#but cont: remember all of those moments vividly

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[acesgayhusband]

Closer cont.

Pt 1

Warnings: Cunnilings, overstimulation, the nickname ‘princess’, reader has undefined feelings for Sanji, fem!reader

An: I got SUPER inspired for this out of nowhere, thanks to my one and only beta reader my friend who will remain unnamed unless they otherwise ask for their input!

“Follow me for a moment, I have something to ask you.” Was all Sanji said as he walked out of the kitchen, knowing full well you’d follow him. He led you straight to his room and opened the door, letting you walk in and making sure no one saw it happen before he followed in after you.

“God what is it now, this better be important.” Crossing your arms and looking him up and down. He almost seemed…. Nervous? ‘Oh god please don’t come out and say anything stupid. ‘ You thought to yourself. But he didn’t.

He hesitated for a moment before simply asking his question. “This is gonna sound really abrupt and stupid but can I.. can I eat you out?”

If you were eating anything you would have choked on it. He wanted to eat you out? “I thought our deal was clothes on?” That was what you had told him, you remembered it vividly.

“Okay, but my clothes would stay on, and you wouldn’t have to do anything. If I’m honest? This just sounds like a win for you.” He said as he lit a cigarette, cupping the flame of his lighter so that it made it glow around his face.

Well… it really did, honestly it just sounded like a loss for Sanji. “So then, why do you want to do it?” I mean… did he want you to suck him off in the future?

“Oh, I just think it’s hot.” He shrugged as he blew smoke out of his mouth. “That, and the fact that I’m kinda getting tired of always being behind you while we’re grinding, a front facing view is better.”

Those were both two really shitty lies and you could tell, but you weren’t gonna call him out on it.

“Alright, well um.” Was all you could mutter out before he pushed you back onto his bed. “You know our word, you can also tell me to stop if you don’t want this.” He said as he took his jacket off and threw it somewhere on the floor.

You quickly attempted to shuffle out of your pants but he stopped you with his free hand, the other one putting the cigarette out in an ashtray on his nightstand. “I got it, just relax.” Was all you were told as he pulled your pants down the rest of the way.

Putting two of his fingers up to your clothed pussy and feeling your wetness that seeped through. “Man, got you all wet just from an offer? That’s a first in my book.” Chuckling a little bit as he pushed you further up on his bed before climbing on.

Nestling his face between your thighs he gently licked your panties to test the waters, and he finally heard you make a noise, a small whine. But you had been practically gagging yourself in the two of yours past encounters so it was better than before.

That was at least one of the real reasons he wanted to do this, he wanted to hear all the delicious noises you weren’t sharing with him.

Wrapping his fingers around the waistband of your panties he pulled them off of you before finding himself right back inbetween your thighs, blowing hot air onto your cunt.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows as he did so, you bit your lip trying to suppress any other noises you made, but he quickly noticed and tried to put a stop to it. “Don’t hold anything back, I doubt anyone’s gonna hear us.”

Running your hands through his hand as you admired the view, you nodded at him before you felt him lick your clit. Just once, but god now you were shivering in anticipation.

“Sanji…” you lightly moaned out, watching his eyes move to look up at you. “Yes, princess?” God you hated that nickname, but you’d tolerate it for now.

“Please.. more, want it so bad.” Raising an eyebrow at you, he sighed. “Telling me you ‘want it so bad’ could mean anything, care to elaborate?”

Honestly, no! You didn’t! So you gripped onto his hair and pushed his face into your cunt and grinded into his face a little bit, hoping he’d catch the hint. And he did.

He started licking and sucking at your clit, gently pulling it between his teeth every now and then. Causing you to throw your head back and moan. Fuck, no one had ever done this for you, and he actually wasn’t horrible at it. “S-Sanji!” You threw your head back up as you felt something prod at your entrance.

He looked back up at you and pulled away for a second and lifted up his right hand, you could see a little bit of your own slick on his pointer finger. “I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“N-No no. It’s fine.. I just was caught off guard. I trust you.” You both paused for a moment and he laughed a little bit. “I appreciate it, Princess. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” You laid your head back down before you felt a lick from your core to your clit as Sanji started back up on making your little cunt cream.

Sticking his pointer in your core and beginning to pump it in and out, he started to grind on the bed to attempt to get himself off, honestly he’d probably cum just from eating you out.

“Oh god I’m so sorry.. can. Can you add another?” You said inbetween moans, obviously referring to his fingers, he smiled against you and nodded, adding his middle finger into pumping your core.

Everything was too much, you were gonna cum, you were thrashing around under him as you felt it creep up on you. You felt so bad that you were the only one getting off, moaning and whining at everything he did to abuse your pussy.

When you came, you clamped your thighs around his head and threw your head back, back arching from the pleasure.

He stopped and watched as a thin white ring made its way all around his fingers once you let him go, watching how your walls squeezed his fingers as if it were his cock.

Then he continued his ministrations, causing you to push yourself completely up. “S-Sanji!” You nearly yelled at he curled his fingers inside you repeatedly, clearly trying to work another orgasm out of you. He replaced his mouth with his thumb and smirked up at you. “C’mon, you can let it go.”

You tried so unbelievably to not snap instantly, but it was all in vain, as soon as he rubbed against a certain spot in you, it was over. You thrashed around at the overstimulation and the gross wet sound that came from him working you through your orgasm made your cheeks flush.

Once you calmed down from your high, you felt his fingers leave you. Small gasps coming from you as you’d nearly felt the air leave your lungs.

“Holy shit…” Was all that came from you as you covered your eyes with your arm. Too embarrassed to look him in the eyes as he had just made you cum twice in absolutely no time at all.

Pushing yourself up onto your feet with shaky legs, you pulled your panties and pants on before sitting back on the bed, cringing slightly at the feeling of your own cum in your underwear.

Feeling an arm wrap around your waist as you got pulled back down onto the bed, your head fell on Sanji’s shoulder. “Maybe don’t leave yet, people would definitely know something was up if you walked out with how you’re walking now.” He smiled as he lit another cigarette and took a long drag out of it.

“Alright, but they’re gonna know somethings up when I smell like cigarettes.” You laughed a little and snuggled into him a bit further as he pulled the covers over the both of you.

The second reason he wanted to try this, so he could hopefully get you snuggled up next to him when he destroyed your cunt with nothing more than his fingers.

[saiakv]

cont. from x : @metancy

THE MIRACLE OF LIFE TAKES FORM before their very eyes; a squiggle in the petri dish that would suffice to delude the common man into thinking he is god. Do it once, twice; a dozen times — until the palpitation in the quietude before a new creature wakes ceases, the grip of excitement in watching it grow quickly forgotten. The failed expreriments mount a pile in the room's corner, lifeless and discarded with their eyes still open ( under-developed, no more than bags of flesh held in vague unvarnished shapes by the cursed energy stored within them ) It is a pile that keeps growing, as Noritoshi Kamo's research is inching towards its fateful conclusion.

The subjects are wasting away as half-breeds, deteriorating more and more with each try — each more decomposed and rotten than the one that came before it. And the woman whose unique trait had darkly excited them once, is counting her days. There's a gnawing frustration brewing within Kenjaku that resembles the blood roiling in the testing tubes they hide behind — so when a knock on the lab door stirs him from his thoughts, Noritoshi's voice comes sharp, honed by that long forsaken sentiment that has visited them anew.

Glassy eyes peer over the neatly arranged bottles and bibliography to examine the sole result that may yet hold value; first of nine, the half-curse 'Choso'. For one thing, it is the only one that has displayed some level of conscience; the only one that still poses some interesting questions. Does that conscience comes from the cursed energy Kenjaku has gifted from his own soul, or the physical mind Choso inherited from his mother? Where every memory from lives and offspring past has abandoned them after living in this man's body for so long, the day of Choso's birth is still vividly carved in the mind; for it was the one day that Kenjaku experienced some fleeting gratification and that first cry of life from Choso had inspired the birth of his eight siblings as well. All in all; he was the firstborn. And he was favored.

And that was why he was allowed to hover at the door of Noritoshi's study and interrupt him with redundant information about his dying mother. In other times, before Kechizu was born, he would have rushed to her aid. But after that devastating disappointment, he realized nothing better would come out of that woman. So, he settled for testing what would come, if anything. Until it couldn't come anymore.

His eyes roll back to the notes sprawled between his hands without expression. The silence is cold, as there is nothing there to connect them; no bond that could tense or break under the weight of animosity exuded from Choso in that moment. But it is very much perceived. The slight shift of motion under the fabrics ( Kenjaku has allowed him to dress, albeit wanting to monitor his shape and growth, if only because he wanted to explore the peculiar bond between Choso and his mother — see if there's more to it than the instinct of something that was brought into light to creep back into the darkness from which it came ) A note of curiosity creeps into Noritoshi's brow with the delay in response and the way he can distinguish a restraint in Choso's voice. Verbal comprehension, visual and spatial perception, working memory — he has yet to test Eso's intelligence, but that response begs a question of whether Choso ( who they have already concluded, is capable of fluid reasoning as well ) could be capable of more complex emotional responses...

He's not entirely human. And he's not entirely curse. And yet — he clenches his fist under the gifted garment and Noritoshi's eye witholds the rekindled spark of curiosity when it meets those bloodshot ones on his offspring.

❝ Choso. ❞ The tone is somber, but soft. Summoning, but not inviting. It's called in the way he would call him if he had remembered a last minute thing to add — as Noritoshi often did, witholding the most important information for when he was already with one hand on the doorhandle. He doesn't move from the desk, the distance between them never bridged. And so the question comes off as alarmingly tranquil.

❝ Are you... angry with me? ❞

[0dayvulnerability]

the protector:

                “That’d be almost funny, kiddo, if it weren’t the actual fucking truth with you. Not that I’m expecting you to actually partake in any of the new year celebrations, even if you kind of deserve a moment for it. Jesus, we all fucking deserve a big drink to say a great big FUCK YOU to the past year.”

He believed that, it had been a roller coaster of a year and Elliot needed to take a moment and watch as the new year came in. To see all the changes that had taken place, all changes that had come into effect because of HIS determination. Sure, it’d almost got him killed along the way but you couldn’t really take back the greater aspects of it all. Who knew what that machine would have done to the World. Truthfully, Mr. Robot wasn’t even sure what that fucking machine was going to do. He was kind of relieved not to find out if not a little curious but that would have to fall to the pits of his mind.

“I’d suggest our own celebrations but I’m fine sitting here with you. Maybe your New Years can be the time you actually fucking sleep. how’s that sound? I’ll be right here when you wake up, along with the brand new fucking year … and probably your sister, i don’t see Darlene going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll just watch the ball drop on TV like the golden fucking oldies do in the retirement homes.” With that said, he sat on the chair beside the hospital bed and kicked off his shoes, shoving his feet up on the bed. No matter what was going to come their way in the future, Mr. Robot was always going to be there for him.

{ @behindaccents​ || cont. }

               Somehow there’s something oddly comforting about his protector’s voice droning on, filling the space of the disturbing barren and secluded hospital room. The older alter has always seemed to like the sound of his own voice a little too much. But at the moment his rambling is doing wonders for drowning out the sounds of the hospital that Elliot’s ears can still distinguish even through the closed door. ( Is he doing it on purpose? Did he know that Elliot had attempted to make a joke because he was uncomfortable? )

              Elliot hates hospitals. He’s hated them since the day he broke his arm. He’s hated them since his dad’s Leukemia got more advanced. The man may have tried to refuse medical treatment when he was fully conscious but in those final months he had ended up in the hospital several times due to black outs from dehydration, overheating, and oxygen deprivation. He’d finally signed a Do Not Resuscitate order which had done finally done him in that night at the movie theatre. cr45h hadn’t remembered most of this but Sam did. Sam remembered their dad much more vividly than cr45h and Elliot could see it all now, the former host fragment and the amnesiac host having merged for the better. 

                                              ( Idly he wonders, does he look different to Mr. Robot now? Does Mr. Robot see one Elliot when he looks at them? Can he see both of them? The part of Elliot that is cr45h wonders if Mr. Robot has missed Sam. Sam was host for many years before cr45h’s creation. cr45h had been everything Sam was not; cr45h had fought Mr. Robot tooth and nail on nearly everything. And yet through it all there Mr. Robot was just like now, hovering close by, running his mouth like he doesn’t give a fuck when the part of Elliot that is Sam knows this is his way of showing his concern and affection for them. )

                            ❝...thanks.❞ he responds softly. He isn’t sure why he says this aloud and not in their head. Not that anyone is around to hear him or question it. It just feels like it’s more significant to say it out loud. Like this is real. He’s still coming to terms with this whole “dissociative identity disorder” thing, especially that there are more of them in their head than just him and Mr. Robot. But they’re all real, however many of them there are and he has a lot to learn. Mr. Robot knows far more than he does and Elliot is finally ready to listen to him now.

                                  That’s what the new year will be about, Elliot decides. New beginnings. For Elliot Alderson as a whole, and not just for the person answering to the body’s name.

[tipsoctopus]

The Poison Chalice: Zinedine Zidane is gone, but who will replace him at Real Madrid ?

(Feature image credit: Tasnim News Agency [CC BY 4.0 (https://ift.tt/2FjBMtd], via Wikimedia Commons)

Less than a week after winning the Champions League for the third successive year, Zinedine Zidane has resigned from his position as Real Madrid manager. With the last echo of celebratory fireworks still audible in the streets of Concha Espina and Padre Damián, Zizou has called time on his relationship with Los Blancos, ending a 17-year association with the Spanish giants.

In the hastily arranged press conference, Zidane listed his reasons for leaving, saying: “This is my decision. Maybe it’s a mistake. But I feel it’s time. If I don’t think that we can keep winning then it’s time.”

Of course, bowing out at the top is the smartest way to leave a reputation unblemished. However, it’s also one of sport’s most difficult escape routes. To sever ties at the peak of a career takes a psyche capable of conquering an ego engorging itself on success. Because of that ego, bowing out at the top in sports is a rare occurrence.

Zidane has first-hand experience of what it’s like to egress the hard way.  Zizou’s last act as a professional footballer was his infamous head-butt on Italy’s Marco Materazzi in the 2006 World Cup Final. That split-second violent act is remembered as vividly as anything the brilliant Zidane did with a football. The moment was even immortalised in bronze in central Paris as a “tribute” to the Frenchman.

Maybe the trauma suffered in Berlin was one of the major motivations behind Zidane’s decision to take his medals and run from the Santiago Bernabéu? Maybe he’s seizing the chance to walk off into the sunset instead of slinking out the back door?

As Harvey Dent said in the Dark Knight: “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain”.

Zidane was Real Madrid’s 14th manager since the turn of the millennium eighteen years ago. He played under six of those managers himself between 2001 and 2006. Zidane would have been fully aware of just how precarious his position was. There is no hot-seat at Madrid, nobody sits in it long enough for the temperature to rise.

Zidane’s competence as a football tactician has been questioned, though maybe the key to success at Real Madrid is not found on the drawing board. Maybe the key is simply maintaining a status quo within a squad of unrivalled ability. Perhaps preventing the vipers from spitting at each other while keeping them inching in the same direction is something Zidane excelled at.

But harmony can only ever be manufactured for a short time can a club like Real. Eventually the vipers will start to devour each other whole.

Cristiano Ronaldo has already been hissing in the press, two-goal hero Gareth Bale’s future is also uncertain. With Sergio Ramos, Marcelo, Luka Modric and Karim Benzema all in their early 30s, this Real team might have run its course completely. Champions League success this season just about glossed over a disastrous league campaign by their standards. Real finished 3rd and seventeen points behind Barcelona.

The impending re-build required at Real will be a turbulent one and really, who could blame Zidane for not wanting to be part of that? It could very well transpire that he has squeezed every last drop of silver out of an ageing team this season.

In calling time on his own Real Madrid career, Zidane becomes the first manager under Florentino Perez’ presidential tenure to leave the club on his own terms instead of being forcefully removed. He leaves as the first manager to win three Champions Leagues/European Cups on the trot in the competitions’ 63-year history. Nine titles in two and a bit years. 104 wins from 149 games. There are worse ways to go.

Possible Successors

Speculation about the identity of Zidane’s possible successor is already rife. The bookmakers’ early favourite is Arsene Wenger, though it feels unlikely that Perez would choose to appoint a manager who hasn’t won a domestic league title since 2004. Tottenham Hotspur’s Mauricio Pochettino’s name has also been thrown into the ring, but with the ink still wet on his new long-term deal, the timing just isn’t right.

Antonio Conte has been listed among the options available to Real, though his reductive tactical philosophy would be certain to lead to a fractious relationship with the notoriously impatient Madridistas.

The list of managerial candidates is a short and uninspiring one and following the unprecedented success Real achieved after their promoted from within, maybe some further introspection is required.

Real Madrid club legend Guti has been working with the youth teams at the club since 2013. Born in Torrejón de Ardoz, just 20km east of Madrid, Guti made over 500 appearances for his boyhood club in a career spanning fifteen years.  His status among the club’s supporters would help to offset any worries about his lack of experience. With Real’s Zidane gamble having paid off immeasurably, keeping things in-house again could make the most sense.

But maybe the most important question of all isn’t who should be chosen to take over? Maybe instead we should be asking who would actually want to take over? Who wants to follow the act that brought the house down? Who wants to be tasked with taking over an ageing squad demotivated by their own successes?  Who wants to sit on a lukewarm throne with a poison chalice? Suddenly it looks as though the biggest job in football has become the least attractive one.

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