#I'm not a massive fan of his cover compared to the original but I still adore the piano in it

[melit0n]

Apprently Vessel played his cover of Is It Really You by Loathe before Rain?? Does anybody have the clip?

[overtaken-stream]

Chrollo Lucilfer.. the devil himself

0bserve And C0nnect

Chrollo Lucilfer x F!Hunter!Reader

I'm truly sorry to the person who requested the plot because I've lost the original request, so I have been going off on this from my memory! I deeply apologize! Also it's been a long time since I have watched hxh so if this seems ooc I'm sorry for that too!

Summary: The man feels both familiar and unknown, as if he exists in the space between memories and the midnight, his effortless charm draws you in so that just a single word from him sends you spiraling into a chasm beyond madness, beyond reason—into a place where no words can truly capture what you feel.

Warnings: incorrect mechanical stuff, mild tempering of memories, untidiness.

The door makes a clicking sound as you jammed the key into the keyway, twisting it and opening the gate to the comfort of your own house. Your legs tremble as you step inside the abandoned apartment. Every breath you take is loud in the stillness of the room, like the melodies of bugs in the company of the midnight sky. The planks creak under your weight as you slowly make your way toward the bedroom, if one might call it that. You don't often see the familiar tears of dull wallpaper. Each room is devoid of a human presence. Your absence let the thin layer of dust cover each surface your eyes can see. It's not your main source of worry. The untidiness does not compare to your most shameful traits.

Quiet drips continue to fall on the metal sink, unbeknownst to your consciousness.

Nudging the door open, you're met with the sight of a mattress tossed on the ground, dented in a place where one might sit, the color worn away, just as you'd left it.

On top of it rests a closed piece of technology, a futile computer and you barely take in the sight of a tiny Ladybug USB tossed unconcernedly, the haze of liqour still in your system. The blanket is on the floor, soaking in the liquid leaking from a place only you could find it. Its clear base covering the wooden floor boards.

To anyone else it's a mess they couldn't find the beggining or the end of, to you it's a masterpiece that ever was.

Countless wires lead from it to a wall opposite the bed, and the quiet hum of hard disks and fans fills the air.

You move to sluggishly grab the USB and then take careful steps towards one of the two brains that the computer holds, remaining mindful of the wires you wouldn't want to pull. You've done this innumerable times, to the point that you can do it with your eyes closed. Perhaps a reason for this habit is the fact that ever since you built it you've never tried to move anything out of place.

No amount of intoxication can make you forget the layout of this room.

The soles of your shoes stick to the ground so everytime you take a step you can't help but grimace at the obnoxious and the disgusting sound of two different surfaces seperating.

Drip.

You get in an awkward crouching position next to the core, sticking the USB between the wall and the massive fan inside, your hands instinctively find the hidden opening.

The design of your masterpiece does not need eyes for the builder to use. The hidden crevices between metal and deadly operating systems are your playground, unlike someone who might try something.

Plugging in the USB, you sigh out the air you were withholding.

Drip.

You slugglishly make your way over to where the makeshift screen is, instructing and letting the information be sucked out and stored in the USB.

All it needs is a minute now.

Drip.

You've always known what led you to work in this profession, work in a field next to Hunters and the bottom of the barrel alike.

Every job has it's pros and cons. It just so happened that the upside to being an info-broken is the financial side, a river of money that never truly slows down and only continues forward, info-brokers such as you have to catch each banknote with a rod and a hook.

If you take a gamble you might even be able to pull out a cash strip if you're lucky.

For some, the risk of losing a livelihood is a horrifying thought, and they can't be blamed for disagreeing with the gray morality and equal exchange of this world. For you, though, the risk and money are different sides of the same golden coin.

So why don't people try their luck for once in their miserable lives?

You can't be intimidated by a couple of eyes that follow and observe your every movement, not now anyway. Years ago, you got used to them pretty quickly, made the uncomfortable gazes your turf. You won't be intimidated.

What you're doing now is just speeding up the job, wishing for it to end quickly before the case got too out of your hands.

Drip.

Many long for your sufforage, however they could never murder a valuable source of information such as you.

Including whoever was it that followed you in the bar an hour or so ago.

Drip.

You never seem ready during these situations.

A soft beep makes you snap out from the screen, making your way over to the side and unplugging the USB you let the red colored technology rest in your palm, your eyes squeezing shut as you tightly grip it's surface. You can only hope that the protection the insect symbolizes graces you and the machine you've built.

Listening to the quiet hum of the machine, mouthing along with its robotic voice as it bids you farewell.

"M. O.

N. S.

T. E.

R. at youur servii-ce."

Multi-brained Omnipresent Network System, your masterpiece.

You need a window for your next step.

(It's tough outpacing polished criminals in this day and age.)

Walking out of the room and into the kitchen, listening to the stomach-twisting noise comings from the sticky oil on your shoes, you grab at the handle, pulling back the glass and setting the tiny machine on the glass.

pressing one of the digits on a singular black dot on the USB, you watch as it snaps its wings out of hiding before softly flying to its destination.

It's only a harmless little Ladybug now.

The tap drips as you drag your feet to a wooden chair, the sound echoing in your mind. Now in an almost sober state, you sit down on it with a groan like that of an elderly man. A sigh leaves your lips as your head tilts back toward the ceiling, where the damp patches are still visible. How is it that the neighbor above still hasn't had their pipes fixed, despite it being the subject of complaints for almost a decade before your visits to this apartment became rare?

You'll have to move soon, judging from how much Jenny's one job can get you—maybe a comfortable three-bedroom apartment for you and all the extra projects you can't bring yourself to deem useless. It would be hell to reconnect MONSTER, or to rebuild it in a different house.

"Such a hassle..." Your eyes remain half-closed, the invisible mist of sleepiness overcomes your being.

(This ordeal is no joke. It would have elicited a reaction from you and left you agasp at the hands of those who watched you today, if only you weren't so drained and surrendered to laziness.)

That is, if your goddess of luck blesses you with another day to live after this encounter... Your choice to bring a double aged sword to a gun fight is a miscalculation that makes you regret ever trying the Hunters exam in the first place.

Drip.

Perhaps this is the worst decision you've made, no this is definitely the worst decision you've made. Letting in an unknown man in your house who claims to be called by your neighbor to check out the broken pipes and practically dig your own grave has never felt this stretched out nor this mentally draining.

(Build Yourself A House Out Of Straw)

You're left to watch his back as he meddles with the pipes under the tap. He's built for agility and strength, muscles showing for moments as he moves his arms and therefore flexes his shoulder. He is no pipefitter.

And you are no fool.

Leaning against the entrance with your arms crossed, you answer any questions he may have, keeping your responses brief and tight-lipped under his hidden sidelong glance. The way he talks is interesting, his expressions are unshackled as he touches on the topic of your neighbor.

"How long has this been going on? The leak is quite bad."

"For a while." You haven't been living here, and there's not a single timeline in this universe where your lazy neighbor actually called someone to fix his pipes, and what are the chances that you happened to be in your house when the plumber knocked on the door. The coincidences aren't believable.

He is natural, a professional at his job. Any unsuspecting prey may fall into his trap without even knowing it was there in the first place. He is ordinary to the point of suspicion. He is unnatural.

Thieves aren't known for their patience; you're dealing with someone worse. There's a chance you've already interacted with him, though your gut tells you that you might not have been on the same side.

Your hooded eyes watch as he stands to his feet, turns toward you, and lets you get a good look at his face. The black eyes and dark hair would do him well to blend in with the shadows. The clothes seem ordinary and well-maintained, the kind that no one truly likes to wear. His facial features are as sharp as his jaw, captivating for maidens such as you.

"Would you mind if I take a look at the bathroom?" You squint at the thick wraps around his forehead. Familiar, very familiar. Attractive too.

"Sure." Was any effort put in a disguise?

You're not sure of the reason he'd want to see your bathroom, but what do you have to lose? That room ain't anything special.

You hear his footsteps following as you turn and lead the way. His lack of reaction to the untidiness is another suspicious behavior.

"Have you not been in the house, miss?" You stop in the hallway, lightly turning your head until his face is visible. The man who gave you the probably-false name remains unbothered, unjudgemental despite his question. He seems to be thinking, eyes pointing downwards as he silently follows.

"No, I haven't." You continue to trudge along the familiar walls. He is as quiet as a cat, his footsteps making no noise, similar to the paws of a calculating feline, his eyes ghost over and soak in everything in view. He remains behind you, out of sight.

The man lowers his gaze to a single door that you didn’t bat an eye at, passing by it without breaking your stride. The smell of oily odor is stronger now that he is closer to the source. It’s incredible how you don’t seem to be in hiding. He quickly returns his gaze to your back, he no longer needs to arouse any more suspicion, so he keeps up with you.

The smell is nostalgic, reminding him of the unpleasantness that clings to him and that place from the past. It seems that you are used to the metallic odor, no doubt, spending time with such technology does that to a person, numbing their valuable senses so these meager details. If you knew him, truly had him memorized, prioritized, you would not have opened the door. You would have slipped through the window and ended up in his hands all the same.

The troupe left no way for you to evade him.

There's only one word to describe a man such as him: beautiful. Beautiful in a way one might consider a dark, chilling forest, or a black-feathered crow that brings a bad omen with the flap of its wings. Similar to a redback spider, his beauty is poisonous. His bite is worse than his bark, his venom makes you sweat at the red wound and spill your pain along with your sanity. He possesses all the charm and resources needed to ensnare his victims, leaving them helpless in his web of deceit.

(Let It Be Blown Away By A Wolf)

His beauty is alluring, much like elements of nature that can captivate yet harm. It makes you salvate, the itch that his unassuming clothes leave is impossible to ignore. On the surface, he is naught but a simple worker, one who wishes to get paid quickly as he twist the pipes and steps away from the source of his curiosity hidden behind a washed down door. You're sure he must have his assumptions, however the man doesn't act on it. It's the only fact that gives you some security under his observing gaze.

He's good at hiding in plain sight.

It's exhausting just waiting for him to come out.

You've never been a good host to the guests anyway.

Thieves can only uphold a half-assed disguise for so long before curiosity will get the best of them.

It's unclear even to you whether you expected to be locked in the bathroom. You know that a thief's fingers are nimble and light, it wouldn't take much for him to lock the door handle behind you and disappear into the smoke. They would buy time for whatever crime they're planning to commit. Besides, it's not like you own anything luxurious, except MONSTER. But even then, its system doesn't have gold and emeralds embedded inside, not to mention that you programmed the network to be understood only by you. Whatever information he might be after won't be found because, first, you haven't gathered it, and second, the network isn't designed to retain any digital information for this exact reason.

(And Watch It Be Burned)

If he's not after any information, well, MONSTER is made of junk from that horrid place. You had to rebuild and redesign any purchased parts to avoid raising suspicion. Overall, MONSTER doesn't cost much (technically, it shouldn't cost any money), but if the man decides to destroy it for whatever reason, you wouldn't be too affected. Its messy blueprints are safe and sound somewhere far from this apartment, the heartache would only come from the time you spent building your masterpiece.

But no, he doesn't make his move yet, only staring and meddling with the pipes present, forcing the stillness and anxious mood onto you.

You try not to look too intensely at his face, half hidden by the hair and the bandages on his forehead. It's quite a ridiculous detail that makes him stand out, it makes you think that maybe you are still somewhat drunk, otherwise why would you want to speak more to this beast in here's den?

"Those bandages." He hums in acknowledgement and you can't hold back your smirk, so instead your hand comes up to hide it away.

"You slipped and hit your head or something?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." His tone was... Unnaturally lighthearted.

Perhaps you were the one who slipped and hit your head, because this is no place for jokes.

Your eyes glance at the forgotten place, swiftly moving to the mirror before the man moves to stand.

You have to give him credit, because in the aftermath that lasted for only a second, the weak shield you've put up shatters as if it never existed.

He holds the door open before lightly bowing.

"Ladies first." And you turn your back to him, there's no going back now.

There's a sense of dread as you wake, your mind immediately going haywire, searching for the last moments as if the memories have slipped through your fingers as you tried to grasp them. An itch crawls beneath your skin, and the goosebumps make it uncomfortable for you to stand on the thick oil coating the floor.

(Into Ashes)

"Are you aware that the neighbors below have been complaining about a mysterious liquid leaking from this room for quite some time?"

No. No, you are not aware, because you haven't been living here.

The man in front of you has his back turned, staring at your masterpiece, captivated by its brilliance. Yet, despite this, his commanding presence holds your attention, stealing the answers from your mind.

"Such work you've put into this. Neither my abilities nor Shalnark have been able to figure it out."

You can’t see clearly through the numb feeling settling in your gut. You can’t tell if he's caressing the screen or even looking at it—his presence in this room is too confusing, almost as if he doesn't belong.

"Tell me how did you do it?" You try not to get hang up on his tone.

You can't help but feel pride at his fascination. After all this time, you finally have the satisfaction of someone else complimenting your life's work. It brings a feeling beyond euphoria—a sensation like standing in the sunset, letting its warmth wash over you before the sunshine disappears for hours. It's the peace of sitting on a balcony after a long day of research, gazing at the hanging constellations in the dark blue sky.

You search for an answer, your tongue swiping across the inside of your cheek. Yet, as his torso turns toward you, your mind fixates on one thing, or maybe a couple of things, the slick dark hair, the orb earrings framing his long face, and the tattoo of a cross—an unusual detail you wouldn’t find on the average person. His sense of fashion isn't impressive, but his captivating physique makes up for it. Lastly, your eyes linger on his mouth, the corners tilted upward in a quiet smile as he waits for your answer. His smile, you'd say, is beautiful.

"How did I do it?" you repeat, but he doesn't confirm.

"... Why don't I..." Your tongue tastes iron as you swallow nervously, flustering you further. Your heartbeat quickens as you open your mouth again.

He seems like the kind of man who would enjoy a cup of tea.

"Inform you of that... on a date?" You can tell he wasn’t expecting it. No normal person would expect such a question at this moment, though he shows no visible surprise.

"I'll tell you everything about it."

You eyes gloss over a crushed red bug held between his middle finger and his thumb.

Covering your red cheeks becomes the priority.

[kylecorbeau]

I've been asked for the link to my post of the fan sequel I wrote to Jack's Filthy Ass. I couldn't find my original post of this story, so I'm reuploading it.

Liam's Filthy Mouth

By Kyle Corbeau on Tumblr

A fan-sequel to Jack's Filthy Ass by writinggross.

[Contains: M/M, Face-farting, hypnosis, Dom/sub, rimming, scat, scat consumption, Non-con.]

————————————————————————

I have a hard time not thinking about what happened with Jack. It's only been four days and I still panic whenever I hear someone moving in the hall.

But tonight, I know I have reason to panic. My mom and her boyfriend have gone out of town for TEN DAYS over spring break, leaving me here alone with Jack's filthy ass. Just as I anticipate, the doorknob to my bedroom jiggles. I take a shaky, deep breath as I remind myself that I obsessive-compulsively locked the door when I got home to an empty house.

Then I hear a sound that makes my blood turn ice cold.

The jingling of keys.

I whine in my throat as I shake my head in denial, but of course it's just an involuntary reaction, not preventative one. The door lock clicks and the handle turns. I'm suddenly wishing I'd worn more to bed than a skin-tight white tank. Jack's already in the doorway, smirking mischievously at me where I'm hiding under the covers.

The only thing he's wearing is a pair of horribly stained once-white briefs and pair of sweat socks than sound a bit like sponges when he takes a step. I can smell how foul he is from here, but unfortunately, i know from experience that the closer he gets, the more heinous the stench will become.

Then i realize what he has in his hand. It's an overnight bag.

"'Sup, Liam. I figure we can skip all the bullshit if I make this simple. You know what I need. You know I'm going to get it. I can wrestle you with the chains and shackles I have in the bag and do this the hard way, or you can remember that I can still tell everyone at school that you're my little ass-bitch."

I just nod at first, conceding that I can't stop him. He saunters over victoriously, sets the bag down next to my bed and sits down next to me on the mattress as I scoot over to give him as much room as possible. He chuckles, evilly, in my ears, though I'm sure it's probably his normal gentle laugh and I'm just biased.

Justifiably biased.

He sprawls out on the bed, leaving me barely any room on the mattress, but I'm backed against the wall now and he scoots himself ever closer, his rank stink making me shudder in disgust and fear. Soon, he's laying right up against me, pulling the blankets out of the way, shedding the last of my shield as he pushes his big gut and massive thighs against me, wrapping his sausage-like arms around my shoulders and head as I whimper. His juicy, ripe pits are right by my face and his ass stink of rotten shit is permeating my entire bed.  He lifts an arm and pushes my face into his armpit as I start to shed tears. One huge meaty leg is wrapped over mine and he kisses my hair softly as he rubs my face hard back and forth in his armpit. No locker room has ever smelled this bad. The smell is unfathomable and it's absolutely nothing compared to where my face and mouth will be... Fuck... My poor tongue is going to be eaten alive by his rotten, gungey hole.

I realize my body is shaking as I sob and he's laughing as he smears my face in his armpit. "Just get used to it, ya wuss. I have a week and a half to desensitize you. Once you realize your place in life is beneath a filthy fat slob, you're going to be begging me to do anything and everything I want to you. And we start like this."

Jack reaches into his briefs and pulls out a wadded up cloth item. It's one of his ratty white wifebeaters, but it's covered in greenish brown smears and completely drenched in buttcrack sweat and the familiar odor of his ass-juice. He lifts it to my face and I turn away in panic, but he smashes the putrid shirt against my face and I inhale from surprise. He holds it there like a toxic gas mask over my face and says, "Don't worry, Liam. You'll love that smell soon enough. Hell, if you want to let everyone at school know you fell in love with my filthy ass over vacation, I guess I can put up with people knowing about us. I can't imagine you just passing me in the hall like you usually do once I'm done with you."

"Jack," I say through the ass-juice-drenched shirt as I gag, "Isn't this just about you rubbing one out?"

"Remember my science project a couple of weeks ago?"

"You want to plant trees! You and every hippie in history!"

"No, Baby Boy. My project was on replenishable resources. This isn't about rubbing one out. This is about rubbing one out as many times as I want for as long as I want to. ...You like that nickname, Liam? Baby Boy?"

I sob harder when I realize he's planning to condition me to be his ass-bitch potentially for the rest of our lives and as I begin again to soak the shit-stained shirt with my tears, I figure out the nickname.

He's calling me 'Baby Boy' because his vile odor makes my eyes water.

Finally, he moves to put down the shitty wifebeater and starts peeling my own tank top off of my chest. As he pulls it up over my face, I'm suddenly met with a passionate kiss, his unwashed mouth and tongue that's probably got food from last week stuck to it, pushed flush against my own as he slobbers into my mouth and licks the back of my throat. I struggle for the first few seconds but realize there's no point. He rolls over on top on me, surrounding and crushing me with his massive form and ripe and rancid stench. He sloppily slobbers on my face in what I could only call an act of claiming.

Then, he takes his nasty wifebeater, puts in it his underwear, and at first I think hes wiping, but instead, he's cramming it into...

Shit!

He's stuffing that shirt inside his nasty asshole!

It isn't long before he's unwadding the fetid garment and forcefully putting it on me.

The next thing I know, he's getting me positioned on the bed. I can't fight anymore. Not even a little. Something in me broke when he put that tainted tank on me.

So as he mounts my head and says, "Open up, Baby Boy... my pretty little ass-bitch... Lick inside me. You know you love it!", all i can do is physically obey, opening my jaw, sucking and tonguing his rotten insides. They taste like rotting meat that's been out in the sun for a week, and his hole clamps tight around my tongue, making me whine. I can hear him talking, but I can't consciously understand everything. Something about counting and relaxing and feeling his stink saturating my body with pleasure.

The last words I hear before I fade into unconsciousness are about needing his ass stink to get hard.

When I wake up, I'm still wearing the shit-tank and Jack's shit-smeared briefs are strapped to my face like a dust mask. I look at my clock. It's been ten hours. There's a recording of Jack's voice soothingly encouraging peaceful thoughts when I smell him and telling me how it feels so good to crave his filthy ass.

I roll my eyes at the stupidity. Hypnosis? Really? Jack's so desperate to make me his ass-worshiping bitch that he's turning to phoney pseudoscience?

I chew on the browned briefs for a moment, feeling better when I suck on the flavor.

Fuck. I'm keeping these. He's got plenty of filthy briefs and he can always make more.

I get out of bed, stuffing the shit-stained briefs all the way into my mouth and moaning as my morning wood throbs. I walk into the hallway, looking for Jack to tell him what a fucking idiot he is for thinking he could hypnotize me into wanting his foul fat ass, but when I don't see him in his room, I call out to him.

"Yo, Jack? Where you at?"

I hear his voice from his en suite bathroom shout, "I'm taking a dump!"

I perk up at the prospect, briskly heading for his bathroom door. "Mind if I join?"

He laughs his ass off before telling me threateningly that I'll regret if I don't. I quickly open the door, rush to him and kneel. He smirks down at me as I jerk away from the fetid odor and frown with visceral nausea until he takes my head in his hand and pulls me forward. "Sniff my shit, bitch. I'm making your breakfast."

I'm utterly revolted, on the verge of vomiting, but as I autonomically obey him and sniff the toilet from between his legs, my forehead pressed against his junk, euphoria and serenity wash over me and I hum in pleasure as I go boneless against his lap.

I've completely forgotten what I was going to say to him and somewhere in my mind, I realize what he meant about breakfast and my stomach growls.

He finishes shitting in the toilet, then he gets up and turns his unwiped ass towards me. The smell is worse than a port-a-potty and the stink is like rotten eggs saturating decomposing meat infused with sewage fumes.

I sniff deeply, my nose touching his crack as I fight my flight instinct. I want to run to somewhere safe and never witness this again.

But this is my safe place. I should be running to the very thing that engenders my panic.

"My ass isn't going to lick itself clean!" Jack growls at me.

My tongue dives in before I can stop it and I slurp and swallow the smears of fetid refuse until his ass is depressingly clean.

Then, I come out of myself and realize what just happened.

"YOU FUCKING NASTY BASTARD!" I scream, licking the revolting shit from my lips as he looks back at me in shock.

Then, he's laughing.

He's laughing hard.

Then he says two words that freeze my entire body.

"Ass Master."

I cant move. I can't move at all!

He backs up a few inches, reaches back to roughly grip my hair in his fat fist and shoves my face between his cheeks.

"Suck my pucker!" Jack commands, and without my consent, my body obeys.

As my mouth wraps around his hole, sealing my face to his obscenely disgusting insides a long greasy fart hot as the sun is pumped into my lungs.

Then I feel it on my tongue.

It's hot, it's wet and it's worse than I ever imagined.

The clumps of shit pop out one at a time, filling my mouth, and Jack says, "Keep sucking my hole, mash my shit around in your mouth, swallow it and hate it even though you need it.

I feel like I'm going to vomit, to pass out or even maybe die, but as I use my tongue to press Jack's shit against every surface in my mouth, my morning wood rages and leaks.

I smell the shit from inside my mouth, the putrid fumes traveling up from the back of my throat, and even though I can't move my body away, I cry, tears streaming against the inside of Jack's asscrack as I sob, making him moan loudly.

When I swallow it, gulping the lumps down my throat, I cum hard and shoot my copious load all over the tile, but the sounds I make are anything but euphoric. With my mouth still sealed to his hole, I scream in visceral horror.

Jack sighs in pleasure and says, "Relax, Baby Boy. Just be yourself." I can suddenly move of my own accord and I stumble backwards on the bathroom floor. He turns around with hunger in his eyes. "Thank me for making you breakfast, bitch."

I can choose what to say now. I feel it. "Is this really happening?" I ask as I shake in terror.

His eyes darken and I realize that wasn't the right thing to say.

"I'm sorry, Jack. Th– thank you... I hate you...."

Jack pats me on the head affectionately with an evil smirk. "You're getting a full load for lunch. I'll let you know when I need to piss. Go cry on my bed until I'm ready to collar and fuck you."

I can't help it.

By my own choosing, I lean forward and reverently kiss his filthy, musky balls.

And he lets me.

————————————————————————

After Jack enjoyed my first display of genuine admiration and affection, he shaved my shoulder-length hair down to a near-bald buzzcut, shaved my entire body completely smooth, had me rinse all the haircut debris away in the shower pissed all over me and down my throat, occasionally smearing his foul, acrid piss over my lips with his fat dick like he was putting my chapstick on for me.

Then, he declared that this is the first day of my new life.

Given our situation and encounters thus far, I expected words like that to be sadistic, threatening, mocking or some combination.

They weren't. He seemed genuinely happy, not just for himself but for me.

I'm just now realizing just how much this really is a new phase of life.

I'm walking out of my possible-stepbrother's/hopefully-boyfriend's bathroom naked after participating in things I never imagined while he walks with me wearing only the track pants he had on when he started this insanity.

This is the first time I've actually looked around Jack's room. Until today, I've been avoiding him as much as possible, and when I passed through through it from the hall to his ensuite bathroom less than two hours ago, I had single-minded focus and only observed enough of my surroundings to see which way his bathroom is.

Now, I look around in stunned silence as I realize how long he's been planning all of this: attacking me and riding my unwilling face, threatening me into submission then cuddling and kissing me as if he loves me – all before using some kind of aggressive brainwashing on me to make me his unwilling but devoted autonomically obedient, fart-addicted, shit-noshing slave.

We've known each other for less than two weeks and about ten days ago, my mom and I moved in to live with her boyfriend and her boyfriend's son, Jack.

As far as I knew, Jack had barely tolerated me.

Which is why it strikes me as odd that my favorite possessions (which were mysteriously lost in the move) are arranged throughout Jack's room as if they're his.

...Wait...

...NO!

It's obvious the totality of this room's books, trinkets and miscellaneous items are from two very different people!

Jack's room looks as if we both live in it!

He planned this whole disgusting coercive seduction thing at least ten days ago, only a few days after we first met.

Possibly, the day we met.

I'm suddenly enraged! I feel like I'm going to belt out a primal, wordless scream at the top of my lungs, but Jack's thick arm curls around my waist and my anger drains away in a heartbeat as he kisses the top of my head.

"Cheer up, Baby Boy," Jack says with encouraging mirth. "You'll love living in here! It's over three times bigger than your old room, which means we have room for the fridges, sofa, spare bed, my reading chair and your new desk. Most importantly, we have a <i>private</i> bathroom, there's fantastic soundproofing and, after fourteen years with me in it, my personal musk is soaked into every inch of this very lucky room."

I laugh softly and playfully elbow Jack in his huge, studly gut before dropping to my knees in front of him and leaning forward. For a few moments, I let him think I'm leaning towards his exposed cock, then I abruptly bend down and take a big whiff of the carpet.

"Yep! This inch passes inspection!" I say as I try to lighten my own mood

He snorts loudly before falling down in a fit of (feigned?) hysterical laughter and with suspicious accuracy, he lands on top of me, his knees straddling mine, his fat belly weighing down on my back and his hands gripping my hips. He roughly pulls my hips backwards to grind his hard-on against my ass.

I shiver in revulsion, and for once, it has nothing to do with his heinous hygiene, his disgusting habits, his dominating-my-face-with-his-ass-and-anything-that-comes-out-of-it-fetish , or even the fact that almost all of our interactions have been when he forcibly dominated me, my will be damned.

I'm actually starting to like him, despite all of that.

After the ten hours of hypnotic bullshit, I'm starting to like him because of it.

I even like him enough to eagerly let him fuck me.

My instinctive revulsion is entirely because I am (was?) straight and having anyone's dick touch me at all viscerally grosses me out.

He groans happily above me and says, "Don't worry, Baby Boy. You're gonna get lucky too. Maybe right now..."

I start to lose control of my body as my own thoughts are disregarded and unheard. That's happened a lot this morning and at this point, I know it's more fun to enjoy hating it than to hate hating it.

"Fuuuuck!" I groan in a mix of anguish and euphoria. "Go fuck yourself, you fat, filthy, vile asshole! Your personality is even more shitty than your actual shit!"

Jack keeps a steel-strong grip on my hip as I hear the slide of his track pants against his skin.

"You get away with talking like that to me once," he growls through gritted teeth. "Would you care to rephrase?"

I keen in my throat as I feel his bare dick thumping against my asscheek.

"Yeah, Jack, I would. What I meant to say is I'm jealous of your bedroom. I wish you were inside me every night and I can't wait for you to soak your personal musk into every inch of me, because you're hot as fuck and I want everyone I meet to know I belong to you."

Jack slaps my ass so hard it feels like a punch and his dick begins sliding back and forth between my asscheeks, grazing across my pucker on every thrust. I can't tell if he's erotically teasing me or silently threatening me.

"Anything else, Baby Boy?"

My hips start grinding backwards against him, and to my shame, it's not because of the hypnosis.

"Y-yeah, Jack...  Look I...  I love you. I love you and I want you to own me use me and be my boyfriend. Please, Jack. I need you."

I'm about to start crying again until I feel him lean over me and sensually press his lips against my jaw from behind.

"Yeah, bitch," he whispers in sadistic apathy. "You do need me. You need me to own you, control you and use you. I'll always give you what you need, Baby Boy. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't?"

The words sting at first (more from Jack's tone than their significance), but then Jack hugs me from behind and rubs the head of his thick, filthy cock against my hole, nearly breaching it. I relax happily, knowing this is my place and suddenly realizing he implied we're dating.

"Thanks, Jack..." I mumble with genuine gratitude. "I'll give you everything you need and anything I have to give."

He breathes hard against my neck as half an inch of his cock pushes past the ring of muscle. "Yeah. I know you will, Liam," says in a soft, loving tone. Then he kisses my neck, lifts away from me and helps me off the floor. I'm startled when I find myself launched through the air, but giddy when I land on Jack's bed.

The steel chain he locks in place with a matching padlock has a rusty iron finish, and just after the lock audibly clicks, we both heave joyful sighs of relief.

[yurimother]

LGBTQ Manga Review — I'm in Love with the Villainess Vol. 1 (Manga)

A New Look on a Compelling and Innovative Series

A manga adaptation of one of the best and queerest Yuri light novels I have ever seen, what is not to love! As a massive proponent of the light novels, I eagerly followed I'm in Love with the Villainess began serialization in Comic Yuri Hime last year. I am thrilled to get my hands on the first English volume, and now that it is finally out (digitally at the time of writing), I am equally delighted to read over the start of Rae and Claire's journey once again. Getting to see my favorite isekai protagonist and her bratty noble crush in full illustrations is terrific. However, it does not make for a completely flawless work.

I'm in Love with the Villainess follows Rei Ohashi, an avid otome gamer who dies and is reincarnated as Rae Taylor in her favorite game, "Revolution." Rather than chase any of the game's handsome bachelors, all students at the Royal Academy in the European-inspired fantasy world, Rae heads straight for her favorite character, the game's villainess! Rae begins to relentlessly tease the bratty and elitist Claire, much to the latter's frustration. Soon a rivalry forms between the two girls, but despite Claire's taunts and coldness, Rae is determined to stay by her side and protect her.

The increased focus provided to Claire and Rae's early relationship will be noticeable to light novel readers. While Inori's writing focuses mainly on world-building in the first several chapters, the manga makes the wise choice to condense much of this information for the sake of reading. Blocks of exposition work poorly in the manga compared to prose. However, establishing a setting is not completely thrown out the window. There are several small conversations and explanations of key aspects of the world. After quickly setting the story, the characters are left with room to explore.

Claire and Rae are the most enjoyable part of this manga. Rae is eager and doting, with a touch of masochistic. On the other hand, Claire is more arrogant, often looking down on peasants like Rae, and is continuously infuriated by her affection. A hilarious rivalry starts to spring up between the two, with Claire pranking or mocking Rae and then getting outraged when she revels in the attention and teases Claire by expressing her undying affection.

These interactions also further the story. They establish the dynamic between our two heroines and add more detail to the political situation and tensions between the commoners and nobility, the series’ main plotline. Interestingly, while Claire may believe commoners inferior, she also sees it as her responsibility to protect and instruct them in her very elitist way. Noticeably none of the torments she subjects Rea could ever cause permanent harm or damage. It is a fascinating insight into this character's mental state, and even in the first volume seeing her start to change and become more aware slowly is fascinating.

Much of the rivalry is comedy and often plays out as such. However, some readers may find it slightly off-putting and understandably see the dynamic as Rae sexually harassing Claire. I strongly encourage you to give this series a chance. This book will undoubtedly be the worst volume of an incredible series. Once I'm in Love with the Villainess breaks into its stride of exploring queer and socioeconomic issues, some point in the next volume based on reading the serialized chapters, I promise it will become a quick favorite. If you know you may not be able to overlook its immediate faults during the wait, consider holding off on the mage until after the second book is out and get them together.

Much of the previously mentioned content is the same or strongly similar to the light novels, perhaps a touch more emphasis on Claire's early hostilities; however, there are some significant points unique to the manga to consider. For one, Aonoshimo's artwork is fantastic! The characters and backgrounds are distinct, with only slight adjustments for the more comedic or dramatic stylistic choices. No matter the panel's tone, though, it is always easy to read without oversimplification. Aonoshimo also relies on very standard square or rectangle panels during most of the manga, but occasionally produces more dynamic boundaries and layouts for action and service scenes. Lastly, all the characters are on full display. It suddenly becomes a lot easier for light novel readers to picture their favorite moments. It is a lovely treat for returning readers as the visuals aid the characters, allowing us to clearly see Rod as the strong-willed if slightly aloof prince and understand how Maximillion Pegasus-cosplayer Thane is the most unpopular character in the fictional otome game when they are displayed visually.

There are some other vital factors to consider when reading the manga. For one, every character's personality was dialed up a few points, with Rae being a touch more physically affectionate and masochistic and Claire more easily exacerbated. However, the manga and the English translation takes many quirks and exaggerates them further, reducing the series’ performance. For example, while Claire's actions show the complicated relationship to commoners described above, her dialogue contains a surprising amount of vitriol and vulgarity that stands out notably.

Additionally, while Rod is usually the perfect if slightly detached prince acting as the occasional voice of reason in early chapters, his dialogue here appears laughable indifferent and meanspirited. As I'm in Love with the Villainess is one of a very few series that I follow the monthly serializations of in magazines, I was surprised to see this dialogue, as it did not stand out to me in the Japanese version (admittedly, the manga did overblow everyone's personality to some extent for comedic effect). I feel it changes the characters for the worse — do not get me wrong here, calls for "literal translation" are as unfavorable as they are uninformed. Still, the work feels careless at times.

Finally, there is the service. While the first volume contains virtually no romantic caresses or sweeping panels of scenery we associate with Yuri, there is a fair amount of salacious content. Of course, there are Rae's desperate and overblown expressions of admiration for Claire and her slight case of masochism. However, towards the end of the volume, Aonoshimo shows some skin. In one scene, Rae helps Claire get dressed and very openly admires her body, accompanied by some close-up panels of her back, stomach, and butt. There is also a very exposed bathing scene, although light covers the most explicate bits. It is obviously garish, though it tonally fits with Inori and Aonoshimo's more comedic manga interpritation and even includes some wholesome interactions with Claire and Rae alongside the sexualized comedy. Reader's millage will vary here, but I enjoyed it.

This first outing of Aonoshimo's I'm in Love with the Villainess manga adaptation is very likely to be the weakest entry in a phenomenal series to follow. The manga does a fantastic job of bringing the original light novels to life in a new visual format. The artwork is excellent, and the story condensed with a slightly different focus that maintains the feel of the original while providing manga audiences with entertainment that does not feel constrained or lacking. However, the gradual pacing of the plot and the main characters' relationship means that the volume leaves off before showcasing the meat of the series and most of its best features. There is a little bit of the stumble out of the gate, and both the publisher and the manga will likely have to course correct in future volumes or else risk destroying the development and voice of the series remarkable characters. I still recommend the series, but unless you are a diehard fan of the original like you, you might wait a year or so until we have the second volume and can enjoy a more complete vision of Inori's intricate and groundbreaking story.

Ratings: Story – 8 Characters – 7 Art – 9 LGBTQ – 9 Sexual Content – 6 Final – 8

Check out I'm in Love with the Villainess (Manga) Vol. 1 today: https://amzn.to/3wTSJ9R

Thanks to Joshua Hardy, Courtney Williams, Peter Adrian Behravesh, and the rest of the team at Seven Seas for their hard work.

Help support future Yuri news and reviews, and get access to exclusive content by subscribing to the YuriMother Patreon

[kmp78]

K, do you you look youthful? I know some women who still look like in their thirties at 40+ and you are slim. Btw why do you always hide your face in your socials?

I used to look younger than my years (regularly got carded when buying alcohol products and whatnot) and I guess I still do look youngish (at least compared to pics of my mom in the late 80s at my age! 😂😳) but I have noticed the aging process speeding up in recent years... 😖

Wrinkles starting to show and body def not acting like it used to... 😣

But I try to keep in mind that age/aging is a gift that not everyone is awarded.

You may remember that I mentioned going to school with the members of the band The Rasmus (you know, the ones who repped 🇫🇮 in this year's Eurovision).

They were a year below me in school and their original drummer Janne lived across the yard from my home.

That's him with the long blonde hair throwing the 🤘 sign.

(Oh Pauli... 😂 That's exactly as I remember him walking around in school with the Kurt Cobain shades and peroxide blonde hair... 🤭 And Lauri of course was a tiny pretty pixie with weeeeeird hair! 😂)

Anyway, Janne left the band years ago and many may not even remember him cos he wasn't a flashy figure anyway, and he lived a quiet life far away from the public life since then.

But just a few weeks ago the news broke that Janne has passed away at age 43. 🙁

And even tho I'm not a Rasmus fan or anything, the news did hit me cos he was my age and I had a tiny connection to him from decades ago. I could only imagine his family's sorrow and shock, and if he had a wife/kids and all that. 🙁

Then this week it was revealed that he had died in Thailand in a traffic accident while on vacay, which makes it all even more tragic!

He was out at a bar and got on a moped, and the rest is tragic history...

Plus he wasn't wearing a helmet which might have saved his life! 🪖

A fleeting moment and a random decision with massive and unreversible conscequinces.

I guess the lesson to take away from this horrible tragedy is that we can NEVER take a single day for granted, and that getting to live another day/week/month/year is a gift that many are robbed of. 🙁

This is why getting wrinkles and all that is not or should not be an issue! I try to remember that even more now! 🙏

And I cover my face on socials because I just don't like how I look in most pics... 🫣

And also so echetards won't start getting up in my face if I ever happen to run into them...! 😑✋️

[geek-gem]

Bad Blood Predator appreciation post.

Yeah I have made this. Especially I've been thinking of making this before Prince and Dark. Including if I remember right wanted to make this one when I made ones for Diablo, Ghost, Scar, and Wolf.

Despite he is well a Bad Blood I feel it's best to speak of him. He also doesn't have actual name of some sorts compared to other Yautja which sucks.

But in a weird way he basically is the embodiment of what a Bad Blood Yautja is or probably worse.

While if I recall right please correct me Tichinde from the original Aliens Vs Predator comics was the first Bad Blood to be introduced in the expanded universe. If I'm wrong please correct me but Tichinde and yeah spoilers basically became one.

But the Bad Blood Predator from 1993's Bad Blood series really full on force introduced this concept and really took it to the extreme.

The Bad Blood Predator was a literal psychopathic and mentally unstable Yautja. A serial killer among his own race. He also went on a massive killing spree in Pine Barrens, New Jersey.

This guy was the definition of brutally. He basically showed no mercy and the way he killed was seriously extreme. Especially his design in a good way is crazy because it really showcases him of what he is. Which makes him look radically different from more traditional and honor bound Yautja and I really like that.

He seriously had no code of honor and basically fought against a Yautja Enforcer and beat him. Despite the Bad Blood would end up getting killed.

Honestly was looking through Google Images and regular Google to spell Tichinde right and where Bad Blood exactly took at. (Edit also the year and whatever else took out in it behind suspenseful)

I wanna talk about something. If the franchise is ever rebooted or whatever I want them to cover the Bad Blood topic. While not a straight up adaptation but something inspired by the story.

It's an idea where a Predator film can be taken into a more horror route of some sort and it would make sense if a regular Yautja would be with a human or something.

I wanna say this original Predator is a suspenseful film. Basically a thriller. Diablo was scary from the first and in quite some ways Ghost from Predator 2 was. But just imagine a Yautja with no rules, a psychopath with maybe his own sick twisted sense or honor or none it depends on how it works. Especially it's still the same regular Yautja species without resorting to the whole super Predator bullshit.

While in Predators and The Predator 2018 we had the super Predators mainly Berserker, and the Upgrade/Assassin Predator. But considering the continuities and to be honest those aren't real Yautja. I'd rather have a Yautja where it's a regular one but it's mindset is just so fucked up.

Tags done hopefully you fans enjoy this. Also the Bad Blood series has a insane art style not necessary a bad thing but kind of messy and crazy. Yet I wonder and think it might have to do with how crazy the comic was.

[ruinedbygaysstylinson]

hi there! i'm still somewhat new to this fandom but i'm familiar with bg and everything so i'm just wondering why people believe that liam is also stunting with cheryl? is he believed to be gay as well and this relationship with her and his baby is just another cover up? like i understand why people believe louis isn't really a dad but i don't see as much regarding liam? can you try and explain this??

Hi Nonnie!

First of all, welcome to the fandom. It’s a mess, but it’s our mess lol

I’m gonna be honest, when I first got this ask I had no clue where to start explaining just how fake Chiam is, and I wish I had a textbook answer for you. The best way I can put it is that literally everything about it makes no sense logically. None of it. Prepare for a lot of rambling.

Not sure how into the fandom you are, but if you’ve heard of RBB/SBB, they foreshadowed Chiam on Liam’s bday in 2015 at a show, using toothpaste labeled “Colegate” which is a nod to her first marriage, and the original babygate which had been labeled a couple months earlier.

As far as timelines go, Sophiam ended late October 2015. Charcole actually got married for the second time in mid 2014, and while her and her husband seperated in late 2015, they both wore their wedding rings into 2016, despite the fact that later it was hinted that Chiam began at the XF final in 2015. Chiam was announced in the exact same way every other stunt is: via an exclusive to Dick Wattpad from the Sun. Baby rumors started a couple months later, nearly 2 full months before the date Charcole supposedly conceived. During this time, Chiam made a few public appearances, all staged red carpets or pap walks, and they were never spotted together by fans outside of these. Charcole had a baby bump months before she was pregnant, and baited the media by putting her hand over her stomach in multiple events. After she became “pregnant”, Liam basically moved to LA and lived there for her entire pregnancy. He began partying, worked on his album, and acted like a single guy for the duration with no care in the world for Charcole. What a normal thing for a dad-to-be to do. They never officially announced the pregnancy, she just turned up obviously pregnant in December 2016, and then posed for Loreal with a massive bump on a campaign released in February. Her bump changed in sizes and height throughout the pregnancy, but she went into hiding so it was difficult to actual tell what was going on, which was 100% the point. The birth was announced via a single photo of Liam with a baby, despite the fact that usually moms pose with their baby. To this day, we’ve never seen the baby’s face, and Charcole has yet to show off her pride and joy. Privacy is one thing, but this is another thing entirely. If it wasn’t for Liam babbling on, you’d have no clue she had a kid.

So what are my issues with Chiam? First of all, her association with Satan Cowbell. They are besties. Judges together on XF, and recently I found out that she’s also an executive producer. Chiam was used to promote XF in late October with probably the cringiest moment they’ve had yet. If you hate Satan because of what he did to Louis/Harry, you better be concerned that Liam “willingly” shacked up with one of his friends.

Secondly, timing. Liam was planning a solo career. It’s been his dream for over 10 years. Why on earth would he decide to settle down in the middle of trying to launch his solo career, just months after ended a long term relationship? Basically this stunt forced him to “choose” between his career and his kid, which is NOT something that a loving partner would put you through. Charcole was also married until late 2016. If she was so desperate for a baby, wouldn’t it make more sense to have it with your husband rather than a guy 10 years her junior in a completely different stage of life? She’s old but she still has time. Literally everything about this relationship was set up to fail. Also, what exactly do they have in common? They moved so quickly that Liam never had to talk about her/why they are even dating. To me, the only things they have in common are that they were both in a band (with very different experiences..) and they have a kid together. Nice.

Thirdly, Charcole’s presence in his promo. In 2014 she released an album that flopped pretty badly because she really can’t sing at all her. Her fame came from her very public relationship drama and her association with XF when it was at the height of it’s fame. Her career is pretty much over and she’s most likely desperate for anything to reverse this progression. What better way to find new fans than to try and tap into one of the largest fandoms out there? Of course, she didn’t take into account the fact that we aren’t 13 year old girls with no brains, and therefore aren’t going to blindly stan her like people did with Sofa and Elk in the past. She’s ridiculously problematic as a person (she punched a woman in the face for doing her job and got convicted for assault, admitted to attacking her ex husband, dodged taxes via a shady company that closed in 2014 right when she turned up suddenly married to JB. The list goes on and on), and from what I’ve seen her personality stinks, so why would we support her? For the most part, people either dislike her or just don’t care at all. Bummer. Liam’s promo was the only way for her to get positive news out there about herself without her doing all the talking. Unfortunately for her, Liam went overboard and now people hate her just as much, if not more, than they did before this stunt. Just to be clear: normal celebs don’t launch their careers by constantly telling stories about their kid, s/o and hyping up their accomplishments from 8 years ago.

Fourthly, body language. This is a big one. Liam’s eyes in the very first selfie of them scared me to death because he looked so upset and resigned. Literally screaming for help with his facial expression. All along, the lack of intimacy between Chiam is pretty hard to dispute. They are not comfortable together at all, and I know some media sites called them out for faking affection on red carpets when they are distant in private in May 2016. Liam was a lot better at faking it last year as well, because he’s nothing if not professional. At XF this year, it was literally painful to watch them interact, and I made a post about that when it happened. Basically, as a couple they don’t have the familiarity that they should have considering all they’ve squeezed into less than two years. Liam also doesn’t talk about her fondly at all. If you pay attention, a lot of his comments just about her are negative: she scolds him, nags him, rolls her eyes at him, dresses him (in hideous pants, someone burn those), makes all the decisions about the baby, critcizes his music, etc, but at least she was famous back when he was 15 eh? (Them meeting at 14/24 when she was married for years is just another nasty aspect. She was in a mentor role and I’m disgusted she was okay with this stunt. It’s so wrong on so many levels.) Overall she sounds pretty awful to me, and that’s just based off of the picture Liam is painting.

And finally, the saga of Conchobear. The difference between actual celebrities having babies (think Beyoncé), vs Charcole is hilarious. No one ever saw her stomach when pregnant, she hid for months before and after the birth, and low and behold she popped back up with a new face! That’s the second 1D mom to get extensive plastic surgery when she should be caring for an infant. I seriously doubt she actually was pregnant, but that’s not something I’ll go into here. Liam was out working on his career a month after the announcement, and has been travelling pretty consistently since. He’s missed multiple important holidays; for example, on Father’s Day he flew from the US to Italy for a fashion show, and then back to the US. On Conchobear’s 6 month bday, Liam went out and did interviews. Do you really think that if Liam was an actual dad, he wouldn’t make every effort and move mountains to spend as much time as possible with his firstborn son? It just doesn’t make sense with what we know about Liam’s personality. He’s responsible, and he wouldn’t put himself in this situation. What he says, what we are fed, what he does, and what we know about him as a person don’t line up at all. Liam sounds like an amazing involved dad with his tales, but he lacks a basis in basic human development; his stories are cute and so unrealistic. Thus, Liam hasn’t spent any significant time with a baby. The entire stunt has been setting up single mom!Charcole, but Liam’s team has made sure to prevent her from calling him a deadbeat via the stories. It’s hard to say he was never around when he’s gushing about the kid in every interview. He’s also gotten worse at lying recently, and I get the feeling he’s tired.

So yeah, basically every aspect of this relationship is messed up in one way or another, and I’m expecting to see Chiam end sooner rather than later. If they are both out working on material, they won’t be able to hold it together imo. There’s definitely stuff I’ve missed and if any of my mutuals/followers want to add to this feel free. This is just stuff I thought of off the top of my head.

For specific examples of some of what I’ve mentioned you can check out the Twitter thread I linked below. It has some great resources and that account in general is amazing at breaking down stunt events. I’m also gonna reblog a post comparing Chiam to Zigi (another dead fauxmance) and Hiddleswift that is pretty interesting for you to look over.

https://twitter.com/EndBabygates/status/856439540831195137

Enjoy your stay in the fandom Nonnie. If you have any specific questions or need recommendations for who to follow, shoot me a message!