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ellievsbear
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
ojovivo
h
shark vs the universe
Sade Olutola
Game of Thrones Daily
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
YOU ARE THE REASON
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$LAYYYTER
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
Keni
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
blake kathryn
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
if i look back, i am lost
seen from Latvia
seen from T1
seen from Japan
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seen from Singapore
seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Singapore
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@othcrworlds
✰ welcome to 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒄𝒓𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅𝒔: a multimuse, indie writing (side)blog highly dependent on 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒑𝒔. lovingly crafted & haunted by 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒂 (twenty1+, no pronouns/just a concept, est.) relaxed activity. discord available upon request. usfw content not tagged, viewer discretion is highly advised. please read guidelines for compatibility.
— ♡ guidelines — ♡ muses
open to: m / f / nb plot: lucí sends your muse pictures to entice them to come over. connections: boyfriend/girlfriend, brother or sister's best friend, etc.
she hadn't planned on doing anything with the pictures when she took them. but once they were sent, she didn't feel like being coy: i'm in a mood and i miss you.
the last thing he expected upon unlocking his busted phone screen was to see her pictures staring up at him through the spiderweb cracks. gloriously topless, her wild hair the only thing pretending to offer modesty. those feline eyes pierced the lens and pinned him in place, devouring him, fucking him raw before he’d even touched her. grim could hardly coordinate his thumbs to shoot back some semblance of a coherent reply between gawking: is this your way of tempting me to come over? because it’s fucking working. don’t play with me.
⋆˚𝅄 open starter. ⇢ plot. muse: angel ortiz. 26. bi. bartender. open to: female && male muses.
angel sat at the park bench, wondering why they even asked to meet up with her. they had only been broken up a few months and they'd already done the ritual exchange of belongings from each others places. if the petite female was being honest, she still wasn't really over them but that was totally beside the point. a small smile tugged at her lips as she saw the other approaching, adjusting her top. "hey, it's good to see you." she said softly, getting up to offer a hug. "i'm surprised you asked to meet, is everything alright ??"
never in any conceivable lifetime did azul think that her romantic life would dwindle down to this. sure, she’d been in some situations that would’ve undeniably made for great reality television show content, but this was a first. as there was always a time for, some wise individual once declared. had someone informed her even a month ago that she would be in this predicament, surely they would’ve received a verbal lashing and perhaps even a threat of choking with the scented, sky-blue trash bags her mother always kept stocked in the house. now? she bore no defenses to display. life had a way of humbling the hardheaded like that.
she paused upon approach, her frame awkwardly shuffling as she attempted to decipher in real time whether angel would stand to greet her or whether she should’ve just sat down as well. once the former was confirmed, azul gingerly mirrored the action with all the care of a professional handling a museum artifact. one wrong move and it was all over. “ hey, ” she offered, her arm half-heartedly wrapped around the other woman only to retract as soon as she felt like she could linger into the touch. she finally sat then, her hands coming to rest in her lap as her gaze discretely searched for a comfortable, appropriate place to land.
“ i — yeah, everything’s okay, ” she lied. “ i just… ” apparently, spitting the words out proved to be even more challenging than she could’ve imagined during her bedroom practice of the spiel. after a hard swallow, she decided to just spill them out — she could always arrange them into a semblance of something neat later. “ so listen — my ma, she’s throwing a thing…you know how her things go.” after all, zoraida had recruited angel’s assistance plenty of times by then to bring her parties to life, her daughter-in-law, as she proudly referred to azul’s other half. “i…i haven’t had the heart to tell her. about us.” her voice dropped a few notches then, as if zoraida herself was standing between the two behind the park bench, accessorized ears perked towards the skies.
realistically, her ma knew about the rupture. of course she did. zoraida was often made aware of the inevitable before azul herself could conceive of it. it was bordering on idiocy for her to be playing this pretend. nonetheless, the woman continued. “ …i know maybe this sounds stupid and selfish and childish and — ” she paused, practically biting her tongue to hold back the unproductive, self-defensive precursors. “ …can you come? we don’t have to put on some show, i wouldn’t expect anything like that. i just…i know she would like to see you. it would make her so happy. ” and, it would make me happy, too. that part, she couldn’t get her mouth to form. that part felt irrelevant and inappropriate to utter, after everything.
Joel cared for her, sure. That's why he asked. Just because he was a drug dealer didn't mean that he was an asshole or a complete asshole. She didn't seem like she was 100% sure of herself, but he didn't pry on it. A smile curved on the corner of his mouth at the mention of a vinyl. He liked music, it was a calming mechanism for him when he couldn't express his emotions or how he was feeling inside. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I'll come up, I'm already here."
call her crushed beneath cynicism’s heavy, steel-toed boot, but iris braced herself for the sharp whip of a rejection before she could even fully register her body preparing for it. her arms rigidly crossed over her chest instinctively loosened as, in a surprising twist of her somber expectations, he accepted the offer. the blonde found herself nodding at his acceptance, almost as if savoring it on her palette. after a beat, she met his gaze with her tired one before softly propelling herself off the brick wall. “cool.” with that, she turned on one heel, her boots crunching the asphalt beneath them as if to seal the deal.
she took her time in steering him through the garden that led up to her temporary residence. the path curved gently through dense greenery, and with each step, the outside world receded until the arched doorway ahead felt inevitable. “you’ll have to ignore the mess,” she tossed out over her shoulder. “i’ve been working on some things and, well, you know how that goes.” her trinkets-loaded keyring jingled almost too giddily as she unlocked her door and stepped inside. once they were both housed beneath the roof of her spanish colonial revival and enveloped by the foundational scent of lavender, she instantly got to work on securing them both within — body operating on pure muscle memory to reactivate her ambitious alarm system.
OPEN TO : m / f / nb PLOT : they're at a party (could be on a boat, at the beach, at a frat house) and she's feeling frisky (t.aboo, multiple people, inc*st, age gap accepted! bonus points if y/m's friends join in!)
"baby." she said, a pout immediately forming on her lips. "don't you want to have a threesome tonight?"
her words hit him like her expensive fragrance always did: unexpectedly, breezily, and heavily appreciated. ari was aware that this suggestion inquiry wasn’t simply materializing out of thin air. surely, there was no coincidence to be found in the fact that his homeboy was too on board, partying away and enjoying all the nautical luxuries that the cozy yacht had to offer. the promoter wrapped a protective arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, ring-clad fingers curling against the fabric of her top. his other hand nursed his drink as if it too was a mischievous conspirator participating in their exchange. “mmm, that depends.” his voice lowered, landing against the silk that was her hair against her temple. “you want to keep it a hundred with me and tell me who you want, bebé?” if she wanted this, she would have to confirm his theory and point him out herself.
open - m/f/nb (all)
plot: we bumped into each other in the street and you were grinning like a cocky asshole the whole time so i stalked off only to realise i’m wearing your shirt
" what? " inez spat, clearly annoyed that she even had to face them again like this. " why are you looking at me like that?"
"it's nothing, really." bullshit. they wouldn't have trapped one another in this spine-tensing exchange had that been the case. "it's just...i mean, i've been wondering where that shirt went," she finally quipped, tone airy despite the awkward circumstances. the dancer flicked her chin towards the oversized cotton tee swallowing the woman's petite frame, not unlike the way it typically housed paloma's during sticky summer nights. "...always did look better on you than me." clearly, inez wasn't in the mood for this sort of banter — hell, for paloma herself, yet that awareness didn't prevent paloma's grin from threatening to swallow her serene features. her fingertips lazily traversed the surface of her sweating iced coffee cup, as if preemptively wiping away the condensation would somehow make the contents within last longer. she stood before the older woman the way dancers did when they were at ease — weight claimed by one leg, the other unanchored, her hip resisting collapse as she kept herself long while she spoke.
Letting a quiet breath exhale through his nose. “Didn’t say it was a crime,” he muttered, eyes moved off of her and then towards the street. “And I’m not dodging you,” he added, his voice softened. “I’ve just had some things I had to handle.” Eyes returned to Iris. “Are you okay?”
she could admit that perhaps she was suffering with a bout of self-centeredness. how childish to assume that he’d been blowing her off — he too had a life to conduct after all, much like she did. and yet, the possibility continued to loom over her like a seattle storm cloud. she joined him against the brick wall, shoulder connecting with the rough surface, arms crossing tightly across her chest. “mhm.” was she? did it even matter? her teeth preoccupied themselves with chewing the inside of her lower lip as she contemplated voicing the offer hanging on the tip of her tongue. eventually, it broke through like some freedom-hungry bird aching to stretch its wings. “…wanna come up? i have a vinyl with your name on it. got lucky at the usual place.”
Muse: Joel Graves (Aaron Paul) - 26-32 years - Drug Dealer
Open: All 21+ (F if romantic) (age gap welcome)
Joel leaned into the brick wall, knuckles pressed to his mouth as he exhaled hard. Dropping his hands to his sides. “What was so important that you couldn’t just call me?” @indiestarter
“what, is it a crime to want to see you in person now?” a deflection, sure — but one that bought iris enough time to string together some semblance of a nonchalant response, one that wouldn’t have painted her in the vulnerable colors that she feared would stain her composure. tired gaze darted between her dealer’s expression and their frigid surroundings, unsure of where to comfortably land. “…either way…i feel like you’ve been dodging me. what’s up with that.”
WHO ✵ ⸻ damián "dami" cardenas. twenties. security expert by day, underground rapper by night. OPEN TO ✵ ⸻ f PLOT ✵ ⸻ dami just wrapped up his set and wasn't expecting to see y/m there tonight. he's acting nonchalant about her attendance, however, he's anything but.
his set had ended, yes, but the adrenaline that had built up in anticipation of the show was still pumping through dami’s veins, like a mischievous demon sprinting laps through his bloodstream, unwilling to return to hell just yet. he used the drink between his ring-clad fingers not only as some sort of anchor into reality, but as his attempt to control the trembling that would've otherwise run amuck and given away his current mental state. the artist had nodded his appreciation towards the faceless entries that had come running up behind him and patted their congratulations, some more aggressive than others, into his back. his gaze was far too preoccupied with searching for the one being that he wanted to see in that afterglow to register who exactly surrounded him, let alone much of the spanglish hooting and hollering being volleyed back and forth over his head. the world finally began taking on a clearer shape once his sunnies-shielded almond eyes found her, his buoy in the storm: unexpected, absurdly hopeful, the kind of sight that nearly buckled one's knees with relief. “hey…you didn’t have to come, you know.” of course she knew that. but god, he was happy that she graced the venue that night. even if his mouth couldn’t contort itself to form that gratitude, she would undoubtedly be able to see it in the way his lips twitched back a smile in the scarlet haze.
victoria did her best to ignore him. maybe if she did, he would go away soon enough. clearly, that was the best way to go about this whole thing. " well, I certainly didn't. " she responded after a beat of tense silence, popping a canape into her mouth and taking her sweet time chewing and swallowing before continuing, " joder, enzo, i don't know. " her voice dropped to a whisper, not wanting to risk anyone eavesdropping. " from what I've heard, the two of you have had many adventures together. " sarcasm dripped from her words and she didn't bother fighting the urge to roll her blue eyes. " doesn't even matter? she's here and judging by how short her skirt is, i'd assume she's more than willing to save you from this boring as shit party. go after her or don't. i don't care. " with that, victoria walked away before he could stop her. her father was distracted so she could easily slip into an empty room for some much needed peace and quiet.
no sooner had he parted his pretty lips to provide some sort of obnoxious enzo-coded clapback than she turned her back to him, leaving him to stand there and silently stew in the sarcastic scorch of her words. he didn’t care about her, let alone the choice of god damned apparel that she chose to sport at a family event that she hadn’t even received an invite to — not from him at least. he should’ve let the entire thing go, let his hermanita sulk off and cool down. then again, it wasn’t his first day on earth, and enzo was well aware that in girl world, i don’t care consistently ranked as top lie spat or texted out mid-argument. with all the stealth of a hellcat, he ghosted behind her, leaving behind the mind numbing party as nothing more than an increasingly-distant ambiance. he left not a second wasted, body sliding itself through the doorway of the room she decided to temporarily claim before she had a chance to shut him out. as his back came to rest against the wood, one hand snaked down to snap the door’s lock into active position with a deafening click. “…nah. esa e’ una mierda.” not an accusation, merely an observation constructed from his time spent studying her. a self-satisfied smirk morphed the lower half of his face into something silently-but-insufferably giddy, as if he was riding the high of some knowledge only held by him. the expression was dissolved only slightly by his polished teeth pressing into his lower lip. “that cute little act probably works with the fuckboys you entertain, but they don’t know the game let alone how to handle it. so dime, cosita linda, how can i make you feel better.” behind that door, he didn’t have to conceal the way his eyes devoured her — as if she was the last source of sustenance en este puto mundo. maybe she was. and for that reason, amongst the other familial elephant in the room, enzo had been forced to proceed with an uncommon level of caution as far as she was concerned — an admittedly difficult play of hand to execute given his natural disposition.
" you can't rip dior, it's basically a hate crime. " victoria responded with a smile that seemed sweet enough to an outsider looking in, but they both knew better. she made a show of rolling her blue eyes before shifting her gaze to the appetizers laid out in front of them, plucking a few onto her place as she made her way down the table. " oh, yeah? " victoria barely spared enzo a glance before she jerked her head towards the front door, where guests kept trickling in sporadically. " guess that's gonna soon since she just walked in. wonder who invited her, hermanito. "
fuck. that piece of news hit him with all the brusque, grating irritation of an exploding tire skidding against sunburnt asphalt. "what, you think i did? why would i sign up for that shit?" the inquiry wasn't laced with his careless dose of rhetorical sarcasm. his voice filtered out between gritted teeth, lowered to avoid its landing on anyone else's radar. " his observant hues discreetly scanned their immediate surroundings as an extra measure of security before darting in her direction again. "no seriousy, dime, dame tu lógica, how would that serve me in any way?" his hand wrapped around his drink instinctively tightened against the fragile glass, the racer having skipped the apps in exchange for another tequila-laced mexican coke.
closed starter … @othcrworlds
" stop looking at me like that. "
“like what?” the rhetorical question was joined by a smirk, one embedded as deeply into the corner of his mouth as his ink was beneath his skin. “like i want to rip what you’re wearing right off of you and pay you for the damages later?” his darkened gaze remained fixated on her pristine features, a whisper of amusement dancing behind the hunger. a few beats passed between them, enough for his bluntness to settle in the empty space like a heavy trinket. “…anyway…you’re the one who brought her up again. i told you i haven’t talked to her in forever, hermanita.”
WHO ✵ ⸻ rachel pasternak. twenties. designer ; inés navarrete. twenties. designer. OPEN TO ✵ ⸻ f PLOT ✵ ⸻ rachel and inés are frenemies with violently blurred boundaries enjoying a cozy little social gathering at a mutual connection's miami condo. y/m is the night's main entertainment: prepped tied up and pretty for the game of seven minutes in heaven taking place in a stupidly immense walk-in closet <3 please no n.on c.on/d.ub c.on, i'm operating under the assumption that y/m is eager to be there.
the prosecco in rachel’s system had gone straight to her head, elegant bubbles popping warm and fuzzy along every nerve. the gathering had been moving smoothly enough, the way these things usually did. sickly sweet compliments tied in backhanded ribbons, the predictable banter, the indulgent little party favors tucked into palms with practiced ease. but this particular night felt different. there was an electric current in the air, thin and shimmering, tying every guest together like one of those investigation boards with red string looped between suspects — except the string here pulsed with the shared knowledge that, in a walk-in closet at the back of the condo, a woman was waiting for a round of seven minutes in heaven to begin. a doe who had wandered willingly into a plush den of hunters and practically asked to be restrained.
the two besties drank that knowledge down like a shared secret. they’d clinked glasses, giggled against the rims, stolen kisses from each other between vapid conversations. and when their turn to enter the closet finally approached, rachel felt the bubbles in her blood fizz with something hotter, heavier, sweeter.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
she let the brunette lead her toward the closet by the hand, even though rachel was the more intoxicated of the two. inés adored watching her walk — the sway of her hips, the unapologetic curve of her ass advertising itself like something out of a glossy magazine editorial. she caught herself biting into her lower lip, manicured fingertips itching to touch, to caress, to undress. only sheer will held her together, the promise that they’d be in the closet soon enough. since they’d opted to go in together, they’d been granted not just seven but fourteen whole minutes with whatever pretty little thing was waiting inside. they’d have to make every second count.
a sliver of golden hallway light cut across the walk-in before being swallowed as the two slipped inside, locking the door behind them. “oh, look how cute,” inés half-cooed, half-giggled, referring to the glowing mushroom lamp perched atop the island in the center of the closet — the kind used for jewelry and watches and other little luxuries. the lamp glowed a deep, erotic orange, almost red, its shape and color both suggestive in a way that made the air feel warmer. it was the only source of light in the empty closet. well, nearly empty. the femme curled on the circular plush rug — the single piece of softness in the otherwise empty space — looked ripe for devouring. her arms were pinned behind her, wrists tied in a knot that looked ceremonial rather than cruel. the mushroom lamp’s molten orange light spilled across her naked body, gilding her like some forbidden artwork left out on the rug for them to unwrap
“the lamp, the girl, or both?” rachel murmured, her inquiry followed by a low, throaty chuckle. the kind that informed inés of shenanigans galloping over the horizon like some wild stallion torn straight out of hellfire.
“maybe we take both home,” inés shot back, her smirk sharp enough to slice through the dimness.
both women turned toward the flower pressed out on the rug, heads tipping in near-perfect unison, the air around them rippling with the promise of trouble.
WHO ✵ ⸻ javier "javi" cuevas. thirties. s.trip c.lub owner, amongst other things. OPEN TO ✵ ⸻ f (latin muses very appreciated and always prioritized) PLOT ✵ ⸻ y/m has been seeing javi for a few weeks or even a few months now and has grown weary of his primary occupation. whether moved by natural curiosity/jealousy or by her friends hyping her up and convincing her to spy, she decides to "drop by" sneak into the club to conduct surveillance on what her man actually does as the owner. naturally, javi finds out about her presence in his club. and actions have consequences.
" yeah, just like that. " groan-undulated words were nearly drowned out by the heavy bass rattling the entire vicinity just outside his closed office door. some slowed down, reverb-rich edit of a trap hit. "you wanted some drama, well, here it is." it had taken him virtually no time to find out that she'd decided to make a guest appearance at the club that night. nothing moved in that god forsaken space without javi finding out about it, sometimes even before that something picked up velocity. a strong hand had anchored itself in the silk that was her hair, not to control, but rather to steady himself within the pleasure that her glossy mouth was providing up and down his length. her lip product had probably long since smeared off, her locks no longer styled into place. the owner lowered himself further in his oversized desk chair, movement accompanied by a sharply-drawn inhale at the sight of her on her knees like that for him. "i don't appreciate being fucking surveilled."
WHO ✵ ⸻ felix valentin. twenties. bartender & jewelry designer. ; ariel "ari" betancourt. thirties. club promoter. OPEN TO ✵ ⸻ f (latin muses very appreciated and always prioritized) possible connection(s) ✵ ⸻ one of ari's friends introduced to felix, a mutual connection, someone they both worked with when ari was also a bartender, someone they really shouldn't be messing with (mother of a mutual friend...), etc. no exes or girlfriends, doesn't fit the vibe i'm going for here. PLOT ✵ ⸻ ari has invited his homeboy and y/m to his crib for smokes, drinks, music, and some other less-than-holy fun <3
the fragrant blunt between his ring-clad fingers was hitting harder than it normally would’ve — or perhaps felix’s tolerance had significantly dwindled since his last smoke sesh. ari’s stash always did hit different though, so realistically, it was anyone’s guess as to why felix’s head felt like it’d been filled with herbal hot air balloon steam. nonetheless, his body felt satisfyingly heavy as it sat relaxed on the floor of his homeboy’s loft, his back against the abstract couch. “coño, i don’t know how you guys expect me to make you more drinks in this condition, this shit is potent.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
“relax, tranqui, no one’s expecting anything from you right now,” ari called out from the kitchen. his response came mid-rifle — the club promoter had been on the hunt for his fancy bottle opener which had once again managed to vanish from its assigned spot in one of the drawers. abandoning the hunt, he eventually made his way back through the open space loft and threw himself down onto the couch, limbs sprawled out across the fabric like he owned the place, because he did. instead of lifting the back of his head off the couch, he slowly turned it to face her, the prized little cosita sat between him and his homeboy. “and you? how you feelin, mami? having as many issues as this clown is?”
