occasionally subtle
bliss lane
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
Kiana Khansmith
ojovivo
Not today Justin
hello vonnie
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The Bowery Presents
#extradirty
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Xuebing Du
Andulka
Monterey Bay Aquarium
izzy's playlists!
ellievsbear
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Iraq
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@burnedlegend-blog
Had to outright delete my personal blog and I’m angry omg. Someone somehow sent an anon ask with my exact address (old one but still) in it and that’s too scary so I panicked and bam. Personal gone rip. It wasn’t anything but a shittonne of rants anyway tho sooo
If it works bc so far it isn't taking
Tumblr istg
Had to outright delete my personal blog and I'm angry omg. Someone somehow sent an anon ask with my exact address (old one but still) in it and that's too scary so I panicked and bam. Personal gone rip. It wasn't anything but a shittonne of rants anyway tho sooo
Victor runs over in dino form, carrying his prey in his mouth. He sets down the dead pig (where did he find a pig?) in front of Mick and squawks at him happily, tail swaying side to side. Happy Father's Day Mick. Victor hopes you like your gift.
This was…, possibly the weirdest gift Mick had ever been given, and considering someone had given him a bag of human bones once, that was saying something. He resisted the urge to make a face, instead looking from the pig carcass to the small dinosaur squawking at him. It was the thought that counted, right?
“I love it, ya little spitfire.” He reached down, affectionately rubbing the top of Victor’s head. “Thanks.”
someone should go harass mick’s dad over at @futurechangers
or if you want shit from Lewis Snart he’s over there too
or ask mick questions and shit from his dad/be his dad on anon. or throw his kids at him
burnedlegend:
That was… unexpected. And a shock. Not a bad one, but… still a shock nonetheless.
Mick hesitated, cradling the cup of coffee in both hands and blinking once, twice, peering at Victor as though he expected some sort of punchline; a smirk, a laugh, something to show that this was all just a joke. He wouldn’t care if it was; disappointed, sure, but he had long, long ago stopped caring what people thought or didn’t think of him and he would move on.
But no. Nothing but seriousness.
At the second comment from Victor, Mick shook his head. “Uh… no. No to both.” Wait. That didn’t seem to come out quite right. “I mean… I am. Into–into both.” A long pause. That was the first time he had even semi admitted that out loud.
“Just… surprised.” He shifted slightly, taking a sip of his coffee to avoid eye contact, just for a moment, just so that he could regain his composure. All of this felt surreal, and if it weren’t for the burn of the coffee down his throat, he could almost have assumed it was a dream, and he would wake up with an empty beer bottle resting on his chest, and his hands hanging off the edge of the sofa.
Oh. Well he could live with Mick not being interes- ah. Victor blinked, a slow smile curving at his lips as Mick corrected himself. “You’re handsome and make the best desserts in town… why shouldn’t I be interested.” A sweet tooth for a baker and his goods…. in more ways then one, if he was being lewdly honest with himself.
Noting how Mick seemed to be avoiding his gaze, he moved his attention elsewhere and sipped at his own coffee in silence. Idly one hand moved to the wrapped wound, pressing at it slightly to feel the ache of pain freshly drawn.
Now the important question. Victor takes a final sip at the dregs of his coffee and sets the empty mug aside. There’s nothing else to occupy his hands with, so he merely lets them rest against his thighs, tapping briefly before he opens his mouth to speak.
“So… wanna go on a date?”
Mick couldn’t keep from glancing over at the other, then away again. Then back... sneaking glances like a boy trying to avoid being caught staring at a pretty face across the aisle at church. The compliments only served to bring a heat rising to the skin of his chest, his neck, his ears... he wasn’t sure if the blush showed but he could certainly feel it.
For a long moment, silence fell, the only sounds that of the men taking sips of their coffee. And then... a question. A question Mick hadn’t heard in a long time, and never from another man. Not once.
His heart skipped a beat and he hesitated, looking over at the other as though searching for some punchline to a joke. Finding none, he replied, his voice equal parts cautious and earnest. “Yeah. If you do.”
burnedlegend:
In any other situation, Mick might have taken offence at being talked to in such a manner, but here and now, the simple word of praise given to him by Victor only succeeded in driving him crazier in the best of ways.
Keep reading
It’s fair to say that the look in Victor’s eyes is one of infinite delight at seeing Mick’s response to him. He does excellent work.
Keep reading
Excellent work, indeed.
Mick couldn’t keep the small sounds from leaving his lips, though he tried to keep some sort of dignity by forming them into curse words, something a little less desperate than the moans and whines wanting to tear their way through his lips.
He isn’t looking - not quite - because of how tight his eyes are shut, struggling to keep some sort of composure. But upon opening his eyes, even just a slight bit, he could catch a glimpse of Victor stroking himself and god, if that didn’t only cause his own arousal to grow stronger. The tongue lapping along his shaft didn’t help the matters one bit.
“Just--you just--” His voice was already terribly strained, and the last word tapered off into a thin sound bordering on a whine, causing him to clamp his mouth shut. Breathing hard, he struggled to speak with some form of dignity, teeth clenched. “Just fuck me. Hard.” A pause, knowing that Victor was going to expect something else and he damn well better say it. And he did, hating just how the desperation crept through into his voice despite his best attempts to hide it. “Please. Please.”
burnedlegend:
None of this was a game, really, but it held enough playfulness to it that sometimes it felt like one. Mick hummed gently against the skin of the hitman’s shoulder, flicking his gaze upward to meet the other’s eyes. Lips twitch into a brief smirk as he briefly nipped at Victor’s shoulder again.
He knew they should finish breakfast - especially since Victor had expressed interest in the toast that they had yet to begin making - but somehow, despite the growl in his stomach, Mick didn’t find himself in too much of a hurry.
A low chuckle left his throat as he pressed a kiss to the side of Victor’s neck. “Would you gettin’ distracted really be such a bad thing?” The question was spoken with equal amounts of feigned innocence and mock obliviousness, even as his hand moved to trail a lazy line up Victor’s thigh and along the curve of his hip. And then it was gone, fingers slipping away and body slowly and teasingly removing itself from its position against Victor to go to where the toaster was. Not far, only a foot or two distance necessary between the two men, but still nowhere near as pleasant as being pressed together.
Though if breakfast was decided upon to be more important, there would be time for… other activities later, perhaps.
The faint rush of pain from Mick’s teeth nipping into his shoulder caused the hitman to drag in a breath, dark eyes growing blacker with the anticipation of desire. There’s something about the taller man that gives him a rush, that large hand drifting along the outside of his jeans. He almost mourned that he’d put on pants this morning, preferring to feel those rough palms against his skin.
Flipping the eggs, he turned off the burned, hoping that it’d be enough to keep their food warm, or at least edible. Because his attention has been entirely drawn to the pyro taunting him, once pressed so temptingly close, and yet was now across the kitchen where the toast was.
“Forget the toast.”
Victor murmured, attention staring at Mick, chest rising and falling in slow controlled motions. His fingers toying along the waistband of his black jeans before he lifted his hand, sliding it up his body to brush over a nipple, then further up to smooth across the back of his neck. Head tilted, gaze challenging.
Nearly asking Mick to come back and finish what he’s started.
Teasing was a part of Mick’s life. He had been on the receiving end so many times - having partners taunt him, use the parts of themselves he craved most to get him to do what they wanted, sometimes in good fun, sometimes in more... controlling ways. Teased by bargoers, by friends. A stoic demeanour seemed to invite the mischief of others, and typically he didn’t mind it.
But it was always nice when he himself had enough appeal to someone to be able to have the same exact effect.
He hummed absently, some random tune, pretending not to notice what Victor said about forgetting the toast. But then he made the mistake of looking over, and then... damn. As if Victor wasn’t attractive enough, he had to go put on a goddamn show, something he would imagine seeing in a sex club or something like that.
Only this - this was the real deal and it was his.
“Mm...” The sound left him in a low growl and he slowly approached the other, reaching out to grasp his wrists, guiding his hands to press against his own chest, moving to nip at his neck, hips pressed against Victor’s. Unable to keep his hands off of him, teasing be damned.
Maybe that was why he was so bad at teasing others. Too impatient to get what he wanted. And in this case, he wanted Victor.
burnedlegend:
Keep reading
Keep reading
burnedlegend:
[continued from here with @azsaszin]
Mick had considered it a small victory when he finally convinced the pretty little pizzeria owner to go out for drinks with him. It was one thing to show up and flirt with reckless abandon whenever he so decided to; it was another thing entirely to ask Victor out for drinks - and to receive a positive response.
The evening had gone well. Well enough that Mick decided to ask what he had wanted to ask all night - although he would have asked regardless of how the night had gone, poorly or well.
Another small victory in the shape of Victor responding to his suggestive request with another question - a very pleasing question.
“Where’ll you be more comfortable, pretty boy?” Mick tipped back the rest of his drink before setting the glass down, leaning in closer and fixing the other with an intent gaze. “I can do it anywhere.”
“Uh, well…”
Pretty boy. Yup. He’s flushing a little. Mick seems to have that affect on the otherwise unphased pizza owner. Mobsters, hitmen, drunks… those he can handle. Mick with that rougish smile and something decadent in that gaze of his? Victor can already feel a curl of anticipation rise in him.
Flirting with danger took a whole other turn when he sat down for this drink, and he ran his tongue along his teeth briefly. Pondering whose place would be better. “Yours?”
In honesty, Victor’s curious to see where Mick lives. Mostly they’re contained to the pyro coming by the pizza shop for food, and apparently to eye him up like he’s the one up for eating.
“You wanna leave now?”
Ahh. There it was, that pretty little blush that Mick loved seeing rise in the pizza boy’s equally pretty little face. Mick tilted his head, watching silently as the other man seemed to run over the proposition in his head. He could practically see the wheels turning in Victor’s head.
“Mine it is then.” He had been hoping for that, really. A familiar space meant it was much easier to get right to what he wanted to be doing without having to acquaint himself with what he might and might not trip over.
You wanna leave now?
“Immediately.” He crossed toward the door to open it, casually reaching out and stealing a quick squeeze of the other’s ass as he did so.
burnedlegend:
It had been far too long since Mick had experienced this; this gentle warmth. His childhood and most of his young adult life had been rife with delinquency, and once he had managed to get out of those habits, he had poured all of his energy into work; first at a bar, and then at the bakery. He was a strange sort of person, and didn’t really go looking for romance or anything else, so unless other people approached him, he didn’t have many chancers to simply lie with someone, whether innocently or otherwise. He had a few times; back in his criminal days, and once or twice since then. Never had he stayed past the morning though.
So the fact he didn’t feel like getting out of bed now was in and of itself odd. Though, that was in part because Victor wasn’t shooing him away… not like in the past, where he had to hurry out of rooms in clubs, or out of bedrooms because ‘someone is going to catch you here!’ or ‘that was fun, I don’t want attachment, get out’.
Either way, the softness of it all was appealing - surprising, a little, but appealing - and he found himself pressing back against the other, a faint tremor and pleased hum leaving him at the sensation of fingertips trailing along his skin. “Yeah… yeah. Better than okay.”
Victor hummed low in his throat and kissed Mick’s shoulder lightly. Overly content, pleased with himself. He liked being better then okay. Though he would prefer being the best. Plus the baker was soft, and sweet, and smelled faintly of bakery goods. Victor could almost eat him up.
“I wish I could remember last night.” He remarked quietly, still tracing patterns across the other man’s skin.
Whatever they had or hadn’t done, didn’t necessarily matter now. But he still wished he retained the memory of it. Whatever it was had been enough to send them cuddling into bed, in his case half naked and curled up against the older man.
The soft touches of the other man’s lips against his shoulder brought a deeply pleased hum from deep within Mick’s chest and he absently pushed himself ever so slightly backward, happy to press himself a little tighter against the other man’s body, reveling in the gentleness of fingers tracing patterns along his skin.
He laughed, quiet, running through what he himself could remember of the night before. After a moment, he smiled, stretching out slightly. “It was... amazing. That’s ‘bout all that matters.” He shifted, twisting just enough to be able to cradle the back of Victor’s head in his hand, drawing him into a deep kiss.
Definitely amazing.
It had been countless months since the fall of Mick’s tribe and his capture by the prince of the kingdom. Since his imprisonment. Since the degradation and humiliation began.
The seething fury had not faded, or so he insisted to himself - he was still enraged at how he had been treated, at how disgraced he was for having allowed himself to be captured rather than killed in battle like his brothers-in-arm. Though as time passed, and the prince continued to play whatever odd game of charm and coaxing he was playing, Mick only grew angrier.
. At the prince, of course. Not at the fact that he found himself letting his gaze linger on the other’s form, not at the fact that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking of the other.
It was as though everything had been torn away from him. All he had to look forward to was torture... and the unpredictability of what the prince might do or say. That was the only reason the prince was always on his mind, of course. The fact that he was the only break in an endless trudge of monotony-filled moments spent wasting away in prison cells. At least when the prince decided to torture him, it meant getting to move, getting to leave the cell, even if on a leash or locked away in chains.
Even so, he let the anger burn on, although it became more bitter and irritably confused than outrage at one point, something he refused to admit.
It was the sound of the cage door opening that startled him out of his reverie, and he remained hunched in the corner, eyes the only bright spot in the shadows of his cell, desperately seeking out the face he had been waiting to see.
Disgusting and pathetic. You disgrace.
There. Mick’s heartbeat noticeably picked up speed. He watched silently, waiting in earnest silence to see what the prince would say.
[continued from here with @theirvoices]
If Mick was ordered to describe his biggest turn-on in one word, it would have always been ‘oral’. there was something about another man’s lips, teeth, tongue that captivated him - and something so innately pleasurable about using his own to make others feel good. Hell, on a less sexual level, he always had to have something in his mouth anyway. Toothpicks, cigarettes, candy, food, the lip of a beer bottle... a dick just happened to be entirely more pleasing in that if he did well - and he almost always did - he would get praise for it.
That said, feeling the magic of a man’s lips and throat for himself was just as ecstasy-inducing and he could not deny that.
This hadn’t been the plan for the night at all, but Hartley had to keep running that mouth of his. That stupid, clever, soft-looking mouth. And Mick wasn’t quite known for gentle patience, so one thing led to another...
The moans coming from Hartley did nothing but send more vibrations running through Mick’s already sensitive cock, and it was soon his undoing as his movements grew more and more erratic, irregular, and then he withdrew with a shudder, just in time to paint the younger man’s face.
Mick moved slightly, kneeling on the sofa at the end, between Hartley’s legs. He reached out, idly stroking along the other man’s cock, caressing the soft skin of his hips, before moving to grasp Hartley’s shoulders and pull him into a sitting position.
He looked at Hartley for a long moment, fingers dancing absently along his skin, up his chest, across his nipples, along his neck, across his face, smearing the cum there. Leaning forward, he pressed slow kisses to the other’s face, one hand moving down to stroke Hartley some more as he lapped his own cum from the other’s skin.
Still maintaining eye contact in what was certainly an odd cleaning ritual - but one he found utterly pleasurable - he moved slightly lower to continue cleaning the other off, pressing open-mouthed kisses in a desire-fueled pattern along any patch of skin that had been painted with either man’s cum.
Once he finished, he licked his lips, eyebrows arching as he peered at Hartley with an utterly pleased, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin that spoke a thousand words more than he himself ever would have.
thank you all for indulging mick’s gross hoe-ass self
goldenfatale replied to your post “you can blame @theirvoices for the sin, i hold no responsibility for...”
Victor is like ��������
G O O D
[continued from here with @theirvoices]
Something Mick would rarely bring up to others - and hardly himself for that matter - was that he had a certain hunger for intimate actions to be slower, to be less rushed. As impatient a man as he was, he also appreciated a good teasing, and nothing was more teasing than taking something he would normally lunge for all at once in a much slower manner - and it was almost more exhilarating, in a way. Something new. Something different.
Something almost tender.
Mick let Hartley control the pace, maintaining a perfect balance of... whatever the hell this was. The balance between wanting other people to take control and the balance between wanting control... somehow, it had been found, somehow, in this moment, with Hartley, he had managed to find that perfect spot between two extremes and he was living for it.
He allowed the other to guide his hands, all too pleased with where they ended up and squeezing gently first, then rougher, leisurely pressing his hips upward, returning the motions and grinding against Hartley as best he could in this situation, unable to keep from trembling at the oh so delicious friction.
He found himself all but lost in the sensations, and as such, if Hartley hadn’t pulled away, he never would have noticed or registered the fucking beautiful and pleading way the other breathed his name.
It took a moment for Mick to catch his breath, but eventually he managed, hands still sliding, groping, feeling everywhere because if he stopped touching, he really did feel like it would kill him. He stopped only after slipping his hands into the other’s trousers, settling firmly against Hartley’s skin. He leaned forward to press lazy open-mouthed kisses against the column of the younger man’s neck, tongue licking a brief trail up, up, along his jaw line, ending in the ghost of a kiss against his lips, where he remained, leaning his forehead against the other’s, breathing irregular.
“Your room or right here? No way in hell I’m managing to get back to my place. Not without takin’ my hands off you - and I don’t plan on takin’ my hands off you tonight, pretty boy.”
you can blame @theirvoices for the sin, i hold no responsibility for these actions
Smut Starter Call | Nsfw
Put a number from 1-30 in my inbox, (without peeking at the image) for a drabble or a thread starter inspired by the corresponding image. Please specify M/F, M/M, or F/F along with which muses.
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Note: May be selective with non-mutuals
