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Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) dir. Terence Davies cinematography by William Diver and Patrick Duval
#Distant Voices Still Lives#1980s#period drama#musicals#gif#michi#filmedit#lgbtedit#perioddramaedit#usergina#albertserra#userlenny#userrobin#userlenie#userksusha#userteri#usertom#useralex#usercinema
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Terence Davies (1945-2023) era el más grande director británico vivo. No tuvo el éxito comercial de John Boorman o el reconocimiento en festivales de Ken Loach. Pero ningún otro director británico retrató mejor la cultura popular de la postguerra, la alegría de los momentos mundanos y la crueldad de las convencios sociales como Davies. Privilegió la mirada de los niños y las mujeres, pero también dio protagonismo a su ciudad natal, Liverpool. Davies dio voz a su homosexualidad al igual que a su fe religiosa. Prodigó finales felices y despiadados por igual. Escribió historias originales, con grandes tintes autobiográficos, pero también fue un eficaz adaptador de novelas; no en balde, hizo dos películas sobre eminentes poetas. Terence Davies amplió los horizontes del cine británico al tiempo que hizo películas personales y conmovedoras. QEPD.
Terence Davies (1945-2023) was the greatest living British director. He didn't have the commercial success of John Boorman or the festival recognition of Ken Loach. But no other British director portrayed post-war popular culture, the joy of mundane moments and the cruelty of social conventions better than Davies. He privileged the gaze of children and women, but also gave prominence to his hometown, Liverpool. Davies gave voice to his homosexuality as well as his religious faith. He lavished happy and merciless endings alike. He wrote original stories, with great autobiographical overtones, but he was also an effective adapter of novels; not in vain, he filmed two biopics about eminent poets. Terence Davies expanded the horizons of British cinema while making personal and moving films. RIP.
#Terence Davies#The Long Day Closes#The House of Mirth#The Deep Blue Sea#Sunset Song#Benediction#A Quiet Passion#Death and Transfiguration#Children#Liverpool#Madonna and Child#emily dickinson#Wilfred Owen#movies#Distant Voices Still Lives
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Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) Directed by Terence Davies.
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TERENCE DAVIES (1945-Died October 7th 2023,at 77). British screenwriter, film director, and novelist. He is best known as the writer and director of autobiographical films, including Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988), The Long Day Closes (1992) and the collage film Of Time and the City (2008), as well as the literary adaptations The Neon Bible (1995), The House of Mirth (2000), The Deep Blue Sea (2011), and Sunset Song (2015). His final two feature films were centered around influential literary figures, Emily Dickinson in A Quiet Passion (2016) and Siegfried Sassoon in Benediction (2021). Davies was widely hailed by critics as one of the greatest British directors of his creative period. Terence Davies - Wikipedia
#Terence Davies#British Film Directors#Film Directors#Distant Voices Still Lives#The Deep Blue Sea#Notable Deaths in October 2023#Notable Deaths in 2023
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British screenwriter, film director, and novelist Terence Davies (November 10, 1945 – October 7, 2023)
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#distant voices still lives#freda dowie#pete postlethwaite#angela walsh#dean williams#lorraine ashbourne#terence davies#1988
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De las películas británicas más originales que he visto: Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988), dirigida por Terence Davies.
Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) dir. Terence Davies
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Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) ------------------------------------ dir. Terence Davies cin. William Diver, Patrick Duval cou. UK
#distant voices still lives#terence davies#1988 films#british cinema#freda dowie#pete postlethwaite#angela walsh#william diver#patrick duval#BFI Top 100 British films
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(Going insane boinkinh one AU in my head)
Hey hey hey
May I interest you in
(Slowly slides my FaaF AU towards you but void just Disappears without a trace one day before the accolade)
Teehee
#thylacines can talk#faaf au#i love this au very yummy. a very fun twist on how Flower's dynamic with their parents would progress afterwards#the vessels live but the void exits their bodies in quite a violent manner (extreme pain and literally throwing up an entire person worth of#void). Flower was on guard duty and theyre found barely conscious in a pool of rapidly evaporating void. passes out seconds later#PK also had the displeasure of experiencing extene pain and burning as void forced its way out through his skin <3 And his moulds all melted#and evaporated. after the initial shock wears off theyre hit with “Oh No#the vessel“ and rush to find them. Well somebody else was already looking for the royal pair about this#Flower wakes up dazed and in pain in their father's workshop. their stomach hurts their throat burns and they feel lightheaded. the entire#place is considerably brighter than they remember and in they can hear two faint voices in the background but theyre too preoccupied with#examining their now pure white hand in shock to focus on anything else. until they hear their mother say “My wyrm they're awake” and#suddenly their parents are by their side. Now the two have no idea what void leaving their body might have done to them. Are they still#hollow? are they still dead? do they understand anything are they sentient? or was what was done pernament even without the void? do they#have the mind of a child if their sentience was restored? or do they remember anything? So WL stays by their side and helps them sit up#while their father goes to grab his tools. She's trying to keep them calm and comfort them but theyre still too disoriented to pay her much#attention. Until their father checks their breathing and they yelp audibly from the cool metal contacting their skin and suddenly they seem#much more alert. theyve never experienced true coldness before. PK quickly apologises and tries to be gentler with them. Theyre breathing#properly and they have a heartbeat. And he just pauses for a long while just. listening to their heart beating. Many emotions to be had#after the exam's over he asks them point blank how theyre feeling. And Flower looks up at him still seeming a little disoriented. and then#they lower their hand to their stomach and mutter 'My tummy hurts...a-and my throat burns'. It's to be expected after the way the void#left their body. so he goes to grab them some water and meds and they also ask for food and a mirror. And after he returns they just stare#at themself in the mirror and pull on their bangs for a while then blurt out 'I have your eyes' when PK asks if everything's okay. And he#and he almost chokes up as he replies 'Yeah...Yeah you do'. Flower eventually spins a lie that they remember everything but its all distant#and blurry. Like they were not aware until now. They figured it'd be better to not break their hearts#And now the three have to figure out how to be a family while PK is also scrambling to find a new solution to the infection#oops i meant to only give a brief rundown in the tags which is why it was in the tags. but i got too invested KDHDKFB
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Idk man if you're constantly talking about your crushing loneliness and feelings of being ostracised and left out when you ostensibly have a bunch of friends around you then maybe the feelings of loneliness aren't the problem there
#i would always feel really empty and distant and 'act out' after our hangouts#and i always framed it as like 'i get the high when i'm around people and then i crash afterwards'#and didn't really consider that maybe sitting in a vc for 4 hours feeling left out while other people have fun is just soul sucking#it was always framed as my behaviour that was the problem. 'you did this and you did that.' so i just kinda internalized that#if i felt like shit it must be my fault. everybody knows i'm the one who causes problems so i'm just causing more problems#if i say that something made me uncomfortable and the response is 'i wont make accomodations and how dare you even ask' it must be my fault#idk. we filled out consent forms in the game i'm really not excited to play and i was reminded that nobody ever asked my consebt#and when i tried to advocate for myself and voice that i wasn't consenting it was treated like i was causing problems by trying to say that#and i saw that as a reasonable reaction at the time cause i had been so deeply convinced that i was broken and horrible#that if i was trying to revoke my consent or even just negotiate it then i was ruining everything for everybody else#that if i was uncomfortable with what was going on i needed to just shut up and live with it#i wish i had realized that and dropped out months ago. maybe that could have preserved some semblance of my relationships with those people#far too late for that now. i'm trying to accept that#and all that effort was wasted anyway#i tried to say once that i was putting in a massive amount of effort and i felt like nobody was recognizing that fact#and i still kind of feel that way#i put hours of mental energy into trying to be enough for people who kept demanding more from me and kept giving me less in return#did that do me any good or did it just cause me 3 months of grief and an empty bank account from therapy?#the problem is that i still wish things had turned out better even though i know i had no control over that#if i had kept advocating for myself it just would have been over far faster. i guess that might have spared me a bit of money#if i tried to talk about the problems it would have just been dismissed with some quick quippy therapy phrase amounting to 'not my fault'#we're already living in the universe where i put all my effort into changing in the ways i was told to change and look how well that went#idk. the attitude was never 'let's fix the problems.' it was always 'you need to fix it.' and then when i did it was#'now there's a new problem. fix that one too. and this one. and that one.'#and to do all that work for somebody and then be told they thought you never even cared about them. man it just stings#idk. it's in the past now. but i can't build new relationships. i'm trying and it's impossible#i try meeting new people and they all suck. i try strengthening relationships with old people and they all get too busy or leave.#the only reason i post these things on tumblr is cause i don't have anybody else to talk to about it#the only person i could talk to has their own shit going on. there really just isn't anybody else#personal
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i listened to a podcast where the guest comedian was raised irish catholic and he talked about how he doesn’t think he ever believed in god or hell or anything, he didn’t even think about it, it was more about the pageantry and the rhythm and routine and that is so relatable i’ve never heard anyone else put that into words
#talking about how no one even talked about heaven or hell or the devil etc#also said he loves the campness of it#ME#AND he stated distant voices still lives as his most relatable film .#which would also be my answer to that question
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Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) dir. Terence Davies Babylon (2022) dir. Damien Chazelle
#Distant Voices Still Lives#Babylon#1980s#2020s#period drama#gif#michi#filmedit#usergina#albertserra#filmtag#usercinema#userlenny#userlenie#userteri#usertom#userrobin#useralex#henricavyll
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i love the architects sm. their music is so good
#🌙.rambles#ty ffxiv for introducing me to them#I LOVE SAM CARTER'S VOICE SM ILL CRY#from the screams n oh my god he sings metal rlly well#but then h. his voice is like. an angel too#like. particularly rn one song in my head w that soft voice i love so much is#'death is absolutely safe'#listening to 'death is not defeat' for the first time rn. oh my god. his voice#THE LYRICS R SO GOOD I'LL CRY HAHA#n the msuic too. the isntruments the strings there n the metal.. eprfection#peffection#PERFECTION 🥹🫶🏼#raghh i love the architects sm#from memento mori n learn to live. n like. dead butterflies / animals / black lungs / meteor#flight without feathers / death is absolutely safe / doomsday / a match made in heaven / the distant blue#mortality.. is probably smth i think abt on a daily basis#like even when i was younger. idk maybe it's bcs of the stories i read#gosh one of my fav books ever is still the giver. that influenced me so much#i love music sm#existence / heaven help us specifically have smth w rhe composition that melts me heart sm#hfkshfksjfs music.. these songs r so good i love them so very much#OH YEAH THE ARCHITECTS BTW THEY THEY ADVOCATE FOR STUFF TOO. I LOVE THEM SO VERY MUCH#i'm very passionate abt climate change n yk sam carter the frontman n singer of the architects#dogs !!!! animals !!!!! c:#the rest of the members like. ah.. yeah the twins. sorry wait i'll get emotional if i think of them but#their lyrics rlly r so meaningful. n i love the mixture of compassion n viscousness they have in a way#it's just. heavy. whether it's about mortality of people or of the earth. n sam's voice delivers it so well. n the band's jsut rlly so good#n the.. twins.. w the lyrics? iirc sob n then just. thre rest of the band. music's so good. n then. sam speaks out on stuff too iirc#I JUST. REALLY APPRECIATE THEM SO MUCH. ONE OF MY FAV BANDS FR.#random thought i will read more edgar allan poe. i always rmb that wnvr i listen to animals bcs dream within a dream 🥹🫶🏼
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Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) Directed by Terence Davies.
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tap out.
simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.
based on this.
simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.
in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.
but simon is an orphan now.
there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.
over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.
the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.
he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.
maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.
no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.
still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.
then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.
it’s you.
you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.
you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.
—you. you. you.
and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.
he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.
you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.
he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.
and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.
with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.
then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.
in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.
his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.
‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.
his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.
you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’
and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.
. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley blurbs#simon riley headcanons#simon riley x reader#task force 141#simon ghost riley blurbs#simon ghost riley headcanons#simon ghost riley headcanon#angst#simon riley fanfiction#ghost headcanons#ghost cod#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost angst#cod ghost#cod fanfic#simon riley x you#call of duty ghost#simon ghost riley x you
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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER
october 1st. theodore — size kink, big dick.
KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | 2024.
summary: there’s a rumour going around that theodore nott has a big dick…..why not see it for yourself?
warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, hogwarts uni (obviously), big dick!theo, size difference, size kink ofc, fingering, PIV, dirty talk, slowish sex, put on your fantasy cap for this one bc it’s a little wild, also, anyone know any wheelchair providers?
How the hell did you end up here? How had a night meant for celebration, for laughter and drinks and the triumph of a Quidditch victory, lead to this—
Fevered kisses, teeth clashing—your breath catching in the dim, muted glow of Theodore Nott's dorm—spine pressed against his door as his lips attacked yours, moving to your neck with a hunger that had your knees weak. There was a party, still alive somewhere down the hall, warmth spilling into the corridors, the echo of cheers and laughter floating past—but it was all a distant memory now. All of it blurred, lost in the way Theo's hands roamed over your hips, tugging you closer like he was starved.
Oh, right—the rumours.
Rumours have always had a way of creeping into places they don't belong. A whisper here, a careless word there. Stupid little fires, barely a spark until someone fans the flames. You've seen it before—how a single rumour can grow, how it can warp a simple night into something bigger. Something chaotic.
And now, well, you're living it.
Curiosity was what pulled you into his orbit tonight, what sparked the embers that had been burning between you two for far too long. Because Pansy Parkinson—loud, exaggerative, and far-too-tipsy—couldn't resist spilling some gossip mid-party, something about Daphne, something about Theodore and nine goddamn inches.
You know, the usual Quidditch post-match talk.
And it should have been nothing. It should have got lost in all the other Slytherin boy ramblings but instead, it stuck. Gods, it fucking stuck. Pansy's little comment sparked the fire in you, a fire that led to a conversation over drinks, your hand grazing his, and before you knew it, you were leaning into Theodore Nott at the punch bowl, asking questions you had no blasted right asking, yet went ahead and did anyways.
Something about...well—
"You've heard, then," he'd replied, voice low as those blue eyes watched you over the rim of his glass.
It wasn't a question. It was a challenge. For all the audacity you had—Theodore had just as much.
"I have," you leaned closer, your voice almost teasing as you whispered against the curve of his ear. "Big rumours, Teddy...huge, even."
He tensed, just slightly, the kind of reaction you noticed only because you were watching him so closely. You're pretty sure he wasn't expecting something like that to come out of your mouth—and you couldn't blame him, because truthfully, you weren't expecting it either.
That was, what you'd like to call, the point of no return.
There was a response from him. Something cocky enough—something like; "and do you make a habit of believing everything you hear?"
"Not everything," you said with a shrug, though your heart was in your fucking throat. "But I'm open to proof."
There weren't very many words exchanged after that—maybe some slight teasing—maybe another brush of his hand—but Theo was never a man to waste time, and it was clear that whatever curiosity you held for him had bubbled up now—heady and bold—and created a mess between you that couldn’t be contained.
The party, the victory, the cheers—it all became static as his hand slipped around your waist, his lips at your ear in a whisper. "Then let's put these rumours to rest."
You barely had the chance to nod before Theodore moved—grabbing your wrist and moving you through the crowd like you were something to be expedited, the sea of students parting before him. Pansy spotted you leaving, her eyes gleaming as she threw you a wicked smile and a drunken thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, smirking back, but everything else blurred into the background as Theodore led you out of the common room, and before you knew it, you were inside his dorm.
The door slammed shut behind you, the cold surface meeting your back before his lips found yours—urgent, consuming. His hands moved with purpose, sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head before you even realized what was happening. His own shirt followed, discarded carelessly onto the floor as he pressed his body against yours.
The memory blurred as the urgency of the present took over. You gasped at the feel of him, his entirety—hard, aching, massive. The outline of him was impossible to ignore, the mere suggestion of what was to come already making your heart pound wildly in your chest.
The rumours had seemed absurd at first, but now...now, they felt terrifyingly real. He was huge.
"Tell me," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your lips as his fingers worked deftly at removing your skirt. "About those rumours..."
Your head fell back against the door, exposing the line of your throat as his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Whimpering, you caressed his shoulders, up his neck, finding his hair, fingers teasing the warm, hidden shell of his ears. At this, his back crested, and he moaned, pitching forward, hips working to fuse you with the door.
"I—I heard..." you tried to speak, but his mouth was on your neck, and the words tangled in your throat. "Gods—something about...nine inches..."
Theo hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, sending blood pooling low. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his lips hovering over yours, his breath hot and heavy as he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up—carrying you toward his bed.
"What else." He muttered against your mouth.
"Daphne..." you panted, barely able to think straight with the way he was touching you, the way he was looking at you. "She...she said she couldn't take it all..."
"And if I say that's true?" He rasped, laying you down onto his comforter. "What then?"
A shiver shook you from the base of your spine, and you curled your legs around him, core clenching hard—he sprawled over you, his body massive—engulfing yours, roving his hands up and down your bare thighs as his lips left wet, warm kisses across your breasts, teeth digging into the sheer fabric of your bra—you were gasping, whimpering under him, your chest rising and falling so rapidly you'd think you'd ran a marathon.
"Gods—that's...an odd question, Teddy..." your hips bucked, seeking his touch, and he grazed your pussy over your underwear, thumb ghosting your clit through the fabric. You squeaked, and he silenced you with his mouth, tugging at the fabric until he'd fit his thick fingers under the hem. "Are you...mm..asking if I can handle it?"
"Fucking soaked already," Theo peeled away, gasping, watching you as he slid a digit through your hot slit, his breath hitching. "Yes—I'm asking if you can handle it."
"Fuck—I don't—I don't know..." he dragged a slickened finger over your clit—you quivered, biting your lip until you found your words. "Only one way to find out."
"You're right," he breathed, swirling his finger, your body pulsing underneath him—every nerve within you roaring to life. "I'll be easy on you...I'll go slow..." his thumb took over, his middle and fourth finger teasing your entrance, lips hovering over your ear. "Let's stretch you out first."
"I—" you began, and he plunged into you. "—fuck."
Theo crooked his fingers in your cunt, eyes focused on your flushing face, the flow of your moans, his breath shallow as you clenched and pulsed around him. His thumb traced rapid little lines around your swollen clit, two long fingers filling you full. He wet his lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a brief kiss as he snapped his wrist, curling and scissoring inside of you. His hips rocked with his rhythm, and you caught sight of his erection straining against his jeans—
"Tight little thing," he growled, head dipping low as he watched his fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. "I might fucking break you."
He jutted his erection against your thigh and you moaned, clenching around him. "Mm—Theo—"
His eyes followed yours toward his crotch—you couldn't help yourself, your fingers burned to feel him—to stroke him—to feel the weight of him in your hand. He nodded, and amidst your gasps and moans you reached for him, grasping at his zipper and undoing the button, tugging his jeans and boxers down his thighs—
Theo groaned and your mouth watered. Those rumours—Gods, those fucking rumours—
"Fucking hell—" you breathed, wrapping your fingers around his thick, heavy cock—he choked, digits pumping you deep—your thighs shook, your pulse in your throat. You tightened your fist and stroked him, watching him from half-lidded eyes. "Theo—holy fuck.."
His lungs sputtered. "That enough proof for you, Bella?"
You nodded and he throbbed—twitched under your grip, blood biting his cheeks when you coated his head with the bead of his pre-cum, his breath uneven, tattered from the weight of lust—but so was yours.
You moaned. "Oh—Gods—I'm—"
Theo circled your stiff nub, pumping his fingers into your pussy, and pleasure wracked you, pouring into your pulse, your orgasm charging toward you at light speed—his lips found yours, softly, muffling your moans.
"You're close, I can feel it..." he muttered against your mouth, fingers dragging at your walls, groaning as you clenched—as your free hand gripped his hair harder. "Cum on my fingers, Bella, go on..."
You shuddered and snapped—pleasure pulsating from your core and through your limbs, your orgasm lighting up your spine. In its intensity, you bit at his bottom lip while your cunt clamped down around his fingers, a feral energy coursing—the need for more—the need for every goddamn thing he was willing to give you eating away at your sanity—all coherent thought gone, only dissipating further as Theo pulled his fingers from your soaked cunt and sucked them clean with a growl.
"As fucking delicious as I'd imagined," he cooed, drifting his other hand up your thigh, fingers kneading the trembling flesh. You swallowed, lungs still working to find their rhythm. "I don't think you have any idea how long l've wanted this...any idea what you do to me..."
Gods—you almost wanted to laugh—this felt like a fever dream. You'd been friends for years, the fact it took this to get you both here was astonishing. His blue eyes peered down at you—wide and waiting.
"Look at you," you muttered, eyes dipping down to his throbbing dick, still twitching insistently in your hand. "I think I know exactly what I do to you."
Theo snuffed a groan in his throat, but his cock twitched again, despite himself—there was no preventing that.
"Cocky as ever," he whispered, lips curling in a teasing grin. "But now's not the time, principessa..."
"I can handle you," you breathed out, though a tremor in your voice hinted at the uncertainty you felt.
"We'll see." He said. "Lay on your side."
With a flush creeping up your neck, you complied, turning to face the window. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a silver sheen over the rippling surface of the Black Lake. Theo moved behind you, his body flush against yours, the slickness of sweat making your skin cling together—one arm slipped beneath your head, cradling it, while the other slid under your thigh, lifting it with a deliberate, practiced motion.
His dick slid against you, the girth daunting enough if not for the sheer fucking length of it—his body was massive behind yours, dwarfing you, a solid wall of heat at your back. You'd never felt so small, so fragile in a way that screamed breakable.
Theo teased your slit, covering himself in your juices—
"Just the tip, yeah?" He whispered, and fuck—you almost moaned. His voice was ruined. "For now."
"Theo—I—I think I can handle it..." you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. You wanted him to enjoy himself, too. "Just…fuck me, please.."
"Merlin help you..." Theo groaned and it almost sounded pitying—dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit before dipping lower, pressing against the folds of your greedy cunt— "you don't know what you're saying..."
His arm under your head curled inward, wrapping around your neck and holding you in place against him—his other hand guiding his length to your entrance and pressing in—shushing you softly as the first inch breached you and you cried out—as your mind blanked.
"Theo—" you gasped through the chokehold he had you in, his free hand holding your thigh up as it trembled. "That's—you're—fuck—"
He pulled out and rocked along you again, testing you, offering you centimeters of his length at time. Gooseflesh flooded you.
His lips pressed against your ear. "Shhh, you said you could handle me, yeah?"
His hand on your thigh shifted lower, resting on the crease. He rutted against you a few more times, dragging this out for everything it was worth until he brought the tip back to your entrance and pushed in—slowly, inexorably—spearing you open, splitting your cunt and prying you wide in a way that rid your breath.
You whimpered, hand scrambling for purchase on his hip behind you. "Ohhh—h-holy fuck.."
"Fucking hell...you're tight..." his arm around your neck tightened, holding you against him and he pressed in deeper. "That's barely half..."
You fought for air and found absolutely none, every muscle in your body tensing, your limbs trembling, your mind fizzing with staticky pleasure. You felt as though you could break in two.
"Fuck," he drew out again, and pressed back in. "You can barely take it."
He was right. You could barely fucking take it. A revelation that you weren’t surprised by—but that made all the blood in your body pool low, walls fluttering around him in protest.
"Gods, Theo—T-theo—" you grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, eyes squeezed shut. "Wait—"
"Little more...you're doing so good, Bella..." he was cooing now, pressing kisses to your cheek. "I'll make it fit...we'll make it fit, won't we?"
You couldn't find a fucking modicum of sense to articulate a response. All you could do was feel—take and feel—the way he slid out, only to drive into you again, slowly, with a hiss of air through his teeth—drawing out loud, shameless groans from your chest.
"Mmm—breathe, Bella..." it was soft, soothing, like he was trying to coax you open with words. "Relax for me, yeah? Let me in...let me in..."
You obeyed without even thinking, pulling in shaky breaths, forcing your body to comply, even as your muscles screamed to stay tense—to fight the overwhelming fullness of him. You felt as though he couldn't possibly get deeper, but then he did, and he continued to until he bottomed out—his cockhead kissing your cervix, forcing a sound out of your chest that was more a sob than a moan.
Your eyes were shut so tight. "That's—"
"All of me," he interrupted, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, barely pulling out before pushing back in, and your whole body clenched in response. "Does it hurt?"
Every movement proved indefinitely that he was as long as he was thick—your core stretching to accommodate him. You felt him in places you'd never felt before—moulding and carving you out just for him, digging out new space inside you that only he could occupy.
"A little—“ the words were a whimper, and your walls tightened around him instinctively, fighting to adjust, to accommodate the impossible size of him. “Gods—“
"Then why are you making it worse?" He hissed through his teeth, strain bleeding into his tone. You could hear the shift—wrecked, ruined, like he was barely holding onto himself. "Fuck, you're squeezing me...too tight...relax.."
He pulled out and thrust back in, harder this time, sucking in air through his teeth as he worked you wider with each plunge into your soaked cunt. Your body rebelled, clenching down around him again, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you, his hips snapping against yours in response.
"That's not going to make it easier, you know." His voice was a tight growl, but there was a grin in it, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Keep that up and I'm going to leave you sore all day."
The thought made you clench again, your body betraying you as a broken apology fell from your lips—pain giving way to pleasure. "I'm—ohh—sorry-"
"Oh, you're going to be sorry." His pace quickened and you were seeing stars—bright and flashing and blurring your vision. "When you're spending all day in bed tomorrow...recovering..."
It only took seconds before he was grunting behind you—lost in your tight heat as he held you against him, hooking your thigh up toward your chest as his arm tightened around your neck, cock ramming your cunt—colliding with your cervix, pushing screams from your lungs. You couldn't think—couldn't catch your breath as he drove into you over and over.
"Fuck—so good…so fucking wet..." Theo moaned, the sound of his cock slippery and lewd, broadcasting evidence of your arousal. Face on fire, you tossed your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes, chewing your lip, rocking with the force of his strokes. “You like that—being filled like this...greedy little thing..."
You whinged; he was boring into your stomach, delight gushing through your veins. You had never been with a man this endowed, and this fucking ruthless. It made you throb, set you aflame, whirled your brain with desire. Words eluded you.
"Ohh—yes,” you choked out between moans. "Gods—you're huge—"
"I am," he groaned in your ear, the hand on your thigh shifting to your belly, palm pressing against your pelvis—he eased his pace, offering you deep, slow strokes, letting you spasm around every goddamn inch. "That's how deep I'm in you."
At that, you moaned, shamelessly. Cocky bastard he was. You knew now that he was more than entitled to it.
"Can...fuck—can I cum in you?" His fingers slipped to your clit, slowly swirling over it—you didn't even have a second to process that question before the pleasure wracked you so hard you cried out, and he growled. "Fuck—let me cum in you...in this pretty little cunt.."
Somewhere in the blur, you registered his words—low, rough, pulling at the frayed edges of your sanity. Contraceptives. You were on them. It was the last rational thought you had left, buried deep under layers of heat and want. You knew you were fine, but the way he asked, in that voice—Gods—
His fingers increased their pace and you wailed. "Theo—holy f-fuck—yes—yes please!"
Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt throbbed and milked his dick, your thighs twitching, and your back reached for the wall but his arm around you kept you in place, pleasure possessing your nerves. It seemed an eternity—he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, and then he shattered too—breath washing over the back of your neck, chest heaving and lungs sputtering as he spilled his release into you, deep and sticky and hot.
You were still floating between realms of sensation and reality—your mind struggling to tether itself back to consciousness when Theo finally pulled out, releasing you. Both of you were heaving, chests rising and falling in tandem, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.
A moment passed, your breaths slowly steadying, when you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you effortlessly against his chest. You shot him a weak, lopsided smile over your shoulder, still catching your breath.
"You okay?" He murmured, his voice a quiet hum in the afterglow.
"More than," you nodded, though your body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure. A hollow ache replaced where he'd been, leaving you startlingly aware of how empty you felt without him. "That was...you are...
"I know," he purred, lips grazing the sensitive spot behind your ear, the smirk practically carved into his breath. You could feel his smugness radiating off him, a tangible thing. "Hope your curiosity was sated."
You let out a breathy laugh, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. "That, among other things."
"Good," he whispered, "I went easy on you."
You huffed, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Is that so?"
"Extremely so," he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip. "Took all the willpower I had."
"Sure," you teased. "You're just saying that because I took you so well."
He chuckled, low and sinful, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your spine.
"Oh, she's cocky," he drawled, lips brushing your shoulder. "We'll see about that after I put you in ten different positions."
Your heart stuttered, your muscles tensing at the sheer boldness of the statement. Heat pooled in your belly once more, that insatiable curiosity sparking again. You knew this night was far from over.
Perhaps a little more proof wouldn’t hurt...
You turned your head just slightly, voice breathy but wanting. "Please do."
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