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dynamic-power · 11 months

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Text Dirty To Me

More Kinktober :)

You can read it here on ao3

This is for sexting/writing, which means I have my second bingo!

Rated E

Words: 2.4k

CW: sexting; semy-public sex; masturbation; dirty talk; come eating

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Detective Milkovich is sitting at his desk in his office when the first text from his husband comes in.

[5:22] Are you at your desk, baby?

The words are properly spelled out, he’s used punctuation, and he’s called Mickey baby. Mickey knows what’s next. Ian is going to use the last few minutes of Mickey’s workday to blow his phone up with texts so filthy that they’d make a seasoned porn star blush.

[5:23] ya

He only has to wait a half-second for his phone to buzz with the reply.

[5:23] Good boy

Mickey can hear Ian whispering those words into his ear, as though he has actually done something worthy of the praise. Mickey shivers, rubs his eyebrow with a thumb, and stares at his phone screen. The three dots indicating Ian is typing pop up. He glances up at his office door. It’s closed, like he knew it was, but he feels a little better nonetheless.

His phone buzzes in his hand and demands his attention again.

[5:24] Don’t leave your desk. Do NOT touch yourself.

Mickey has to bite his lip to keep himself from making a noise. Despite his brain understanding how much of a bad idea this is, his body is already reacting to what he knows is coming. His heart speeds up and he feels warmth pooling in his belly.

[5:25] why should i listen 2 u

[5:25] Because I’ll make it worth your time.

[5:26] i hav work 2 do

[5:26] Then ignore me.

[5:27] my phone will keep buzzin if u keep textin

It’s a piss poor excuse, and Mickey knows it. He can’t just let himself immediately give in, though.

His half-hard dick would disagree.

[5:29] You know how to get me to stop.

Of course Mickey knows. Ian is a horny bastard, but he isn’t cruel. All Mickey needs to do is type out one simple word, three letters. Everything stops as soon as one of them says “red”. If Mickey calls red, Ian will stop, maybe ask about ordering in for dinner, and Mickey can get back to the incredibly tedious paperwork he should probably finish before he leaves.

Fuck it, he decides.

[5:32] fuck u

[5:33] Oh, no, baby, I plan on fucking YOU.

His paperwork isn’t getting finished tonight, and that’s okay; he’s almost never on time with it, anyway. He doesn’t close the file sitting in front of him, but he does set his phone down on top of it. He leans back in his chair, shifting to make himself more comfortable, as he watches those three little dots appear and disappear repeatedly.

There’s a knock on his door, reminding him why this is a very bad idea. “Come in.”

Officer Barnes doesn’t come into his office, just cracks the door open and sticks her head in. “I got that report in to Fernandez,” she says, “in case you wanted to take a look at it. All the evidence has been logged, too.”

“Thanks, Barnes.” He doesn’t bother to look up at her.

Barnes takes it as the dismissal that it is and Mickey lets out a breath when he hears the door click shut again. His phone buzzes and he wants to curse at Ian for the way his dick twitches in his slacks at the sound.

[5:35] Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you when you get home?

He does. Jesus fucking Christ, he does. Clutching his phone in his left hand, he looks down and considers his chubbing cock. He really wants to reach down and grip himself.

But two things are stopping him. First, there are still officers in the bullpen. His boss is still here, too. So there is a chance that his office door will swing open again and someone will catch him being a fucking horny perv at his own desk. And second, Ian had explicitly told him not to.

He finds the second reason much more compelling than the first and kind of hates himself for it.

[5:35] tell me

[5:35] I will, baby.

[5:35] I’m going to shove you up against the door as soon as you’re home.

[5:36] Kiss you, hard and sloppy the way you like.

Mickey does like that. He likes tasting Ian’s spit in his own mouth and mapping out his teeth with his tongue. He feels his face heat as he imagines the way Ian’s teeth would feel biting into his bottom lip.

[5:37] I’ll make sure I’m naked by the time you get here, so the only clothes we have to worry about are yours.

With his job, he often wears suits, and Ian’s favorite part of this new wardrobe - in particular, the button-up shirts - is taking it off of Mickey. He loves to do it slowly, pausing between each button to thoroughly explore the skin that has been revealed. Mickey has quickly learned to love it, too; Ian’s hands and mouth are often soft as he moves down Mickey’s torso.

[5:38] That’s what got me so horny. Thinking of you in your suit and me completely naked and hard for you.

[5:38] Getting on my knees in front of you.

And fuck, that drives Mickey crazy, too. He can see it now, his gorgeous husband slowly sinking to his knees as he undoes Mickey’s shirt, ignoring his own aching cock in favor of getting to the skin beneath Mickey’s clothes.

Mickey can’t help but let out a groan. He shifts in his seat again, pushing his hips up and swallowing hard as the movement causes his erection to rub against the fabric of his boxers. He’s hard now, and his hands are itching to do something, so he types out a message before Ian can continue.

[5:39] suck me off

Ian stops typing for a moment. Only a moment, though.

[5:39] Whatever you want, baby.

[5:39] I’ll get your pants undone, pull them down, get out your dick.

[5:40] You’ll be hard already from thinking about me on your drive home. Fucking slut.

[5:40] fuck yes i am

He is fucking hard and he can no longer think straight enough to be ashamed about it. He moves again, seeking out that little bit of friction. It’s not enough, but it’s the best he can do while he still can’t touch himself.

[5:41] I’ll suck you down as deep as I can. Won’t go slow, I know how badly you’ll need to come.

[5:41] Think you can come more than once for me tonight?

Mickey knows he can. And more than that, he wants to. They don’t do it very often, but occasionally, Mickey enjoys the overstimulation that Ian can force into a second, or sometimes even a third, orgasm. There’s something about giving up that control to Ian that makes Mickey feral.

[5:42] fuck yes pls want that

[5:42] I want that too, baby. I’ll suck you off until you’re coming in my mouth. I know it won’t take long.

Mickey can imagine Ian looking up at him through teary eyes, spit and precum dripping down his chin and making a mess of him. He wants to hear Ian gag on his cock, wants to feel him moaning around the mouthful. He rubs his length against his boxers again; he knows he’s leaking and leaving a wet spot in the fabric.

[5:43] I love the way you taste. I’ll want to share.

[5:43] I’ll kiss you again, feed you some of your own cum.

{5:43] Watch as you swallow it.

“Jesus, Gallagher,” Mickey mutters as his dick throbs again. The arousal in his core gets stronger. He can’t remember the last time he was this hard while he was still clothed.

[5:44] I’ll take you to bed then. Spread you out on your back and shove your knees to your ears.

[5:44] Do you want me to go slow when I finger you open?

[5:45] fuck no just get in me already

[5:45] need u ian

Mickey doesn’t think there will ever be a moment in which he doesn’t need his husband, but that’s the sort of romantic shit that can wait.

[5:45] I’ve got you, baby.

It can wait because at the moment, Mickey is starting to consider the possibility that he may come in his fucking pants.

[5:45] I’ll do it as quick as I can. Might hurt a bit.

[5:46] u no i like the stretch

[5:47] I know. Which is why I know you’ll be begging me once I have the tip of my cock against your pretty pink hole.

[5:47] yeah pls

[5:48] I’ll push in, nice and slow. Fill you up the way you need.

[5:49] Make you feel so full and right that you’ll forget what it’s like to not have me buried in your perfect ass.

Mickey’s cock is begging to be touched as he starts a rhythmic push of his hips. The friction this provides is still not anywhere near enough, but Mickey is beginning to feel a little desperate. His asshole clenches as his body reminds him that he’s horny and empty. He makes a quick glance at the door. There would be nothing worse than someone walking in right now and seeing him behind his desk, humping the air and groaning like a bitch in heat.

There’s a part of him that finds the idea of that ridiculously hot, but Mickey doesn’t want to think about that too hard.

[5:49] Then I’m going to absolutely rail you. Fuck you so hard you can feel me in your throat.

[5:50] Remind you who you belong to. No one can fuck you like me.

[5:50] Your prostate is so fucking sensitive. I’ll make sure to nail it every time, stroke your cock to make you hard again.

[5:51] I know it’ll be uncomfortable, you just came, but I won’t stop. You’ll love it, won’t you? The pain in your ass and your cock.

[5:52] I’m going to fuck you like that until you’re on the edge again.

Mickey’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip as he tries his hardest not to whine. He knows Ian will make good on this; he is going to end the night on his back with his husband fucking him like their lives depend on it.

[5:53] make me come

[5:53] Not until you’re home, baby. Drive safe, I’ll see you soon. I love you.

Mickey stares down at the phone with disbelief. That can’t be it, he thinks. His breathing is coming in ragged pants as he waits for the three little dots to appear again.

They don’t.

Fuck him, Mickey thinks. He doesn’t deserve Mickey’s first orgasm tonight, not if he’s going to leave Mickey high and dry like that.

Glancing at the door one more time, Mickey sets his phone on his desk and reaches for his belt. He’s about to get it undone when he has an idea. One that might make up for the fact that he is definitely going to come before he gets home to Ian.

Instead of undoing his belt and pulling his cock out beneath his desk, he palms it over his pants. He thrusts up into his hand, groaning in relief as his desperate humping finally starts to feel good. He knows it won’t take long; he’s too worked up, too close to the edge from just a few dirty texts. He works his palm over his erection, finding the perfect angle, fucking up as he presses down.

The pleasure finally crests and he comes with a moan, toes curling in his shoes and head tipping back against his chair. It feels a little gross, shooting off in his boxers. He can feel his cum soaking the fabric, leaving behind a wet spot that will make it obvious to Ian what Mickey had just done in his fucking office, beneath his fucking desk.

Once his breathing calms down and Mickey is sure that his dark slacks properly hide any evidence of his wrong-doings, he makes a quick escape from the precinct. He’s never appreciated the short drive more; his cum is beginning to cool in his pants.

When he gets home, Ian is waiting by the door, naked and hard, just like he said he’d be. Ian shoves him against the door the moment it’s shut behind him. Instead of letting Ian kiss him, Mickey winds his fingers into Ian’s curls and pulls down until Ian gets the message and sinks to his knees.

“You aren’t hard,” Ian notes. His hand comes up and cups Mickey’s cock and he pauses. Mickey is sure that the crotch of his pants is still a little damp and that Ian can feel it. Their eyes meet for a moment as Ian grins up at him like a kid who’s just learned Christmas is coming early. “Jesus, Mick.”

Mickey helps him with his belt and fly, letting his head thump back against the door when Ian finally drags his slacks down. Ian groans and shoves his face into Mickey’s groin, pawing at his waistband and sucking what cum he can from the fabric of Mickey’s boxers.

“You didn’t listen,” Ian growls at him, but he doesn’t actually sound mad.

“I brought you a gift to apologize.”

Ian groans again. He pulls Mickey’s soft cock out and begins to lick it clean. Mickey’s sensitive still and his hips buck away from the sensation. He can’t go far, though, with his ass still pressed against the door.

When Ian apparently decides he’s tortured Mickey enough for the moment, he rises gracefully to his feet. “There wasn’t enough to share,” he says, leaning in to give Mickey a filthy kiss that definitely tastes like his own cum. “I’ll just have to share the next one with you.” Ian turns and saunters towards their bedroom, leaving Mickey to struggle with his pants on his own before he can follow his husband.

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Thanks as always to @gallavichthings!

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #kinktober 2023 #bingo!#dyno writes

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claudeng80 · 1 year

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How the cookie crumbles (Hallmark AU)

“What exactly is a cake tasting, anyway?” Obi drops his coffee and Shirayuki’s mostly-chocolate impostor on the table, then one of the shop’s signature giant cookies. This one has M&M’s in it.

“The last thing the baker needs to know from us is what flavor the cake should be.” Shirayuki breaks the cookie in half, ever so careful to make the sides exactly equal. “I picked my two favorite options from their list, and we get to go try them before choosing.”

“Fancy. What time do you want me to come back for you?” If it’s at least half an hour, that would give him time for a run to the grocery store- his empty pantry is generally just the way he likes it, but she said something about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich yesterday and he’s been craving it ever since.

But his visions of peanut butter fade as she frowns. “Won’t you come with me? It would be so much nicer to have someone to share the experience with, and that way the decision isn’t just what I like.”

“You’re the bride, the cake is supposed to be what you like,” he growls, then cuts himself off with a sip of coffee. It burns his tongue, just like not saying that this is a job for her fiance, not his executive assistant.

“Come on, Obi, it’s cake,” she wheedles, and he crumbles like an M&Ms cookie.

“If that’s what you really want,” he answers, and she lights up like he’s said something that really matters. He stares into the depths of his coffee so she can’t see how happy that makes him, against his will. “Hard to turn down cake.”

She’s still bouncing as they walk the two doors down to the bakery. “This place has so many flavors, I was so proud of myself narrowing it down to just two. I think you’re going to like them!”

The bell over the door tinkles sharply and a wave of sugar-scented air rolls over them. He likes sweets as much as the next person, but it’s a lot. She owes him hot wings after this, and he’s going to make her eat one because it’s too funny not to.

He lingers by the window while Shirayuki talks to the lady at the desk, but she waves him over to a tiny table they have off to the side. There are only two chairs, and the white tablecloth has ruffles. It looks romantic.

“I’ve got samples of all four of the options you picked,” the baker says. “Any of them will work with the decorations you picked out, so that’s not a factor, you just need to let me know which you want. Different layers can be different flavors, too, if you prefer.”

“Four? I thought I only sent you two.”

“You did.” The baker nods to Obi with a slightly disappointed look on her face. “But so did he.”

This is where Obi usually objects. People flatter him with the guess simply because he’s the one standing behind her when she talks about weddings, but he knows where he ranks. He’s just the driver, the buyer of coffee, and the carrier of packages. The fiance is elsewhere. Busy.

But just this once he doesn’t leap to speak up. He meets Shirayuki’s eyes, waiting for her to set the baker straight, and she just smiles. Smiles at him, and then smiles at the baker. “He didn’t tell me that, but of course we have to try his preferences too. Thank you,” she adds, and the woman softens a bit.

“I’ll be right back with the samples. They can all be decorated the same, so we’ll talk about that after you’ve picked a flavor.” The baker chatters on, all her attention on the bride now that the groom’s opinions have been dismissed, and Obi has a moment to just sit back and watch.

Shirayuki has a smile that’s nearly impossible to resist. She thinks people look happy all the time, because when they’re facing her they can’t help it. Obi can’t help it, and she thinks the best of him too. It’s intoxicating.

The baker leaves, and Shirayuki turns back to Obi, grinning from ear to ear just because they can put a raspberry filling in the yellow cake Zen picked. He grins right back, helpless to resist.

He doesn’t even like lemon. But oh, he likes her so much.

The baker leaves the plate with another scowl at Obi. He shares her opinions of Zen’s taste in cake options, but holds his tongue until she’s gone. “Please tell me I don’t look like a vanilla cake kind of guy.”

Shirayuki sticks her fork into the white cake with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t think it’s fair to generalize…” Her gaze at the scoop of monochrome dessert she picks up is dismayed. “I don’t know what Zen was thinking, though.”

Obi gets his own bite, a fraction the size of Shirayuki’s. “Cheers,” he says, raising his fork, and together they eat cake.

“It’s, um…” Shirayuki puts down her fork with a sense of finality.

“Very white,” Obi finishes.

“The icing’s tasty,” she adds.

“Not too sweet,” he agrees. He likes a sweet cake as much as the next person, but sometimes it’s too much.

She’s trying not to say something, but he waits. A minute of silence and the truth comes bursting out. “I really don’t want a wedding cake that’s this boring!”

With one finger, Obi spins the plate sitting between them. “Good thing there are more options.”

One slice is the lemon raspberry. Another is a pale color, not quite white. “Rum spice,” she says, and Obi takes a closer look.

“Sounds good to me, but I thought you’d want your groom awake-” He shuts his mouth on any mention of the wedding night. Zen’s gotten tipsy on candy before. Cough syrup knocks him out. As delicious as it sounds, any alcohol in his food is a risk.

“Oh, I forgot.” Shirayuki slaps a hand over her mouth. “I guess it’s out of the running, then.”

“Did you forget you have no alcohol tolerance either?”

“I can handle cake.” She doesn’t bother with a fork, just breaks off a chunk with two fingers and sticks it in her mouth. “Mmm.”

The chance to be the civilized one is too good to pass up. Obi takes the next fork off the stack, delicately cutting a straight-edged piece off the rum cake. Shirayuki watches every move, so he takes his time about it. It must be good, the way she looks like she’s going to snatch it right out of his hand, but it makes it to his mouth without incident. He can’t help a moan too.

“I know, right?” Her face is red, but she reaches for the next piece of cake. This one’s speckled, a kind of brownish-orange, and he has a bad feeling about it.

“Mmm.” Shirayuki’s eyes roll back, and Obi bites his tongue. Things like that are not for him to notice and certainly not for him to comment on, but it’s not crossing the line to just enjoy the sight. Her eyelashes are crimson against her skin as she savors the bite, throat working at last as she finishes it, but they snap open again, catching him watching. “You have to try this carrot cake, Obi.”

“Oh, no. Vegetables are vegetables and cake is cake. I’m not crossing them.” His fork clatters against the plate, decisively.

“But it doesn’t taste like vegetables, it’s good-” she takes another bite, small like she’s saving it for something.

“I’m glad you like it. Is that the wedding cake, then?”

Her jaw sets. “I don’t think it’s a fair contest if you don’t taste all of them.” She sets aside her fork, scooping up a sizable bite with her bare hand. She leans forward, half out of her chair, holding out the piece like a treat for some kind of reluctant pet.

“You aren’t serious,” he says, but in the depth of his gut he knows better. She’s so stubborn, and she’s got the look in her eye again. She’s going to do something rash. He laughs, because sometimes that defuses her, but no-

“Try me.” Her knee slides forward onto his chair, bracing between his legs, and his laugh falls to nothing. Her free hand grabs his shoulder, and she pulls herself half into his lap, waving carrot cake in his face.

This is more than he can be expected to take. He shakes his head, weak in the face of her, and she laughs and presses the attack. As in she presses the chunk of cake right against his lips. Her hair is wild around her face and her eyes are dancing, and he can’t deny her when she wants something from him that badly. He opens his mouth.

More cake than he would like reaches its destination, but still it’s only about half of what she’s trying to force on him. The rest falls to crumbs against his lips, and without thinking he tries to catch them with his tongue.

What he catches, instead, is her hand, smooth and hard against the flat of his tongue.

She snatches her hand back, and crumbs cascade to the floor like a handful of sand. They patter to a stop in the sudden silence, but he can't tear his eyes away from hers.

She sees him. The facade he's built lies in shards among the cake crumbs. Every time he's held his tongue when she's sad Zen is neglecting her hangs around his neck like a stone. It's as though he's said out loud, "I would never treat you like that."

Her elbow flexes, pulling her closer for one heartbeat that skips beneath her fingers, not daring to imagine any outcome but flight, and then she springs back from his chair. Her hip sends the cafe table rocking, her foot tips over her chair, and she pauses out of reach and poised to fly.

"Is everything all right?" The bakery door bangs against the wall and Shirayuki bolts upright.

"Thank you but the wedding's off!" She shouts, and she runs.

Obi swallows the carrot cake in his mouth, moist and sweet and yet somehow dry as ashes. It takes another minute for his heart to beat again, the dull thudding in his chest all too familiar. He may not understand, but he knows what comes next. He's never smiled a faker smile, set the chair back up with such care. "What was that all about?" asks the baker.

"Nerves," he answers, hating every word. "The carrot cake was her favorite, though." He stacks plates, putting on a show of unconcern while every moment she gets further away, then picks up the bag she left behind.

"Go, go," the baker says. "I see this all the time. A nice apology and everything will be fine. It's probably not even your fault."

"If only," Obi says. He looks from her down to the cake leftovers scattered across the serving plate. “Can we take the rest of this to go?”

#fanfic #obiyukibingo23 #hallmark au #bingo!#possibly to be continued

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