#i filed my taxes last night

[innocencel0st]

i've depressed myself looking at cars. i can't afford shit.

[randomingoftherandomness]

.

[chuchaaay]

I’ve been working night shift for the past 7 years and let me tell you, it really do be like that sometimes 😭 Actually ever since I turned 30, my memory has been shit and I have to make myself little reminders and input appointments on my calendar app. Otherwise, I will forget or double book! So I made myself a little sticky note on my desk to gently remind myself that I have to go to the store in the morning to buy food! 😂 but ofc I was in a hurry to leave work and forgot all about it 😆 its all good, I ended up getting everything I need. I have to make my bomb ass pasta salad bc my favorite PA (Physician Assistant) is working tonight 🖤🖤🖤

[indulgentdaydream]

protective!jason hcs or blurb 🥰

Ok so I kinda touched on these in my latest fic but anyways i WILL elaborate bc those were just background

We all know that man is touch starved. We ALL know it.

We also all know he’s hesitant with sharing touch

It’s only once you both have been dating for a bit already, maybe three months in, that he really starts to show his protectiveness through his touch

Or at least when you notice it

He’s always at least holding your hand as you guys walk around Gotham. Depending on exactly whereabouts in Gotham is when he changes whether he’s between you and the road, or you and the alleyways.

You watched him change it up one time halfway through your shared walk, him letting go of your left hand, stepping behind you and around to grab your right instead.

“Oh? So you want me to get hit by a car and die?”

Jason only keeps his eyes on the passing buildings and the ones coming up, “The chance of that is much lower than somebody trying to mug you in this area, love.”

One day you’re both out at the bar together. He’s sitting on a stool behind you as you babble to oke of yours friends.

From over their shoulder, you see a man approaching, but don’t think anything of it.

Suddenly, you see the man stop in his tracks, freezing. You glance over at him. He looks terrified. He glances at you, his original target, then behind you again. He spins on his heel and walks back the way he came.

You look behind you, feeling Jason’s hand still resting on your hip. You almost feel a little scared yourself, seeing that killer glare that Jason’s pointing at the guy’s back.

He switches immediately the second he looks down to you, a soft smile and kind eyes, not a hint of the previous bloodlust a mere second ago. “What?” He asks, like watching his expression change wasn’t the biggest turn on in the world.

You’re sitting in your apartment at your desk typing away on your laptop. You’re trying to file your taxes, and Jason had come over to help you with it (surprisingly he knows how even though he’s still legally dead at this point and hasn’t had to pay any taxes. Ever.)

He had stood and was wondering around your room a bit while he waited for you to fill the next part out. You can hear shuffling, but you’re too focused to tune into it.

“Jay? What does this line mean?”

Jason grunts for a moment and you hear your window slide open.

You turn back around, “Jay?”

“One second.” He shuts your window again. You watch as he fiddles with the lock before easily sliding the window back open. He throws his hands in the air and looks at you. “How long have you lived here?”

You shrug, confused, “You helped me move in.”

Jason waves his hand through the air, “When?”

“Almost a year? Last November.”

Jason fiddles with the window again, slamming it back down, “This lock doesn’t work. You been sleeping in here and anyone could’ve just broken in?”

You shrug again, “I didn’t know it was broken! I don’t really lock my window often.”

Jason looks like he almost broke his neck by how fast his head whipped back to you, “You don’t lock your window????”

He finishes your taxes for you before he leaves, saying he’ll be back. Within the hour he’s knocking on your door again, a duffle bag in hand full of power tools, screws, and different assortments of heavy duty locks. He spends the rest of the night installing them.

A new one on your bedroom window that actually consisted of two different locks. A similar two on your kitchen window. Another three on your bedroom door itself. Then four on your front door.

As he leaned over your kitchen sink, screwing in the lock and blocking your way as you tried to make you both dinner.

“Is this really necessary?”

“I’m not having you practically open to every bad thing the city has to offer, love.”

“Then how are you going to come in through my window now?”

“I’ll learn to knock.”

That’s all I can think of right now okay byeee

[the-everqueen]

reminder for me to text my psych about upping my meds dose because hoo boy. the emotions are a yo-yo and i am NOT in control of the string.

[ddejavvu]

Can‘t stop thinking about the usually so confident hotch getting yk kinda shy and clumsy all of a sudden, everyones just so confused as to why he‘s getting a bit quieter or redder in the face with seemingly no reason

But when in a case meeting they notice Hotch gripping the sides of his chair, biting his nails (nervous tick), making himself small in his chair and his leg shaking so much that they can feel it in through the floor

And you just standing behind him, one hand on the back of his chair not even really touching his shoulder with your fingertips and listening to whatever Garcia has to say with your full attention that they realize how Hotch has it bad BAD for you

You don't make it into the round table room until after everyone else is already seated, and unfortunately for you, that means you're out of a chair. Your typical seat is filled by Strauss, who looks less-than-pleased at your late entry, but holds her tongue.

"I'm sorry for being late, everyone," You linger behind the seat facing the screen that Garcia has prepared, your hands resting on the back of Hotch's chair, "There was an accident right in front of me, and I had to give a witness statement. Have we started yet?"

The team is used to Aaron leading conversation, but it's not necessarily weird that he doesn't, and Derek shakes his head.

"All good- uh, Y/L/N." He seems to have been going for a nickname that Strauss would not be amused with, and wisely reels himself in, "We barely got halfway through."

"I'll-" You lean down over the back of Hotch's chair, and it creaks as he shifts in it. You peer down at the case file that's open in front of him, and his eyes are glued to the word victim as you scan the details over his shoulder. He can't move them, he can't act natural, he's stiff as a board and tense in his seat.

"Oh," Your nose wrinkles at the word enucleator, "Gross. Okay, well- uh, go ahead, Garcia. I think I'm caught up."

"Okay. So victim number three was just last night, in this parking garage," She grimaces as the image on the screen, "And wow, that's nasty. But- um, Houston PD has asked for your help, and I really don't want to look at this anymore, so I'm gonna go, and- and let you take over. Do your- profiler genius thing," She stammers, gaze averted from the screen as she rushes out, emphasizing her command with a wave of her hands, "Be gone!"

Reid gets right into things by rattling off statistics on enucleators. They're fascinating, really, but not entirely helpful, and you lean down once more to inspect the case file.

"Sorry," You murmur beside Hotch's ear when your fingertips brush against his shoulder, "My seat was taken."

He doesn't answer, can't afford to open his mouth and hear his voice waver. All he does is nod, once, stiffly, and it casts an uncomfortable ache over your chest. Is he angry with you?

He could be annoyed, perhaps. That you were late in front of Strauss. But he's never been afraid to chew out an agent in front of an audience if it's what they truly deserve, and if he had a problem with your tardiness you're sure he would let it be known.

"Are you okay?" You ask him in that same low murmur, one that sends shivers down his spine to a place he can't think about with you hovering above him. He nods, vigorously so, and his tie moves with the gesture. You decide that he's just uncharacteristically nervous about Strauss's presence, perhaps she's threatening once more to demote him or fire him altogether.

You reach down to place your hands on his shoulders in what's supposed to be a supportive gesture. You squeeze gently at them, feeling his muscles impossibly tense, and the room falls silent as Reid's ramble ends.

"Okay, so these victims aren't connected," Morgan reads off of his case file, "Different genders, different races, different tax brackets, nothing in here that suggests there's a common thread. Opportunity, then?"

"It looks like it." JJ agrees, "I mean, a parking lot at night? That's high-risk. I'm willing to bet this guy just stumbled upon his first chance and took it, then couldn't stop."

There's a quiet round of agreement, some 'yeah's and a thoughtful nods, and the room falls silent. This is Hotch's moment, his time to share his conclusions, his thoughts, his doubts, his orders,, but he can't bring himself to do any of that. Not when your thumbs are gently rubbing out the kinks in his muscles, hidden from view like a comfort you're sharing with him in secret. He can't bring his mind to generate any adequate responses, so he pretends to busy himself with the file in front of him to avoid the probing gazes of his coworkers.

They're smirking. They know what's going on, they see the pink tinge on Hotch's face, they hear his foot tapping the floor beneath the table, they know he's fumbling for words like a lovesick teen.

Strauss is not as amused.

"Agent Hotchner, might I remind you that you're the chief of this team? They are awaiting your instruction."

You press your hands harder into his shoulders, thumbs digging further into his tense muscles to soothe him through his nerves. He feels your hands hold him tighter, feels that staticky feeling threaten to envelop the last part of his brain that had remained clear, and speaks before it can overtake him.

"Wheels up in thirty." He snaps, voice forcibly firm, "Dismissed."

Strauss seems rather displeased with his mediocre orders, but she doesn't say it. She lets Dave herd her out the door with the promise of freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen, and Aaron pointedly ignores the thumbs-up that the older man shoots behind his back as he leads her away.

"She's gone," You breathe, patting Hotch's shoulders as you release your grip on him, "God, she's scary."

"Derek," Emily calls sweetly, "Can you come with me to my desk? I had a newspaper clipping I wanted to show you."

Your nose wrinkles, newspaper clipping? Emily doesn't read the newspaper.

"I'd like to see it too," Reid rushes to follow them, "Uh- JJ, come on, Garcia said she wanted to see you before we took off. She wanted to give you that- uh, thing."

"That thing!" JJ repeats, grinning madly at you as she tails Reid out of the door, "See you on the jet!"

"That thing," You echo in a scoff, "Hotch, did you ever follow through with that drug test on Garcia? I think they might both be on it. Whatever it is."

Hotch manages a weak chuckle, and it brings a frown back to your face.

"Hotch, come on." You plead, "Are you really worried about Strauss?"

No. He's not. He always is, a little bit, but that's not what has his attention. He can't shake the feeling of your hands on his shoulders, rubbing out the knots in his muscles and pressing flush to his form. He wants to feel your hands over him again, in the same places and in others, but there's a bozo running around Texas removing people's eyes, and he can't afford to focus on that now.

"She's got nothing on you," You take his silence for an answer, smiling sympathetically at him, "Come on, Hotch, just forget about her, and lead like you normally would. That's enough to impress her, I guarantee it. You can do this, Hotch."

Looking at your earnest smile, standing only feet away from you when you reach out to grab hold of his hand and squeeze sympathetically, Aaron is certain of only one thing: He cannot do this.

[sytoran]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑!

howdy! it's two weeks till october, and that means kinktober season. i've planned a very elaborate (and spicy) menu for you lot. it's my first ever kinktober event, so don't be too harsh on me. stay tuned for the good stuff!

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

🎃 minors dni! for the rest of yall please be mindful of warnings and tags before reading (a lot of these fics may contain sensitive/triggering stuff!)

🎃 all fics will be dom!reader x sub!marvel women. (mainly wanda maximoff and natasha romanoff). don't like, don't read.

🎃 posts relating to this kinktober event will be tagged as 'sytoran's kinktober 2023'

🎃 i generally like to write reader as more masc-representing, and only either fem!reader or gender-neutral!reader (no male!readers)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄

🎃 OCTOBER 001.

somnophilia | CW!wanda x beefy!avenger!reader summary: after a particularly taxing work day, there's no better stress relief than your cute little bunny sleeping half-naked in your bed. cont: mild non-con, vaginal fingering, begging, daddy kink

🎃 OCTOBER 003.

blowjob | secretary!natalie rushman x ceo!reader summary: natasha's mission to retrieve a thumbdrive file involves seducing a high-ranking executive, and the seduction goes smoothly. a little too well, in fact, that she doesn't notice you're not all you seem to be. cont: reader has a cock, power play, begging

🎃 OCTOBER 005.

thigh-riding | IW!wife!wanda x gn!reader summary: you've always loved writing stories since young, but the tale of you and your wife writes itself, and it ends with a sweet happy-ever-after. cont: soft sex, established relationship, romance + fluff

🎃 OCTOBER 007. [POSTPONED]

stockholm syndrome | AOU!wanda x hydra!reader summary: after being taken as hostage by HYDRA's runaway assasin, newbie avenger wanda is prepared for pretty much anything, except developing feelings for her captor. cont: reader has a metal prosthetic arm, humiliation, degradation

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎 — 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 009.

mermaphilia | mermaid!wanda x pirate!reader summary: as captain of a notorious gang of pirates, you've got a reputation of steel, but when there's a pretty little mermaid presenting herself for you, there's no chance in hell you're not saying yes. cont: sweet talk, begging, humiliation, overstimulation

🎃 OCTOBER 011.

size kink | roomate!natasha x werewolf!reader summary: despite your countless pleads for natasha to stay away during the full moon, she decides to brave the beast and be right by your side during your transformation. she gets a lot more than what she bargained for. cont: (very) rough sex, reader has a cock, breeding, creampie

🎃 OCTOBER 013.

knife play | bimbo!wanda x ghostface!reader summary: for years on end you've chased sweet revenge. from being your high school bully to the fount of your desires, wanda maximoff is your esteemed salvation and utter demise. today, you plan on taking it all back. cont: dubious consent, degradation, fingering

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 — 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 015.

tit-fucking | milf!natasha x amab!reader summary: your wife thinks you've been acting a little off lately. she tries possible solutions to lighten your mood, but eventually it comes down to the 'hard' truth that you wanna fuck her tits. cont: reader has a cock, teasing, possessiveness, praise

🎃 OCTOBER 017.

breeding press | housewife!wanda x amab!reader summary: your wife looks a little too good on a particular weekday morning. spoiler alert - you end up late for work that day. cont: reader has a cock, daddy kink, possessiveness, marking

🎃 OCTOBER 019.

public sex | milf!natasha x mechanic!reader summary: natasha's had a completely shit day, and the last straw is when her car breaks down on the way home. the unbelievably sexy mechanic who shows up to fix her car makes it an unforgettable night. cont: daddy kink, horniness, hot mechanic stuff

🎃 OCTOBER 021.

wall sex | cheerleader!natasha x footballer!reader summary: natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants. cont: very long fic, squirting strap-on, cunnilingus

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 — 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 023.

exhibitionism | agent!peggy x lieutenant!reader summary: there's nothing quite like a classic 1940s sapphic romance, except the element of 'forbidden' doesn't apply to you; you're eating your wife out under her office desk as she speaks to - or least, attempts to speak to - her military soldiers. cont: office sex, cunnilingus, fingering, edging

🎃 OCTOBER 025. [POSTPONED]

aphrodisiac | witch!agatha x hunter!reader summary: during one of your hunting sessions in the woods, you stumble across a little wooden shack that wasn't there before. your curiosity gets the better of you, but you aren't prepared for what lies beyond. cont: non-con, sex pollen, riding, power bottom

🎃 OCTOBER 027. [POSTPONED]

caught masturbation | college!kate x professor!reader summary: kate's your best student, diligently attentive in your lectures. who knew that there were hidden intentions behind all that attention she paid to your teaching. or more specifically, you. cont: age gap, professor kink, humiliation, fingering

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 — 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

🎃 OCTOBER 029. [POSTPONED]

brat-taming | bimbo!wanda x sugarmommy!reader summary: what was supposed to be a relaxing day off at the bar turned awry when your pretty little girlfriend stepped in. wanda has a little too much fun toying with those sleazy men, so it's up to you to teach her a lesson. cont: bathroom sex, spanking, hair-pulling, degradation

🎃 OCTOBER 030. [POSTPONED]

omegaverse | omega!natasha x alpha!reader summary: while visiting your sister, kate, at the avengers compound, you stumble into none other than the black widow. there's big reputations, miscommunications, sexual tensions, and a whole lot of hot sex. cont: flirting, seduction, heat/rut, mating bite

🎃 OCTOBER 031. [POSTPONED]

mirror sex | barbie!wanda x gynecologist!reader summary: a sequel to 'doctor's orders'. wanda's curious nature to explore her new body intimately leads you to purchase a full-length mirror in your shared apartment. you teach her everything she needs to know. cont: fingering, guided masturbation, power play

credits to @cafekitsune for the line dividers i will be using

do not copy, edit, or translate my works.

kinktober requests || main masterlist || ao3

[lieutenant-rasczak]

On the incredible danger of the quaint, English village....

Although I live in Texas, thanks to various streaming services I get to watch a great deal of British T.V.  I have noticed that these shows (Midsomer Murders, Dalziel and Pascoe, Waking the Dead, Shakespeare and Hathaway, Vera, Rosemary & Thyme, Wycliffe,  etc.) share a common theme. 

And, after a certain amount of research I discovered that, believe it or not,  the third leading cause of death in the UK seems to be  "Moving to a quaint, country village". 

While “Getting murdered in a quaint, English, village”  killed slightly fewer UK Residents in 2021 than "Cancer" and "Heart Disease" it was distressingly close.  Even worse it came in only  slightly ahead of  "Attending a weekend party at a stately country home", which is in itself a fairly lethal pastime.  In fact “Attending a weekend party at a stately country home”  WAS the second leading cause of death in Britain between 1919 and 1939, but began to decline after the war as the Labour Govt. raised taxes and the number of country homes dropped drastically; thus causing a steep decline in the number of weekend parties one could be murdered at.

In any case my research indicates that IF you are British, AND you are feeling down, depressed, and suicidal, there is no reason for you to run your car off a cliff, or take a trip to Switzerland.  In fact, you need only do the following

1) move to a lovely, quiet, English village where nothing ever happens, but the murder rate is (adjusted for population) is far higher than that of South Chicago or East L.A.

You might think that such a village would be hard to find, but apparently England is simply teeming with them.  Places with highly competitive flower shows or bleak, cliff filled coastlines seem to be particularly deadly.

2) Change your will, and make sure to mention this to the former beneficiary. (This is vitally important!) Also make sure to let them know where the new will is kept. The top drawer of your desk is probably the best place, no need for locking file cabinets or bank safety deposit boxes!

3) Develop a keen interest in local land titles and/or genealogy. In fact you should probably announce that you are writing a book on the subject.  (It is suggested that you do so in a crowded pub.) In any case make sure to spend plenty of time at the local public records office researching this while receiving vaguely threatening  remarks from various upset neighbours. If you receive any threatening notes make sure to save them in an easily discovered drawer somewhere, but do NOT mention them to anybody, and certainly do not heed any warnings you are given about a need to “back off”.  That last one is ESSENTIAL.

4) Stand against the most popular member in the election for  Parish Council. Threatening to win the local flower show is also a good move.

5) Always leave the door or doors unlocked at night. (This includes your car.) Even if you have lived in London for decades, discard any habits you may have about locking up as soon as you move to the quaint, country, murder hole.

6) Never close any curtains or blinds, that way your future assailant always knows exactly where you are and what you are doing.

7)  Either don't have a phone or keep it in an inaccessible or hard to find place.

8)  Never, ever have any useful weapons nearby or if you do ensure you lose of drop them immediately on seeing your assailant.

Do this, and you’re guaranteed to be pushing up daisies by Christmas.

[buzznat20]

So in honor of TBB season 3 coming out tomorrow, and because I need to have something to laugh at or I’ll cry, I had my sister who’s never watched TBB or TCW guess the names/personalities of characters. I hope you find it as entertaining as I did. Starting off strong with #1: Bruce—asshole

Next we have #2: Gus—chill, but kinda annoying

#3: Timothy—pompous guy

#4: Charles (“ew the elderly”)—serious guy

#5: George (“after Curious George, ‘cause he looks like a primate”)—nice but an idiot

#6: Max—dad of the group (I was surprised with how close she was)

#7: Gordon (“ew his face irritates me” girl they all have the same face)—officer/receptionist

#8: Buzz—space ranger

#9: Martha—southern mom

#10: Fred (“he looks nice”)—he’s a chill grandpa

#11: Sabrina (“I don’t like her hair”)—robot. My sister gave no further explanation

#12: Zeus—leader

#13: Evil McBabyface (“I despise this man he looks evil”)—I have no notes. I applaud her for 100% accuracy on this one

#14: Rhonda (“she’s my favorite I like her”)—scientist

#15: Cassidy (“actually she’s my favorite I love her”)—Cool wine aunt who commits tax evasion

And finally #16: Roz (“Wazowski, ya didn’t file your paperwork last night”)—also a jerk

That’s all folks! I wish you a happy heartbreak as we watch this new season!

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

IM ON HERE TO CELEBRATE YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS 🎉🎉🎉 WOOOOT!

Can I pretty please request Jax Teller for prompt #14!?

Thank you!!!!!

Masterlist

Insomnia

Contains: Very mild angst, fluff.

1.2K words

“My eyelids are heavy, but my thoughts are heavier.” - Unknown

You couldn't begin to express how grateful the late nights were less late now that the club was out of guns and drugs. The only downside was that Jax and the rest of the Sons were now just mechanics, they had cars to fix and taxes to file, not meeting deadlines meant parts didn't get bought and paychecks weren't written.

Anxiety still lingered when Jax was away at night, a hold off from the worry that the next phone call would deliver the worst news one could get. Tonight was one of those nights, even though you knew Jax was safe, your brain wouldn't quiet.

The sound of a door opening drew you from your thoughts, "What are you still doing up? It's almost one."

You shrugged, "The usual. I can't sleep when your side of the bed is cold. Your dinner is in the microwave."

Jax gave you a soft smile, "Lucky me because I'm starving. Sit with me while I eat?"

You nodded, "That's my plan." Jax hurried to the kitchen and warmed his dinner before sitting next to you at the dining table, "Did you get all your work done?" 

"You bet, and I've got the whole weekend off so we can sleep in." You could smell the faint hint of oil on his clothes. 

"That's great news, you know how much I love our lazy mornings." If you were lucky, Abel would be there too, between you and Jax. 

"You and me both darlin. How was work?" He must have been hungry, half the food was already gone. 

"The usual." You yawned and Jax reached across the table to hold your hand, "I'm sorry, I guess I was just waiting for you to get home." 

Jax shook his head, "I'm almost done here. I'll hop into the shower then I'll be all yours." 

You sighed, "That sounds perfect." 

"How did Abel go at daycare today?" Jax loved all the pictures Abel drew for him, his locker, his office and his workstation were full of them. 

You smiled, "He had lots of fun today, they got a new water table and he went wild. I had to throw his tiny little shoes in the wash, that's how much fun he had." 

Jax chuckled, "I'll pick him up on Monday, I can't have you having all the fun darlin." 

"Sure, he loves it when you go and get him." You went to take Jax's empty plate from him, but he yanked it away. 

"I'll do that darlin." He rushed it to the sink before drying it and putting it away. Once that was done and he had wiped over the kitchen one last time, he walked back over to you and stretched out his hand, "Shall we?" 

You nodded and took his hand, "We shall." 

The trip to the bedroom was quick, and then Jax was stripping off and hopping into the shower, "You wanna get ready for bed darlin?"

You sighed, "I guess I better try and keep a routine, brushing my teeth and washing my face again won't hurt." 

Steam filled the room as Jax washed the day away and smirked when he caught you staring at him through the shower glass, "See something you like darlin?" 

You nodded, "You know I do Teller." 

The shower flicked off and he stepped out, wrapping the towel around his waist before stopping by the kiss you on the cheek on his way to the bedroom to get dressed. 

With his comfortable grey sweatpants on, he headed to the bed and flicked the heated blanket on your side before fluffing your pillow and peeling back the covers, "Hop in darlin." 

You took your robe off and placed it on the chair, leaving you in just one of Jax's T-Shirts and a pair of panties, then climbed into bed with a sigh, "It's so much better with you here. Maybe we should get a cat so when you're not here, I'm not alone in bed." 

Jax smiled, "I like that idea, we've got the room and it will be good for Abel to have a pet." 

You reached over to the bedside table and picked up the bottle of the lavender lotion but before you could do anything, Jax took it from you, "Let me?" 

You nodded, "I'd like that." 

He started with your arms, rubbing the smooth cream in with broad, firm strokes, "What do we need for a cat? Food, water fountains, a few litter trays and toys. Hell, with Happy's help, we can have one by Monday." 

He pinched your shirt and you pulled it over your head so he could do your shoulders next, "We need a bit more time than that. The kitty should have a catio, that will keep you busy over a few weekends and once that's build and the cat can enjoy the outdoors without killing anything we can get the kitty." 

The corner of Jax's mouth ticked up as he moved to your chest and a thought came over him, "We can tell Abel can't we? He'll want to help." 

Your eye grew heavy as you spun and his hands moved over your back, "Sure we can tell Abel. He'll want to name the kitten and he should come when we pick. Not that it means anything, the cat will pick us." 

You returned to facing him and Jax moved to your legs, rubbing the ache out of your claves, "You've already said you'll let the cat on the bed so I only have one rule, he or she has to stay away from my kutte." 

You chuckled, "You and I both know that's not going to happen, cats do what cats want." 

Jax sighed and placed the bottle back in its spot before picking your book up, "I guess so. How are you feeling now darlin?" 

You smiled, "Great, I'm ready to call it a night." You slid all the way into bed and placed your head on the pillow, "Will you read to me, I love the sound of your voice." 

Jax looked over you fondly, "Of course, darlin, that was my plan when I picked up your book." You had been reading it to him for days, a sweet tale of a little robot in search of life on Mars who made friends with an alien. 

"Rusty lifted his little arm and ticked as he handed the apple slice to his friend, 'Apples are one of human's favourite fruits, you should try some.' The alien took the slice from him with a squeak and ate it in one bite, then gave another squeak of approval at the sweet taste." 

You snuggled closer to Jax and he wrapped his arm around your body, "The Alien squeaked again, then waved its arms before pointing to itself and then to Rusty. The series of squeaks that followed sounded like the robot's name and then another which must have been its own." 

Your eyes felt so heavy as Jax continued, "It made sense when Rusty heard it for a second time, 'Your name is Eldredth? Tell me Eldredth, have you ever had chocolate? It is the best of the human's treats." 

Jax smiled as he felt your chest rise and fall softly under his arm. He put the book and laid down next to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the blanket up to your neck, "Good night Darlin, I love you." 

Fin

[hystixia]

OXYTOCIN.

SUMMARY 、YOU’RE THE LAST PERSON DR. WILSON COULD TURN TO IN HOPES OF GETTING JEFF TO TALK, BUT YOU WERE NEVER QUITE PREPARED FOR THE MONSTER THAT IS JEFFREY MASON.

FEATURING 、JEFF MASON X F!READER

WARNINGS 、MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF KILLING, GORE, DEATH, NONCON, THREATS, MANHANDLING, HAIR PULLING, DEGRADATION, SPANKING, PUSSY SLAPPING, DACRYPHILIA, CHOKING, FORCED ORGASM, CREAMPIE, PERV!JEFF

NOTES 、his chuckles during the sessions >>>

The sight of Clarence’s exhausted face tugs at your heartstrings as you approach him and he sighs tiredly. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Dr. Wilson?” You ask quietly, you knew how taxing this job can be on the mind.

He hums, surprised for a moment before turning and looking at you and his face instantly softens as his eyes crinkle in a small smile. “Please, no need to be so formal with me.” You seem to relax a bit at that before he continues, “I’m having trouble getting one of our patients to talk. I’ve tried everything I could possibly think of, he’s just… not very cooperative.”

“Is it the same one?” You ask with curiosity and Dr. Wilson nods with a small hum, glancing at the folder in his hand.

“Yes, he’s proving to be difficult for even me to handle, I will admit.” He gives you a small look as if he’s contemplating on something before finally speaking up in a rather hesitant tone, “Pardon me for asking you such a thing but, you wouldn’t oppose trying to take a crack at him would you?”

You blink a few times, surprised he was actually asking you to take a shot at getting the patient to open up. Your lips curl up in a smile as your eyes sparkle. “Do you really mean it?”

He shrugs, returning your smile with a tired one of his own. “I don’t see why not. You’re exceptionally well at your job and I don’t doubt you could get at least something from him.” He opens the file but stops halfway and looks back at you again. “I should warn you though, he’s awfully crude and violent. During my sessions with him I learned early on that he enjoys trying to get under your skin.” You nod at his words, listening carefully and remembering each thing he said before he opened the file and placed it on the desk, showing you the profile of the patient and your eyes widen a bit at the two photos clipped to the paper that held information and details on the man.

Jeffrey Mason. The name instilled fear in a large majority of people in Forest Lawn, especially those that lost loved ones the night he took so many innocent lives. It pained you, the grief they had to bear after receiving terrible news that following morning and you consider yourself lucky you nor your friends and family were ever in his harmful way. You’re relieved to know he’s here, where he can’t hurt anyone and is restrained all the time.

The two photos, one of him before the accident and one after when he had been arrested. Despite him being held here for two years now, you’d never known anything about him besides what terrible things he had done. He looked rather normal in the before photo, but there was a dark look in his eye that made you think otherwise. The second photo was a horrific sight of its own. His burned face, the carved smile that nearly reached his ears and that animalistic look in his eyes that made your skin crawl. He looked much more like a monster in that photo and you consider he thinks he is one himself.

You give Dr. Wilson a glance as you straighten your posture. “When is the next session, Dr. Wilson?”

He chuckles quietly. “I’ve been spending less and less time on him since I have other patients to attend to, but you can start as early as next week I’d suppose.”

You give him a determined look and puff out your chest a little as you grab your things and prepare to leave for the day much like he was himself. “I will get words out of him, Doctor. I can promise you that.”

He laughs a bit at your determination as he grabs his own things and prepares to leave soon. “I have no doubt that you will.”

The next week comes surprisingly quick but maybe that’s because you were itching to try and attempt to get something out of the patient. If Dr. Wilson was struggling that surely meant you’d have a lot of trial and error yourself but you have the patience to handle any patient that’s been given to you. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard right?

“You can bring him in now.” You call out and soon after the large door squeaks and groans as it’s opened and the sound of chains jingling and clinking meets your ears as the noise bounces off the walls of the small room.

Your head turns immediately at the sudden sounds as a guard brings the patient in and Jesus he was so much scarier in person. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat and as hard as you tried to listen to Dr. Wilson’s words, the guy definitely intimidated you by just his presence alone.

His heavy breathing leaves uncomfortable goosebumps along your skin as you watch him practically be dragged into the room and sat in the chair. The guard clicks something on the cuffs around his hands and you realize he’s locked him to the table. At least he isn’t able to move around thankfully. His feet are chained together, leaving him very little room to move one foot in front of the other and you try to keep your gaze off him as he stares at you with those sickening eyes of his.

You clear your throat and look up at the guard, straightening your posture to appear more confident. “You can go, it’s fine.” You say and he nods before eyeing the patient chained up who’s carved smile seems to widen as he stares over and back up at the man before he’s walking out of the room and closing the loud door behind himself.

You look down at the file before you and then glance at the record player currently spinning as it records. You sigh through your nose and slowly lift your eyes up to look at his face only to see him staring back with an animalistic hunger.

“Jeffrey Mas—“ “It’s just. Jeff.” He emphasizes with a hint of aggression to his voice. You’d never heard him speak before, and you certainly hadn’t expected his voice to sound so raspy and deep.

You correct yourself, ignoring the way your heart jumped up in your throat for a moment. “Right. Jeff, we’re going to talk about you for a little while.” You sit up straight again and look down at the file to distract yourself from his eerie stare.

He breathes out a chuckle, “Heh, what do you want to know about me then?” He’s mocking you and his heavy breaths like some wild animal are starting to get to you. Now you’re realizing why Dr. Wilson had such difficulties with this guy.

You rest your forearms on the table, leaning in a bit as you stare at him and try to get over your nerves. You needed to be professional, why was it proving so difficult to do suddenly? “What were you like growing up?” You’ll start off simple, ask basic questions any other doctor or therapist would ask.

He scoffs and you swear you saw his tongue peak out the side of his carved cheek. “Angry. Really fuckin’ angry.” His eyes are casted downward no longer looking at your face and you frown a bit, you tap your finger against the table to get his attention and his eyes immediately flick up to yours.

“I need you to focus, Jeff. This is serious.” “Is that why your tits are on display?” You’re stunned, blinking a few times to process his words before staring down at your shirt. It’s merely one button that hasn’t been buttoned up with the rest, you can barely even see the line of your cleavage and he had the nerve to say such an inappropriate thing to you?!

“That is highly inappropriate, Jeff.” You suddenly snap, becoming defensive but all he does is laugh, the sound reaching your ears and reverberating off the walls.

“Oh, c’mon, doctor.” He mocks. “They were beggin’ for some attention.” He speaks in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine, his tone is sinister before he breaks out in another manic laugh, giggling to himself.

“I need you to cooperate with me.” You sigh, sitting back in your chair and he rolls his eyes as he huffs. The chains jingle as he leans in over the table.

“What if I don’t want to cooperate with you?” He spats out, suddenly hostile and it’s like a game of hot potato for you only you never know when he’s going to switch up on you.

“I’m here to help you, Jeff.” You say in a calm and soft tone, trying to not let his refusal at cooperating get under your skin.

He scoffs, an airy chuckle ringing out. “Heh, you can help me out by undoing these cuffs.” He cackles, throwing his head back as he tugs on the handcuffs circled around his wrists and attached to the restraints keeping him in the chair.

You press your lips in a thin line before responding curtly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad isn’t it, doll?” He tilts his head, that crazed look in his eyes that makes you feel small and naked under his stare. It makes your skin crawl but you’re determined to help him, if there’s any chance he’s even salvageable.

You hum quietly to yourself, looking over at the recorder before sighing through your nose and attempting again. “Jeff, I need you to be open with me and answer my questions, please.”

He chuckles again. “Beg me again and maybe I will.” God if you could punch him in his disgusting face you would right now. You don’t dwell on it for too long, you know he’s just trying to get reactions from you.

“Will you please cooperate with me?” It’s silent save for his breathing. You try again, “Please, Jeff?”

“Ooh, I like it with you beg.” He grins, breathing out creepily as he watches you. He moves a bit in his seat and the restraints clink loudly with his movements. “You wanna know something fun?”

“I’m not quite sure I know what your definition of fun is.” You watch him carefully, looking for any signs he might try something but he seems relaxed for the most part as he leans back against the chair.

“I’ve pictured all the ways I’m going to rip you limb from limb, and then watch you bleed out.” He smiles, mangled scars twisted up as he does so. “It’ll be a sight to behold, seein’ you lying in a pool of your own blood.”

You try to not let it affect it. You clear your throat and give him an uninterested look. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere, Jeff Mason.” He continues to laugh like a crazed man, eventually coming down as he sighs. “When did the ringing and visions start?”

“What visions?” He nearly spats out, leaning back in the chair as the restraints jingled loudly again.

“You’ve mentioned in previous sessions with Dr. Wilson that you, saw what’s coming. When did this start?” You ask, noting his behavior on the clipboard momentarily as you gave him time to think of an answer.

He sighs dramatically. “What do you think?” He snarls and you give him an unbothered look back.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Jeff.” You reply in a soft voice like before, he seemed to be more keen to a certain extent when you talked gently but maybe you were just desperate to get this over with now and were trying everything multiple times.

“Well, aren’t you just a doll, huh?” He grins, eyes glued to your face and the way he’s looking at you makes you want to gag.

“Jeff,” You have to get him back on track whether he wants to or not. You sigh deeply through your nose and look down at the clipboard where you’re written various notes. “We aren’t getting anywhere unless you cooperate with me.”

“Oh, but we are.” He chuckles, tilting his head as he leans over the table but there’s suddenly something different about him this time and you tense up as if he’s got you at knife point. He breathes out forcefully through his nose like he’s calming himself from falling into a fit of rage. “You wanna know somethin’ else, doctor?”

You’re hesitant, giving him an unsure look as you shrink back in your chair just the slightest. “And what’s that, Jeff?”

He lets his head turn down as he laughs, turning into a full blown manic cackle as his shoulders shake like he heard the best joke ever. He raises his head again but this time the room is heavy with an unknown aura as his eyes lock onto yours. “That guard, is real lousy about checkin’ the restraints.” His smile widens, an evil glint in his eyes as a loud metal shriek rings out and you hear something clink against the ground. He’s already reached you before you can react and you try to scream out but his hand slaps over your mouth to muffle your noises as his breath is hot against the shell of your ear and he tugs you out of the chair roughly.

“Screamin’ like an animal caught in a trap, heh.” He slams you into the metal table and it feels like you’re spinning. Pain blooms in your head, throbbing your entire skull until he lifts your head up by your hair and slams your face back into a table a few more forceful times. You cough out and wheeze a breath, wincing in pain as it clouds your entire system and you’re unable to truly focus your eyes on anything.

“S-stop—“ You gasp out, hands gripping into the edge of the table as tears flood your vision and you fight back a sniffle.

He hums happily from behind you, grabbing your waist tight as he gets a feel of you before letting his hands slide down to the curve of your ass and he groans.

“Y’know,” He starts, hooking his fingers in your belt loops but you’re in too much of a daze to comprehend his actions as he starts to pull your pants down. “I think you might just be mine now, doll.”

You whine in protest, unable to form words properly and you try to push yourself up off the table but he shoves you into it with his arm against your back making you grimace in discomfort.

“Fuck, what a nice ass.” He groans with a hissed breath, already having pulled your pants down to bunch up at your knees that are practically limp as he forces his way between them. He rubs a hand over your ass before slapping it hard, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry out in shock and pain. He chuckles behind you and does it again and again, and again.

“Stop i-it!” You cry out, biting your lip hard to distract from the raw pain tingling in your rear as you lie pathetically on the table.

“Why should I?” He jabs a finger against your clothed cunt, it’s uncomfortable as hell and clumsily pushed against your heat. “You’re fuckin’ wet from this? Dirty bitch.” He grins before giving your pussy a loud slap that sends a bolt of electricity through your body that made you squeak.

“Oh you like that, huh? Just a filthy bitch waitin’ to get her cunt fucked?” He mocks with a sneer, tugging your panties to the side and groaning at the shiny slick your pussy drools. “You are gettin’ off to this, doctor. Isn’t that unprofessional?” You wanted to scream at him, to kick him off you so you could run to the door before he ever did anything more vile to your body but it’s as if your limbs have gone numb and you’re no longer able to move them. You’re trapped and as the realization nestles itself into your heart and mind, you feel hopeless in the moment as tears start to fall and you cry silently against the table.

He spreads your pussy, forcing your legs to move further apart so he could get a good look before he’s fumbling with the orange slacks he wore and tugging his aching cock from its confinements. He groans as he pumps it a few times, mushroom tip leaking beads of precum before he’s nudging it against your cunt and pushing in without warning. You nearly shriek but he wraps a hand around your throat cutting off your airway completely as he forces his thick girth into you with a low groan.

“So fuckin’ tight, relax will ya?” He grunts out, jaw clenched tight as he bottoms out and your pussy pulses and constricts around his intruding length. It burned achingly so, and it felt like you were being ripped apart. It was agonizing and you cry as he loosens his hold on your neck and you finally get an intake of air, inhaling like a greedy and starved woman as you pant against the table.

He pulls you up and back by your hair and your arms instinctively push on the table to keep yourself upright and to dull the pain in your scalp from his tugging. He doesn’t release the grip he has on your hair though as he pulls back and then slams forward into you brutally and knocking the air from your lungs. You nearly fall forward, arms shaky and your feet barely reaching the ground as he uses you.

“Shit, are you cryin’?” He tugs your head to the side and you unfortunately get a glimpse of his face as he groans at the tears falling down your face before making you look forward again. “Fuckk, keep crying like that, you fuckin’ slut.”

You sob but not because he wants you to, no you wish you could stop the hiccuping breaths and warm tears but the pain in your entire body is too much to handle and along with the rough thrusts he’s doing, you feel like your head is gonna pop any second.

His hips snap loudly into your ass and he tugs your underwear down enough to see the handprints he left behind on the swell of your ass as he smiles and tugs on your hair again to hear a pained whimper fall from your lips.

“What a slutty fuckin’ cunt, huh? Sucking me in, you wanted this.” He grunts, your soft walls squeezing him so perfectly were starting to get to him and he could feel his cock twitch inside of you. He lets go of your hair and grabs you by your neck once again and squeezes it, feeling your pulse thump at a fast rate against his digits.

“Filthy whore, ‘m gonna dump my load into ya. Heh, you’re gonna take it like a good bitch aren’t ya?” He chuckles, voice strained as he digs his fingers into your neck and his other hand that was gripping your hip slides down your stomach and rubbing at your clit. Your hands instantly go to stop him and he holds you up by your neck and you’re forced to take short and shallow breaths as your hands try to pry his hand away from your sensitive bundle of nerves but the warmth and addictive pleasure that twists and churns in your gut makes your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just give in, let me— ngh, fuckin’ use you, you dumb rapeslut.” His face tenses up as your walls flutter around him and he laughs. “Gonna cum from rape? Try to stop it then, c’mon. You can do it, doll.” He mocks with a grin but your body betrays you and your walls contract around him as you cream around his cock but he keeps thrusting, unrelenting and unstoppable as he groans at the feeling and chases his high.

“Good fuckin’ rapedoll, huh?” He’s just humiliating you even more now and you sob out as you beg and babble.

“S-stop it, Jeff!— haah, d-don’t do it, please!” You cry pathetically, trying to pull away from him but you’re pinned and it’s useless to try and stop him. He was a fucking monster. “Pull o-out, ngh— oooh!”

He snarls, squeezing your throat so tight you can’t breathe again as he ruts into you like an animal, each brutal thrust bumping your cervix painfully. “I’m cum where I fuckin’ want to, bitch.” He spats, slapping your ass hard but you can’t gasp for breath, you couldn’t fucking breathe.

You open your mouth pathetically as your hands grab at his wrist to pry off his hold on your throat but it’s pointless. He groans behind you and shortly after his thrusts grow sloppy and warmth floods your cunt. Your eyes widen in fear and you try to scream out but no sound leaves you as tears flood your vision, blurring it once more. He laughs like a maniac behind you as he stills his hips and grinds purposefully into your sensitive walls before pulling out and letting your panties keep his cum from spilling out and making a mess.

He pulls away from you, lets you gasp like a fish out of water for a few moments and with what little dignity you had left you manage to tug your pants back up right before he forces that door open and lunges at the guard with a crazed chuckle.

You don’t remember much of what happened after that. You remember seeing him bash the guard’s head into the wall and then violently punching another one to death. Your eyes grow heavy and your body lies weakly against the table as you watch him disappear down a hall, covered in blood before your consciousness slipped away.

[withgreatpowercomesmyfuckingdick]

Hi! Imma do something rare and actually make content, but its 11 at night and i just had a brain worm

for those of you that don’t know, i work at an accounting office. we do taxes. it is tax season. and now im thinking abt how AGSZC does taxes and what their papers are like and im inflicting it on the rest of you even if its gibberish

Angeal: A godsend. Keeps his forms in order and filed properly, calculates everything else himself like a good man. Papers honestly aren’t too bad, maybe 10-12 just because of his career/insurance plus his doubtless donations to charity, but aside from that. straightforward and done at his kitchen table

Genesis: A fucking NIGHTMARE. no doubt pays someone else to do it. and for fucks sake, i know he invests. constantly and consistently and probably in anything he thinks stands the slightest chance against shinra on the market. his 1099-B is a mess and definitely Not Totaled, so his is the bullshit you have to insert one. investment. at. a time. He’s the type that keeps fucking calling too, I can just tell. but, aside from the 1099-B, he’s probably got simple stuff as well. probably several 1099-INTs from several different bank accounts, maybe a couple 1098s floating around from vacation houses or some shit.

Sephiroth: Does his own. In ridiculously early. Makes almost no personal purchases so hardly has anything to pay. I can’t imagine not having a last name or not knowing his birthday doesn’t end up a legal problem somehow, so he likely has to walk directly into a damn tax office to say hey this is me and this is my shit no, someone isn’t stealing my identity. has one singular document and it’s his W-2. Which is. Fucking astronomical. Like, the number doesn’t even look right. His paycheck as a SOLDIER isn’t taxed, so he doesn’t really get much back on his refund. The only first without a healthcare /insurance form because why tf would Sephiroth have healthcare? What’s he gonna do, get sick?

not getting into how doing his own taxes was definitely a fight between him and Hojo at some point and ended up getting hashed out in a board room. Hojo didn’t like him having the autonomy of filing for himself instead of being claimed ad Hojo’s ‘dependent’. Sephiroth deadass threatened to go to court abt it. The President told Hojo to suck it up so they didn’t have to deal with scandal, Hojo wouldn’t tell Seph his birthday to be difficult, and here we are

Zack: Panicking. Late. Doesn’t know if his forms came in the mail, doesn’t know where he put them most of the time. Scrambles around for a fuck ton of receipts, ultimately has to request Shinra send him his shit again. DEFINITELY pays someone else to do it. W-2, 1095-A, 1099-C(s)(he has several debts i can feel it i love him but he screams bad financial decisions), probably some shit for his bike too. He customs it so I can see him listing some parts he buys for it as work expenses. Jokingly puts some money he gave aerith for flowers and what he spent to make her wagon as donations to charity and it actually goes through because the church is still considered a legal entity. Definitely has to pay late fees.

Cloud: Pays Tifa to do it. Filing for both of them is a nightmare cause all their shit burnt in Nibelheim, so once Edge gets right with the WRO they have to do all their paperwork from scratch and get reassigned SSNs. He genuinely has a fuckton of paperwork from doing the Strife Delivery Service. Luckily, only ‘employee’ he has is Tifa, and even then she doesn’t do things regularly aside from pick up the phone. Doesn’t make his business an LLC until he’s literally forced to due to his number of clients and someone trying to sue him for damages. 1099-NEC for TIfa for sure, then once he’s an LLC, some yearly maintenance to keep legal. Mileage and gas expenses go CRAZY on his self employment form, I fucking bet. I bet Cloud’s handwriting is shit tho. Tifa’s at her desk counting up his gains and losses for fucking ages because his fives look too similar to sixes. Eventually she wrangles him into installing some shit on his phone that counts it up, if only to cure her headache. Funnily enough, he does get veteran benefits from what’s left of Shinra’s shit, reparations of sorts, but he doesn’t keep it. All goes to charity, so that ends up in the books too.

alright, that was unnecessarily in depth and way longer than i planned. good night LMAO

[mossytrashcan]

I need to stop dming people when I’m tired cuz why did I ask my friend if their oc files taxes last night 😭

[homestuckreplay]

JOHN EGBERT BANGING OUT THE TUNES APRIL 21, 2009?!

After our adventures in John's bedroom and living room these past days, we now get a glimpse into his father's study. Unsurprisingly this room is also filled with harlequins, but this time the more businesslike monochrome harlequins, almost veering into mime territory. There's also a copy of 'The Serious Jester' on the desk. From this we could guess that this is where John's dad does the serious part of clowning - filing his taxes or whatever - if it weren't for the next line.

There is also a CAN OF PEANUTS on the desk. Ha ha, oh DAD. You won't be falling for THAT one again any time soon. A severe peanut allergy is a terrible affliction to cope with.

AGAIN?? Is this suggesting that John's dad, through carelessness at best, has been leaving peanuts around the house to potentially poison his son with? Can we infer that his ceaseless cake baking is a sort of Russian roulette, where most cakes are perfectly safe but there's a small chance any one could have peanuts blended in? Is the divide between John and his father that John does whimsical, ridiculous pranks while his father does 'serious' pranks that endanger people's lives? When are we going to meet this evil clown?!

A father without a pipe is like a strapping roughneck without a toothpick. That is to say, HE IS A RATHER PISS-POOR EXCUSE FOR A ROUGHNECK IF YOU ASK ME.

This is the THIRD time an opinion like this has been voiced by the narration - first the tire swing, then the fire, and now the father, all trappings of the suburban lifestyle in which John seems to live. The narrator explicitly calls themself 'me' here too, suggesting a distinct entity instead of a disembodied narration. Are we reading this from the point of view of an entity who is keeping John homestuck, forcing him to partake in all the trappings of home life? And does this have anything to do with Sburb - as someone pointed out on Discord last night, it's only one letter away from Suburb?

I think that captchaloguing a captchalogue card should cause John to open a portal to the astral plane like with bags of holding in D&D.

But the most exciting part of this update is John playing the piano on page 77 - complete with a song playing inside the animation! The song is Showtime by Kevin Regamey and Malcolm Brown, and it's a very pleasant listen. John is a skilled piano player!! Which means that sooner than expected, I'm getting an answer to my question of 'what is John good at'. I can't believe there hasn't been a single mention of music in this comic until now, and suddenly John busts out this simple but lightweight, airy, carefree melody that he's clearly practiced loads before. What other secrets is this kid hiding from us?

The caption on this animation is even more intriguing - '(Pages including sound will be preceded by [S] in the command.)' Is music going to become a regular part of the comic? Is John playing music going to become relevant to the plot, so we'll get to hear more of his songs, or will music be worked into the story in other ways? This is treading new ground, moving Homestuck further away from a 'traditional' comic, which only makes me more curious about where it'll go next.

[willalove75]

Hello, lovely

This is a little different. I was just wondering what you're headcanons are on Lady D?

I love this!! I've been super slacking with my writing so I'm hoping this helps me refocus and get back into it!! I have to say I definitely write her a little differently than some of my headcanons because it's more fun to write her the way I do and because I can but this is what I got!

Lady Dimitrescu is VERY meticulous - about everything. From the way she files the papers for the vineyard, to her record keeping, her staff, she has a system for every little thing and cannot stand when something is out of place.

This is also why she trusts Bela with her business instead of Cassandra or Daniela, especially Daniela😂

She is also very particular about her appearance. Her hair and makeup are always pristine and it's rare for anyone to ever see her with a hair out of place or smudged makeup.

She's definitely vain, maybe a little bit narcissistic.

Because she grew up in nobility she was never able to properly express her feelings since it was always frowned upon. That combined with being absolutely spoiled as a kid she has a very difficult time with being vulnerable and most of her emotions come out as a display of anger.

I don't think she ever wanted children before the cadou (for many reasons but also because it was never possible because she was so sick, carrying children would have certainly been a death sentence for her so it was never really an option) but after the girls came they filled a space in her heart she didn't know existed.

She was WAY more of a tyrant before the girls showed up.

I think part of her resented the way she grew up. I don't think she was ever able to have much of a childhood between being sick all the time and because she was nobility, so when she was raising the girls she showered them with the love and affection she never got and wanted them to be able to play and have fun.

Which is why it makes her sad when she has to lock them up in the castle in the winter because she felt like she was always locked away and hates having to do the same thing to her girls, even if it is for their own protection.

That didn't stop her from trying to instill proper manners and etiquette in them - she did try her best, but Cassandra and Daniela are unruly as hell.

I think she's proud of the dragon inside of her, even though she doesn't let it out. (I usually write her as someone who isn't but I truly think she enjoys the fear she can instill with it).

I also think that transforming is extremely taxing and painful for her which is why Mother Miranda was the only one who ever saw her in that state before Ethan.

Every time a new set of maids comes in she introduces herself and hand-picks which ones will get sent to the dungeon and which ones that will serve in her castle. She's too particular to let just anyone in her domain and around her girls.

She does let Bela shadow her and allows the girls to pick one of the maidens going to the dungeon to play with.

Aside from a personal maid or two, she sends all other maids out of the dining room during meals so she can enjoy spending time with her daughters.

Around the maids and staff she is strict and tough, but fair. But she does her best to not let them see her softer side that she reserves for her daughters. She doesn't want any maid to think for a second she isn't the hardened, stoic woman she wants to be seen as. It's taken decades to build her reputation, she'll be damned to see it dissolve because a maid saw her comfort one of her girls.

I don't write her like this but I do think she takes maidens as pets but they don't last longer than a night or two in her chambers.

Especially if she lets them pleasure her. That's as vulnerable as she will ever let herself be around someone else and being able to see her in that state is such an honor, they pay for it with their lives.

She spends a LOT of time in the opera hall, atelier and library. If she isn't in her study, her chambers or with the girls, she'll be in one of those places.

The girls are NOT allowed in her atelier and she doesn't let maids in there either. It's a sacred room to her and is off-limits to everyone.

At night after a bath and a glass of her Sanguinis Virginis, she's either reading or writing in her diary.

She smokes and drinks more when she's stressed. She may be immortal but the woman still has her vices.

She is FIERCELY protective of those she cares about. Especially her daughters. Although she has gone out of her way to protect her favorite maids in the past - without their knowledge of course.

That's all I got for now!! Hope you all enjoyed!!

[endious]

OXYTOCIN.

SUMMARY 、YOU’RE THE LAST PERSON DR. WILSON COULD TURN TO IN HOPES OF GETTING JEFF TO TALK, BUT YOU WERE NEVER QUITE PREPARED FOR THE MONSTER THAT IS JEFFREY MASON.

FEATURING 、JEFF MASON X F!READER

WARNINGS 、MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF KILLING, GORE, DEATH, NONCON, THREATS, MANHANDLING, HAIR PULLING, DEGRADATION, SPANKING, PUSSY SLAPPING, DACRYPHILIA, CHOKING, FORCED ORGASM, CREAMPIE, PERV!JEFF

NOTES 、his chuckles during the sessions >>>

The sight of Clarence’s exhausted face tugs at your heartstrings as you approach him and he sighs tiredly. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Dr. Wilson?” You ask quietly, you knew how taxing this job can be on the mind.

He hums, surprised for a moment before turning and looking at you and his face instantly softens as his eyes crinkle in a small smile. “Please, no need to be so formal with me.” You seem to relax a bit at that before he continues, “I’m having trouble getting one of our patients to talk. I’ve tried everything I could possibly think of, he’s just… not very cooperative.”

“Is it the same one?” You ask with curiosity and Dr. Wilson nods with a small hum, glancing at the folder in his hand.

“Yes, he’s proving to be difficult for even me to handle, I will admit.” He gives you a small look as if he’s contemplating on something before finally speaking up in a rather hesitant tone, “Pardon me for asking you such a thing but, you wouldn’t oppose trying to take a crack at him would you?”

You blink a few times, surprised he was actually asking you to take a shot at getting the patient to open up. Your lips curl up in a smile as your eyes sparkle. “Do you really mean it?”

He shrugs, returning your smile with a tired one of his own. “I don’t see why not. You’re exceptionally well at your job and I don’t doubt you could get at least something from him.” He opens the file but stops halfway and looks back at you again. “I should warn you though, he’s awfully crude and violent. During my sessions with him I learned early on that he enjoys trying to get under your skin.” You nod at his words, listening carefully and remembering each thing he said before he opened the file and placed it on the desk, showing you the profile of the patient and your eyes widen a bit at the two photos clipped to the paper that held information and details on the man.

Jeffrey Mason. The name instilled fear in a large majority of people in Forest Lawn, especially those that lost loved ones the night he took so many innocent lives. It pained you, the grief they had to bear after receiving terrible news that following morning and you consider yourself lucky you nor your friends and family were ever in his harmful way. You’re relieved to know he’s here, where he can’t hurt anyone and is restrained all the time.

The two photos, one of him before the accident and one after when he had been arrested. Despite him being held here for two years now, you’d never known anything about him besides what terrible things he had done. He looked rather normal in the before photo, but there was a dark look in his eye that made you think otherwise. The second photo was a horrific sight of its own. His burned face, the carved smile that nearly reached his ears and that animalistic look in his eyes that made your skin crawl. He looked much more like a monster in that photo and you consider he thinks he is one himself.

You give Dr. Wilson a glance as you straighten your posture. “When is the next session, Dr. Wilson?”

He chuckles quietly. “I’ve been spending less and less time on him since I have other patients to attend to, but you can start as early as next week I’d suppose.”

You give him a determined look and puff out your chest a little as you grab your things and prepare to leave for the day much like he was himself. “I will get words out of him, Doctor. I can promise you that.”

He laughs a bit at your determination as he grabs his own things and prepares to leave soon. “I have no doubt that you will.”

The next week comes surprisingly quick but maybe that’s because you were itching to try and attempt to get something out of the patient. If Dr. Wilson was struggling that surely meant you’d have a lot of trial and error yourself but you have the patience to handle any patient that’s been given to you. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard right?

“You can bring him in now.” You call out and soon after the large door squeaks and groans as it’s opened and the sound of chains jingling and clinking meets your ears as the noise bounces off the walls of the small room.

Your head turns immediately at the sudden sounds as a guard brings the patient in and Jesus he was so much scarier in person. You swallow the lump beginning to form in your throat and as hard as you tried to listen to Dr. Wilson’s words, the guy definitely intimidated you by just his presence alone.

His heavy breathing leaves uncomfortable goosebumps along your skin as you watch him practically be dragged into the room and sat in the chair. The guard clicks something on the cuffs around his hands and you realize he’s locked him to the table. At least he isn’t able to move around thankfully. His feet are chained together, leaving him very little room to move one foot in front of the other and you try to keep your gaze off him as he stares at you with those sickening eyes of his.

You clear your throat and look up at the guard, straightening your posture to appear more confident. “You can go, it’s fine.” You say and he nods before eyeing the patient chained up who’s carved smile seems to widen as he stares over and back up at the man before he’s walking out of the room and closing the loud door behind himself.

You look down at the file before you and then glance at the record player currently spinning as it records. You sigh through your nose and slowly lift your eyes up to look at his face only to see him staring back with an animalistic hunger.

“Jeffrey Mas—“ “It’s just. Jeff.” He emphasizes with a hint of aggression to his voice. You’d never heard him speak before, and you certainly hadn’t expected his voice to sound so raspy and deep.

You correct yourself, ignoring the way your heart jumped up in your throat for a moment. “Right. Jeff, we’re going to talk about you for a little while.” You sit up straight again and look down at the file to distract yourself from his eerie stare.

He breathes out a chuckle, “Heh, what do you want to know about me then?” He’s mocking you and his heavy breaths like some wild animal are starting to get to you. Now you’re realizing why Dr. Wilson had such difficulties with this guy.

You rest your forearms on the table, leaning in a bit as you stare at him and try to get over your nerves. You needed to be professional, why was it proving so difficult to do suddenly? “What were you like growing up?” You’ll start off simple, ask basic questions any other doctor or therapist would ask.

He scoffs and you swear you saw his tongue peak out the side of his carved cheek. “Angry. Really fuckin’ angry.” His eyes are casted downward no longer looking at your face and you frown a bit, you tap your finger against the table to get his attention and his eyes immediately flick up to yours.

“I need you to focus, Jeff. This is serious.” “Is that why your tits are on display?” You’re stunned, blinking a few times to process his words before staring down at your shirt. It’s merely one button that hasn’t been buttoned up with the rest, you can barely even see the line of your cleavage and he had the nerve to say such an inappropriate thing to you?!

“That is highly inappropriate, Jeff.” You suddenly snap, becoming defensive but all he does is laugh, the sound reaching your ears and reverberating off the walls.

“Oh, c’mon, doctor.” He mocks. “They were beggin’ for some attention.” He speaks in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine, his tone is sinister before he breaks out in another manic laugh, giggling to himself.

“I need you to cooperate with me.” You sigh, sitting back in your chair and he rolls his eyes as he huffs. The chains jingle as he leans in over the table.

“What if I don’t want to cooperate with you?” He spats out, suddenly hostile and it’s like a game of hot potato for you only you never know when he’s going to switch up on you.

“I’m here to help you, Jeff.” You say in a calm and soft tone, trying to not let his refusal at cooperating get under your skin.

He scoffs, an airy chuckle ringing out. “Heh, you can help me out by undoing these cuffs.” He cackles, throwing his head back as he tugs on the handcuffs circled around his wrists and attached to the restraints keeping him in the chair.

You press your lips in a thin line before responding curtly, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Oh, well that’s too bad isn’t it, doll?” He tilts his head, that crazed look in his eyes that makes you feel small and naked under his stare. It makes your skin crawl but you’re determined to help him, if there’s any chance he’s even salvageable.

You hum quietly to yourself, looking over at the recorder before sighing through your nose and attempting again. “Jeff, I need you to be open with me and answer my questions, please.”

He chuckles again. “Beg me again and maybe I will.” God if you could punch him in his disgusting face you would right now. You don’t dwell on it for too long, you know he’s just trying to get reactions from you.

“Will you please cooperate with me?” It’s silent save for his breathing. You try again, “Please, Jeff?”

“Ooh, I like it with you beg.” He grins, breathing out creepily as he watches you. He moves a bit in his seat and the restraints clink loudly with his movements. “You wanna know something fun?”

“I’m not quite sure I know what your definition of fun is.” You watch him carefully, looking for any signs he might try something but he seems relaxed for the most part as he leans back against the chair.

“I’ve pictured all the ways I’m going to rip you limb from limb, and then watch you bleed out.” He smiles, mangled scars twisted up as he does so. “It’ll be a sight to behold, seein’ you lying in a pool of your own blood.”

You try to not let it affect it. You clear your throat and give him an uninterested look. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere, Jeff Mason.” He continues to laugh like a crazed man, eventually coming down as he sighs. “When did the ringing and visions start?”

“What visions?” He nearly spats out, leaning back in the chair as the restraints jingled loudly again.

“You’ve mentioned in previous sessions with Dr. Wilson that you, saw what’s coming. When did this start?” You ask, noting his behavior on the clipboard momentarily as you gave him time to think of an answer.

He sighs dramatically. “What do you think?” He snarls and you give him an unbothered look back.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, Jeff.” You reply in a soft voice like before, he seemed to be more keen to a certain extent when you talked gently but maybe you were just desperate to get this over with now and were trying everything multiple times.

“Well, aren’t you just a doll, huh?” He grins, eyes glued to your face and the way he’s looking at you makes you want to gag.

“Jeff,” You have to get him back on track whether he wants to or not. You sigh deeply through your nose and look down at the clipboard where you’re written various notes. “We aren’t getting anywhere unless you cooperate with me.”

“Oh, but we are.” He chuckles, tilting his head as he leans over the table but there’s suddenly something different about him this time and you tense up as if he’s got you at knife point. He breathes out forcefully through his nose like he’s calming himself from falling into a fit of rage. “You wanna know somethin’ else, doctor?”

You’re hesitant, giving him an unsure look as you shrink back in your chair just the slightest. “And what’s that, Jeff?”

He lets his head turn down as he laughs, turning into a full blown manic cackle as his shoulders shake like he heard the best joke ever. He raises his head again but this time the room is heavy with an unknown aura as his eyes lock onto yours. “That guard, is real lousy about checkin’ the restraints.” His smile widens, an evil glint in his eyes as a loud metal shriek rings out and you hear something clink against the ground. He’s already reached you before you can react and you try to scream out but his hand slaps over your mouth to muffle your noises as his breath is hot against the shell of your ear and he tugs you out of the chair roughly.

“Screamin’ like an animal caught in a trap, heh.” He slams you into the metal table and it feels like you’re spinning. Pain blooms in your head, throbbing your entire skull until he lifts your head up by your hair and slams your face back into a table a few more forceful times. You cough out and wheeze a breath, wincing in pain as it clouds your entire system and you’re unable to truly focus your eyes on anything.

“S-stop—“ You gasp out, hands gripping into the edge of the table as tears flood your vision and you fight back a sniffle.

He hums happily from behind you, grabbing your waist tight as he gets a feel of you before letting his hands slide down to the curve of your ass and he groans.

“Y’know,” He starts, hooking his fingers in your belt loops but you’re in too much of a daze to comprehend his actions as he starts to pull your pants down. “I think you might just be mine now, doll.”

You whine in protest, unable to form words properly and you try to push yourself up off the table but he shoves you into it with his arm against your back making you grimace in discomfort.

“Fuck, what a nice ass.” He groans with a hissed breath, already having pulled your pants down to bunch up at your knees that are practically limp as he forces his way between them. He rubs a hand over your ass before slapping it hard, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry out in shock and pain. He chuckles behind you and does it again and again, and again.

“Stop i-it!” You cry out, biting your lip hard to distract from the raw pain tingling in your rear as you lie pathetically on the table.

“Why should I?” He jabs a finger against your clothed cunt, it’s uncomfortable as hell and clumsily pushed against your heat. “You’re fuckin’ wet from this? Dirty bitch.” He grins before giving your pussy a loud slap that sends a bolt of electricity through your body that made you squeak.

“Oh you like that, huh? Just a filthy bitch waitin’ to get her cunt fucked?” He mocks with a sneer, tugging your panties to the side and groaning at the shiny slick your pussy drools. “You are gettin’ off to this, doctor. Isn’t that unprofessional?” You wanted to scream at him, to kick him off you so you could run to the door before he ever did anything more vile to your body but it’s as if your limbs have gone numb and you’re no longer able to move them. You’re trapped and as the realization nestles itself into your heart and mind, you feel hopeless in the moment as tears start to fall and you cry silently against the table.

He spreads your pussy, forcing your legs to move further apart so he could get a good look before he’s fumbling with the orange slacks he wore and tugging his aching cock from its confinements. He groans as he pumps it a few times, mushroom tip leaking beads of precum before he’s nudging it against your cunt and pushing in without warning. You nearly shriek but he wraps a hand around your throat cutting off your airway completely as he forces his thick girth into you with a low groan.

“So fuckin’ tight, relax will ya?” He grunts out, jaw clenched tight as he bottoms out and your pussy pulses and constricts around his intruding length. It burned achingly so, and it felt like you were being ripped apart. It was agonizing and you cry as he loosens his hold on your neck and you finally get an intake of air, inhaling like a greedy and starved woman as you pant against the table.

He pulls you up and back by your hair and your arms instinctively push on the table to keep yourself upright and to dull the pain in your scalp from his tugging. He doesn’t release the grip he has on your hair though as he pulls back and then slams forward into you brutally and knocking the air from your lungs. You nearly fall forward, arms shaky and your feet barely reaching the ground as he uses you.

“Shit, are you cryin’?” He tugs your head to the side and you unfortunately get a glimpse of his face as he groans at the tears falling down your face before making you look forward again. “Fuckk, keep crying like that, you fuckin’ slut.”

You sob but not because he wants you to, no you wish you could stop the hiccuping breaths and warm tears but the pain in your entire body is too much to handle and along with the rough thrusts he’s doing, you feel like your head is gonna pop any second.

His hips snap loudly into your ass and he tugs your underwear down enough to see the handprints he left behind on the swell of your ass as he smiles and tugs on your hair again to hear a pained whimper fall from your lips.

“What a slutty fuckin’ cunt, huh? Sucking me in, you wanted this.” He grunts, your soft walls squeezing him so perfectly were starting to get to him and he could feel his cock twitch inside of you. He lets go of your hair and grabs you by your neck once again and squeezes it, feeling your pulse thump at a fast rate against his digits.

“Filthy whore, ‘m gonna dump my load into ya. Heh, you’re gonna take it like a good bitch aren’t ya?” He chuckles, voice strained as he digs his fingers into your neck and his other hand that was gripping your hip slides down your stomach and rubbing at your clit. Your hands instantly go to stop him and he holds you up by your neck and you’re forced to take short and shallow breaths as your hands try to pry his hand away from your sensitive bundle of nerves but the warmth and addictive pleasure that twists and churns in your gut makes your eyes roll back.

“Yeah, that’s it. Just give in, let me— ngh, fuckin’ use you, you dumb rapeslut.” His face tenses up as your walls flutter around him and he laughs. “Gonna cum from rape? Try to stop it then, c’mon. You can do it, doll.” He mocks with a grin but your body betrays you and your walls contract around him as you cream around his cock but he keeps thrusting, unrelenting and unstoppable as he groans at the feeling and chases his high.

“Good fuckin’ rapedoll, huh?” He’s just humiliating you even more now and you sob out as you beg and babble.

“S-stop it, Jeff!— haah, d-don’t do it, please!” You cry pathetically, trying to pull away from him but you’re pinned and it’s useless to try and stop him. He was a fucking monster. “Pull o-out, ngh— oooh!”

He snarls, squeezing your throat so tight you can’t breathe again as he ruts into you like an animal, each brutal thrust bumping your cervix painfully. “I’m cum where I fuckin’ want to, bitch.” He spats, slapping your ass hard but you can’t gasp for breath, you couldn’t fucking breathe.

You open your mouth pathetically as your hands grab at his wrist to pry off his hold on your throat but it’s pointless. He groans behind you and shortly after his thrusts grow sloppy and warmth floods your cunt. Your eyes widen in fear and you try to scream out but no sound leaves you as tears flood your vision, blurring it once more. He laughs like a maniac behind you as he stills his hips and grinds purposefully into your sensitive walls before pulling out and letting your panties keep his cum from spilling out and making a mess.

He pulls away from you, lets you gasp like a fish out of water for a few moments and with what little dignity you had left you manage to tug your pants back up right before he forces that door open and lunges at the guard with a crazed chuckle.

You don’t remember much of what happened after that. You remember seeing him bash the guard’s head into the wall and then violently punching another one to death. Your eyes grow heavy and your body lies weakly against the table as you watch him disappear down a hall, covered in blood before your consciousness slipped away.