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he just looks so Big in that bed next to dakota…..

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Question Tag Game

thanks for the tag @mushgloomz how did you know i love talking about myself?

Do you make your own bed?

no <3 i roll out of bed and then i roll back in again. the bed is made as long as my sheets are tucked and the blanket covers me :) the only time i make the bed is when the sheets need to be changed.

Favorite number?

none but as soon as i read the question the number 47 appeared to mind so i'll let him have his moment. i have the gravitational constant tattooed on me its not my fav number as such but it signifies a story.

What's your job?

currently, i work as an assistant for a lawyer, so i draft legal notices/letters for him. i also work as a career counselor so i help people pick majors/careers, shortlist schools, look over SOPs help apply, prep for SATs and language tests, do visa paperwork that sort of thing. both my current jobs have nothing to do with what i studied for graduation.

If you could go back to school, would you?

yes, that is very much the life plan. funny how i can help everyone else do their application but i have procrastinated on mine for three years now :) i need a kick up my butt. i studied astrophysics for undergrad and wanna do my masters and phd in that as well. wanna be a college professor. Because every college professor i have ever met has been a main character and they are literally so cool i want their lives.

Can you parallel park?

yes, i was taught but i have not driven for a long time.

Do you think aliens are real?

absolutely and they might be closer than you think. in our solar system my money is on a few of the jupiter and saturn moons like europa??? she's crusted up like a pizza but because of the tidal forces from jupiter's thick juicy gravity she's got a liquid ocean underneath. and it's said to be more water than Earth. water is a requirement and one of the signs of life. SPACE SEA MONSTERS SPACE SEA MONSTERS SPACE SEA MONSTERS SPACE SEA MONSTERS

Can you drive a manual car?

it is all i have ever known, automatic cars don't make sense to me. what do you mean push a button? get out.

What's your guilty pleasure?

none <3 but also all of them. all my pleasures sometimes make me feel guilty because more often than not i have put aside something very important that needs to be done to have that pleasure. also i don't think i deserve much but that's for my therapist to unpack sounds like a her problem.

Any phobias?

everything that feels like i can't manage, deep oceans, deep space, isolation and abandonment too all the existential fears too i love those particularly.

Favorite childhood sport?

i used to swim competitively until we moved to a school that had no pool after which i played badminton also competitively nothing too impressive just for my school and within the state. i also played soccer briefly. haven't touched sports since school but i enjoyed them all and can't pick one.

Do you talk to yourself?

always. im hilarious. also i am the third funniest person in my friend group. despite that awareness i am my only entertainment.

Tattoos?

i have two atm. one is the gravitational constant, and another is the BTS song epiphany. im not that into bts anymore but i would always have to thank them for getting me through a rough spot in life. that song particularly is probably nothing special in the grand scheme of things but it touched me when i needed it most.

i also had an appointment booked with my favourite artist for a full sleeve tattoo. but they had to cancel for family reasons and my visa ran out so i had to leave. still waiting on it and i will have it one day.

Favorite color?

all of them literally like the ugliest of browns and oranges can still shine very well when they find their place i am quite poetic about colours.

Do you like puzzles?

i love them!!

reveal yourselves: @paradiselady19 @peepawispunk @probablyreadinsmut @jolapeno @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @damneddamsy @clubsoft @stellamarielu @galaxyedging @for-a-longlongtime @missredherring @misguidedasgardian @tinytinymenace @guiltyasdave @sizzlingcloudmentality @slimybeth69 @pedrospookie

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PEDRO PASCAL The Materialists, dir. Celine Song (2025)

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Pedro Pascal as Randy in MATERIALISTS (2025) dir. Celine Song

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NEED EVERYONE WHO CAN MAKE GIFS ON THE MATERIALISTS TRAILER STAT WORKING OVERTIME WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE AMEBDKANTJSKDBFISNDNSKSJ

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'i could fix him' well he's already in my wood chipper

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feeling very kissed and babygirl rn

AND OMG I THOUGHT OF THAT TOO HAHAHAHAHA

or☝️ah 😳 THE APPLE ORCHARD

but my brain was buffering and couldn't spin it into a fic. But if that audio was to happen i think it would be with Maxwell "honestly whatever im down for whatever" Lord

Looooops 💕💕💕

What is your brain thinking about this made-up fic title?

under the apple tree

thank you so much for asking Daph!!! 🤭🤭🤭

My first thought was Reed— think about all the Newton references you could make.

But actually: Javi Gutierrez

A TUWOMT AU where Nic Cage is invited not to Javi's birthday, but to your wedding! Well, arranged wedding. You've been in love with Javi since you met as kids at your family's apple orchard. And now you've been picked to marry him. You couldn't be happier at the turn of events, but Javi's not pleased with it at all. He thinks you're one of Lucas' minions and he doesn't appreciate being used to make connections for his cousin's crime business.

You were happy that he got to spend so much time with his idol, patiently waiting for him to turn around and see you. It was a bit heartbreaking that he never asked you to run away with him when they were escaping Lucas' clutches. You would've gone with him in a heartbeat!! It wasn't like you wanted to stay in contact with your family— they just wanted to sell you to the highest bidder. Everyone knew how in love you were with him, how crazy and obsessed you were for him. So it was all the more humiliating when he kissed Gabriela, and you were right there! You felt like such a fool to have stepped off to help him stand up to his cousin.

Years later, you still feel the stinging heat and blistering humiliation of that rejection. So you hated the sight of him in your office— smiling like nothing has ever happened. For a brief, painful moment, you think fate is cruel enough to bring him here for his wedding to Gabriela. But no, he was some insufferable big shot Hollywood director who thinks he can come into your life and throw his weight around. He needs your apple orchard to shoot his movie, and the cheque he's offering you is big enough for you to swallow all your indignity and shame. After all, you're not in contact with your family anymore, and your small business needs this money.

You're not gonna fall for his sweet smile and boyish, silly charm again. So what if he's broken up with Gabriela? Newsflash! Y'all were never gonna last anyway. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realise what you've always known. Now, you've got your own life, your own business— you enjoy your work when the people come around in the fall for apple pickings and the hectic, exciting rush when they use the place as a wedding venue. You're perfectly content with your lot, thank you! And you're not at all lonely. If you wanted, you could always date, but you were just busy!!

Javi can't for the life of him figure out why you hate him so much. Sure, he was a bit of an ass during the whole wedding thing— which he did apologise for. But you only rolled your eyes and scoffed at him. He also apologised for misunderstanding you, he should've known you weren't loyal to Lucas. But that only made you more angry, something about how only he was stupid enough would think you were loyal to his cousin. He can't seem to do anything right in your eyes. He even once overheard you say you didn't watch his movies— that they weren't really your thing! But it was the way you said it, with that tone like you were implying they were shit.

However, Javi can't help but find you so cute. He thinks its adorable how you're always scowling at him, your nose slightly scrunched like he was smelly. He likes the haughty tilt of your chin in the air. He likes the way your tits move when you roll your eyes and sigh with irritation at him. Then sometimes, when you think he's not looking, you will smile so sweetly and brightly at one of his production assistants that he will feel a little lightheaded— his heart beating so fast he could barely find a moment to breathe.

And when you're angrily berating him for harming one of your apple trees during a shoot, he can't help but imagine the husky and breathy notes your voice would make when you'd be shouting for entirely different reasons. Reasons that are far from innocent when he realises he would like nothing more than to lay you under one of these trees, pull your panties to the side and bury himself in that tight, hot, wet cunt. He wonders if you would still find a way to be furious with him when he's balls deep inside you. And if you were, Javi knows nothing would be more euphoric than fucking you dumb until the angry glint seeped out of your eyes and you were nothing more that broken moans and shuddered sobs, cumming all over his cock as many times as he pleases.

Thank you for the fic title!! 💋

Here's some personal lore about my first thought when I read the title lolz:

My initial thought was Reed because when I first read the fic title, my brain went straight to when I used to be in college and obsessed with dating games. There was this one called Ikemen Vampire where several historical figures are actually vampires and alive today: Napoleon, Mozart, da Vinci, van Gogh, Shakespeare, Vlad the Impaler, Jean d'Arc, Johann Georg Faust, Dazai, and, get this, Isaac fucking Newton.

So I introduced the game to my Quantum Mechanics class (obviously) and the thing caught on too fast. It became a running joke that we were seducing Isaac Newton. And after a few group study/homework sessions we'd play the game. There was a moment in the game when vampire!Isaac Newton asked me if I knew what gravity is... and I still cackle at the collective groan when they realised our only answer was some version of no: "Tell me more?" or "It's all Greek to me!"

I know my professor got a chuckle out of us playing the game. And I thought Professor Reed would find it funny too.

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Pedro Pascal themed bathroom at Las Vegas Cantina Tequila

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@peepawispunk have a lil smooch along with the hug

hugs and kisses for all my lovelies @probablyreadinsmut @galaxyedging @604to647 @coulsons-fullmetal-cellist @ohhoneypascal @mushgloomz @itwasntimethatdidit40 @iknowisoundcrazy @missredherring @jolapeno @slimybeth69 @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave

Hug time! Pass this around and hug whoever you think is an amazing mutual 🎉🌹

@emoscot @laismoura-art @scentedcandleibex and the person who sent this ask!

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I could stare at javi’s side profile forever omg that man is a piece of art

(credit @/adhdbuck)

(credit @/adhdbuck)

so many more that i can include but yes... the most handsome man to ever exist

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Oh I think he'd be really into kisses as rewards. He'd hand you your sandwich and lean his face closer for a kiss, he'd pass you your coffee and swoop down to steal a kiss.

And when you're too busy trembling in his arms— shaking, with your eyes rolled back— he'd slide a a large, warm hand under your neck. He'd prop you up, just as he had moments before to dizzyingly watch his cock work in and out of you. But instead he'd groan against your parted lips— words just a little broken, begging for a kiss.

"Come on, sweetheart, that's it. Gimme a kiss."

Sadly, you're too far gone to comply, he'll slide his lips against yours anyway with his tongue in your mouth, wild and unrestrained as he explores the soft gummy lining of your cheek and the swooping curve of your palate.

But it wouldn't be enough for him, not really. So when you're folded into his arms later, feeling warm and pliant, he'd kiss you again.

"Give me a kiss," he'd whisper against your sleepy, mumbling lips. Pressing his warm, full mouth to yours once, then again, one more time, and then just once again while you doze off.

They Don't Know Him Like You Do

Prompt: Going to the sunflower field with Clint (Freaky Tales)

A/N: This moodboard was made as a little extra snack for @evolnoomym and their first birthday celebration!! Not sunflowery enough? Check out the Joel Miller ver. here :D

God, if your folks ever knew the type of man you were stepping out with, they'd have a fit of apoplexy— lose their ever living shit really. But they don't know him like you do.

They'd steer wide-clear from men like him, so they wouldn't see the way his breath hitches and pulse stutters when you press closer to him. They'd see the anger lining his scarred face, but only you were close enough to see the corners of his lips briefly twitch up in a smile.

They know him as danger, as bad, as the violence that prowls unchecked through the streets. But you had tasted the sweetness he hides inside, the cotton-soft heart and the tired, kind eyes. You've held the shy smile of his lips in your mouth. You've waddled in the fiery comfort he brings on cold, weary nights.

They'd think he's greedy— someone who takes and takes and takes some more. But you know the husky tone of his voice as he begs for more kisses. Though he can be greedy in bed, demanding one orgasm after another— wrenching them from your body at his command.

They wouldn't know how powerful you feel with his hand on your throat, choking you as you shake and convulse on his cock. It's freeing and empowering the more he wants you, desires you, takes from you.

They'd rage and chastise you for the profanity you perform for him— letting him fuck you in dark, dingy brothels for a live peep show and in the wide open fields for the heavens to witness.

They don't know him like you do— how could they? After all, they have not heard his whispered words of love the way you have. But the sheets on his bed have heard, the payphone, the sunflowers, the back seat of his car too. The sandwich he buys you in the middle of the night and the coffee he makes you in the morning all are witness to the man he is— the kind of man who makes his woman feel like a queen.

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Reblog this to sprinkle some love on prev!

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OMG HAHAHAHAHAHAH ROLLING AROUND ON MY FLOOR GIGGLING AND SCREAMING this is the highest compliment thank you so much from me and the 65 tabs i have open on my laptop 🫡🫡🫡 and i will not lie gave a lil pat on the back to myself for the politics i was sitting in my room, staring at the wall playing mental chess and checkers for the politics as my brain grows in size to rival megamind's LMFAOOOOO mista ridley scott could never 👀

Teehee 🤭🤭🤭

BEST BELIEVE I HAVE SEEN YOUR FIC 👀 it's simmering in my tbr but your pretty moodboard for AVO has me foaming at the mouth i was so jelly <33

And i can't believe you hate Marcus oh my god LMFAOO i actually never saw this coming when i was writing it lolz but im LIVING for the drama. I do agree tho he's being so awful and oblivious and best believe he's gonna suffer a bit before reaching his happy ending. And i just know anaticula isn't about to make it any easier for him.

But i shall redeem him!! We've yet to see more of him and thank you so so much for reading and your lovely comments <33

Here's a lil impromptu post where i rambled more about Marcus and Anaticula’s mindset to hold you over until the next chapter!!

His Young Wife (WIP)

This is a spin-off story of His Priestess

Summary: Acacius was growing old. It was a privilege he had never imagined for himself, even with the aching bones and the constant hot and cold of his skin. He was blessed to have the most beloved wife and two pretty daughters— another brat on the way, he was sure it was a boy this time with how he troubled his mother. Acacius swears his daughters were perfect angels even in the womb. But even with the euphoric bliss and the unearned mundanity, he feels the passage of time keenly. He craves for more time, yearns for just a few more moments with his family. His mind constantly raises all the questions of what ifs… What if his wife never entered the Temple of Vesta? What if he had offered for her hand in marriage? What if he had never married Lucilla? What if they hadn’t missed thirty long years of each other’s lives? 

They were destined, he knew this as surely as he knew that he had two eyes and a nose. He couldn’t imagine a world where he existed without his anaticula… so what were these concerning dreams? He watches himself marry a young anaticula— both still children, her more so than him. But… that could not be him. He could never hurt his wife, he could not even bear a tear in her eyes. Acacius would never allow their marriage to grow cold, he knew how precious every moment was with her. So what was this doppelganger doing to his wife? Because that just could not be him… he could never be so stupid. 

Acacius watches helplessly as their marriage fails in a different life while the shadow of death ravenously huddles around every corner of Rome. History repeats itself, the gears of greed and tyranny relentlessly turning with his wife yet again at the centre of it. But perhaps this time… her death might just be very very real. Will Acacius be able to rescue this marriage and his wife? It was up to him after all, because that other man just seemed utterly useless.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Fem!Reader

You can also read this fic on ao3!

INDEX:

Prologue

Chapter 1: A Family Forged In Marriage

Chapter 2: A Lotus Only Grows In The Murkiest Of Waters

Chapter 3: A Lifetime of Missed Opportunities (Part I, Part II)

Chapter 4: His Wife Plans a Coup

Chapter 4.5: In Another Life

Chapter 5: Appeasing His Wife

A/N: I have a rough draft and a plan. It is certainly a marriage in trouble trope. No release dates, we write when the universe and the mind align. Stay tuned <3

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thank you im glad you did <33 ngl i got a little teary eyes after writing this bc i love love and love joel and love love for joel. for me this man is always gonna be here playing with his girls AND I DON'T CARE WHAT THE SHOWS GOTTA SAY ABOUT IT

Loops! For the fic title game: Over, Under, Through

i was like.... why does this phrase sound so familiar??? I googled it!!

AND HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Over, Under, Around and Through: A cute, fluffy short fic of an evening with the Millers.

There's screeching and a fit of wails. The noise didn't bode well for the evening at all. You rush out of the bathroom, a robe thrown over your sexy lingerie after a relaxing, sensual date night with your husband. You had tasked Joel to put them to sleep, promising him a reward for all his hard work in bed later.

It should've been easy enough. Tommy had told you the girls had tuckered out when you'd stopped to pick them up on the way home— leaving Maria with takeout of her favourite dessert as a thanks. But Sarah was hissing at her father with her hands fisting in her blanket like an affronted little cat. And Ellie was sprawled on the floor, tears pitifully streaking down her small face.

Joel stared down at his daughters like he was facing a vicious army— dark and forbidding. He sighs in defeat, "Fine. But just once."

The girls loudly cheer proving the previous tears and angst were nothing but planned dramatics. You barely muffle the burst of laughter that escaped your mouth into your palms as your tall, rugged, sexy-as-hell husband break out into a sesame street song in his low, gravelly tones sounding impossibly more defeated and exhausted than Grover.

He smothered the corner of his lips that were fighting to tilt up in amusement as he groaned another pained, "You don't understand?" Exasperated, he performed around the little tent he had made around their reading nook, earning peals of giggles from the two demanding little creatures. You were in tears before he feigned an exhausted topple to thunderous applause from your daughters.

His own eyes are drooping when he tucks the girls in bed, sleep lining his face as kisses them goodnight. You kiss away his apologetic smile near the doorway and pull your worn-out husband to your own room. The night might not have turned raunchy like you had planned, but there was something so attractive about Joel being a good dad that he's soooo getting his dick sucked tonight before bed.

A video of Joel's performance might have been sent to Tommy's phone the next morning :)

Thank you for playing with me!! 😘

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baby i LIVE for your nonsense and silliness and I LOVE YOU 🫵

LMFAOOOOO i love every single one of these reaction pics and gifs im STEALING

gald you enjoyed it my love <33 this one's got to be the most relatable reader ive written yet lolz even with the monster cock collection now im wondering about Javi's reaction to her toys drawer

Crying Cryptids & Canoodling Cupids

Pairing: Javi Gutiérrez x Plus Size F!Reader

Prompt: Javi G + “What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?” 

Summary: Javi is having a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. Scratch that. He was having a terrible week, a horrible month, a no-good year, and just, a general, very bad time. He was convinced this movie was going to end his filmmaking career. Nobody will ever want to see any of his work again. It was shit. And there was nothing he could do about it. And he might have just made the sweetest woman cry— someone he is so sure is his soulmate. 

Warnings: Fatphobia, no smut for you nasties… okay maybe just a little hint because I couldn't resist, just a mention of it though. 

A/N: This is for the PPCUVDAY event organised by @peepawispunk Is it Valentine’s Day? No. Is it even February yet? No. But I spun the wheel and got a prompt and a fic manifested. So we all get this— as a little treat. It is a classic Soulmate AU, where the first words your soulmate will say to you appear tattooed on your body.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You can also read this fic on ao3 <3

Javi had always been quick to temper. He had just learned to never express it, because that was an invitation for being hit— or worse with Lucas. But now he wanted to throw a veritable tantrum— fuck the consequences. 

The headset around his neck was strangling him, the usual soft feel and comforting weight of it was replaced by a crawling sensation that made him want to jump out of his skin. He wanted to tear the script resting on his thigh into tiny, minuscule, little pieces and shower it into the air— the corner of the paper was scratching at the exposed skin of his knee, yet another irritant that was making his leg restlessly jump. He needed to jump off a cliff and into a cool body of water. Step away, reset. 

Too bad none of them would be getting that. This was supposed to be a movie. He was supposed to be a director. But all this was shaping up to be was a circus and he wasn’t even the ringmaster, he was a sad little monkey walking on stilts and jumping through hoops. Even worse, he was letting all the other sad little monkeys who had faith in him down.

It was his first time trying to make a horror movie— an intense, realistic, gritty psychological horror that offered a poignant insight into both the good and the evil in the nature of mankind. The script had been good. Lucien and Dieter were giving some of the most honest and amazing performances of their careers setting them both up for the greatest comeback after their stint in rehab. The crew was good, he had worked with these people before. 

But then the producers started cutting costs and the real horror show had begun. They had terrorised the crew— changed the lighting, equipment, locations, costumes until it looked more like Cliff Beasts 7: Fellowship of the Furious– Journey to a Stranger Tide or something. They had even shooed in a heroine who wasn’t even in the script, naturally, the script had to be rewritten. He just wished she could act…

He had wrapped up filming yesterday after more than twenty takes on one of her simple scenes, making do with the shot of her actually remembering her lines even though they were delivered like she was acting on a Disney sitcom. Javi wished he could wrap up today as well, they were all exhausted from several demanding scenes and it wasn’t shaping up to be any better for her but they were running so behind schedule. Moreover, the costume and make-up department had worked so hard to put her in the monster get-up, they owed it to the crew to at least try. The original script didn’t even have a monster. 

She did look monstrous but for all the wrong reasons. She looked huge, hulking at a little over seven feet, covered in bronze armour— why did they have to add big boobs to the metal? There were two giant wings behind her, confusingly made of feathers instead of metal like the rest of her costume. They had given her two fuzzy antennas that reminded him of oversized spruce twigs or moths. The armour was far too big for her he thought with a wince; sure the monster was supposed to represent corporate greed but making it fat was just wrong. 

The most placid, emotionless garbled noises rang out of the giant tin can; Javi tried to unclench his jaw, hiding his expression behind a tight fist. His chest racked with effort to draw in a large breath. That’s it, he’s done.

“CUT!!” He roared. The script fell off his lap as he stood from his chair. Javi could feel the anger flooding over the dam he had built; he could feel it prickle in his throat like dry smoke, taste its bitterness on his tongue. 

“WHAT CRYPTID ARE YOU TRYING TO BE, MOTHMAN’S COUSIN? Because woooow, that was really fucking pathetic.” He seethed as he maintained eye contact with the two large red bulbs for eyes on her helmet. 

Javi whirled around to face the freelancer from the costume department before the actress could fight him, “And WHY IS SHE SO FUCKING BIG?”

There was a collective, shocked gasp on set as everyone stared at him in abject horror. Javi was panting now, still overwhelmed with rage while Dieter scowled at him a dark, menacing look on his face.  

“Dude—” But Dieter was interrupted by a dog. A squeaking, whimpering dog. Oh my god, there was a chihuahua in the tin can. For a horribly brief moment, he wondered if he would find multiple dogs stacked together under that armour, it would certainly explain the bad acting. Everyone quietly stood around as the crying continued in quiet keens and puppyish whines. 

“Hey, don’t cry—” Dieter cooed at her. Since when was he so nice to her? 

His giant cryptid lifted the visor of her helmet, red bulb eyes, moth antenna and all. Javi peered up into the sweetest face that certainly did not belong to the lead of his movie. Fuck. Her face was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat and tears; she looked down at him with glassy eyes and brows furrowed with hurt. She made a strange eep sound as she tried to hold back more of her sobs— it drew his attention to the most kissably pouty lips. They wobbled from the emotional strain. Javi felt like a despicable cur. 

“You’re the worst.” She whispered. Her voice choked with tears. And he felt his heart break. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, he didn’t even know who she was.

The pretty cryptid clunked out of there, her feathery wing slapping him across the face— as he deserved. Javi felt the embarrassment curl in his stomach for her, poor girl deserved a more graceful exit but instead, the costume sounded like pots and pans clanging around in the utensil cabinet while she fruitlessly tried to manoeuvre around the set pieces; the noise grated on his ears and made his teeth itch. The shrill, brassy clashing sound of metals abruptly turned into a loud thunk and a crash as she fell just a few steps away from the exit. A mean, taunting little giggle rang from some corner breaking everyone out of their reverie. 

Lucien reaches her first, gently helping her to sit while the assistant he had just screamed at tried to remove the stilts from under her feet. Javi moves to rush forward, she must have hurt herself in the fall. 

But Dieter held him back, “Give it a moment, you’ll only upset her more.” 

She did seem pretty upset, her face had darkened but her eyes were impassive she barely responded to Lucien as he soothingly comforted her. The sight of her blank look was tugging at his heart, he just wanted to cradle her face in his hands, wipe her tears and smooth away the hurt. He settled for doing the next best thing and gave a terse command to finish up for the day. 

Javi noticed her painful grimace as Lucien helped her to stand, making a mental note to make sure she saw a doctor; he would pay any of the medical bills. For now, he helplessly watched, a strange caustic feeling blistering under his skin— it wasn’t anger, not quite. But he disliked the way his arm wrapped around her waist, or how her arm was seeking support on his shoulder as she stumbled farther away from him. Javi thought De Leon was being a bit pretentious.

Oh fuck, you’re the worst. 

You loved cryptids. Halloween was your favourite time of the year; every year since you were fourteen you had dressed up as various cryptids. Your interest had spiralled from just Halloween costumes to owning a shelf full of books about cryptids, a wall covered in newspaper clippings of cryptid sightings and stories; your family and friends would gift you cryptid clothing and accessories on Christmas— your favourite being the bright blue Nessie ladle in your kitchen drawer and a Kraken tentacle ring which was always wrapped around your finger. You even owned several monster sex toys; you had your favourites there too— a silicone tentacles dildo with amazing bumps and suction cups along its length, and a neon green and purple vibrating monster cock with the most delicious ridges.  

It had all started with a small birthmark just to the side of your calf muscles, which spread across your skin as you grew up forming the first sentence your soulmate would say to you. What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?   

You had imagined so many ways your soulmate would say that to you; maybe it would be a pretty girl striking up a conversation at the local cosplay event, or perhaps a cute guy flirting at a Halloween party, or someone sweet and sly who would playfully tease you about your outfit of choice. 

Most people do not end up finding their soulmates, but you were so convinced you would find yours one day. Because your line was so detailed, while others had a variation of hi, hello, hey, good morning— something so mundane their soulmate could be anybody. There were even shows that helped people with commonplace soulmate tattoos find their life partner— the current contestant on The Bachelor’s Soulmate was a pilot whose tattoo read, “Hey, what can I get started for you today?” 

People with tattoos of greetings could never be sure they ended up with their true soulmate you’d watched a TLC show about them. And now, more than ever, you wished you had one of those boring soulmate tattoos. Never in your life had you imagined the words from your tattoo would be shouted at you, followed by being called pathetic and then he’d called you fat— fucking huge. You burst into more tears at the thought, muffling your sobs against your fingers. 

Lucien wiped your tears again, gently dabbing a tissue to your cheeks. You wished he wouldn’t hover, you just wanted to be left alone. You know he is trying to be kind— mostly out of guilt your mind whispered to you. Which wasn’t true… even if it was, it didn’t matter. He hadn’t always been kind, you had worked with him when he was still struggling with his drinking issue. He was mean and had almost cost you your job once. He was nicer now that he was sober, or at least more aware of the people around him. You were happy for him.

“You know he didn’t mean it that way…” He murmured. 

It didn’t matter whether he meant it or not. You had decided you didn’t want him. Someone not being with their soulmates was unheard of, because why would anybody reject a person that was made, curated, for you by the universe. But the truth was Javi Gutiérrez did not want you— not really. He thought you were fat and pathetic. 

Your heart still clenched every time you thought about his words. And even if he was mysteriously accepting about him being your soulmate, and instantly fell in love with you because you were perfect for him or he loved your super cool personality, you would always know, in the back of your mind, that he hadn’t wanted you. In the quietest, most intimate moments with him, a mean little voice would be the loudest and it would always remind you that you were just thrust upon him by the universe. But had the choice been his, it wouldn’t be you.

This was Hollywood, most of the time it didn’t matter how nice and sweet you were, men would always go for the prettiest, sexiest woman— then too nobody over a size 6 and very rarely somebody who was a size 8 but only if they liked curves. You had met Javi’s ex-girlfriend Gabriela who works for a different production company, she was not only tall and gorgeous but also very very sweet and sassy. She was perfect. 

You were just some low-level production assistant, running errands, printing scripts, fetching coffees and meals, cleaning up the set and trailers, chauffeuring actors to and from the set. Often it was the assistant directors or the other team leaders passing forward instructions. Even when Javi had introduced himself to the crew, you had made yourself scarce because the sight of him had made you so flustered and tongue-tied— you just hadn’t wanted to make a fool of yourself.

He was far too beautiful— all sun-kissed skin and soft curls. Every time you delivered something to him, you would quickly scurry away before he even had the chance to thank you because of how nervous he made you. You didn’t think you would last if he looked at you with those puppy eyes and spoke to you with that accented voice. He was endlessly kind and polite with everyone on set. You would be an idiot to not want him. 

So maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t your soulmate at all. That would make the most sense. You tried to think of the first thing you had ever said to him, your mind sadly pulling a blank. Perhaps, his soulmate tattoo read something you had never said. And there was someone else out there for you who was waiting to ask you what type of cryptid you were trying to be. Your heart lurched at the thought of him not being yours— the idea that he could be was so irresistible that it physically hurt to believe otherwise.   

A cough disrupted the air, you looked up to see Javi standing by the entrance of the trailer giving you a shy, toothy smile. You instinctively smiled back at him, too distracted by how violently your heart was flutteringly— you felt queasy like you were hanging onto that single lock of hair curling over his forehead as it swung with the evening air. So, you didn’t notice the two men share a charged look and tense smile before Lucien softly patted your head and made his way out.

Javi had the warmest, twinkling brown eyes, sweet and innocent. You had dreamed about how that plush bottom lip would feel between yours, on your skin, on your pussy. 

Stop it, you stupid slut. 

He was probably here to scold you for being in front of the camera and taking the heroine’s place. But it was not your fault! She had begged you to do it, said it wasn’t that big of a deal since they didn’t need to see her face in the scene and they could voice over her lines post-production— it’s just monster noises and screeching anyway. 

Initially, you hadn’t wanted to do it because you didn’t trust her intentions but she had it cleared with the producers as well. They said you would be just like a stand-in. Then you had seen the silly monster costume, it was so bad— but it had the Mothman eyes and antenna. And you couldn’t resist because of the soulmate tattoo. You had thought, what if this was how you found your soulmate?

“Hey, are you okay?” His teeth were so straight, smile so adorable— it made his eyes squint, one closing just slightly more than the other in a way that made your stomach contract. And that nose… the bold slope of it was downright salacious. 

UGH, shut up, don’t be a whore. Have some self-respect. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t want you. Fat and Pathetic. Fat and Pathetic. 

“Yeah, I’m okay…” You furtively glanced around the trailer, hoping that not looking at him would make you feel less overwhelmed. 

“That’s good, I think I’m your soulmate.” He stated in a calm voice followed by a warm, awkward chuckle. But his hands were trembling, and he rubbed them along his thighs.

“Um, no. You’re not.” You croaked, refusing to meet his eyes as you lied to him. 

“No, let me show you.” He pulled off his shirt revealing broad, tanned shoulders. You wanted to lick the freckles that dusted over his skin there, kiss the ones that dotted his neck. 

He lifted his hand straight up and showed you a string of letters that ran up his underarm. You couldn’t make sense of them at first, they looked like keyboard smash starting from his forearm; some of them were capitalised, some letters lowercase, a few of them had accents on them and some of them were even ligatures. 

Then he started pronouncing them in a strange whimpering, squeaking voice. And you wanted to scream. Or laugh. Was he trying to imitate your crying? You knew you weren’t a pretty crier but he made you sound almost… endearing. Especially when he tentatively looked at you with those aggrieved eyes of a kicked puppy. He whispered the last of the words as the letters disappeared into his armpit— you’re the worst.

You tried not to visibly flinch. Were those really your first words to him? How horrible to carry those words on your body for your whole life. He looked so guilty and ashamed, lines formed between his brows and the creases in his forehead deepened in distress. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say those awful words to you.” His gaze on you was steady and sincere, begging you to believe him. 

You swallowed, feeling an anxious tightness in your chest. You surged through before you could change your mind. 

“Sorry, but I don’t think you’re my soulmate.” You insisted, looking down at his knees, they were so close to yours. He was sitting in the seat facing you, and suddenly the trailer seemed much smaller. You could smell him— open oceans, sweet citrus, hints of something minty and herby lavender. 

“Oh, what does your tattoo say? Can I see it?” The disappointment in his voice nestled just under your ribs, painfully digging into your heart. 

“It says hello.” You lied. 

“That’s great! I must’ve said hello to you.” He perked up at the possibility. Eyes radiant with joy again. He hadn’t said hello, but that wasn’t his fault. It was ironic but you had mastered the art of being invisible— despite your size.

“No, you didn’t… You said Hi.” At least, he would have if you hadn’t evaded him at all times, mooning over him from afar.

“Noooo… I must’ve said hello— I mean hi, hey, hello. So hard to remember, I said hello. I’m sure.” He argued. You tried not to cry. 

You weren’t so insecure. Sure, being the weird chubby kid who liked cryptids wasn’t easy. But you had grown up— learned to love your body. Today just… wasn’t a good day. You felt raw, vulnerable and humiliated. You’d taken off the costume but couldn’t forget how unflattering it had made you feel, and that mean little giggle was still ringing in your ears. Your mind was also regurgitating his harsh words.  

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And she insisted she wasn’t his soulmate.

Javi couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Well, he could, but then he would be looking at the way her t-shirt stretched over those lovely boobs, or the cinch of her waist before her form generously curved into the most delectable hips— he could almost picture the way his fingertips would disappear in her flesh if he gripped her. Shut up, this is so wildly inappropriate.

He balled his shirt on his lap to hide the hard-on he was sporting in his shorts, sitting in only his white, sleeveless undershirt. His heart was racing, and he could feel the heat climbing up the back of his neck. He had been so convinced she was his soulmate. He still felt like she was lying to him, but why? Did she not want him? 

It would be understandable, not a lot of people wanted him. He was just a geeky film nerd who talked about movies until everyone around him was bored and exasperated. He wasn’t strong, or cool, or dashing. Sure, a lot of people flirted with him now but he wouldn’t delude himself into thinking they wanted anything more than his money. He was the kind of guy who took years to stand up to his cousin. At most, he was cute. But why would this goddess want him when she could have Lucien De Leon. 

Not even Gabriela had wanted him and they had known each other since they were kids. They both had realised very quickly that while they cared for each other, their relationship had been based on loneliness and scarcity. He had liked her because she was the only one on the compound who had been genuinely nice to him— she was his only friend. And she had liked him because he was the only decent, non-violent man in the international criminal organisation. 

They had long broken up when Gabriela had found her soulmate. He wished them all the happiness in the world, she deserved it. Because he would have never survived without her— not even in Hollywood. She had been the one dealing with the production companies for him. Fuck, and now he had to deal with one on his own.

Javi looked at the woman before him, she seemed so lovely and kind. He wanted her to be his soulmate. For years, he had been terrified his soulmate would be someone Lucas had kidnapped, hurt or harmed. He was always afraid he wouldn’t be able to save them— why else would someone call him the worst?

Well, it had finally happened, out of his own stupidity too. He hadn’t even known they were using one of the production assistants as a stand-in. The producers had conveniently left him out of the loop for a lot of things. Dieter had informed him how his lead actress was the daughter of the man who owned their production company; she’d joined the movie for a chance with Lucien. And had planned this whole fiasco as a horrible prank when she had lost his attention to this enticing woman in front of him. Javi briefly wondered if he should tell her that the lead actress was trying to bully her. 

He watched her squirm in her seat, rearranging her legs so her knees pressed together and turned slightly away from his. He tried very hard not to think about the way her thighs flattened and spread on the seat under her, because then his mind would provide him with the lewd images of the same thighs framing his face, their weight on his shoulder, his teeth sinking into the soft inside— marking her, tasting her.

She folded her arms over her stomach, her hand comfortingly stroking her upper arm. Was she cold? Because Javi was feeling overheated. He subconsciously wiped his temple, finding a light coating of sweat there. He couldn’t see the soft swell of her belly anymore, which meant he really shouldn’t be thinking about pressing his fingers into her warm skin there and pinching, twisting the flesh to watch it mould around his unruly touch— her waist would roll and twist to escape him, she would probably softly gasp, her eyes wide and aggrieved. 

She awkwardly cleared her throat, and it snapped his attention to her face. Her lips were pursed as she glanced around the trailer. He really hoped she hadn’t noticed him staring at her like a creep. 

“That’s a nice T-shirt”—he looked down at her top, relieved that it was indeed a T-shirt—“Loveland Frogman? It’s almost Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” There, he was just looking at her top and totally not having any inappropriate thoughts about her body. But he loved the way ‘Loveland’ stretched over those tits. Fuck.

The T-shirt fit snugly over her sweetly rounded shoulders. Javi felt his teeth itch with the desire to bite down on them. She watched him, confused and bewildered at the abrupt change in topic, before glancing down at her T-shirt as if she hadn’t realised what she was wearing. 

“Oh, um, Loveland is a place. It’s in Ohio, Frogman is their local cryptid. But turned out it was just a giant three-foot-something iguana. I got the shirt when I watched a musical about it. There’s also a found footage horror movie about it with this absolutely bonkers ending— Sorry, I’m rambling— anyways, are you going to fire me?” 

“What? No. No. Of course not.” She had the most charming twinkle in her eyes. He would set fire to the set before firing her. 

“Today was entirely my fault”—He felt shame coat his throat, and his next words came subdued and choked—“I’m a shit director—” 

“No, you’re not. You are an amazing director. You have a very clear vision for the film, and you’re able to communicate and explain that vision. You won’t believe how many directors just can’t explain what they want. You give the actors enough creative license to explore their characters instead of demanding they do as you tell them to. You respect the crew and everyone’s time, so many directors just treat us like we’re servants to be taken for granted. You’re passionate about your work. You’re a film lover, and you enjoy watching other people’s work. I love that you are still exploring your own visual and story-telling style. I mean, it is easy to tell where you get your inspirations but you still make it so intrinsically yours—” 

Her lips were sweet and warm. Javi hadn’t been able to hold himself back and swooped over to kiss her. She was tense for a moment before her lips softened and melted against his. He kissed her slowly at first, selfishly, it wasn’t because he wanted to put her at ease or make her comfortable. He was in disbelief that he was kissing her or that she was letting him in the first place.

She nibbled on his lower lip, and Javi felt himself whimper into her mouth. He cradled her face, pushing closer to her as he licked the corner seam where her lips connected. He was addicted to the divot of her cupid’s bow, the swoop of her lower lip, and the maddening way she was tracing the shape of his lips. 

“You don’t want this.” She whispered against his lips. And Javi simply angled her face again before slotting his lips over hers once more. She moaned against him, and he heard a soft, answering groan rise from his chest as he kissed deeper into her, exploring the curve of her palate, the gummy lining of her mouth, and the fascinating way the top of her tongue was different in texture to the side of it. He couldn’t remember wanting anything more.

He was unwilling to part with her even with their mutual need for air, Javi continued kissing her, worshipping just her lips, showering them with tender pecks and kisses. He felt her warm breath fan across his cheek, and the wild beating of her pulse under his hand. He had never been one for overly sweet things, but he could taste something sugary on her— maybe she’d had some chocolate, or honey, or maybe a candy. Whatever it was, he couldn’t get enough of it, he was hankering for more.  

His lips slipped from hers as they both panted for breath, pressing affectionate kisses to the side of her lips, her cheek, her jaw and another just under it. He noticed her take a deep shuddering breath, eyes still closed as he touched his forehead to hers, noses grazing each other. She smelled of soap, freshly laundered clothes, and something uniquely her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and he felt his breath hitch; they were a world unto themselves. He memorised the pattern of her irises, the variation in their colour; he admired the fuzzy line of her pupils, the curve of her eye line and the length of her lashes. She looked so adorably befuddled, her eyes wet and glazed over— he could almost see himself reflected in them. Javi caressed the apple of her cheek with his thumb.

“We should take you to the doctor’s…” 

“Huh?” Javi chuckled at her confused state.

“For your leg, I noticed you hurt yourself when you fell.” He reminded her. 

“Oh, no, I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt that much, and I took a shower so I ran some warm water over it and it feels better already.” She was gripping onto the fabric of her skirt; she still looked a little uncertain, as if searching for something in his eyes. He gave a wide beam, but her smile was shy and tentative. Wait.

“You showered in Lucien’s trailer?” He didn’t mean for it to, but the question came out a bit accusing. It wasn’t his business where she showered. Except that he had just kissed her, and he wanted to do more. Did she want more as well?

“Well, yeah, he offered. And there isn’t a shower in the employee tent so I took him up on the offer. The armour made me so sweaty and sticky— wait… Why did you ask it like that?”

“No reason.” Except for the fact that she was exactly the type of pretty thing Lucien would like to sink his claws into— his other parts too for that matter. He felt an uncharacteristic sting spread through the walls of his heart like his own blood was astringent. He was jealous.

“Are you and him…”

“No, God, no. We’re not—”

“So, do you want to go on a date with me?”

She stared at him for several long moments, looking like a deer caught in headlights and her mouth agape. Silence stretched between them— an awkward, flustered kind. Her eyes quivered, as if she might cry. And Javi wanted to stuff the words back into his mouth. He was so stupid. 

She had kissed him back, but otherwise, she had not touched him at all. He was the director of the movie, her boss. She probably felt like she had to accept his advances. He leaned as far away from her as possible, too disgusted with himself to notice the way her face fell in disappointment and tears brimmed her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, you don’t need to feel—” 

“Why even kiss me if you’re not attracted to me? Was it some kind of a prank?” Her voice was pained, she sniffled. His heart broke at the way she was looking at him— like he had broken her heart.      

“I am attracted to you… that’s why I’m asking you out.”

“I’m not your soulmate. You called me fat and pathetic!” She raised her voice in indignation. 

“I did not!” Javi hotly defended himself. They were both riled up now. He would never. 

“Yes, you did. You called me fucking huge.” Her words knocked the wind out of his sails. She scowled at him with angry, resentful eyes. He thought back to his outburst on set, grimacing as he recollected his words. 

“I meant that you were almost eight feet tall. And the armour was purposely made too big and unflattering, it just wasn’t right for a monster that represents corporate greed.”

“Well, you still called me pathetic—”

“I thought you were the lead actress and those were some of the most lacklustre, pitiful monster noises in the history of cinema—”

“It wasn’t my fault they said they would voice over it and I should be quieter.” 

They both took several large breaths before Javi slipped down his seat and knelt at her feet, gently prying her skirt from her fists and taking her hands in his. 

“I’m sorry. I was an idiot.” He watched the tension fall from her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze to her hands. She huffed a small, conceding little laugh. 

“It’s okay.” 

“Will you at least let me take a look at your leg?” He inquired.

Javi felt relieved to see a smile grace her features again, the light in her eyes made him feel warm. And he gingerly clasped her ankle in his hand as soon as she had nodded his permission. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” He said as he pressed and massaged around her ankles first and then her feet, twisting it one way and then another— noticing the wince on her face even when she didn’t verbalise her pain. Finally, he moved up her leg, pressing to check for any tenderness or pain. He gently eased her socks down her calf to check for any swelling or bruises. 

And right there, wrapping around her calf, was her soulmate tattoo. His fingers twitched over the words before he slowly traced them, gently twisting her leg to catch the words as they rolled around the back— not that he needed to see what they said. 

What cryptid are you trying to be, Mothman’s cousin?

Javi gasped as the realisation settled in. He snapped his head up to look at her. And she nodded, confirming what he hadn’t dared ask. His vision was blurry with tears as joy and elation coursed through his body, he felt a laugh bubble up his chest. Excitement zinged across his nerves. His soulmate!

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He demanded, no real rancour or admonishment in his voice as he pulled his soulmate into a crushing hug. He marvelled at the press of her body against his; his hands stroked along the contours of her body, pressing her closer to him. She was his soulmate.

“I thought you didn’t want me…” She mumbled so softly that he barely heard her. 

Javi relinquished his hold on her to grasp her face again, cradling her jaw and wiping her stray tears, “I would always want you. I wanted you even when you were a giant cryptid in stupid bronze armour and feather wings.” 

“No, you didn’t, silly…” She giggled as she teasingly rolled her eyes at him. Javi reverently traced the tattoo on her leg again. 

“I’m sorry…” He mumbled, giving her a dimpled, mischievous smile before guiding the sole of her foot to press against the hardened cock he had been trying to hide, “I’ve been trying to cover this up as soon as I’d come in.” 

She adoringly tucked a few of his curls behind his ears, her fingers brushing over his stubble. She pinched his chin in her palm, pulling his jaw so he looked up at her. Javi felt his heart race, heat pooling in his belly, and more blood rushed lower to his cock where the heel of her foot was dizzyingly stroking over it. She insistently pressed her toes to his balls. He gulped despite his dry mouth.

Her thumb caressed and wiped at his lower lip, testing the softness of it before she arched a brow in challenge. Her eyes twinkled with mischief and lust. 

“Kiss me to make up for it?” Javi went enthusiastically into the arms of his lover. What followed the desperate kisses and the fervent touches was an intimate introduction of bodies and a reacquaintance of severed souls. 

And if Lucien accidentally caught a glimpse of their sweet production assistant with her T-shirt stretching under her arms and bunched into her mouth to expose her swaying tits, a foot propped up on his vanity, head lolling back and watching her pretty pussy obediently take the director’s cock in the mirror then… no, he didn’t.

He knew better than to mess with the PAs on set if he wanted to enjoy the simple joys of life like a clean trailer, a hot coffee just the way he liked it and warm meals on time. It was a lesson he had learned the hard way. 

[letsgobarbs]

while the 15th of march is the haha funny caesar gets stabbed day it is also the day that iran, in 1951, under the direction of mohammah mosaddegh nationalised the iranian oil market. a move designed to deter foreign influence from continuing to pillage and abuse the iranian nation for its plentiful oil reserves.

in 1953 the american CIA and the british secret intelligence service in an effort to crush iran's control over their own oil market orchestrated a coup to install a western friendly leader in shah mohammad reza pahlavi who pivoted iran into a satellite state under the control of western oil markets and pushed the iranian people to the verge of economic collapse and the complete erosion of human rights under his regime.