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sluttygallavich · 4 months

Note

Ian and Mickey looking into each others eyes while Mickeys slapping Ian’s cock on his tongue and sucking the life out of him 😝😌😍

Mickey hears all the Lady Gaga queers collectively gasp when he pulls Ian’s half-hard length from his jeans. He’s not surprised. The two of them were still watching from the sidelines when the others started throwing their clothes around, and, frankly, Mickey didn’t see anything to write home about. Nothing like his husband’s gorgeous pink cock—nine inches, cut, and curved just so to get Mickey seeing stars on every thrust.

He feels more than he sees the others stopping to watch on appreciatively as Mickey gives Ian a few leisurely pumps to plump him up to full hardness before dropping to his knees at Ian’s feet. He tugs Ian’s jeans down and helps him step out of them, Ian taking himself in hand to continue stroking himself slowly, the slit of his cock already beading with pre-cum.

Mickey runs tattooed fingers up the back of Ian’s thighs and settles his hands on Ian’s ass, squeezing possessively. He looks up to Ian’s face and his heart gives a violent kick when he finds Ian’s hooded eyes already trained on him. Fuck. They haven’t really discussed this. What they want to do, what they’re comfortable with. Not the way they probably should have. But with their eyes locked on each other now, Mickey just knows. He belongs to Ian, and Ian to him. Signed, witnessed, and notarized, bitch.

Mickey’s never been too keen on sharing what’s his—probably something to do with growing up dirt poor and having to fight for every last scrap—and he’s sure as hell not about to start now, not when he’s finally got the one fucking thing in his life that’s ever been worth a damn. Worth everything.

Ian uses his free hand to run his fingers gently through Mickey’s hair before gripping on tight, and looking into his blazing eyes, Mickey just knows. Same page.

Keeping his eyes locked on Ian’s, Mickey opens his mouth and presents his tongue. Something inside him has settled in Ian’s gaze and now all he wants is to have Ian inside him. To taste him. To claim him and be claimed.

Ian groans as he slaps his heavy cock on Mickey’s outstretched tongue once, twice, three times before Mickey closes his lips around the tip so he can get a taste. Ian pulls back out and uses the dripping head to smear his pre-cum around Mickey’s lips before tugging on Mickey’s hair and issuing a single command.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

Mickey nods wordlessly and lets his mouth fall back open, tongue out and greedy as he waits for Ian to start slowly feeding him his length. Everything around them sort of whites out then—the strings of bright patio lights, the grating pop music, the heat of other men’s eyes.

Let these fuckers look all they want. Mickey even kind of loves the idea, if he’s being honest. Let them see how good they are together. How good they have it. Let them turn green with envy when Mickey takes all of Ian down this throat, eyes watering but still locked with Ian’s, and starts to suck the life out of him.

But let no one dare touch Mickey Milkovich’s husband. Not unless they want to lose a fucking limb.

#first time answering a prompt #how'd i do?#gallavich smut #orgy? what orgy?#possessive little shits #husband era #s11e07 scene filler kinda #gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #fanfic

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very-sleepy-head · 1 year

Text

Spit and swallow

Mickey discovering his spit kink [extended addition].

Part 1 (kinkmas day 14)

Part 2

By the time Mickey realized what was going on Ian had him pinned to the wall with his knee shoved up against his crotch and his hands holding Mickey’s hands above his head.

Fuck.

Mickey couldn’t help but moan.

They just got ready for bed after a night out with friends and they were both only in their underwear. Mickey knew talking about their sex life with their friends was going to come bite him in the ass. And not in a good way.

Maybe lying about their sex life sort of made it worse.

Mickey felt Ian’s hot breath on his neck and his own breath shuttered.

"It's kinda cute how ‘such a tough guy can become a horny mess with just a few pushes’ , don’t you think?” Ian whispered against his ear before biting his earlobe. Mickey’s hips pushed forwards, trying to get closer to Ian.

Yep, Ian was repeating Mickey’s exact words from earlier tonight. Not his finest moment.

Read on Ao3

Ian continued, “It's funny how you were bragging to our friends how you’d never let anyone control you in bed ,” Ian mocked, “but now look at you, don’t look so tough right now. Cute little slut.”

“Ian–” Mickey was silenced mid sentence when Ian bit his neck.

“I didn't say you could talk, did I?” Ian let go of Mickey's arms, who let them fall to his sides with a thud.

Ian pulled back, just a little, and grinned. “Bet I could spit in your mouth and you'd thank me for it, wouldn't you, baby?”

Mickey wasn’t ready to back down so quickly. “Maybe. If you asked nicely.” He snarked back.

Ian paused for a moment. “Hmmm…Maybe later. Different plan. On your knees.”

It took a split second for the command to register but quickly Mickey scrambled to the right position. Mickey kneeled down with his hands on his knees and his head looking up at Ian as he waited for Ian’s next move.

Ian took this opportunity to appreciate his husband's body below him. His thick thighs, his milky skin, his pink nipples. He waited a few moments, letting Mickey’s position sink in, giving him a chance to adjust his mindset.

There was something really satisfying about being on his knees for Ian. Maybe it was because he'd grown enough to realize it didn't make him more gay than getting fucked by Ian. Or maybe it was because Mickey loved the feeling of having Ian's eyes on him.

Ian’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“I think I want an apology,” Ian said, breaking the silence.

“Come on!” Mickey whined.

Ian raised an eyebrow in amused disapproval. “What?”

Mickey huffed, “Ian…” dragging out the word.

“Whining again,” Ian said, very calmly. Ian counted to ten in his head, nice and slow, and said, “Do you know how to talk properly now?”

“I do,” Mickey grumbled.

“And?”

Mickey huffed out a little breath. “Sorry for saying I boss you in bed. And…”

“And?” Ian prompted.

“And I don’t know! I’m trying my best, man, I really am, I don’t–”

Ian snorted. “You’re doing your best?”

“Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” Mickey said.

“Try again.”

Mickey pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, then tilted his head down, forehead resting against Ian’s thigh. Ian waited in silence, letting Mickey take his time.

“Help me?” Mickey whispered.

He lingered like that, and after a few seconds, Ian’s fingers slipped into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, before they moved lower, to caress the back of his neck.

“Open your eyes,” Ian instructed.

Mickey did as he was told, his eyes glazed as he struggled to focus on Ian. Ian bent down to kiss him, only briefly, and Mickey’s lips relaxed against his. Ian pulled back.

“If you look away, I’ll stop,” Ian warned but there was no sting, but the threat still made Mickey shudder. “You’ll sit here, you’ll put your hands where they belong, and you’ll let me fuck that lying mouth of yours. Got it?”

Mickey was getting embarrassed at how much he’s enjoying this, at how easy it is for Ian to play with him, at how hard it got him.

He nodded, and Ian considered him for a few seconds, before he pushed two fingers into Mickey’s mouth. Mickey took them easily, letting them press flat against his tongue, gazing up at Ian, who held his gaze. He sucked on Ian’s fingers, focusing on Ian’s warm voice. “You will let me do this and then we can play.” It wasn’t really a question but Mickey considered the words before he hummed in agreement. Ian grinned and pushed his fingers in deeper, letting his husband choke on them slightly.

Mickey took a deep breath through his nose, letting Ian’s fingers linger in his mouth, and tried to get himself into a headspace that might allow him to be still and patient and wait.

“Just like that. You love being told what to do, don’t you?” Ian cooed.

That annoying bastard.

Mickey could bite him.

Fuck , he could bite him.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t.

He shivered, and Ian pushed his fingers in deeper, until he choked again.

Ian pulled his fingers out of Mickey’s mouth. “Be good.”

Ian straightened up. A slow, dangerous smile curled across Ian’s face and Mickey shivered again, chewing on his lower lip. “Keep that pretty mouth open.”

Mickey let his mouth drop open without a word, let his tongue hang out.

Ian slid his fingers into Mickey’s hair, holding his head in place as dragged his boxers down slowly, just to tease Mickey, smirking when Mickey licked his lips. As soon as his cock was in front of him, Mickey took a deep breath, his hands curling into fists as he fought to hold still. His mouth hung open, as wide as he could, waiting and ready.

Ian traced the tip of his dick along Mickey’s lower lip. Mickey’s breath hitched, and he swallowed hard to keep himself from licking his lips. He managed to control himself and waited patiently under Ian’s gaze.

“Deep breath.”

Mickey obeyed, and as he exhaled, Ian pushed his cock into his mouth. Mickey moaned around Ian’s cock and relaxed his throat as much as he could.

Mickey loved the taste of Ian, loved the weight and warmth in his mouth.

Ian placed both of his hands on the back of Mickey’s head and started to fuck into the warm mouth in a slow pace. The head of Ian’s cock hit the back of Mickey’s throat with every thrust, moving faster and faster.

Mickey’s eyes stayed on Ian, drinking in the sexy expression on his face. The power to make Ian feel so good satisfied him, even if he really craved Ian’s touch.

The most torturous part about all this was the fact that Mickey couldn't touch himself. He was so horny and his own cock itched for attention. Technically, Ian never said he couldn’t, but if he knew what was good for him, he’d wait for permission.

He gasped when Ian pulled out for a second to let him breathe. Mickey panted, letting his chin rest on Ian’s leg while still looking up at Ian through teary eyes

"Fuck," Mickey muttered against Ian’s thigh.

"Oh, is it that good, baby?” Ian teased

Mickey nodded desperately. He wasn’t going to lie to Ian, he already knows how much he likes his cock in his mouth.

Ian bent down again, kissing Mickey’s mouth. The kiss only stayed innocent for a second, the press of lips changing as soon as Mickey opened his mouth, the younger man’s tongue eagerly entering his mouth. It was heated and sloppy, and Mickey needed more.

“Please, Red, I want…” Mickey’s voice was hoarse.

“What do you want, Mickey?”

“Anything!”

“Are you sure?” Ian cocked an eyebrow when Mickey swallowed hard and nodded.

Again, there is absolutely no hesitation. “Yes.”

Mickey whined as Ian straightened up, still on his knees but not seated, and Mickey wanted to shuffle closer to him, but he stayed still, sitting on his heels with his eyes on the ground.

“Hey, look at me,” Ian said, his voice was sharp but Mickey could tell he wanted to see his eyes, always checking in.

Suddenly their size difference felt more obvious. They’re both on the ground and yet Ian is towering over Mickey.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, and Mickey’s mouth parted immediately. “Stick your tongue out for me.”

Mickey pulled his tongue out, and Ian leaned forward and spat directly into his mouth.

Holy shit.

This is the first time Ian did it since that day Mickey brought it up. And it was just as hot as he remembered.

“Swallow.”

Mickey swallowed quickly as Ian’s hand cupped the side of his face. Mickey whimpered, immediately being put back in his place with the touch of Ian’s fingers on his skin.

Before Ian could order him again, he opened his mouth, both to show his task was fulfilled and he was ready for more.

‘He's learning fast,’ Ian thought to himself with a smile.

"Again." Ian told him as Mickey’s lips hung open and Ian spat between them once more. “Swallow.”

Mickey obeyed him quickly, and Ian smiled down at him and patting his cheek gently. He didn’t even have to ask this time.

Mickey mumbled a shy “Thank you.” that took Ian by surprise until he remembered. He did say Mickey would thank him for it. Huh.

Mickey clasped his hands behind his back and kept his mouth hanging open, his eyes never losing contact with Ian’s, a blush warm on his cheeks.

“What? Are you embarrassed, Mick?” Mickey felt his hips jolt.

Ian looked down at Mickey's body, still sitting on his heels and his cock was hard, pressing against underwear, creating a wet spot.

"Having fun there, sweetheart?"

Mickey just nodded, tongue slipping out across his lower lip.

“Get naked.”

Mickey quickly pulled his underwear down and out of the way.

“You can touch yourself,” Ian said sternly. “If you want to cum, you ask. Do you understand?”

Mickey nodded.

“One more question,” he promised, hands moving to Mickey’s hair, pushing his head back a bit. “Do you want me to continue?”

Fuck.

Ian’s eyes sparkled with excitement when Mickey nodded again.

As always kudos / comments / reblogs are welcome 🖤

#Listen I’m not goons to promise that there’s is a part 3 #BUT #if you comment that you want it I might have to give it to you #gallavich #my writing #gallavich fic #gallavich smut #gallavich fanfiction #ao3 #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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imsorry-imlate · 1 year

Text

BACK IN TIME

Thank you @galladrabbles & @gallavich-headcanon

The smut I promised you all, maybe another coming soon

---

it's around 1 am, Mick's plumpy lips wrapped around his husband's member. The spit pooling in the ginger patch trickled to the low-hanging balls. Ian's snores were soon interrupted by a low groan, Hands flying to tie up in those raven locs. "what time is it?" Ian's eyes flickered to the clock, gripping and scrapping his nails on his love's scalp. Mick's nose prodded at his soft tummy that was covered in coily red short hairs. Ian wasn't pissed, I mean who would be. His only regret was that he couldn't go back in time to make it happen sooner.

#ian x mickey #shameless us #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #galladrabbles #Smut #gallavich smut #100 words

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gallavichgeek · 1 year

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Peppermint Treat

(Gallavich Winter FicFest Collection)

Summary:

Mickey wants to find the perfect way to prove to Ian that he too is embracing the Christmas spirit thanks to his husband's obsession with the holiday. The answer, Candy Canes.

Read the fic here

#Gallavich #Gallavich fanfic #Gallavich fan fiction #fan fiction #gallavich smut #candy canes #Gallavich winter FicFest 2022 #Ian Gallagher #Mickey Milkovich

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dorkszn · 3 months

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“quit squirmin’, will ya?” mickey rasps in your ear. you swallow harshly as you grip the fabric of his sweatpants.

“you guys are attacking me,” you scoff, mickey’s lips press against the skin of your throat again. bite marks and bright red bruises litter across your skin.

“god, you’re so dramatic.” your red-head boyfriend sighs from the end of your bed. ian kisses against your abdomen, softly sucking more hickies into your skin while his fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts.

“am not.” you glare down at him.

“are too.” mickey grumbles, softly digging his fingertips into your skin. you slightly squirm at the touch, a sigh leaving you.

“i am no—“

“god, you talk so much.” ian interrupts, bringing his lips to yours. he pulls your words from your throat and into to him, leaving you with nothing but gentle breathes and whines.

meanwhile, mickey’s hands slide into your pants, playing with the fabric of your boxers that were growing tighter by the minute.

suddenly, the sound of your phone ringing broke you and ian apart. “shit— sorry, one second.”

they don’t let you leave their trap so you just reach out and grab the phone. you flip the top part up and bring it to your ear. “hello?” you greet. your mother’s voice responds to you through the speaker.

“yeah, you know I’ll be there.” you reply as she talks. you feel mickey begin nipping at your neck and ian takes the waistband of your pajamas pants into his grip. a choked noise leaves you.

“sorry, I’m just… a little busy right now.” you speak out, your free hand reaching up to hold mickey’s hair to carefully push him off of you. but he doesn’t budge.

“yeah, ok, see you then, yeah, love you too, bye.” you say, quickly hanging up the phone.

“who was that?” the ginger questions, kissing your jawline.

“my mom, you assholes.” you scoff. ian pulls down your pants to completely reveal your underwear and growing erection.

“aww,” mickey hums and you can see his smug grin out the corner of your eye.

“shut the fuck up, milkovich,” ian snickers from his spot. “you too, gallagher.” you look over to him.

a smirk covers ian’s face. “why don’t you makes us, fisher?”

#dorkszn #dorkfilmz #shameless tv #shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #mickey milkovich x reader #ian gallagher x reader #gallavich x reader #gay #bottom male reader #top ian gallagher #switch mickey milkovich #shameless x reader #shameless smut

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jebsaysmeow · 2 years

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me: a virgin

also me: *writes 200k+ words smut fanfics and they're better than any p0rn script written by qualified s3x instructors*

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metalheadmickey · 1 year

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the thing about ian is that he and mickey will fuck so nasty, and he'll still call it "making love." mickey will be starfished on the bed, drenched in sweat and staring at the ceiling with his eyes all huge like he just accidentally bore witness to the birth of the universe after whatever depraved act ian just committed upon him, and ian will be next to him like "i love getting to make love with you 🥰 that was so nice 🥰 i love you"

#ian thesis actually #the thing is i am on ian's side here lmfaooo y'all have read my smut #they're in love and they're gonna show it by fucking nasty #gallavich #gallavich headcanon

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mickittotheman · 1 month

Note

Maybe #6 ...on a falling tear.

But maybe smut 😅

Ahem. Um. Yes.

Putting this under a read more cut for obvious reasons 😶

6. ...on a falling tear (but definitely smut)

It’s Ian’s day off, the house is empty, the vibrating anal beads they splurged on finally arrived in the mail, and they're having a great time.

It’s obvious, from the way Ian is grinning wide, eyes sparkling, laughter huffing from his lungs, that he’s enjoying this.

Mickey’s enjoying it too, of course. It’s just that he expresses joy a bit differently than most people.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck you, fuck you, Ian, gonna fucking kill you, fuck.”

Ian laughs again, and his warm breath puffing against Mickey’s spit soaked nipple gets an interesting response, so he follows it up by pursing his lips and blowing out a long, cool stream of air.

“Fuck. Ian,” Mickey whines, voice keening and plaintive once more.

It’s one of the many, many things Ian loves about his husband: the way his mood flips on a dime even during sex, especially during sex, how he’ll go from growling threats to pathetic pleading to blabbering praises and back again.

“So good, it’s so good, Ian, please, love you, you're so good.”

“Yeah? You like this, baby?” Ian pulls back to get a better view of Mickey’s face. It's quite the sight to behold: skin flushed and brows furrowed and mouth swollen and slick, plush lower lip bitten hard by one sharp little canine tooth.

Mickey tips his head back against the pillow. Shakes it frantically. “No, I don’t fucking like this, I hate this, fuck, I hate you.”

“Oh? You don’t like this?” Ian hums. Rubs one big hand soothingly up and down Mickey’s heaving chest. “Hm. Maybe we oughta try a different setting, then.”

“Wait–”

Mickey’s eyes fly open just in time to see Ian grin as he presses the button on the remote.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, Ian, Ian, please–”

“Please what? Put it higher?”

Ian presses another button without waiting for an answer. Watches in awe as Mickey’s back arches, as his muscles tense, limbs straining against the restraints, as his cock jerks untouched against his stomach, come dribbling down to join the other spatters in varying states of drying.

Ian clicks the remote again. Drops the strength to the lowest setting, switches the pulse pattern to something steady and predictable.

Mickey sobs, just once, and Ian’s grin widens.

When Mickey cries during sex, that means Ian is doing his job really, really well.

It’d freaked him out the first time. Made him panic. Made him think he’d hurt Mickey in a way he hadn’t intended to.

But that was years ago.

Nowadays, making Mickey cry is one of Ian’s favorite activities.

“So good, baby,” he gushes, leaning in to kiss Mickey’s forehead. “You’re doing so good. You were fucking made for this, Mickey. Made to be tied up and pleasured and used all day long.”

Ian can physically feel Mickey’s skin heat up against his lips. Can feel him shudder and shake. Can feel him nod, just a tiny, jerky little motion.

Ian pulls back again, wanting to drink in the sight of him, wanting to see it forever and ever and ever. “Fuck, baby. I should take a fucking picture. Actually, I should just keep you like this 24/7.”

Mickey’s breath stutters, his eyes fluttering open to peer up at Ian blearily, the tiniest little noise clawing from his throat.

Ian smiles softly at him. Brings a hand up to cup his face and swipe at his tears with his thumb. “You want that, baby? Yeah. Maybe you’re right about not needing a job. Maybe I should just keep you tied up like this all day instead, ready for me to use whenever I want. Would be a great stress relief, after a long day of work. ‘Course, some days I’d be too tired to fuck you, but that’s okay. I can just leave you like this, right?”

Mickey whines in protest. Shakes his head.

“Shh, it’s okay, Mick. I’m just teasing,” he soothes, ducking down again to kiss the fresh tear rolling down Mickey’s cheek. “I’d never be able to leave you completely untouched. I’d have to do something. Something like this, maybe.”

He clicks the remote again, ramping the vibrations back up to level five, switching the pattern to an unyielding bzzzzzzzzzz.

“Fuck!”

Ian laughs. Palms at his own dick, just to take a bit of the pressure off. “We’re almost done, babe. Promise.”

“Yeah?” Mickey pants, melting a bit in relief even as his wrists flex against the leather cuffs fruitlessly.

“Ian! Fuck, fuck you, please please please, I need you, I love you, Ian–”

“Yeah,” Ian assures him. “Just gonna make you come one more time with these in.” He pauses. Cocks his head. “Well, and then of course I’ll have to pull these out of you, one by one, and fuck knows how many times you’ll come during that. Plus, I’m obviously going to have to fuck you at least once. Maybe twice. I’m feeling pretty worked up, y’know?”

This time, Mickey comes with a high pitched whine and a steady stream of tears.

Oh yeah. They are definitely having fun.

send me a number~

#prompt games #gallavich #my scribblings #milestone achieved: first actual smut posting #nobody look at me rn #um. thank you for the prompt. i hope you like it?????#maybe???????????#hopefully?????????????????#🫣

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gallabitch73 · 3 months

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Galladrabbles: Movies

Thanks to @mmmichyyy for this week’s prompt! Long live @galladrabbles!!!

TW: CONTAINS SMUT (of course😘)

****************

Gallavich Movie Night

“Baby, move your head a little. You’re gonna make me miss my favorite part.”

“You can see the screen without me moving my head.”

“Just once, could you do what I ask without arguing Mick?”

“That would be a NO because then I couldn’t see.”

“Can’t you just go back and watch it later?”

“Why would I want to watch a rerun when I could watch the live show now?!”

“Mick..I swear to…if you don’t stop talking and finish s*cking my d*ck, I’m gonna shove this camera up your *ss.”

“Promises, promises, Tough Guy.”

#gallavich #galladrabbles #pure smut #shameless us #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #gallavichlove

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wehangout · 2 months

Note

5 for the physical affection but smutty prompts pretty pretty please 🙏 😶

Send me a number prompt and I’ll make it smutty

5. crying into their neck/shoulder

Mickey's pupils are blown, only a tiny ring of blue visible as he stares up at you through wet, hooded eyes. Hands restrained against the headboard and mouth stuffed with his favourite gag, you've never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Good?" you ask, voice a whisper in the dim-lit room.

He nods, the slightest of movements, and you reach down, caress his jaw. His eyes close at the contact and you smile.

"Yeah, you've been so good for me."

He preens and presses himself into your hand. You allow it, know he needs it. His entire body is flushed, sweaty, fucking gorgeous, and you can't help yourself.

"Think you've got one more in ya?" you ask, sitting between his legs, fingers back at his hole, brushing, tracing.

You hear the hitch in his breathing, see the way his chest begins to heave a little, and he shakes his head wildly and then nods slowly. You smirk, and three fingers slip back inside of him with zero resistance. You watch in awe as his eyes get that little bit hazier, his breaths get that little bit shorter. Fuck. You love this. Love him.

You press, knowing that, despite his nod, he doesn't have much more in him. He's ready for it, and you're ready to give it to him, ready to watch him fall apart. So you press and rub and stare into his eyes as he moans and pushes into you, press and rub and stare into his eyes as his dick leaks against his stomach and his ass clenches around you.

"Close?"

He nods. Gasps. Makes that tiny little noise you know means it's about to happen.

You slip your fingers out.

He groans. Something that sounds like a muffled, ragged fuck pushing through the gag. Tears spill from his eyes and you want to lick his face clean, mouth at his entire body, suck his dick until he comes in your mouth.

"Shit, Mick, look at you." You're so fucking proud of him, but you're kinda proud of yourself for keeping it together this long, too. He stares at you, desperate and needy, and you smile. "You wanna come?"

He nods, body trembling.

"Gonna come just from my fingers?" You wanna suck his dick, but you want him to come untouched even more. "Think you can do that, baby?"

He nods again, eager to please.

You slide your fingers back in and press, push your thumb against his perineum, attach your free hand to your own aching cock. Mickey pants as best he can through his gag, his eyes flicking from your eyes, down to where you're touching yourself, and back again.

"Eyes on me," you whisper, and he nods jerkily as you press harder, rub in unrelenting circles, jerk yourself in time with the strokes you give his prostate.

And he grunts, fucking whines, waiting for you, waiting for you to give him the permission he so desperately craves.

You nod. "Yeah, Mick, come."

He comes, his back arching and body shuddering, nonsense sounds emitting from his mouth and it's beautiful, gorgeous, enough to make you follow with a tingle in your spine and heat in your stomach. You come, aim it all over his cock and balls, and feel your body heat at the way it makes him moan.

You want to bask in the afterglow, but you want to be with him more. You let go of your dick, pull your fingers out of his ass, lean your body over his and brush your lips against his forehead.

"Okay?"

He nods.

"Gonna get this shit off you."

He nods again.

You release his hands first, rubbing at his shoulders as his arms ease to his sides, and then remove the gag, wiping at the spit slicked over his lips. And then you hug him. Because that's his aftercare. He wants to be held, wants the weight of you on top of him, and you want to give him everything he wants.

"Did so good, baby. So fuckin' hot."

He huffs against you. "Fuck, Ian."

"Got you, Mick. Always got you."

He nods, just slightly, and presses his face into your neck. His breathing evens out, and, eventually, his arms raise to hug you back, but every now and then you feel a little more wetness against your shoulder and you hold him that little bit tighter.

#idk man #ian and mickey #gallavich fic #gallavich #my fic #um #also excessive use of the word 'press'#smut prompts #kbye #anon

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thereyoflights · 8 months

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Take My Breath, a Gallavich drabble for this week’s @galladrabbles prompt by @arrowflier - “You Never Asked.” Also submitted for @gallavichthings Gallavich Kinktober 2023 event for the prompts “choking”, “hands”, and “breathplay.”

Rated E, 100 words, 1/1 complete.

CW: breathplay, choking, under-negotiated kink, hand jobs, anal sex

Read it below the cut or on AO3 here.

Mickey is pressed back against Ian’s chest, their hips meeting with every thrust of Ian’s hips. Ian’s arm snakes around Mickey’s waist to stroke his cock, doubling the pleasure thrumming through his veins. Ian’s kisses are sloppy and wet against his neck.

Ian’s free hand closes around Mickey’s throat, squeezing until Mickey is gasping for breath, until he can’t breathe. It makes his blood rush faster, and Ian squeezes harder. Mickey comes with a groan, streaks of his spend spilling over Ian’s hand.

“Fuck, Mick,” Ian swears, surprised. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

Mickey chuckles. “You never asked.”

#gallavich #galladrabbles #gallavich kinktober 2023 #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #mickey x ian #drabble #gallavich smut #smut #my fic #bri’s writing #prompt fill #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fic #gallavich fanfiction

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sluttygallavich · 2 months

Note

Ian spits on mickeys hole and they both enjoy it 🤝

The first time it happens, it’s out of pure necessity.

They’ve just chased each other across half of South Side and up six flights of crumbling stairs, blood pumping and hearts racing. By the time they get to the mattress they have set up behind a half-collapsed wall near Ian’s makeshift training course they’re both practically out of their minds and completely desperate for it.

“Get the shit, Gallagher.”

Mickey already has his jeans pulled down to his knees and is looking back over his shoulder at him expectantly when the crushing realization hits.

Shit.

Mickey’s eyebrows furrow at Ian’s stricken expression. “The fuck, Gallagher. You didn’t come prepared?”

And no, actually, he hadn’t come prepared for Mickey to materialize in the middle of a busy street and crash his…whatever with Ned, and he sure as fuck hadn’t been planning on letting things with Ned go any further than a couple of drinks and maybe a hurried hand job if the old guy was really insistent. So no, he is in no way prepared for the situation he finds himself in now—ass naked but for his socks and rock hard, with his sorta boyfr– with Mickey’s perfect pale cheeks just begging to be spread.

He huffs, cheeks pinkening under Mickey’s accusatory stare.

“Get on your back, I’ll blow you instead.” Ian tries not to let on how disappointed he is, even as he suggests it, but it doesn’t seem to matter because Mickey makes no move to roll over. Instead, he bites at his bottom lip, considering.

“You gonna keep sticking it in that geriatric pedo?” he asks finally, voice gruff but eyes darting around, betraying his nerves.

And Ian’s first instinct is to roll his eyes and protest at that, but, well… yeah, okay.

His second instinct is to turn the question around and ask if Mickey’s going to keep sticking it in Angie Zago or whatever other neighbourhood slut is willing, but, well…

This is Mickey sort of trying, isn’t it? This is missed ya under the bleachers, and this is helping Ian train for West Point nearly every day since he’s been back, and this is the mattress that “fell off the back of a truck” after Ian complained about the concrete floor fucking up his knees. This is following him today and beating the shit out of that geriatric pedo in the middle of the street because he was jealous but couldn’t just say it.

This is Mickey staking a claim, maybe.

“No,” Ian answers, heart racing at what he thinks might be happening—what he thinks Mickey might be proposing. And he wasn’t going to ask, but as he shuffles closer on the mattress, he finds that he just needs to know. He needs to hear it too. “Are you?”

Mickey snorts, turning his head back around so Ian can no longer see his face.

“Am I gonna stick my dick in that grandpa’s wrinkly old ass? Nah man, you don’t gotta worry about that.”

Ian reaches out then, just a single hand brushing lightly at Mickey’s hip, and he realizes it’s the first time they’ve touched since rushing up here, too frantic earlier to do anything but tear at their own clothes.

“Mick…”

And he must hear something in Ian’s voice then, because when Mickey speaks again the derisiveness of a moment before is gone. He just sounds desperate again. Pleading, even.

“C’mon, Ian, just get in me.”

And it’s not exactly an answer, is it? But it’s Ian instead of Gallagher, and it’s the vulnerability he can feel rolling off Mickey in this moment, and it’s trust, really. And Ian finds that’s good enough for now.

He grips Mickey’s ass with both hands and relishes in the heavy exhale it pulls from him, almost like Mickey had been holding his breath. Like relief. And Ian feels it too. So strongly he’s almost faint with it. He spreads Mickey wide and pets at his hole with his thumb, mouth falling open as he watches it flutter and try to pull him in.

“Fuck, Mick,” he groans. He feels even more wild than he did a few minutes ago. “Still don’t have any lube though.”

Mickey’s head drops down between his shoulders as Ian presses just the tip of his thumb inside him, dry.

“Just spit on it, Gallagher, Jesus.”

And Ian feels like he’s been kicked in the back, all the air rushing out of his lungs at once.

“Are– are you sure?”

“Holy fuck, yes, yes, I’m sure,” Mickey huffs. “You need to see it in fuckin’ writing or what?”

Ian doesn’t react to that, too used to Mickey’s impatience and bluster for it to faze him anymore and still far too preoccupied with Mickey’s clenching hole and the prospect of covering it in his spit, which suddenly seems like the hottest thing he’s ever considered.

Mickey’s spit-slicked hole and Ian’s bare cock sinking into it. Fuck. He prays he lasts longer than two sad pumps.

He knees at Mickey’s legs and gets him to spread them wider, running his nails up Mickey’s back before forcing his upper body down to the mattress, leaving just Mickey’s ass sticking up in the air for Ian to do with as he pleases. He gathers as much saliva in his mouth as he can and leans closer, spreading Mickey’s cheeks again and spitting directly on his puckered rim, the sound loud and obscene in the quiet of the abandoned rubble.

“Oh fuck…” Ian whispers, immediately dragging his thumb through the warm spit and pushing into Mickey’s hole. “Oh fuck, Mick.”

Mickey just groans, pushing back against Ian’s hands, encouraging more.

Ian spits again, this time slowly pushing two fingers into Mickey’s heat, just to the first knuckles, just to see, but Mickey’s demand for more has him quickly pushing in the rest of the way, stretching and fucking him open until his hole is gaping, just a little, and fuck, what if he spit right inside of him?

He chokes off a moan at the thought and continues getting Mickey prepped, but once the idea has been raised in his mind it latches on and he can’t let it go.

Mickey’s pushing back against his fingers, three buried instead him now. “C’mon, Gallagher, while we’re still young,” he grouses, though the effect is somewhat lessened by how fucked out he sounds.

Ian reaches a hand around Mickey’s compact body and presents it palm up and slightly cupped in front of Mickey’s face.

“You too,” Ian manages to get out. “Spit.”

Mickey attempts a laugh, but now that Ian’s nailing his prostate with every other thrust of his fingers it sounds more like it’s been punched out him.

“You’re a freak, Gallagher.” But he doesn’t hesitate to do as he’s told, and now Ian’s using Mickey’s spit to slick up his own cock and shit, maybe he won’t even make it to two sad pumps.

He squeezes at the head of his cock, clear beads gathering at the tip, and Ian’s usually pretty impressive self-control immediately snaps. He pulls his fingers out of Mickey’s ass and spits directly into his empty hole. Mickey lets out a breathy “Fuck,”and it’s all somehow even hotter than Ian was just imagining.

“Ready?” he can’t help but ask, dragging his throbbing cock through the mess he’s made, his own precum only adding to the wet slick. He half expects another snarky response, and when he doesn’t get one, he knows Mickey is just as a far gone as he is.

“Yeah, ready, yes,” Mickey babbles. “Fuck yes…”

Ian keeps a steady grip on Mickey’s hip, his other hand slowly guiding himself inside, and shit it’s tight. And hot. It’s hot and tight and so, so much that Ian swears his vision darkens at the edges a little bit. He remembers then to breathe at the same time that Mickey moans—moans! Mickey never moans!—and tries to press back against him. There’s more resistance than Ian’s used to, but the feeling of being inside Mickey with nothing between them more than makes up for the lack of lube.

Ian can’t look away from where they’re connected, skin to skin. He’s practically panting like a dog, his tongue feeling parched and dry, but he gathers as much saliva as he can and spits one last time, watching it pool around where his shaft disappears into the tight ring of Mickey’s hole before pressing the rest of the way in.

“Shit, Gallagher, need you to move.”

Ian’s let himself slump forward across Mickey’s back, his forehead pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Need…a minute,” he breathes into Mickey’s skin, eyes squeezed shut. “Jesus Mick, you feel so fucking tight. Not gonna last.”

Never one to be kept waiting, Mickey starts up a slow roll of his hips. “Don’t worry, Firecrotch,” he says, rocking back and forth on Ian’s cock. “Ain’t gonna last either. Better make the next thirty seconds count.”

Ian huffs out a laugh and pushes himself up off Mickey’s back so he can piston into the older boy the way he knows he likes. His belly swoops at the way his bare cock looks drilling into Mickey, and truthfully, it’s not much more than a minute or two later when he feels that familiar tingling in his balls that lets him know he’s about to bust. And shit, he hasn’t really thought this far ahead. Should he pull out? Is Mickey going to let him—

“Oh fuck. Mick, I’m gonna– Shit, I’m–” He’s the one babbling now. He feels panicked, knowing the clock is quickly running down. Finally, he manages a complete thought. “Mickey, where should I come?”

Mickey is working his own cock furiously in his fist, his breathing labored around his moans. Ian’s never heard him be this vocal. His balls are drawing up at the sound of Mickey’s pleasure, but still Mickey hasn’t given him an answer.

“Mick, please…oh god, oh fuck…where should I–”

“Come inside me.”

“Oh god…”

Ian only hears a ringing in his ears after that. Without thinking he wraps his arms around Mickey’s torso and hauls him up so that his back is pressed firm against Ian’s chest. He holds him tight and buries his face in Mickey’s neck as his release crashes through him, lighting up every inch of his skin that’s connected to Mickey’s, that’s in Mickey.

Dimly he’s aware of Mickey crying out and shuddering around him, his head tipping back to rest against Ian’s, and he’s struck, suddenly, by the intimacy of it all—they’ve never been closer, he thinks—before they’re both pitching forward and collapsing together, Ian slipping from Mickey’s body as they come to settle next to each other on their sides.

They’re both quiet, save for their ragged breathing, as they slowly come down from their highs. Mickey’s shirt is still on, but Ian watches his back rise and fall, admires the faint freckles on his exposed shoulder, follows a bead of sweat meandering down Mickey’s neck from his hairline and has to restrain himself from licking the rivulet it leaves in its wake.

Eventually his gaze drifts lower, and despite coming harder than he ever has in his life less than two minutes ago, he’s hit with an intense wave of emotion—arousal, definitely, but something else too—that has his dick twitching and his pulse kicking right back up. It’s a mess of cum and sweat and spit, and it should be gross, maybe, but all Ian can think is that it’s them. He closes his eyes and smiles.

The first time it happens, it’s the start of something new.

#well this one really got away from me 😅#prompt fill #sorry it took me 100 years to write something #i am posting blindly without rereading because 😳🙈#gallavich #smut #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #fanfic #shameless

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onthepyre · 5 months

Text

The six-pack clinks as Mickey walks. It's fucking annoying, if he's honest, and he'd slow down a little to get it to stop if Ian wasn't waiting for him. He is, though, and Mickey is tightly-wound and sweating in spite of the cool night air. It's been more than a week since he's seen him like this; Mickey's itching for a fix.

Ian sits in the doorway of the dugout, smoking and staring blankly out. Mickey hands over the beers, grabbing one for himself, and plucks the cigarette from Ian's mouth. He takes a drag, searching for the taste of Ian's spit within the smoke. It's hard to find, but it's there. Cigarette held between his lips, he pulls out a knife and pops the lid off the bottle, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ian does the same. Mickey waits for him to speak first.

“Been too long,” he says after a gulp of beer. He glances up at Mickey, begging for something akin to agreement

“What, you missed me? It's been, like, a week. Fuckin’ faggot.” Ian laughs, but it's dry, humorless.

“So what if I did?”

Ian looks up at the stars, but his free hand comes to his belt buckle. He undoes it like that, one-handed, staring upward instead of at Mickey. It's going to drive him insane.

“Jesus, let me at least finish my beer before you start talkin’ like that.” Mickey drops the cigarette now, crushes it under his heel. He chugs the rest of the drink while Ian leans his up against the wall of the dugout, stands, and approaches. Mickey drops the bottle on the ground and watches him. He walks slowly, intentionally, with that stupid fucking smirk on his face. Mickey has never wanted anything more in his life.

Mickey refuses to make first contact. He waits for Ian to link a finger through his belt loop and yank, knocking them together, before he braces his hands low on Ian's hips. A hand grips his hair and forces his head up, and Mickey can't keep the grin off his face.

“Yeah, I missed you,” Ian murmurs, directly into Mickey's ear. Goosebumps run along his spine.

“Get on with it, Gallagher.” He wants it to be a bark, but it comes out quieter than he means — almost pleading. He gulps, and clearly Ian hears it because he chuckles. Without his input, Mickey's fingers grip Ian's hips even tighter, and this, finally, is what gets him to shove them apart. Ian, stumbling almost backwards under the cover of the dugout, pulls off his belt and unbuttons his pants, and Mickey couldn't possibly do anything but follow him.

—

Ian's panting when they finish; he holds his position for a moment or two before shoving himself off Mickey to return to his forgotten beer. He tugs his pants back on and presses his back to the wall, sliding down it to sit on the dirt floor. Ian watches as Mickey stays put, bent over the window, trying to regulate his own breathing. He pulls his pants up but doesn't move otherwise. He wants Ian to come back.

“Maybe I missed you too,” he mumbles, unable to bite it back any longer. The shame of it burns his chest and face, but Ian can keep a secret, he knows — why not this one?

“Really?” Ian asks, incredulous. It's then that Mickey stands up and turns around, though he still keeps his eyes on the walls.

“Don't you get too fuckin’ excited, these ain't wedding vows.” Mickey reaches for another bottle and drinks about a third of it in one sip. He needs it, for the field day he's just given Ian.

“I'm not. It's just… nice to hear.” Mickey rolls his eyes, but then he finally looks directly at Ian. He's smiling from ear to ear. Yeah, right, you're not.

Mickey formulates a dozen insults, but he can't find the guts to spit any of them with the way Ian is looking at him. He sits instead, next to him but with a good few feet of space. Ian's still shirtless, and the contrast between his pale skin and the dark fabric of his jeans is definitely not driving Mickey crazy. Neither are his unreasonable pecs, or the dusting of freckles on his shoulders, and absolutely not the trail of red hair below his navel. He's struck with the urge to put his mouth to Ian's. Instead, he looks away.

Ian gets bold; this, at least, is typical despite the newness of what he does. Mickey is shocked by the sensation of something wet and hot — Ian's tongue — against his neck. He jerks away, but not too far. Ian, propped on one hand, looks up at him, a silent question.

Mickey can't help it. He nods.

Ian propels himself forward and knocks Mickey to the ground. On top of him now, Ian licks at the hollow under Mickey's ear while he clings desperately to him for some kind of stability. Mickey's gasping for air all over again, and this is a new kind of burn. With the minimal capacity of thought he has left, he wonders why they weren't doing this sooner. Ian travels lower and starts nipping at Mickey's skin.

“Don't you fuckin’ dare leave marks,” Mickey says. It comes out breathy and in a heavy stutter. The shame creeps back in, but the heat of Ian's mouth overwhelms it. Ian hums quietly and continues his work. It takes every ounce of concentration in Mickey's body not to make noise. Ian tugs the collar of his shirt to the side and hits a sensitive spot on his clavicle, and Mickey fails to suppress a whine. He doubles down, and all Mickey can do is press his bitten-down nails into Ian's back and gasp.

Ian detaches himself, and it takes mountains of self restraint for Mickey not to grab his head and put it right back where it was, or lower. But he has other ideas. Ian's got his gaze fixed on Mickey's lips, and he's leaning in. Mickey dodges.

There's hurt in Ian's eyes, though, and they're all alone, and Mickey thinks he might love him. So he takes Ian's cheeks in his hands and pulls him down.

If he's honest, Ian's breath stinks. He tastes of beer and smoke and something Mickey can't place. He's sure his own is worse, though, and none of that really matters because Ian has his tongue deep in Mickey's mouth. He kisses with a fiery urgency and Mickey can hardly keep up.

After… five minutes? An hour? Mickey has no idea how much time has passed; Ian tears his face away. He stays close enough that their noses are still touching, and he's breathing into Mickey's mouth. He feels Ian's lips move when he speaks.

“You want to go again?”

And fuck, Mickey was right, he does love him.

#shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fanfiction #fluff #implied smut #internalized homophobia #f slur #june's writing

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