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#gallavich fanfic
jessij1997 · 3 days
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So, @squirrel-fund and @galladrabbles. Let's try my first galladrabble to the promt of
Jello
Every thrust hits him like a wave of pride. Pride finally to be who he are. Without fear of Terry or some other shithead. Pride to name Ian his. Only his. And after their vows he finally was pride to himself for show all his love and pride to everybody. Ians moans deepened and he could feel the warm liquid in him.
"Fucking love you Mr. Gallagher" Ian says.
"You have to. You said already yes." Mickey smirked. "But could you do what you signed for and help me to the bathroom? My legs are like jello." Mickeys admits, pride.
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rayrayor · 23 hours
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@gallavichthings Thank you for hosting the gift exchange
I totally did yet another fan girl geek out to be able to gift @whatthebodygraspsnot a story. It was double the fun as bottom Ian is a guilty pleasure of mine too.
I hope all the notes hit just right and it is a yummy little gift 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶
Told from Mickey’s POV
Prompt/idea
Ian is feeling submissive and husband mickey takes very good, attentive care of him (ex. gently guiding him through a task doing something for him/talking sweetly to him) before gently domming him in their home (bottom Ian would be lovely, but tor Ian works too!) little extras to consider: sweet pet names, fingers in ian's mouth , fingers in ian's hair, mickey praising him, literally anything physically gentle/borderline babying <3 (not age piay ino). Ian can either be pouty or a perfect angel -
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Shameless Big Bang Round 12 Posting Schedule
Hi everyone! @whaticameherefor here. I've taken over running the latest round of the @shamelessbigbang but unfortunately I don't have access to the blog. So, I'm posting the schedule here. Please reblog and spread the word and get ready for the Big Bang!
2/16 - Waste My Time by @flamingbluepanda with art by @michellemisfit
2/17 - Never Been Knotted by @real-tentacool and @batty4steddie with art by @gallavichonly
2/18 - House of Horrors by @mickeyheartian with art by @mikcrymilkovich
2/19 - A Mother’s Love: A Magical Secret by @sweetbee78 with art by @artbyaleksandr
2/20 - Broken Things by @sickness-health-all-that-shit / with art by @cal-tastrophe
2/21 - Bridge of SIGHS by @notherenewjersey with art by @suzy-queued
2/22 - Where the gay weiners go by @spacerockwriting with art by @gallavichonly
2/23 - i’m not the way i was by @sam-loves-seb with art by @technotrousers
2/24 - Once Upon A Tire Iron by @arrowflier with art by @loftec
2/25 - Last Night at the Verona Grand Hotel by @the-rat-wins art by @deedala
2/26 - The Creamery by @ms-moonlight-inn with art by @filorux
2/27 - King of the Southside by @rayrayor with art by @filorux
2/28 - Wanderlust: Before the 90 Days by @aeliagioia with art by @loftec
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darthvaders-wife · 3 months
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❤Tutte le strade portano a Roma❤
Commission for @honeyvanillin and her romantic story ❤🌞
New chapter ✨
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sisitrip · 3 months
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More Like Me, With You
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Palate cleanser from some heavy. Don't know what this is, but it made me feel warm.
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Mickey’s key’s clatter against their door and Ian stretches on the couch, wiggling his toes in relief. Finally. A rare, full day apart from Mickey had reminded him of what it felt like to not have his husband at kissing distance.
What a shock. He’d hated it. 
He’s been askew in his skin all day and his mind sparked chaotic like so many pop rocks on a wet tongue. An empty apartment and being alone with his thoughts has never before, or now, been a good thing for him. 
Cold chapped and smiling, Mickey steps into the tropical heat of their apartment. Ian’s set up a trap house tailored to his husband’s tastes and he doesn’t feel guilty at all. The apartment was humidly redolent with dinner - a crock pot full of brisket, potatoes, and the veggie puree he’d snuck in. Cold beer was sitting in the refrigerator and various other items he knows Mickey loves are scattered around the apartment. He probably gets more out of doing these things for Mickey than Mickey does himself. It’s a poorly kept secret that he mainline’s Mickey’s happiness shamelessly.
“Ah fucking yesss,” Mickey hisses when he closes the door behind him and the warmth hits his face. “You’re getting all the blowjobs.”  
Ian laughs and drops his book on the coffee table. 
“That’s a pretty tall promise, husband.”
Mickey starts shedding his shoes and clothes as he walks over. 
“I mean that shit, husband. It’s jungle perfect in here,” Mickey says, finally stripped down to his boxers and tank top. He flops down onto Ian, pulling a laugh from him.
“We aim to please,” he chuckles, wrapping Mickey up in his arms. The cold clings stubbornly to his hair which makes Ian shiver in his own shorts and t-shirt. “How was it without me today?”
“You want a lie or the truth?” Mickey asks, burrowing. 
“The truth.”
“It sucked. Not the work, but the rig. That shit’s loud as fuck when you’re not in it.” 
Ian smiles and rubs Mickey between his shoulder blades. Loud is code for lonely. 
“Sorry I couldn’t be there. Lip rarely uses the emergency child care card.” 
Mickey snorts into his neck and hooks a leg over his thigh. 
“Fred, good?”
“Perfectly slobbery. He put applesauce in my hair.”
Mickey chuckles. “Fred put his favorite thing to eat on his favorite thing. That kid likes your hair as much as I do.” 
He hums and noses into Mickey’s hair, sniffing past the cold, smoke and city smells to find what he’s looking for. When he does, he inhales deeply. “Speaking of favorite things,” he murmurs and smiles when Mickey laughs.
“Fucking sniffer,” Mickey mumbles into his collar bone. “Repeat offender sniffer.” 
“Then stop being a human aromatherapy candle,” he teases, sniffing again. He stops when Mickey’s belly rumbles against his. 
“Tell me what you ate today and I better not hear Snickers once. Your last dentist appointment was a miracle.” 
“I had food.” Mickey shoves his hands under Ian’s back and hides his face. He can feel Mickey trying to cross his lying little fingers.
“Like?”
“Mountain Dew and a candy bar.” 
“What’d I say about the Snickers?” he faux gruffs. 
“I never said the word Snickers,” Mickey says with a sniff.
He grins, giving Mickey’s temple a peck. “You eat like a bachelor when I’m not around.”
“Then stop ditching me for Fred. He can’t even talk,” Mickey says, nipping his neck.
They lie quietly for a bit, listening to the muffled city sounds and wind pelting snow at their windows. Although the world is ordered now that he had Mickey close, he can’t quite let go of the discomfort he’d felt all day. It was like he wasn’t himself until Mickey was around. As a matter of fact, it’s been a long time since he’d thought about who he was without this soft, heaven-scented man in his arms.
“Mick?”
“Mmmm?”
“Did you feel like yourself today?”
Mickey makes a noise of confusion.
“Uh, kind of?”
“Explain please,” he says, stroking Mickey’s back.
“I mean, it’s having a routine, you know? If it gets out of whack, anyone would feel out of sorts or whatever.”
“Was it because I wasn’t there?” he asks softly.
Mickey pulls back, face comically sad. 
“My world caved in,” he begins, sober as a grave.
Ian flushes. Here it comes.
“I looked at the long devastation of the day and nearly gave up because you weren’t there.”
“Shut up,” he says, starting to laugh.
“When I thought the snow would drown me in the hole your absence made, I reached for a potion, nay!  An elixir.” Mickey bows his head solemnly. “Yes. A flagon of Mountain Dew. Without it, I might have perished.”
Ian’s laughing hard now. “You’re a dick.”
Mickey settles down, laughing too. 
“And you’re in your head again. Stop that shit. You’re Ian, and I’m Mickey even when we’re apart.” Mickey nuzzles into his neck. “But, truth? I feel more like me when we’re together.”
He kisses Mickey’s cheek. “Me too.” 
Mickey hums against his neck then stills when his stomach grumbles again. 
“Alright, are you ready to eat?” Ian asks, giving him a squeeze.
“Yeah.”
He makes as if to get up. “Come on then. I got brisket on.”
Mickey grumbles and sags his weight down fully, hiding his face in Ian’s shoulder.
“Wait a minute.”
“Why? Thought you were hungry.” 
“I am.”
“Then let me up so I can get us some food,” he laughs when Mickey doesn’t budge. “You need to eat, baby.”
Mickey kisses his neck and squeezes close.
“Need this more.”
He liquifies to absolute besotted goo, sliding his hands under Mickey’s tank and down into his shorts, squeezing softly. 
“You are several levels of sweet, Mickey Gallagher,” he whispers into his hair.
“It’s the Snickers,” Mickey mutters. 
Ian holds him tight, head and heart full of all the things that are completely true about Mickey, but would be brushed off by his husband as romantic nonsense. 
“Nope. The candy hasn’t got a damn thing to do with it,” he murmurs, accepting Mickey’s soft kiss.
“Yeah?” Mickey whispers. 
“Yeah.”
They curl into each other in the loving humidity of the life they’ve built together, needing nothing more than to be this close for a while. 
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doshiart · 20 days
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F1 AU // GALLAVICH
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Ian Gallagher is a racing driver, a young star of the McLaren team. Mickey is just a car technician, who only recently joined the team as a trainee.
/long read backstory below/
Okay, I've thought about this a lot. So.. Shameless US but.. huh? living in UK?
First of all, because Formula 1 is more popular in Europe. Secondly, because I want to alter the story of Mickey's growing up. Make it a story about a little boy persevering towards his dreams. And how a simple childhood passion can grow into a potential job opportunity.
If briefly, below I talk about Mickey's developmental stages, along with his final emigration from Ukraine to the UK.
I'm not going into Ian's backstory here. But I'll mention this in more detail at the very end of the post, if you get to the end. Ha ha. Have fun reading!!
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Mickey was six, just a little boy, when he first saw a F1 race on TV. And he was amazed by how quickly the cars could go and how quickly the mechanics performed at pit stops. (Are these even mechanics? Well, they turn the wheels, dad does the same thing in the garage and considers himself a mechanic).
When the next year he went to school in his first grade, then to all the teachers' questions or questionnaires with their “What do you want to be when you grow up?” he confidently answered as clearly as his childish language could, that he would definitely become a F1 mechanic. Even though he received only gentle smiles in reaction to his naivety of being a kid, the desire took root in his little head.
---
As he grew older, he continued to enjoy racing, watching every race weekend he could. And while he was a child this did not cause any particular problems. Mom encouraged him in his interests and every New Year gave him tiny branded cars of the teams he loved. But as he gets older, the more often he hears from dad that he is interested in some stupid things. And he didn't want to hear a word about racing at all. As soon as Mickey mentioned it even once, he was cut off mid-sentence.
These are not real cars.
Real mechanics work in a garage with real cars, not kids' toys for show.
Come down to earth. It’s all somewhere far away and you never even get to one of these races in your life.
---
Well, Mickey talks less about racing out loud anymore. Especially after mom's gone.
Tiny model cars disappeared into the closet's darkness.
His dad began to drag him into their garage more often so that he would get used to work and not wander around idle, lost in his stupid dreams. He had to skip live racing broadcasts as a result. It was sort of suicidal acts to turn this on in the garage on a small TV instead of some dumb music channel with hit songs. Mickey had learnt long ago to keep his mouth shut.
Just listen. Bring it. Grab it. Repair simple details. Don't go under the hood. Don't touch this, don't touch that. And especially don't break anything. Blah blah blah.
Jesus, are you even a man? Take your gentle hands away if you're not ready to get dirty.
---
Despite everything, Mickey still had a dream. One day, he hopes to watch a real-life race. Hear the noise of wheels flying over the track, the roar of engines, the screams of a supportive crowd. He prefers to never talk about his own desire to work as a car mechanic or engineer in F1.
---
Mickey was sixteen when he left after ninth grade for a vocational college to applied mechanics specialty.
Because, well, he had good reasons for leaving school two grades early. At the very least, he was already tired of going to school. He didn't even have any friends there. Yes, he communicated with classmates, but that's not it. It's forced. Just so as not to be an outcast and maintain the status of the Milkovich family by playing dirty tricks at school and bullying others. Did he like it? Absolutely not. These guys were idiots with stupid jokes and always picking on chicks.
They kept asking if he liked any of them and talking about how they looked all the time. Mickey never liked anyone. It wasn't that the girls were ugly, he just didn't find them attractive. But he pushed these thoughts away and ignored them. Left it somewhere near to the tiny race cars in the darkness.
Also, classmates called him into fights on regularly. Not that he was against kicking someone's dumb ass, but that he would prefer better reasons than just trying to prove whose class is above.
Another reason is that, in their family, working with their hands and having a real profession are more valued than going to higher education. Because this is a job for real men. Where will all these managers, lawyers, accountants, stupid psychologists be when their car breaks down? Mechanics will always have work and profit.
As well, Mickey is deeply curious about the workings of the engine and wants to fully understand its mechanisms. He will therefore be able to study this in practice with teachers, rather than with a psychotic bastard who screams at the slightest opportunity.
The only thing Mickey truly wanted to learn at school was English. Not because he loved it. This gave him at least some hope of "breaking abroad for the sake of a good life". Perhaps the main reason for his success was that he had a really great teacher who pushed and encouraged him. Sometimes he would stick around after class and stay just to talk with her. Mickey felt parental care, which he hasn't received lately.
“I believe that you can achieve a lot, Mikhailo. Just believe in yourself.” She told him and he believed her, hugging her a little longer so as not to show his wet eyes.
And well, after leaving school, these words sometimes came to mind during the saddest times, when he returned home after a long day of school combined with an exhausting shift in the family garage. Every time he spoke with his dad, he felt terribly devastated. The dream was literally slipping out from Mickey's hands. A pipe dream, is that what they say? Well, at least he'll try to do something.
---
Mickey was twenty when he graduated and by this time he was actively saving money, hiding it in different places. Also, he planned his escape from home, considered the best routes, and looked at what things he should take with him, confused about whether he would ever return home again.
As he approached his twenty-first birthday, he finally decided to do it. With only a spark of hope, he was ready to leave for nowhere. And okay, Mickey was a realist; he was aware that things might not work out at all and that he would have to return back eventually. But he'll do anything, though, to make sure that this doesn't happen, to avoid having to meet his dad's derisive gaze once more as his goal gets mocked.
After all, a dream is a dream, right? He also had skills and language abilities in his pocket. So he's really ready to do anything to attain even the tiniest success.
---
To get to UK, Mickey had to go through a long journey of transfers from bus to train, from train to plane. He's terribly tired, but here he is. He stands and watches as the new country greets him with heavy rain.
He first found it difficult to adjust to other people's smiling faces. There were a few times when he didn't feel at home because everyone was so friendly and lovely. And these people were incredibly talkative. He'll have to get used to this if he plans to stay here.
The first difficulties he encountered occurred at the department while filling out a form for migrants.
“Mik.. Mikai.. Mikaelo?”
“Mikhailo.” Mickey interrupted.
The employee's eyes stared blankly at him.
He sighed. “Ugh.. Mickey? Yeah, Mickey.”
“Okay, Mickey. Here you are.”
---
Mickey got a job as a mechanic for a small business fairly quickly thanks to his abilities. He was so easily and warmly accepted into the friendly team. Here he first felt respect while working. Mickey got assistance from the job department in extending his visa to stay in the country. His job also provided him with a tiny apartment, deducted from his paycheck.
After a while, feeling a little more self-assured, Mickey started saving money for qualifying courses that would help him in the future.
---
Mickey was almost twenty-four when he successfully obtained all the qualifications that were necessary for the job, as well as to be sure of himself and his knowledge. During this time two full racing seasons had passed. He attended only one race at Silverstone. This was his almost full year in the UK. His skin broke out in goosebumps when he saw the track in person. It wasn't quite what he expected. Mickey literally stood in one place and once in a while cars would drive by. On TV they show a larger overview, but still. He was excited. In this grand prix, a new young racer from the McLaren team took third place for the first time. His name seems to be Ian, and he likes to take risks on the track, driving the car while presenting a strong sense of confidence. And his hair perfectly matches with the team's car.
He missed the second race due to a qualifying exam. But he's not upset. Mickey is closer than ever to his dream. If everything works out, he'll see even more racing. If not, well, then he'll continue to work repairing regular cars. Perhaps he'll be able to attend grand prix events in other countries during his holidays?
But now it's the middle of the season and he's standing in the lobby of the McLaren Technology Center. He's trembling a little and his wild eyes are scanning everything in the immediate area.
Mickey can't believe the reality of what's happening. No he didn't become a mechanic. But.. it's still impressive. He was interviewed and tested to become a temporary vehicle technician for the team as an intern. He was told something about a possible career advancement and access to other things once he completed more qualifications, but he's not sure he heard everything correctly.
Later they tested him on team tests on the track. He's surprised that he was able to concentrate on his speed and did everything exactly as needed.
He actually became… exactly the one who changes the wheels and does minor repairs. He joined the technical team and will also work on pit stops during the races. And well, okay, if everything that's happening isn't a dream, he's really happy. Extremely happy. Of course, the longer he studied, the more he wanted to do engineering and development. But that's the tiny step, right? This is already more than anything he could have imagined. He saw the race in real life from the stands, and now he got the opportunity to see everything from the staff. He'll interact directly with the racing car. He might even hear how the team interacts with racers. Unbelievable.
Through the noise in his ears, Mickey hears someone standing beside him talking in a muffled voice.
“Hey! You're a new technician, right?”
The guy had already taken off his helmet when Mickey turned around. He softly smiles while stroking his fiery red hair.
Mickey stared at him. When he was brought to the track, he thought that some tester was sitting in the car, but not their young star.
“Yeah. Hope so…” He twitched his lip and scratched nose. “You're Ian, right?”
Of course this is Ian, what a stupid question. It's too embarrassing.
The redhead smile became even larger.
“Yeah…”
And just as he was about to add something else, one of the staff called Ian to go back and he hurriedly turned to Mickey and said quickly, “Oh, uh, see ya later then, gotta go.”
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I'm glad I finally wrote and drew this. This idea has literally taken over my head so much that I don't have the energy to write Ian's backstory in the same way. Once again I am convinced that writing is hard work. And I want to say again about my love for writers. YOU ARE INCREDIBLE. For my brain, drawing is easier than writing. But it was fun!
!!!AND!!! THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! If someone suddenly wants to write a big multi-chap slowburn fic or little drabble or do anything, I'll be happy so much with absolutely anything!!
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Let's talk about Ian now. I was actually going to write a backstory for him too. Maybe at least some minor notes, but I'm not quite sure how best to connect his bipolar with racing. Usually because racers drive go-karts from childhood, get into the junior league and generally build a racing career for years. Maybe he had a breakdown somewhere between seasons and it was quickly noticed?? I don’t know… And I think about how the team constantly checks him, which at times upsets him and forces him to prove to everyone that he is fine and able to drive the car.
Most likely, in this AU, Gallaghers are either rich, or Ian has a sponsor, if you know what I mean… From this fact, a whole lot can change in story. And the second thing seems more likely to me.
I was thinking about how Ian joined the McLaren team at the age of 21, and by the time he first met Mickey he was 22. He had been stable for a long time on medication.
So I'm also considering the possibility that somewhere between his 17-19 years he disappeared from the radar and came back when he found a sponsor who could pay for everything he needed and help him get into the F1 league. At first it was the weakest team, until his potential was noticed and he was offered to move to another team. This fact with the sponsor will probably put a lot of spokes in the wheels (ha).
Racer's body is undergoing an enormous physical strain, so they spend a lot of time in the gym. And Ian really enjoys working out with his team.
Another interesting fact: racers have a super-strong neck to be able to cope with gravitational forces during the race. Therefore, special attention is paid to neck in training. (It seems from the moment I found out this my little fixation began…)
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I think there's a lot of pining here or something. They seem to be nearby, but due to different job responsibilities, at completely distinct levels. And I really want to read something like this with so slow burning.
So, I guess you can consider this as a big prompt for writing, if it inspires you.
Thanks for reading! <3
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sgtmickeyslaughter · 7 months
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Also for any one who reads my fic In Your Love, here's an incomplete IYL!Mickey tattoo tour via a lazy day in bed
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astaraels · 2 months
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Ruthless Devotion
they'll make a hundred men bleed raw for the chance to prove themselves. (on canine coded milkoviches.) (ao3)
Put your fucking guard dog on a leash.
Mickey's hands chase over Ian's sides, his teeth nipping at the soft and tender flesh of Ian's lips. There's a soft growl that starts in Mickey's throat and ends up in Ian's own, the two of them pressed as close together as it's possible to be. Heat sears through Ian's body, a delicious high that drugs can't ever seem to replicate. Just Mickey and the way his hands, his lips drive Ian up a wall. There's nothing like him.
Fuck, Ian, he hears Mickey say against his ear, his voice a breathy huff of laughter. Ian can hear the slightest whine in the sound. He'll never admit it, but Mickey likes when Ian makes him just a little bit desperate. There's a lot of things Mickey can't and won't admit to. Like when that guy outside the club told Ian to put your fucking guard dog on a goddamn leash and Ian saw Mickey's shoulders broaden, his whole chest expanding as Mickey inhaled, sharp and sudden.
His guard dog. Protective to a fault, snarling and chasing away anyone he deems unworthy. Mandy had been the same, snapping like a junkyard dog at girls who got too close to Ian in the halls; Ian had to fight the grin that always threatened to cross his face when they did things like that.
He loves fiercely, he knows, but Milkoviches love violently. They love with claws and teeth, loyalty a pale, weak word for what it truly means. Ian doesn't think his love compares, but Mickey and Mandy both stay by his side, refusing to leave. And maybe he had to hold a hand out, let them bite his fingers and draw blood before he gained their trust, but it was worth it. No matter what anyone thinks, they're worth the pain, worth the wounds. Where others see rabid dogs, Ian sees wounded, starving strays in need of protection themselves.
Of course he'd never say it. He'd never tell them that he knows what they are on their insides. Mandy calls herself a bitch, says it proud, dares others to turn it against her. Mickey says he's anything but, that he likes what he likes; the dark and knowing looks he gives to Ian sometimes say otherwise. Where Mandy's all claws, Mickey's all teeth, both of them desperate to dig in and claim territory that they'll defend to death.
Ian's become part of that territory; he's been snapped up by these Milkoviches even with the Gallagher blood in his veins. Like he's a lost fucking sheep they're trying to herd back to safety before the wolves outside can get him. And maybe Mickey's eyes darken when he sees those wolves stalking at Ian's door—Ian knows there's more gazes than Mickey's that linger on his shoulders and his hips, along the hard planes and soft lines of his body. Mickey's there every time he turns around, though, and Ian isn't afraid for himself as long as he has Mickey.
It's not that he's stupid, either; he knows they need protecting, too. They're both the type to leave themselves bleeding, ignore their jagged wounds in favor of his papercuts. So Ian has to look out for them—both of them, because as much as Mickey has clawed his way and made himself a den of Ian's insides, Mandy was always first. And she's always been more fragile. A dog can bite to defend itself, but beat it enough and it learns to keep its teeth in its mouth. That's what Ian's here for, though; he'll keep a knife ready to fight off any man who hurts her, and let her hide her beautiful bruised face in his shoulder so she doesn't show weakness.
And then there's Mickey—Mickey, who even now traces the lines of Ian's ribs, a little too easily seen against the pale skin of his torso. Mickey, who kisses hard like a punch to the jaw and yet sweet like spring rain. Mickey, who has eyes the color of Lake Michigan and just as impossibly deep. Mickey, who came into Ian's life like a car crash and who Ian never wants to let go. It's selfish, maybe; dangerous, certainly. They grin against one another's mouths and Ian traces his tongue over Mickey's teeth.
Mickey is a guard dog, fierce in devotion and determined to protect what's his. And maybe Ian shouldn't like the way that Mickey snaps and snarls, straining to be let off the leash and bring down violence on anyone who dares look at Ian like he's only there to be used up and spat back out. It doesn't matter that Mickey looks at Ian like a piece of rare meat, because from him there's a longing and a neediness that goes with it. There's a craving, a desire that goes beyond the surface—he knows that his body is only one of the many things Mickey wants, unlike those other men. Mickey will take anything Ian gives him, the pain and the pleasure mixing between their bodies.
It sends a perverse kind of lust through Ian when he sees Mickey's inked knuckles causing bruises to bloom on the jaws and eyes of nameless men with bad intentions. There's a delicious sort of dizziness, knowing how much Mickey enjoys it, too. And maybe Ian and Mickey have bad intentions with each other, too, but those are dark desires that they only share with each other. The way Ian nuzzles against Mickey's neck, smelling the heady, sharp scent of his cologne, and Mickey clutches at him with need. He wants, he wants, he wants…and he knows Mickey wants to give him everything.
Guard dogs off their leashes—that's what Mickey and Mandy are. Ian would never claim to know how to tame them, would never want to anyway, but they're both so beautiful in how dangerous they can be. It's different, the way he loves each of them, how they love each other, but the three of them have found a way to carve out some existence that fits them well. Ian knows what it feels like to cradle their jaws in his hands, to press his lips against the pale skin of their cheeks. They've let him in and let him see their vulnerability. Guard dogs who guard themselves fiercely. Mickey sleeps curled up by Ian's bed each night, putting himself between Ian and whatever threat might come.
And Ian knows it might be wrong. Hell, he sees the looks his family gives him, when Mandy would defend him a little too loud, when Mickey does anything for Ian without being asked. He knows what it looks like. But god, he doesn't care. That kind of devotion means everything coming from them. Coming from a Milkovich, it's a declaration of love.
Right now he's buried himself deep inside Mickey, the rough brick biting into Mickey's back as they move together. Ian bites down on perfect, smooth skin as Mickey growls Ian's name against his ear. The want and need, the pleasure and pain, it all comes together in this single unmatched moment. He hitches Mickey's leg up higher and tightens his grip in Mickey's hair, dull teeth sharp against Mickey's delicate neck.
He's not the only one with claws and fangs.
There's a pull and a groan, heat scorching through Ian's body as he moves; he feels Mickey's body pressed against his own, tight and tense like a live wire. There's a frenzied kiss, blood on their lips and it doesn't matter whose. The sounds of their breaths coming harsh and jagged break through the distant noises of the city. Ian doesn't fucking care about anything else in this moment, this white-hot moment where he can love Mickey Milkovich exactly as he deserves. Loyalty and devotion rewarded, as they should be. The only one who gets this from Ian, and it's all Mickey's alone. Those other men don't own Ian's heart, not even his body, despite what they may think.
Mickey's head nearly smacks against the brick as he comes apart, shuddering, unable to hold himself together. This is the part that Ian loves, that he always tries to watch if he can. Watching the moment where Mickey takes something for himself instead of giving it away so easily. And he still gives it to Ian—he gives his body to Ian so many times, every day and every way he can—but this, this moment where he breaks into pieces and pulls Ian's pleasure into himself. Like he'd devour Ian whole if he had the chance.
And Ian knows he'd let him. Would do it without a second thought. He knows he'll never find it again, this ruthless devotion that came to him with harsh, clear blue eyes and bruised, gentle knuckles that threaten violence at every moment. He buries himself inside Mickey—he doesn't want to come up for air, just wants to breathe him in until that scent is all he knows. It's the way Mickey sends him out of his head and yet grounds him unlike anything else. His guard dog, his leashed protector. Mickey would make the world bleed for Ian. Maybe it should scare him.
It only makes Ian love him more.
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scurvgirl · 8 months
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Good morning, I should be working on my fic but I had this thought instead. Post season 11.
“We need a new bed, Mick.” Ian was right, ‘course he was. The full bed had always been on the small side for Ian’s frame and now that they had the dog (and Mickey didn’t have the heart to kick her out of the bed), his poor husband was slowly being pushed out of his own bed. So, they went to a discount mattress and bed frame store. Decent enough place, there was plenty to choose from. Mickey was thinking a good queen size would be good but Ian apparently had other ideas.
“We need a king - look at all the space!” Ian gestured to the large bed and Mickey frowned. Look, he might admit to needing a bigger bed but he also...he didn’t want Ian to be a fuckin’ continent away while he was sleeping. 
“It’s fuckin’ expensive as shit, let’s get a queen.”
“Mickey, I’ve never really had a bed long enough for me - look how long this is! Plenty of room for us and Kiki.” 
“It’s too fuckin’ big, man.”
“Too big? I’m a six foot man being chased out of my bed by my husband and pitbull. We need big.”
Mickey shifted his weight on his feet. “Yeah well, what if I like being on top each other a little, huh?”
Ian stopped, turned to Mickey and smiled that stupid fucking smile like he had Mickey’s number (which he did but he didn’t have to be an ass about it). 
“Baby.”
“Don’t fuckin’ ‘baby’ me here!” Mickey hissed.
“Baby,” Ian repeated, “I’m still gonna hold you in a big bed. I’m still gonna make you a little spoon.”
“You shut the fuck up right now,” there was no real bite to Mickey’s words though.
Ian crowded Mickey, placing his big hands on Mickey’s hips before leaning down to kiss Mickey’s forehead. “I want space for my legs, baby, not space away from you.”
They ended up getting the king. The night it was delivered, Ian wrapped himself around Mickey and stretched out his legs while Kiki stretched out at the foot of the bed. 
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iris-writesx · 8 months
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Little Fucker | Gallavich
ian and mickey wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of an intruder in their kitchen, but it not what it seems — idk what this is but hey my first full gallavich fic, whoop whoop. honestly this is just a rambled mess of fluff. i’m still trying to get my characterisation for these boys down, so feedback would be greatly appreciated :)
2k words — mention of past trauma, though this is all fluffy and domestic. mickey and ian are married
fic requests are open for gallavich, please send any and all into my asks. reblogs and feedback would also make me super happy <3
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Mickey had always been a light sleeper. Just the feeling of Ian’s weight leaving the mattress in the morning was enough to stir him from his sleep, blinking groggily up at his husband as he got ready for the day. He supposed it was due to his upbringing, being awoken by Terry yelling or things being thrown at him throughout his childhood. He distinctly remembers one night when he was ten being woken by the shattering of glass, and later realised that the bottle Terry had thrown in his drunk stupor had missed and smashed the window instead. That whole winter he had slept with two jumpers on to stop the winter air blowing into his room from freezing him to death.
So he was a light sleeper. Which is why the crash that came from their kitchen was enough to force Mickey out of his sleep, his eyes wide as he immediately rose up into a sitting position. He sat frozen, listening for anything else, before another crash followed, something smashing against their tiled kitchen floor.
Ian was blissfully asleep beside him, and it took Mickey four shoves against his husband’s arm before he even began to stir.
“What?” He groaned, not even turning to look at him, eyes still closed.
“Get up.”
“Fuck off,” Ian grumbled, rolling over to face away from Mickey, and huffing out of his nose he grabbed onto Ian’s forearm and shook it a bit roughly until he had annoyed him enough to roll back over to face him. “Holy fuck, what do you want?”
Mickey glared down at his husband, offended by the immediate annoyance… as if he wouldn’t act the same if awoken in the middle of the night. “Someone’s in the fuckin’ kitchen, asshole.”
That definitely got Ian’s attention. Mickey observed as his eyebrows immediately scrunched, lips turning downwards as he also sat up, eyes shifting past Mickey to stare at their closed bedroom door, as if he could see through it.
Ever since Mickey had been sleeping in the same bed as Ian — since he finally started accepting just how much he needed Ian, since the nights where he was supposed to be on Ian’s bedroom floor were spent up against him in his bed — he had always put himself between Ian and the door. Maybe it was the assumption that there would always be danger, like he was living at home and there was always a chance of Terry barrelling through the door to hit him. But Mickey knew that he’d always want Ian further into the room than himself. Realistically, he knew that probably nothing was ever going to happen — a little ironic after he had been woken up by the sound of an intruder in their kitchen — but just in case, he would always put himself into the line of danger first.
Ian was still staring at the door. His hand had unconsciously reached out to grip onto Mickey’s leg, a light squeeze against the plush of his thigh. “I can’t hear anything, Mick.”
“You think I’m fuckin’ making it up?”
Ian turned to scowl at him. “That’s not what I said. I’m j’st saying that it doesn’t sound like anybody’s there.”
“I know what I heard, asshole-“
Another smash came from the kitchen, and instead of jumping like Ian did, Mickey couldn’t help the smug smile that formed over his mouth. “Told you, bitch.”
Ian rolled his eyes but didn’t respond, instead he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and leaned down, grabbing a shirt from the floor and quickly throwing it on. Mickey, who cared much less about looking decent in front of a fucking burglar, instead leaned down to grab the gun that he kept tucked under his side of the bed just in case. He rounded the bed and forcefully shoved Ian beside him, reaching out with his free hand to open the doorknob. “Stay behind me.”
Ian didn’t argue, so he pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway, his gun raised out in front of him. Within all of the domestic bliss that he and Ian had been living in for some time now, it had actually been a while since he’d held a gun — the last time was probably when he had put it under his side of the bed. The weight of it felt heavy in his hand, the metal cold against his skin — he never thought that he would be in a place where the feeling of a gun in his hand was weird to him.
With Ian still behind him they got to the kitchen, and whilst there was no intruder to be seen, there was glass and porcelain smashed all over their floor. He glanced up at the counter and noticed that there were still a few plates and a glass that had been left to clean up in the morning, and he was guessing that the ones now in pieces on the floor came from that stack of washing up.
“Aw man,” Mickey grumbled, nudging a larger piece of black porcelain with his toe. “My favourite fuckin’ mug.”
“Mick look-”
“Yeah I know, man, I can see it.”
“No,” Ian huffed, and poked one of his shoulder blades. “On the table.”
Mickey turned his head, and just blinked when he saw the little orange cat sat on their kitchen table, staring back at them with its huge bug eyes. It reminded him of one of the little street cats from back home that Mandy used to insist on feeding when she was just a kid. “What the fuck is that thing doing in here?”
“Must’ve come in through the window,” Ian nudged him again, and Mickey glanced up at the open window above the counter. “Poor guy must’ve knocked all the glasses over on his way in.”
“Poor guy? It broke our shit.”
“Yeah well I told you to close the windows at night.”
Mickey turned to shoot Ian a glare, as if to say it wasn’t his fault that the little fucker got into their home, but Ian slipped past him and sidestepped all of the glass over towards the table, where he reached down to scratch said little fucker on the top of its head.
“I’ll clean up then, yeah?” He huffed, putting the gun in the waistband of his boxers for now as he carefully dodged any glass on the floor to grab the broom they kept stood by the fridge, and started to sweep all of the shards into a pile. When he glanced up at Ian he was still fussing over the cat, and he just rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. “Aye, some fuckin’ help would be nice.”
“He hasn’t got a collar,” Ian had that dumb puppy dog pout on his lips as he turned back to his husband, and in one motion he scooped the cat up into his arms, cradling the thing against his chest. “And he’s really small. I think he’s a stray, Mick.”
“Oh yeah? Too bad, it broke my mug, piece of shit.”
Ian glared, dipping his head down to kiss the cat on its peanut head. “We should let him stay for the night.”
“Why should we do that?” Mickey rolled his eyes, leaning the broom against the counter once he had all of the shards in a pile, and instead grabbed the dustpan to collect it all to toss into the bin.
“‘Cause it’s cold out.”
“Thing’s got fur, ain’t it?” Ian was still glaring when he looked back up and he just groaned, wiping a hand over his face as he let the now empty dustpan clatter down against their counter. “Christ, you really wanna keep it here for the night?”
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Not just for the night-“
“Ain’t fuckin’ happening, Gallagher.”
Ian sighed, putting the cat down on the table gently before he moved over to him, that fucking stupid pout back on his face as he took Mickey’s shoulders in his hands with a light squeeze. “He’s just a small thing, Mick, he won’t be any trouble.”
“It’s been here for five fuckin’ seconds and smashed half of our cups.”
Ian squeezed his shoulders a little firmer, tilting his head at him. “Please?” His hands left his shoulders and went down to his hips, tugging him close enough for them to be pretty much flush against each other, before his lips quirked upwards playfully. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me, Mister Gallagher?”
He groaned, because his husband was so fucking lame sometimes, but looped his arms over his shoulders regardless. Mickey would never be able to resist giving Ian what he wanted to make him happy and Ian fucking knew that, but it didn’t stop him from giving his husband the worst scowl he could muster as Ian squeezed his hips again.
Fucker.
“One night, man,” Mickey told him, his façade dissipating a little as Ian gave him a little kiss, just a light press of their lips. “I’m fuckin’ serious, tomorrow night that scraggly fuck is going back to the streets, ‘kay?”
Mickey knew that the cat wouldn’t be going anywhere, Ian knew that the cat wouldn’t be going anywhere, which is probably why he had that dumb smile of his on his face as he leaned in to kiss Mickey again, for longer that time, making him all melty and fucking weak like Ian usually got him.
His sixteen year old self would be in fucking disbelief if he saw him now. Mickey often thought back on that time. The denial, the self loathing, his destructive behaviour towards both himself and Ian. It wasn’t all that long ago that Mickey had apologised for one particularly nasty thing he could remember calling Ian.
They had just gotten into bed for the night, the room dark, Ian’s hand on his thigh drawing invisible little shapes on the skin there.
Mickey had been mulling over that memory for a while in his head, a scrunched up disgusted expression on his face as he recalled calling Ian nothing but a warm mouth. It had left a vile taste on his tongue to even say it the first time, but to think back on it made his chest burn with hatred for his younger self. Ian had deserved more than him back then. Mickey was only worthy of him now that he had changed for him.
“M’sorry for all the shit I called you,” Mickey watched as Ian turned to face him, clearly confused. “Back then, man, all the shit I said,” he was slowly getting better at apologies, so he paused for a moment as Ian nodded a little, an understanding smile on his face. “You were always more than that, you know. Always meant something more to me, Gallagher.”
Which is why Mickey wouldn’t be kicking that fucking cat out, as much as the thought of having a cat around the place wasn’t that pleasing.
Ian was still smiling like he didn’t believe him, and squeezed his hips again as he pecked his lips one last time. “‘Kay.”
Mickey cleared his throat as Ian finally stepped backwards, his skin feeling a little hot, because there was a gun tucked into the waistband of his boxers, yes, but part of him was now definitely excited to see his husband.
Like he could fucking help it when Ian pulled that shit.
“Can we go back to bed now?” Mickey groaned, and even though both of them knew they wouldn’t be going back to sleep yet, Ian gave a huge smile as he nodded, hooking an arm around his husband’s shoulders as he started to walk them back to the bedroom. “And the cat’s not comin’ into our room, no fuckin’ way.”
Ian just laughed, patting his shoulder. “Sure, Mick.”
As expected, Mickey got up to let the cat into their room a little past three o’clock in the morning, and when he woke up it was asleep on his chest.
Little fucker.
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lupeloto · 7 months
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“pretty, huh?” ficlet
basically, ian and mickey are babysitting franny when she lets it slip just how much ian talks about how pretty mickey is
“You’re gonna use this color,” Franny picks out a navy blue crayon, handing it to Mickey.
The two are sitting beside the coffee table in the den, Franny on her knees and Mickey leaned against the couch. There are about five different coloring books laid out on the dark-wood table, which now has its own little streak of purple thanks to Franny. Debbie had dropped Franny off with a few Princess and Fairy coloring books. Mickey immediately went to the little cabinet where they keep Franny’s items for the Monster Truck coloring book that he had bought for her. She beamed, insisting that they start coloring now. Ian had gone out to get lunch, so it was just them two coloring away in a comfortable silence. Franny always got so concentrated when coloring, her tongue sticking out between her lips, brows furrowed. Mickey found it absolutely endearing, it reminded him so much of Ian. A lot about Franny reminded him of Ian, including her bossy nature.
Mickey chuckles, “Can’t I choose my own color crayon, Fran?” He questions while taking the crayon she holds out to him.
“But I want you to use this one,” she says rather seriously, so Mickey complies, scribbling away with the dark blue crayon.
Ian walks through the door, take-out containers hanging off his fingers that peaked out of his gloves, big coat wrapped tightly around him, and a bright-red face.
“Jesus, it’s fucking freezing,” he says as soon as he steps inside. 
Franny seems to pay him no mind, completely concentrating on her artwork as Mickey looks ups, “Ay, I know, man. why don’t you go change into somethin’ warmer and then we’ll eat,” Mickey says softly before returning to his coloring, picking up the blue crayon that was basically a nub at this point.
“Yeah okay, I’ll be quick,” Ian sets the food on the counter before heading over to where the two sit in their own little world.
He places a quick kiss to both Mickey and Franny’s heads, “Hi Fran,” he raises his voice a little as if to say I’m right here, aren’t you excited to see me?
“Uncle Ian!” Franny squeals, finally pulling away from her coloring long enough to realize he was in the room. She jumps up, wrapping her arms around his leg tightly before returning to her picture.
That always made Mickey’s heart skip a beat; seeing him and Franny. The way Ian looked even taller next to her, how she soon figured out she couldn’t hug him while standing up, so instead she grew a habit of clinging to his leg as a warm welcome and goodbye. With that, Ian takes off to the bedroom.
A few more moments of silence pass before Franny breaks it, breaking her gaze away from her purple and green monster truck to stare at Mickey, “You’re pretty Uncle Mickey,” she says matter-of-factly before returning to her drawing. At the same time, Ian walks in, leaned against the doorway to the den, a small smile on his face at the sight of his husband and niece. 
Mickey can’t help but chuckle, looking over at Ian with his eyebrows raised because Where the hell did that come from?
“Well thanks, Little Red. You ain’t too bad yourself kid, way prettier than me,” his attempt to halt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth miserably fails as he watches Franny giggle and bat her eyelashes at the comment.
Franny’s hand moves slowly and surely around the page, “Uncle Ian says it all the time,” she continues scribbling, “Says that you’re soooo pretty,” she giggles slightly, looking towards Ian
“Oh, ‘s that right?” Mickey raises one eyebrow and turns his head towards Ian who wears a smug grin.
Ian shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve been exposed,” he states matter-of-factly, “What can I say?”
“I have to pee,” Franny says, already bored with their conversation, jumping up from her spot and headed down the hallway.
“Wash your hands, Fran!” Ian yells after her, pushing himself off the door frame, heading towards Mickey.
“Pretty, huh Gallagher?” Mickey flashes a one-sided grin up at where Ian stands behind him, hovering over his head, a certain softness in his eyes.
Ian shrugs, “I stand by it…” Ian leans down and presses their lips together spider-man style, “Fucking beautiful,” he whispers as their mouths part, but still remain close together.
Mickey beams, a warmth that only Ian can provide spreading all throughout his body, “Yeha, you too, Red.” They kiss one more time before Franny comes running in, demanding a popsicle. They all three sit on the patio and eat their popsicle, Mickey looking on in amusement as both Ian and Franny end up with red all over their mouths and shirts by the time they’re done.
— — — — — — — — — —
these two take up so much space in my brain it’s sick and twisted! told myself i wasn’t gonna post anymore today but here i am on your dash to annoy u more about these gays😞
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jessij1997 · 2 days
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Second try for @squirrel-fund 's fantastic prompt for @galladrabbles.
Jello
“You can’t have Jello now.” Ian whispered while Mickey stood infront the door. A shiteating grin on Mickeys face. “Mick, I know you're stoned but…. No…”
Mickey unlocked the door and entered the store.
“Like old times, Gallagher” Mickey went to the fridge, put out his favorite jello and began to eat.
“If Linda knew I've still a key she would kill me.”
Mickey giggled. The weed makes everything funny.
“Sounds like we’ve to use the time. Let’s go in the freezer. Take off your pants.” An rised eyebrow and a bitten lip was all Ian needs. Like old times.
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thegallavault · 10 months
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hi pals! It’s me, bee 🐝, aka @gallawitchxx, aka gallawitch on AO3 & i’m a writer in the shameless fandom! i love me some ian & mickey, but i especially love supporting the incredible community of creators who have been making art for over a decade!
WELCOME TO THE GALLAVAULT —a fully fan-made, totally free collection of beloved Ian x Mickey fics in e-reader (.epub) format, complete with a custom cover that features fan art made by one of the many talented artists in the Gallavich fandom! 🔒📚✨
this means that you can download full fics to your e-reader of choice, and when added to your library, they’ll look like this:
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pretty cool, right? 😏
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inside The Gallavault, you'll find:
an Intro & FAQ sheet with details on how to download the fics, find links back to the original works so that you can leave love there (hint hint, wink wink!), what fics will be included next & info on how to submit requests (pspsps: use this tumlr's ask box)!
a Library List of all of the currently included fics with links to them on AO3, links to the Cover Art posts for reblogging purposes, & additional art that's been made for each fic!
a folder of Multi-Chapter fics for download
a folder of One-Shots & Series fics for download
- - - - - -
please peruse what's there & if you have any additional questions, you can always send me an ask here!
i hope you enjoy & don't forget to leave the artists some love through kudos and comments on AO3, as well as likes & reblogs here on tumblr! xx
CREATOR DISCLAIMER: even though all of this work is public and free, i was initially reaching out to creators for permissions! but then tumblr decided i was a bot & i was shadowbanned 😔 so i am nervous to continue. if you are a creator and you do NOT want your work to be included -- that's ok! please reach out to me here on tumblr or at [email protected] and i will remove it from the vault, no questions asked!
authors ✍️ : @notherenewjersey @jackieq @damnnmilkovich @metalheadmickey @thisdivorce @thevioletjones @squidyyy23 @suzy-queued @whaticameherefor @peppermintkatie @goodkwuestion @ms-moonlight-inn @devovitsuasartes @dancermk @whatwouldmickeydo @celestialmickey @ianrightsonly @the-rat-wins @abundanceofnots @chat-noir12 @spoonfulstar @mzshko @gallawitchxx artists 🎨 : @steorie @doodlevich @darthvaders-wife @luluxa @filorux @heymrspatel @y0itsbri @auds-and-evens @deathclassic @loftec
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Shameless Big Bang Round 12 Round Up
Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoyed the fics and art from this round :) There are still a few stories that have chapters left to be uploaded, but it looks like they're all on schedule so I wanted to push out the master list of links for everything produced during Round 12.
Please reblog and spread all the love for the @shamelessbigbang!
2/16 - Waste My Time by @flamingbluepanda with art by @michellemisfit
2/17 - Never Been Knotted by @real-tentacool and @batty4steddie with art by @gallavichonly
2/18 - House of Horrors by @mickeyheartian with art by @mikcrymilkovich
2/19 - A Mother’s Love: A Magical Secret by @sweetbee78 with art by @artbyaleksandr
2/20 - Broken Things by @sickness-health-all-that-shit / with art by @cal-tastrophe
2/21 - Bridge of SIGHS by @notherenewjersey with art by @suzy-queued
2/22 - Where the gay weiners go by @spacerockwriting with art by @gallavichonly
2/23 - i’m not the way i was by @sam-loves-seb with art by @technotrousers
2/24 - Once Upon A Tire Iron by @arrowflier with art by @loftec
2/25 - Last Night at the Verona Grand Hotel by @the-rat-wins art by @deedala
2/26 - The Creamery by @ms-moonlight-inn with art by @filorux
2/27 - King of the Southside by @rayrayor with art by @filorux
2/28 - Wanderlust: Before the 90 Days by @aeliagioia with art by @loftec
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rayrayor · 2 months
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@gallavichgeek @ms-moonlight-inn @guinguin1984 thank you for the suggestions for this part two. They will be added in as nuggets of surprise and fun💕😈
@ilitiaforever thank you for the art. The amount of talent in this platform is staggering 💕
All but the knot, part two
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bawlbrayker · 1 month
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This incredible digital artwork was created by @sweetperversiongirl for my latest fic "C.O.C.O.N.U.T
Thanks to @deathclassic for the prompt!
Artwork in full is NSFW and is linked in the fic. Fic is rated E
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