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[samantitheos]

Galladrabbles: Blur

Thank you dear @callivich for this week’s @galladrabbles prompt! 🩵

=== • === • ===

Hell no, I ain’t goin’!”

“Mick, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Fuck OFF! 10! Now leave it alone forever.”

Mickey storms off down the hall, and -surprise to know one- nearly trips over their cat.

“Sorry Turbo,” he mutters.

Ian follows and tries a softer tone. “Babe, a lot of people need glasses. Imagine if things weren’t such a blur anymore.”

Mickey looks up into his husband’s face - he can see him just fine up close.

“And anyway, guys in glasses are so hot. The things I’d wanna do to you if you…”

“Fine! Let’s go. You’re driving.”

[samantitheos]

@callivich picked "blur" as the prompt for this week's @galladrabbles!

“...I've never been into Blur but Damon Albarn is cool. I listen to a lot of Gorillaz…”

He could hear Mickey chatting hesitantly with someone as Ian made his way back to the bar. The new person was turned almost completely towards Mickey on the stool. All Ian could see were brown curls and the back of a t-shirt with Blur tour dates.

“Trevor?” Ian sputtered once he walked closer.

“Ian?” Trevor said nervously, “So this must be…”

Mickey beamed a megawatt smile and held out a hand to Ian's ex. “I’m Mickey. The guy he left your ass for.”

[samantitheos]

Galladrabbles: blur

This week's @galladrabbles is based on the prompt "blur" from the lovely @callivich. <3

_________________________

“You ever make someone cry before?”

He doesn’t know what made him say it. An attempt to be cocky, he guesses. To hide his discomfort and how desperately he’s not into getting his ass fucked by fake silicon dick. Now, hours later, alone in his room, he can’t stop thinking about it.

He’d brushed away the wetness gathering around Mickey’s eyes as he'd moved gently inside him, his own vision blurring with tears.

“I’m so proud of you,” he’d whispered, lips pressing softly against Mickey’s skin, bruised and broken.

It wasn’t about ecstasy that night.

It was about being free.

[samantitheos]

Go read Suncatcher by @wehangout if you haven't already. (Or read it again.)

[samantitheos]

Mickey Milkovich, Shameless 3×02

[samantitheos]

Hiiii gallavich and 20? Kiss on a scar?

Hiiii!!! Your wish is my command:

+++

Ian’s on top of him, warm and heavy and so fucking good. Mickey wiggles a bit, tipping his head back to try and get a better angle, but the fact is that it’s pretty hard to have a successful makeout session when you have a huge grin stretched across your lips.

Ian doesn’t seem to mind. He’s smiling too.

Mickey nips at his lower lip, and Ian hisses and pulls back slightly, one hand still pinning Mickey’s wrists to the cot, the other cupping Mickey’s face.

Ian glares at him for all of one second before melting like a fucking sap again.

“Mickey.”

Mickey’s smile widens. He cocks his brow. Nibbles on his own lip instead of Ian’s. He lets himself look, really look, drink in all the details. “Your hair looks stupid as hell.”

Ian blinks, eyes flitting up as if he’ll be able to see. Fucking dork. “Oh. Yeah. I was uh… thinking about making a run for it. Maybe head down to Mexico…”

“Thank fuck you didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ian breathes, gaze still dancing all over Mickey’s face like he’s not entirely convinced that he’s real, that he’s here. “Thank fuck.”

Mickey wiggles again, this time in impatience. Ian’s on him, but he wants Ian on him, wants Ian in him, wants Ian. 

He’s just about to start bitching when Ian tenses, brows furrowing, smile slipping. His hand slips down from Mickey’s face, fingers glancing over the skin of Mickey’s neck.

Oh.

“What’s this?”

“Nothin',” Mickey says, wiggling again. Jesus. What is it with Gallagher and his ability to turn Mickey into a fucking worm. “Don’t worry about it. ‘S all healed up, anyways.”

Ian’s frown deepens. His gaze darts up to meet Mickey’s, then down again, to the little pink not-yet-faded scar just above Mickey’s collarbone.

It’s nothing. Really. Mickey has plenty of other scars that are far more fucking impressive. He’s been shot for fuckssake, more than once. 

“Mickey. Is this– Did someone hold a fucking knife to your throat?”

Mickey huffs. Looks away. “Wasn’t a big fucking deal or anything–”

“Wasn’t a big deal?” 

“It wasn’t! Guy was just trying to prove a point.”

“He could have nicked a fucking artery!”

“He didn’t!” Mickey twists his wrists, trying to yank out of Ian’s now-even-fucking-tighter grasp, but Ian holds steady. Great. Now Mickey has to try and use his fucking words to calm Ian down, and fuck knows he’s never been good at that. “Ian, look, I’m fine. See? Totally fine. I barely even bled at all. Scar probably only looks so bad because I was shit at taking care of it and it was getting fucking blasted by the sun.”

Ian’s face crumples.

Fuck. “Ian–”

“I should have been there,” Ian says, and his voice is low. Angry. “I should have fucking been there. To take care of you. To keep you from getting hurt in the first place.”

Mickey finally manages to wrestle one of his hands free. He brings it up, smooths it through Ian’s hair, which is just as soft as ever. It looks different, but it feels the same. They both still feel the same. “Hey. It’s fine, man. I’m fine.” He twists his lips up. Cocks his brows. “Then again… not too late for you to take care of me now. Gonna kiss me better, hotshot?”

Ian looks at him for another long, slow moment. Breathes out a shaky breath. Finally fucking relaxes a bit. 

He leans in slow. Brushes his lips over the spot, soft enough to make Mickey shiver.

It’s Ian, and it’s Mickey, so it doesn't stay gentle for long. Ian’s kisses grow firmer, grow bolder, until he’s licking and sucking like he’s trying to cover up the mark with a mark of his own.

Mickey pants and hums and fucking wiggles. “Fuck. Ian. Need you.”

Ian’s hips jerk against his own, grinding them together just fucking right, before he pulls away again.

“Fuck. Ian,” Mickey huffs, nearly fucking whining at this point but too fucking desperate to care. 

“You have any other new scars I need to kiss better?”

He does. He has at least five from the past too-many-fucking-months, littered across his body along with his countless other scars. Ian will sniff them all out, he’s sure. But they’ve got time for that. That’s all they’ve fucking got now, is time, and Mickey’s never been happier to serve it. “Hm. You know, now that you mention it… I’ve got a pretty fucking serious case of blueballs, Nurse Gallagher.”

Ian snorts, loud and jarring and goofy as fuck, and it’s probably the sappiest fucking thing Mickey’s ever thought, but the sound of his laughter and the sight of his smile and the feel of his weight is more healing than any fucking kiss could ever be.

He still ain’t gonna turn down those kisses, though.

send me a number~

[samantitheos]

thank you @crossmydna for this weeks @galladrabbles !

prompt: trapeze

-

It's hard to hold onto sometimes. What he and Mickey have.

Because it's there right in front of him but it's out of arms reach. Knees buckling on a platform with no safety net below. It swings closer and closer to him with every swing but he can't get the timing right.

He wants this. He's climbed the ladder and he's at the top but there's something holding him back from taking that leap. Mickey comes close and then he's far away again.

Mickey reaches his hands out and then Ian grabs them. And they're swinging together in the air.

[samantitheos]

Galladrabbles: trapeze

This week's @galladrabbles is based on the prompt "trapeze" from @crossmydna. Trying a different format this week—I hope it doesn't break the rules! 📲

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Ian: So…I found this new position I think we should try. Mickey: they paying u 2 watch porn now? Ian: [trapezexxx.mp4] Ian: Did you watch? Mickey: the fuck kinda acrobatic shit is this? Ian: It’s called The Trapeze. Pretty hot right? Mickey: didnt realize ur into busty blondes. smth u wanna tell me? Ian: 🙄 Mickey: u got a circus kink i dont know abt? Ian: 🙄 Forget I even mentioned it. Mickey: lol calm ur tits bozo. just bustin ur balls Ian: What do you think then? Really? Mickey: think u better cut out early Mickey: and bring the lube

[samantitheos]

“Thought a place called ‘Trapeze’ would be—“

Mickey side eyes the sticky floors and empty glasses at the bar. “Cleaner? Nicer?”

He looks out at the dance floor. “Busier? Sexier?”

Ian huffs out a laugh. “No, Mick, gayer.”

Mickey looks more closely, eyebrows climbing with the number of women he spots. Not the audience he wants for the show he wants to put on. The last thing he needs is to look out at a sea of tits when he’s about to come.

“We paid for this?”

“C’mon, let’s find a table somewhere. The food is supposed to be great.”

——

trapeze is a swingers club in atlanta. 😂 thanks for this @galladrabbles prompt, @crossmydna

[samantitheos]

@galladrabbles for trapeze

“This is my son, Trapeze.”

Mickey and Ian exchanged a look while Carl leaned down to lift the little blue bundle from the cradle.

“Trapeze like the circus act…?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah.” Carl grinned. “Dope, right?”

“You super set on that name?” said Ian, but as he got an armful of sprog, his face transformed from cringe to full-on goober. “Hi, buddy. How you doin’? Oh, you’re doin’ adorable? Yes, you are. I’m your Uncle Ian.” Ian’s arm touched his. “This is Uncle Mickey.”

“Hey, kid,” Mickey said, smirking gently. “Don’t worry, we’ll talk some sense into your dad.”

[samantitheos]

‘ don’t tell me i’m fucking cute! ‘

mickey milkovich as snoopy

[samantitheos]

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 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.

[samantitheos]

GALLADRABBLES #121 - CUDDLES

Thank you for such a sweet prompt, Cameron @flamingbluepanda 😍😍 Paging @galladrabbles 😎

---

It's gotta be the weirdest shit he's ever seen and definitely something he'll never get used to.

Objectively, it's not even out of the ordinary.

They're just watching TV, sprawled on the couch with Mickey basically on top of Ian. Ian’s hands are busy – one of them is playing in Mickey's hair, the other, manning the remote. Every once in a while Mickey will whisper something and Ian will snort or chuckle or downright fucking giggle.

Again, nothing unusual.

But Lip still forgets sometimes that they’re actually fucking married now.

He swallows the bitterness and goes to grab a coke.

---

[samantitheos]

Galladrabbles: cuddles

This week's @galladrabbles is based on the prompt "cuddles" from @flamingbluepanda.

_________________________

“If we’re doing this, we ain’t fuckin’ cuddling after or any-a that gay shit.”

Mickey’s an omega, but he’s no fucking pussy, and Ian needs to get that through his thick skull.

Ian shoves him up against the closed door and crowds in close. For one wild moment, Mickey thinks he’s going to kiss him, but Ian just presses their hips together and noses behind his ear, inhaling deeply.

“Fine, no cuddling. You’re just gonna come on my knot and keep it inside you till we’re ready to go again.”

And well, fuck. Mickey can get on board with that.

[samantitheos]

This week's @galladrabbles prompt from @flamingbluepanda was "Cuddles"

“No, absolutely not!” “Come on, Mick… the poor thing is starving, she’s gonna freeze out here.” Ian pulled out the puppy dog eyes he knows his husband can’t resist. “Fuck, fine.  Bring the mangy thing home, but you’re taking care of it.” It’s 3am when Ian hears clinking from the kitchen.  Confused, he wanders out to check.

“Daddy didn’t leave you enough food, did he Cuddles?  It’s ok, I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Ian smirked, and snuck back into bed, waiting for Mickey to appear. “Cuddles, huh? You named the cat?” 

“Shut it, Gallagher.  I like cuddles, ok?”

[samantitheos]

Galladrabbles: Cuddles

Thank you @flamingbluepanda for giving us Cuddles this week 🤗 @galladrabbles

============

The sun streams through the window straight into Mickey’s eyes.

“The ffffuckkk??” It takes him a full minute to realize he isn’t in his own bed. “GALLAGHER!!”  

Ian rushes into the room. “Oh hey, you’re awake.”

“How the hell’d I get in here?” Mickey rubs his eyes, then glares at his roommate. He peeks under the blanket, confirms he’s still fully dressed.

“You got blasted on Mandy’s mojitos last night, remember? Crawled right into my bed and wouldn’t leave… Again.”

“Did we, uh….ya’know….?”

“Nope,” Ian says, walking out the door. “But you’re kinda clingy after a few mojitos, Cuddles.”

[samantitheos]

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