gallavichpreg

[gallavichpreg]

Jimmy and Alfie Darling, walking around the big top whilst Alfie breastfeeds. Jimmy doesn’t like it one bit… says it feels weird… but the baby gets fussy if she doesn’t eat, and Alfie just can’t bear to hear her cry.

Created using a base from @ilitiaforever

As promised, here I brought you the first of several bases that I will share with you so you can use them wisely. Today I touch the male lactation base that won in the voting, tomorrow you will have the erotic base mpreg. Please, tag me if you use

[gallavichpreg]

Mickey’s been super irritated and snappy for a couple of days — even more than he usually is — and Ian has no idea why. He’s been trying his best to comfort Mickey, and get him to talk out his feelings… and, after days of being pestered and interrogated about his emotions, Mickey finally snaps.

They’re cramped together in their small bathroom when Ian starts to question him again, for the hundredth time… and Mickey just loses it. He grabs at Ian’s shirt — seemingly out of nowhere — and swings him against the wall, lobbing fists and charged kneecaps in his direction… absolutely losing his shit. Mickey fights like an animal, destroying the bathroom around them as he rampages.

Ian fights back at first… and he gets a couple of good hits in… but when he sees the absolute rage in Mickey’s face — the distant, desperate, soulless look in his eyes — he realizes that whatever’s going on with Mickey is more serious than he thought, and that it’s not about him, or anything that he’s done wrong. Whatever’s going on with Mickey, it’s something big… and it’s eating him up from the inside out.

Trying to calm him down, and keep him from hurting himself in his angry fit, Ian wrestles him onto the floor and pins him against the cold, dirty tiles… and that’s when he sees them in the trash — the thing… or things… that have undoubtedly had Mickey in a downward spiral for days. Three positive pregnancy tests, buried hastily under thin piles of garbage.

It’s a baby that’s been on Mickey’s mind. A baby that they don’t need, and aren’t prepared for. Just like that, Ian understands… and all he can do is curse at himself as Mickey writhes around underneath his hips.

[gallavichpreg]

Cameron stuffing himself with peanut butter 🥜🧈. I’m SO obsessed with the idea of him gorging himself on a jar of peanut butter, I haven’t been able to function for days😂. (See this story covered I made)

[gallavichpreg]

“Hey! The fuck are you doing?” Mickey gasps, waking up to the feeling of Ian’s warm, heavy cock against his lower back. His eyes spring open, darting around the pitch darkness of the bedroom in utter confusion. “You woke me up, asshole. What’s wrong with you?”

“I can’t sleep.” Ian answers in a low, raspy voice — his bitter breath blowing across the top of Mickey’s ear. “I just… I thought you’d wanna help me tire myself out. You know?” His thick fingers worm their way underneath the covers and grip at Mickey’s butt, squeezing his cheeks through his underwear. “Been a while since we…”

Mickey shakes his head, repositioning himself on the mattress. “No. I don’t feel like it.” He mumbles. “You woke me up. I’m tired.” Usually, the sound of Ian’s voice — that low, longing tone — is music to his ears, and the smell of his morning breath is a sweet awakening… but, in Mickey’s exhaustion, they’re nothing more than a bother. Ian’s prying fingertips aren’t making things any better. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“I’m tired too.” Ian presses himself harder against Mickey’s body insistently, trying to level with him. “But I just… I want you so bad right now.” Holding his veiny cock with a firm grip, he grinds his throbbing head along the fabric of Mickey’s underwear.

His ass is so plump, even in his loose boxers… just laying there, waiting to be used.

“Yeah? Well… my stomach hurts.” Mickey mumbles again, thinking on the spot with a half-functional mind. “I got… I got something real bad going on in my gut.” With an open hand, he swats Ian away and flips onto his stomach, doubling down. “So… not tonight.”

“C’mon, babe. Please?” Ian begs him, his voice getting softer. “I’m so… pent up… I don’t care about that shit. It’ll only take me a few strokes… and I’ll rub your belly after I finish.” He grips himself even tighter, growling at his own touch. The desperation is killing him. “I… I’m about to shoot my load already. Been playing with myself for, like, thirty minutes… watching you sleep.”

“No, alright. I’m going back to bed.” Mickey closes his eyes and sinks into the mattress — one of his knees raised to his stomach. “You keep trying to fuck me… I’m gonna give you a dutch oven you’ll never forget.”

“Yeah?” Ian licks his lips, yanking his cock out from his underwear eagerly. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Undeterred, and somewhat tempted by the threat of a fart, he climbs over Mickey’s body and grabs him by the hips, yanking him into position. “The way your ass is looking right now, I don’t even care.” He takes the covers into his fist and tosses them over his head, trapping himself underneath. “I like it when it talks back to me… so let it rip, Mick, ‘cuz I’m coming. Let me put you back to sleep.”

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I don’t wanna be pregnant in the summertime. All that… all the fuckin’ heat, and hormones, and sweating. It’s already hot enough outside… I’ll lose my mind. It’s too much.

Oh… so now you’re trying to plan for a baby? I was just joking about knocking you up, Mick. Now you’re talking about hormones… making up a damn timeline?

Hell yeah, I am! I don’t care. Joking or not, if you’re gonna knock me up… do it in June or July, so I’m not too big when everything’s fuckin’… on fire. I can deal with the weather in the cold months… get all the sappy special treatment on the holidays, and shit… and I won’t have to kill you for making me carry an entire fuckin’ ginger-alien-thing inside me when it’s a thousand fuckin’ degrees outside!

Okay… okay. I’ll make sure it’s cold when you’re “big.” I’ll… keep a mental note, or something. No ginger-alien babies in the summer. Happy?

Yeah. And remember this shit, okay? I’m serious. It’s my body… and If I end up having your baby, waddling around in the summertime… you’ll be laying in your own damn hospital bed while I’m birthing your kid. I’ll make sure you’re in as much pain as I am. Got that?

Yeah, alright. Sure. It’s… it’s committed to my memory, okay? Now… calm down. You’re turning red. Look at you… getting all worked up, and we’re just talking in what-ifs. You’re already hormonal.

Fuck you, Gallagher.

Fuck you too, Gallagher.

Whatever…

Mmm. Well, now that the logistics are out of the way… timeline and shit’s all worked out… it’s about time we get busy, isn’t it? If we’re sticking to this new plan of yours, we gotta get baby-makin’… cuz July’s almost over. C’mon…

[gallavichpreg]

Step right on up, folks! We’ve got a great show for you this evening! Come and see the Two-Headed Lobster Boy! Five months pregnant with a freak baby! What an oddity! Don’t be shy! Just ten bucks, and you can rub his belly! Come one, come all!

Alt Versions

[gallavichpreg]

‘Round here, hefty guts get respect…

Alt Versions

[gallavichpreg]

And now that he’s pregnant he’s even worse. Mickey’s a sentimental mess — a rock turned soft. That sleeping with his hand on Ian’s chest thing that he used to do doesn’t work for him anymore. It’s not comfortable… and it’s not enough. Now he’s got to have Ian’s arms wrapped around him, spooning him every night as they sleep, keeping his belly snug.

And Mickey’s clinginess isn’t just a nighttime thing either. It’s every waking moment of the day as well. He takes every opportunity to plant Ian’s hands on his waist, pull his arms over his shoulder, and wrap him around himself like a big orange blanket. Ian just can’t get away. If Mickey doesn’t have his man, he gets bitchy… and nobody likes Mickey when he’s bitchy, especially not these days. Contact keeps him calm.

(Link to original post)

[gallavichpreg]

Saw this post on here and couldn’t help myself. What an awesome idea, and incredible piece!!! Of course, I had to make a version with pregnant Mickey too😅.

[gallavichpreg]

Lemme put my own spin on this, cuz I love this so much!!!

Ian’s nose doesn’t work properly, and his sense of smell is severely dampened due to the past physical trauma. He can smell Mickey, but he can’t REALLY SMELL Mickey. To Ian, Mickey is just musky at most… like the kind of musk that clings to a guy when he hasn’t showered in a couple of days, that doesn’t wash off easy. The kind of musk that you get used to after a short while. He knows Mickey stinks… but he doesn’t get the full effect of what everyone else smells. For Ian, Mickey’s stench isn’t so strong that it’s off-putting, but it’s definitely still detectable… and he likes it.

I think of it like pheromones, where you pick up on fragrances that you aren’t even aware of (I don’t know how pheromones scientifically work, but this makes sense to me). So, Mickey doesn’t smell so bad to Ian, but Ian is still aware that there’s more to it, because his body can sense it… and he’s into it. It’s like an odor that he can feel… but he perceives it as having butterflies in his stomach, because he already has those for Mickey. Nobody else understands because Mickey’s smells like an open dumpster to them… but to Ian, Mickey just smells like he’s missed a shower or two, which he finds attractive in some weird way.

[gallavichpreg]

[gallavichpreg]

TV and Movie characters who I would’ve loved to see pregnant (when I was watching the show/movie):

Jacob (Abbot Elementary)

Gregory (Abbot Elementary)

Marc (Ugly Betty)

Pete (Bonding)

Elio (Call Me by Your Name)

Trevor (Shameless)

Lip (Shameless)

Carl (Shameless)

Kev (Shameless)

Jeff (Community)

Troy (Community)

Abed (Community)

James (Derry Girls)

Jonah (Superstore)

Van (Reba)

Joey (Friends)

Kurt (Glee)

Blaine (Glee)

Papi (Pose)

Damon (Pose)

Marcus (Ginny and Georgia)

Jake (Brooklyn Nine-Nine)

Nick (New Girl)

Winston S. (New Girl)

Coach (New Girl)

Sam (New Girl)

Ben (Parks and Rec)

Andy (Parks and Rec)

Chuck (Gossip Girl)

Dan (Gossip Girl)

Todd (Easy A)

Joe (You)

Dean (Supernatural)

Sam (Supernatural)

Jack (Burlesque)

Christian (Clueless)

Charlie (Heartstopper)

Ben (Descendants)

Hook (Descendants)

Harry (Descendants)

Chester (Genera+ion)

Fraser (We Are Who We Are)

In my head, they’re all preggo🫃🥰. I’ll probably draw up some stuff of each of them at some point.

[gallavichpreg]

🟠 I4: Made Something You Didn’t Eat

It’s a good, peaceful morning. A rare occurrence in the Milkovich-Gallagher household, as of late.

For the first time in weeks, Ian got a full night’s sleep—real rest, without being kept awake by his thoughts… by all of the stress. He was out like a light, all night long… Mickey’s open palm lying on his chest as he snoozed the hours away.

Ian’s morning started early. He woke up with a clear head… wasn’t all groggy and cranky, like he usually is. He wasn’t started awake by a nightmare, disturbed by the rowdy neighborhood, or shaken out of his slumber by Mickey. He wasn’t as hopeless. With an unusual calmness washing over him, Ian rolled out from underneath his sheets with ease, unafraid to face the day.

He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a nice long shower, then came into the kitchen and cracked open a cold beer, and started on breakfast. Eggs, pancakes, and bacon. Simple. Classic.

Time seems to be creeping by… in a good way. The house is uncharacteristically sunny… and so quiet. Mickey’s still in bed, asleep. Ian can hear him snoring from across the house, having left the bedroom door slightly cracked.

Mickey’s been sleeping a lot longer… exhausted by life. That’s all he really does now—sleep, vomit, and complain about how miserable he is. That’s it. Things are tough for him right now. His body is changing, he’s got a whole lot of shit on his mind, and he’s scared… but he‘s too proud to talk about it. The more his body changes, the more he puts on his poker face and tries to act all aloof, but he’s so afraid… and Ian understands that.

Usually, he wakes Mickey up a little while after he gets up, so that they don’t waste the day… but, for now, he’ll let him sleep. He needs the rest more than Ian does.

Plating the last of the eggs, Ian is enjoying the peace and quiet of the morning. The hardwood floor creaking underneath his heavy bare feet, the trees and birds making beautiful music outside of the windows, and Mickey’s booming snores filling his heart with warmth from across the house… he’s as calm as ever. He knows that Mickey probably won’t eat any breakfast when he wakes up… that Mickey’ll be too sick to even stand the smell of bacon and eggs, and end up having Ian eat them for him… but he’s not worried about that right now.

Things are good.

Nude Version

[gallavichpreg]

Carl met BlackJack when he started doing deals for cash after school. Jack was a frequent buyer of his from the beginning — a familiar face for his first couple of trades, and someone with enough street smarts to have already made a name for himself. He was a good guy. Never gave anyone any trouble, kept a low profile, always paid up, and always sealed the deal. He knew how things were meant to go down.

Carl took the work seriously… wanted to build up a reputation in the city, and make some easy money. The better he was at his job, the more guys he’d get connected with, which meant he’d get more work, and earn more respect. It helped, being in a good standing with Jack.

No deal was done without the proper consummation — a proof of transaction, per se. It was an added bonus for everyone who bought from Carl’s bosses. A sleazy way to keep their customers 100% loyal, and the best way to collect DNA evidence for proof of transaction. The guys he worked for always checked him out when the dealings were done… opened him up and made sure that he was full. If there was ever a time when he wasn’t, he’d be punished for it. No load, no deal.

Carl had to finish every trade. He wanted to rise the ranks and make it to the top of the game… prove himself with each deal and subsequent inspection. BlackJack solidified all of his deals… left Carl sore and full of evidence each and every time they switched hands. He was always good for it… and that was good for Carl.

Eventually, they started meeting up with one another even when Carl wasn’t working, and consummating deals that hadn’t even been made yet. It was “insurance for the future,” Jack would say. A building of client-dealer trust. Behind empty businesses and abandoned homes, in dark alleyways, in the back seats of cars, and underneath overpasses and highways. They’d spend hours and hours making handoffs and dropping loads, until they were both satisfied. They went on for weeks.

It’s no wonder things turned out the way they did. When Carl got pregnant, there was no question about how it happened, or who’d knocked him up. He knew right away. He was pregnant with BlackJack’s baby… no ands, ifs, or buts. He’d done the impossible… played the game too hard… and he hadn’t even been promoted yet.

Nude Version

[gallavichpreg]

[gallavichpreg]

mickey mpreg headcannons !

He loves the idea of being pregnant with Ian’s kid—being all big and round, and having everyone know what Ian did to him—but he HATES that he’s actually carrying a baby… like, the physical symptoms of it. Morning sickness is hell, his body is always sore, he’s constantly tired and hungry, his stomach is super heavy, his bowels and bladder are weaker than they’ve ever been, the little creature just won’t stop moving around inside him, and the threat of having a premature birth is constantly looming over his head. That stuff… the real stuff… is awful. He’s always uncomfortable and pissed off, prone to outbursts of anger—like a toddler throwing a fit.

Morning showers are like heaven for him. There’s nothing better than the feeling of warm water cascading down his weary, bloated body… washing away all of the discomforts of pregnancy, even if only for a while. He takes super long showers in the morning.

He’s HUNGRY. Always hungry. He’s been eating, and eating, and eating, to satisfy both himself and the baby… and his appetite isn’t easy to keep up with.

He’s a sucker for affection now, especially when it comes to his belly. Kisses, cuddles, skin-to-skin, spooning… he wants it all. There was a time when he was overly self-conscious whenever Ian would touch him… but now, he doesn’t care when or where they are. Anytime, any place, he wants to be wrapped around Ian, getting all the free hugs and belly kisses that he can.

He’s dead-set on maintaining his self-sufficiency for as long as he possibly can. He still showers alone, ties his own shoes, prepares his own food, buys his own clothes, drives himself around, wipes his own ass… and so on, and so on. He never depended on anyone to do the simple shit for him before, and he’s not gonna start now. Despite his insistence on doing everything on his own, Ian is having to do more and more for him as time goes on. Ian doesn’t mind it, but Mickey hates that he’s losing his autonomy.

He’s got an oral fixation. Maybe it’s his heightened sense of smell encouraging him to put his face closer to things, or his sensitive gums wanting to be soothed… but he likes to bite and chew on things that aren’t meant to be bitten or chewed. Rubber stuff, mostly… or malleable plastics. He also nipples at Ian’s skin sometimes, just to satisfy the urge. Ian’s shoulders, biceps, chest, and tummy are some of his favorite places to bite. They’re nice and squishy.

DON’T TOUCH HIS BELLY. If you know what’s good for you, just don’t. The only person allowed within an inch of that thing is Ian. He loves it whenever Ian shows his belly some love. He’ll let the other Gallaghers rub his stomach too, every now and then… but those are the only folks allowed to touch him. He WILL bite.

On the topic of his belly, Mickey is grossed out by his own bellybutton. He’s always had an innie… a bellybutton that was easy to ignore. He never really gave it much thought. It was just… a bellybutton. Nothing special. Now though, his innie is turning into an outie—unfolding on itself and bulging out—and he hates it. It’s weird, it’s ugly, it’s smelly, it’s embarrassing, and it’s way too sensitive for his liking. He’s just… so aware of it… and it’s just so strange. It’s like he can feel it growing, and bulging further and further… like it has a mind of its own. He wishes he could push it back into place… but it won’t go back in. And, of course, Ian’s obsessed with his new outie, which makes it even worse.

He’s a crier. Every little fuckin’ thing makes him cry now. Happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, confused tears… all of ‘em. The waterworks won’t turn off.

He’s one gassy motherfucker, and he doesn’t go out of his way to hide it. If he’s gotta burp, he burps… and if he’s gotta fart, he lets it rip. If he needs a bathroom, he gonna find a bathroom… no ands, ifs, or buts. He’d rather be comfortable than hold it in, and he doesn’t care who’s around.

He wants so badly to see his own cock again. He misses it.

Now that he can’t drink alcohol, he likes to sniff at the rims of the empty cups and bottles whenever Ian finishes off a glass. Something about the smell satisfies his lingering cravings. It’s the same with cigs. Savoring the lingering smell of them is almost as satisfying as drinking, or smoking… but much safer. Smoke and gasoline are two of his other guilty pleasure smells, but he stays away from those… because he has to.

[gallavichpreg]

The way he grew into this shirt😩!!!