it was buried beneath eyeliner, lip gloss and a well-practiced eye roll. “right. totally fine. that's why your face is doing that weird twitchy thing like you just got dumped and stepped on in the same five minutes.” her arms crossed, but only for a beat – then she sighed and crouched down, heels sinking into god-knows what. the girl was pretty, even with mascara smudged and a suspicious wet spot on her jeans. megan didn't feel bad often, but something about this situation twisted in her gut. “okay, yeah, i dropped you. my bad. in my defense, i've got tiny wrists and you're surprisingly dense for someone so cute.” she paused. “that was supposed to sound better out loud.” still, she extended a hand, her stacked rings cool against yara's wrist when she helped her upright, slow and steady. the ankle definitely wasn't fine – megan could tell by the wince, even if the girl was trying hard to play it cool. “you're lucky i'm cute enough to get away with this.” megan shifted to yara's side, looping the girl's arm over her shoulder. “come on. let's find some ice, and maybe a chair that doesn't smell like armpit and spilled regret.” the crowd was still pulsing around them, but megan didn't care. she half-draggged, half-carried yara with more gentleness than her attitude usually allowed, muttering under her breath as they went. “this is why i don't do cardio. one mosh pit and i'm playing emt barbie.” but there was a smirk on her lips as she looked over at yara. it wasn't pity – it was interest. and maybe, if the lighting had been a little brighter, the tiniest flicker of concern.

         ›   open to anyone ( based on the second bullet )          ›   yara, twenty-six, bassist for a famous alt-rock band

         “ look, it’s fine. seriously. ” it wasn’t, not exactly; she was pretty sure her ankle was sprained, but the stranger looked worried enough as it is — so she tries for a smile, hoping it would do a decent enough job of masking the pain. “ i mean, i could probably use some ice, but other than that? totally fine. ”

[thaliora]

his  breath  catches  when  her  fingers  wrap  around  him  –  not  rough,  not  rushed,  just  right.  slow  strokes  that  make  his  spine  arch,  make  his  eyes  flutter  shut  for  a  moment  too  long.  it's  not  the  touch  alone  that  gets  him  –  it's  the  way  she  says  it.  possessive.  breathless.  like  he's  already  hers  and  there's  no  room  left  for  argument.  mine.  the  word  echoes  in  his  skull  like  a  vow.  he  watches  her  through  half-lidded  eyes,  the  curve  of  her  lips,  the  hunger  in  her  gaze,  how  effortlessly  she  claims  him  without  needing  to  raise  her  voice.  god,  she's  beautiful.  wild  curls  haloing  her  face,  flushed  cheeks,  that  sharp  line  of  focus  etched  between  her  brows  like  she's  studying  the  map  of  his  body.  his  jaw  clenches,  hips  twitching  into  her  palm  in  a  helpless  stutter  of  want.  she's  not  just  touching  him  –  she's  learning  him.  “  you're  gonna  make  me  lose  it,  ”  he  murmurs,  voice  thick,  rasping  from  somewhere  deep  in  his  chest.  his  fingers  dig  into  the  sheets,  knuckles  pale,  trying  not  to  move  –  trying  to  let  her  have  this,  all  of  this.  “  you  say  i'm  perfect,  but  look  at  you,  ”  he  breathes,  his  eyes  dragging  over  her,  drinking  her  in  like  a  man  parched.  “  you're…  fuck,  yas.  you're  art.  ”  he  lets  his  hand  slide  up,  fingers  brushing  the  underside  of  her  chin,  coaxing  her  gaze  back  to  his.  the  intensity  in  her  eyes  nearly  knocks  the  air  from  his  lungs.  “  i  want  you  to  take  your  time,  ”  he  whispers,  thumb  grazing  her  bottom  lip.  “  but  if  you  keep  looking  at  me  like  that…  ”  a  low  chuckle  escapes  him,  strained  at  the  edges.  “  i'm  not  gonna  last.  ”  and  still,  he  doesn't  stop  her.  he  can't.  because  right  now,  under  her  hands,  under  her  gaze  –  he's  not  in  control.  he's  unraveling,  piece  by  piece,  and  he  wouldn't  trade  it  for  anything.  “  all  yours,  ”  he  says  finally,  voice  like  velvet  and  smoke.  and  he  fucking  means  it. 

limbs  loosen,  no  longer  quite  as  tense  as  she  had  been  under  the  restraints  around  her  wrists.  on  any  other  day,  she  would  have  been  more  than  willing  to  relinquish  all  control.  tonight,  she  couldn't  bear  the  thought  of  being  held  back.  not  when  he  looks  so  pretty  like  this,  so  desperate  to  be  touched.  breath  catches  in  the  back  of  her  throat  when  hips  raise  in  response  to  her  soft  -  handed  touch.  "  i  don't  know  that,  actually.  "  and  for  the  briefest  of  moments,  she's  returned  to  her  usual  self.  cheeks  flushed,  nervous  smile  toying  at  her  lips.  the  glint  in  his  eyes  help  bring  her  back  past  her  endless  abyss  of  thoughts.  he  looks  so  right  like  this,  so  damn  perfect  it  makes  her  head  spin.  clenched  jaw,  chest  rising  and  falling.  the  lighting  in  the  room  hits  him  just  right  too.  she  can  see  the  shimmer  of  bright  blue  eyes,  pink  lips  she  has  longed  to  kiss  all  night.  feels  tempted  to  do  just  that,  but  no.  swallows  down  every  urge  so  she  can  move  off  of  him  and  tug  his  jeans  down.  gaze  meets  his  as  fingers  capture  the  waistband  of  his  boxers  as  well.  she  doesn't  possess  the  patience  that  damien  does.  he  could  see  her  covered  in  lace  and  relish  the  sight.  yas  isn't  stimulated  by  sight,  though.  needs  to  touch,  feel  the  hot  pulse  under  her  fingertips.  laughs,  harshly  tugging  until  clothes  are  discarded  off  the  edge  of  the  bed.  only  then  does  she  allow  herself  to  look  at  him  ---  really  look.  "  i  don't  know  how  you  keep  getting  hotter.  is  there  something  in  the  water  in  fancy  -  land  ?  "  teases,  but  only  for  a  few  seconds.  she's  focused  quickly  thereafter,  palms  flat  as  they  work  up  his  thighs.  "  not  only  what  i  want,  dame.  "  remains  perched  on  her  knees,  gaze  flickering  up  from  its  focus  on  his  cock.  "  i'm  taking  what's  mine.  "  because  he  is  hers  isn't  he  ?  there  is  no  way  he  can  look  at  some  one  else  with  such  earnestness.  raises  her  right  hand  up  to  her  mouth,  tongue  swiping  along  her  fingers  to  coat  them.  entire  body  buzzes  with  excitement  as  she  reaches  forth,  fingers  wrapping  around  his  girth.  "  mine,  "  repeats  in  small  soft,  barely  audible  whisper.  much  too  focused  on  him,  on  how  he'll  react  to  her  brazen  display  of  desire.  hand  moves  up  and  down  in  delicate  strokes,  sighing  in  pure  awe  of  him.  "  all  mine.  "