#imagine sitting in kinda a rut with drawing but one fine morning just-

[fwuffletail]

I did nothing but draw all of this within today

[oforamuse]

does it do it for you? (it does it for me)

‘It’s a thing for you then, huh?'

or, the one where ian starts to grow a beard and mickey is definitely into it

inspired by cameron’s livestream beard earlier

read and comment on ao3

Mickey starts to notice it on the inside of his thighs at first. 

They sting slightly in the morning, warm and fuzzy, but he doesn’t really give it a huge amount of thought. Ian had sucked him off last night for what felt like hours, kissing and nipping at the inside of his thighs as he usually does, mapping out his body with his tongue and the deft of knowledge of a long time lover. 

He knows every single place, every single nerve, every single point of pleasure for Mickey, given the fact they’d been having sex for almost a decade now, and yet, he’s continuously turning Mickey’s world on it’s axis with his tongue. The long blowjob session had been a reward for Mickey cooking them both dinner after he’d gotten out of work early and Ian was still mid-meeting with his P.O. He’d come home exhausted and sloppy, his stomach rumbling angrily the entire way home, only to find that Mickey had thrown something together so it would be ready for him when he walked through the door. Ian had nearly pinned Mickey against the kitchen surfaces and fucked him there and then, but his other pressing hunger won out.

Later when they got upstairs, dishes cleaned and clothes off, Ian took ages with his head between his legs, sucking and sucking and sucking until Mickey fell apart, his limbs flailing out as he babbled. His hands threaded in his hair and his thighs locking tightly around Ian’s head as he swallowed him when he came.

It had been such a fucking fantastic round of head that he figured of course he’d be feeling it in the morning, the same way he’d find bruises on his hips every now and then, or scratches on his back. They’re the signs of a good fuck, and his husband? He’s the best fuck.

The marks on his thighs though? They’re different. They’re new.

It takes an hour or so later when they’re sitting over a cup of coffee, Ian leaning all the way back in his chair, stretched out and relaxed, when it clicks.

‘You’ve stopped shaving.’ Mickey says, and it’s a statement more than a question. Ian looks over at him, freezing mid sip, the coffee mug tipped towards him. The late morning light shines through the Gallagher’s kitchen window and Mickey can’t help but stare at the way it catches on the fine ginger hairs littering Ian’s chin. It’s not hugely noticeable, barely a step up from a light  stubble, but Mickey’s traced every of that inch jawline with his tongue, so he can pick up on even the smallest dusting of change. Ian’s always been pretty clean shaven, ever since they were kids - he always chalked it down to an army thing, but Mickey can’t say he minds this. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, his hand coming down to adjust himself in his boxers under the table.

He is not going to get a hard on sitting at the Gallagher kitchen table because his husband has glorified stubble. He’s not. He’s not. He’s not.

Oh, fuck. He definitely is.

‘Yeah.’ Ian replies, his voice low as he places the coffee mug back onto the table. His eyebrows draw together as he frowns, ‘Do you… want me to shave?’

‘No.’ Mickey says sharply, his hand instinctively slamming down from his coffee cup onto the table, making both men jump. Coffee sloshes out onto the surface and he styles it out, his palms spreading flat against the table. ‘I mean, you do whatever, I don’t care.’

Ian tilts his head, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘Okay…’ He says, his hand coming up to rub along the short hairs on his chin. ‘I think I kinda like it, it’s a change, ya know.’

‘I don’t care.’ Mickey says, swallowing heavy. Ian can do whatever the fuck he wants with his facial hair, he doesn’t care, he really doesn’t. ‘Do whatever the hell you want.’

But fuck, he’s never considered this before.

It takes a few days later before it comes up again. They’re making out on the couch like a couple of teenagers, it’s a bit ridiculous really but they’ve got an empty house and they never got to do this as kids, so they’re relishing in every second they get. After years of having to be so much more adult in their relationship than their ages asked, they finally have the time and peace to catch up on everything they missed out on as kids.

Hence, the making out like two teenagers on the family sofa.

Mickey shifts his knee and shoves it between Ian’s thigh, the other man grinding down on it responsively, his hands grabbing at Mickey’s ass to pull them flush against one another. He cups the side of Ian’s face as his tongue slips into his mouth and traces the back of his teeth. It’s warm, close, and they can’t get enough of each other’s hot mouths.

His thumb dusts lightly over his jaw when he feels it, the rough texture of Ian’s unshaven skin under his touch.

‘Fuck.’ He moans, instinctively pulling away and bringing his lips to the very spot he’d just been cupping. The hair is slightly longer now, visible to the eye and definitely different under his tongue. He’s used to the smooth, soft skin as he sucks and nips, but this is a change. It’s rough, and coarse, and Mickey can’t get enough.

‘Please.’ Ian whines, moving his head to give him better access to his neck, a spot both boys know they mutually love. Mickey shifts, his hand coming to the other side of Ian’s head to pull him closer and hold him in place as he traces kisses up and down his beard line, his chin rubbing against the bristled skin as he goes. His kisses get sloppy as he goes on, and he’s pretty much salivating by the time he feels Ian laugh softly, the vibration pulling him out of his flow. He pulls back slightly, inches away from where he'd been sucking seconds before.

‘What?’ He mutters, his voice low and rough, his breath coming out hot and desperate against Ian’s sweaty neck. Their chests rise and fall together, both men taking the momentary pause to catch their heads up with their crotches.

‘It’s a thing for you then, huh?’ Ian says, his hand rubbing up and down Mickey’s back. It’s a comforting and grounding movement, but Mickey looks up at him, confused.

‘What?’ He says again, making eye contact and Ian smiles, his jaw and the sides of his face red and raw, the evidence of the last 10 minutes or so clear on his skin. It sends something hot and fiery down to Mickey’s already hard dick, he swallows and presses into Ian’s thigh.

Ian catches the movement, eyebrow raised. ‘The beard, me being unshaven..that’s like a thing for you.’

‘Fuck off.’ He groans, his cheeks flush hotly, his wanting needs vulnerable and exposed. He hates it because Ian is right but fuck, he loves it because Ian is right. He laughs as Mickey tucks himself into his side, Ian’s hand coming to rest on the top of Mickey’s head, his fingers running through the dark hair slowly.

Mickey breathes, pressing back into the movement. ‘You’re hot, what can I say.’

‘Come here.’ Ian says, his hand trailing down from the back of Mickey’s head and sitting at the nape of his neck, pulling Mickey up to meet his lips properly. They pull apart, and Ian stares at him, grinning. ‘Watching you get so turned on, it’s well…’

He moves Mickey’s hand to his crotch resting right over the bulge in his jeans and Mickey adds the smallest amount of pressure, Ian’s breath hitching. They move quickly, Mickey’s hand fumbling with Ian’s belt as they kiss, getting it just loose enough for him to shove his hand down and wrap it around Ian’s dick. They rut together, Ian in Mickey’s firm hand and Mickey pressed up against his thigh, Mickey's lips attached to the sharp underside of his chin as Ian grips his ass. They don’t last long, the drawn out foreplay pushing them to the edge quicker than intended but neither man minds, their breathing heavy as they ride it out. He’s gross and sticky in his jeans afterwards but he doesn’t care, shifting himself in Ian’s lap so he can sit up properly, his hands resting on either side of the other man’s face. There’s a light sweat on the side of Ian’s head, and Mickey has to fight the urge to pull him close and lick it.

‘Didn’t think the lumberjack thing did it for me.’ Mickey says, his thumbs trailing along the hair on either side. It’s warm and Mickey doesn’t know if it’s moist from his lips or sweat, but he doesn’t care, it’s hot. ‘But apparently…’

Ian smiles, and it’s a big toothy grin that seems even brighter amongst the facial hair which makes Mickey’s chest constrict because he is so fucking head over heels, gay as hell, in love.  

This is the shit he dreamt of as a kid, in prison, in Mexico. The freedom to feel turned on by something as juvenile as additional facial hair and being allowed to feel that way. He could’ve never imagined, as the scared closeted kid he was, that he’d find the simple act of loving his husband’s beard so freeing. That feeling it under his fingers lightens the pressure in his chest in ways he never knew it would. There’s no more limitations on their love and the way Mickey chooses to express it, there’s not a time stamp or expiry date, and things finally feel like they’re falling into the right place.

They kiss for a few moments more, lightly and holding back, before Ian drags them up off the sofa and upstairs into the shower. Ian smiles smugly as they brush their teeth next to one another when he catches Mickey staring at his jaw in the mirror and Mickey rolls his eyes as he spits into the sink. He’s a sucker.

They climb into bed, Ian tucking himself in behind Mickey like usual, his firm chest pressed up against Mickey’s back. They don’t speak, both men worn out and tired, but they don’t need to speak, there’s no need to fill their empty space with mindless chatter. Not when they have all the years ahead of them to talk shit and waste time. Ian leans over Mickey to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, his bearded chin lingering slightly against Mickey’s forehead as he moves back to resume his position behind. He knows Ian did it on purpose and it sends a shiver down Mickey’s spine, his breath hitching and Ian pulls him in closer, breathing warm into his neck.

He feels Ian’s warm lips press against the back of his neck, the bristles on his chin touching his skin as he kisses him gently. It’s a subtle and soft message of goodnight, I love you and Mickey squeezes the hand at his waist, goodnight, I love you. He closes his eyes and breathes.

He’ll probably wake up with a bitch of a beard burn on his chin in the morning but he’s definitely going to have to hide Ian’s razor before he gets any bad ideas.

[daincrediblegg]

Can you please feed us some GORGEOUS Gen x Arthur hc's ????? Because we love you and we love Arthur and we stan our OTP. Please and thanks xp [I got'chu, boo

Genevieve x Arthur Fleck Headcanons

lmao LMAO LMAO ok so... idk what this is??? this is just how we are irl. ain’t no real scenario around it, but it still serves as a basic breakdown of our relationship as it’s unfolded the last 7 months or so. Thank you for giving me a platform to share this lmao. Sorry if it’s cringey and personal as hell, but hey, that’s life, and y’all know I don’t give a fuck by now.

We met in October. I’d snuck into a showing of Joker with my dad after the premier of Zombieland 2, and watched his story unfold. I couldn’t get him out of my head the whole night. I saw him again a little less than a week later, and I’d realized I’d wanted more. We’d agreed to meet for coffee the next day.

The next couple of weeks was just pure fascination with each other. I poured my heart into learning everything about him, and he seemed so genuinely interested in learning all he could about me too. 

Even though I was going through what’s easily been one of the most harrowing mental health crises that I’ve ever experienced… he fell quick for me, and hard. And I did too. He… he made me feel like I wasn’t alone. We were leading very similar lives (minus, y’know, murder- on my end), and knowing that he felt my pain when it seemed like not a whole lot of people really did… it made me feel seen. And it didn’t take long for things to get really heated. We’ve been together ever since.

He’s the one that got me to start taking my medication. I’d never been on antidepressants, and I was a little scared of the side-affects since the only other ones I’d tried made me dizzy and out of breath (and I’m a massive hypochondriac on top of all the other shit I’ve got going on in my head). But he convinced me that I was worth living for, and that was the little push I needed. I knew I wanted to get better, but he’d convinced me that I could. 

I drew him a lot those first few months we were together. His physicality still entrances me to this day. His elegance, yet this almost distinctly cartoonish poise and his innocence… he inspired me a lot. More than I had been in months. He’s shy about being the subject of a lot of my drawings… but he lets me anyway because he’s amazed at how it shows how I see him (which is fucking beautiful, like a disney prince thank you very much). 

We spent a lot of those first few months just lying in bed after a long day of writing and drawing, holding each other close and talking. About everything. It all felt so freeing to me that I could say just about anything to him and have him actually listen without judgement. And sure, he has his opinions, but he doesn’t dismiss mine.  

We did so much together too. We used to go to movies (not just his lmao), we got hot chocolates together and walked around town during christmas time.

For Christmas he gave me a beautiful necklace- a pretty blue/green pendant on a gold chain (that y’all might’ve seen in some of my selfies- and I wear it DAILY) and a silver bracelet with little red roses and garnets on it. They’re some of the best presents I’ve ever gotten. 

I gave him a scarf (that I’d worn out to work for weeks so that it’d smell like me at his request) and some chocolate.

I was also dealing with quite a few health problems those first few months, so he’s well versed in all my medical bullshit lmao.

I’ve got a weird bladder that just constantly feels infected (even though it’s actually not most of the time), which means that we can’t have penetrative sex sometimes (but we’re just as happy to touch each other in different ways even when I can’t stand to go all the way).

I was still having some panic attacks when I was on a higher dosage of my medication, and he’s very good at bringing me down from them. He holds me close and tells me to breathe slowly and deeply with him until I calm down and start to feel okay- even when I get super fidget-y from it. I can’t begin to thank him enough for helping me through it all as he has.

We don’t argue much. We see eye-to-eye where it counts, so we hardly ever get into moral disputes. But when we do it’s usually when I’m in a depressive rut and I’ve gone distant. He’s never raised his voice at me when it happens, but some heated conversations have spawned from it. And I’ll admit I’m not the most eloquent with these things sometimes. And I’ve said things that I didn’t mean to hurt him but just to say with honesty. He knows I have doubts sometimes. He does too, but we’ve been able to work through them well enough-better than most I imagine.

We uh… we have a lot of sex. No surprise.

We’re virgins (well, technically. At least with the opposite sex). We’re horny. We’ve got high sex drives and we’re not afraid to take it out on each other.

I’ve had a lot of body anxiety in the past, but with Arthur it feels even more non-existent than it’s ever been. He really loves my body. Not in a fetish-y way like a lot of guys have hinted at in the past. When I’m with him I really feel like his desire for me comes from love, that my body isn’t just a thing to get him off, but rather that he desires me for who and what I am, and I haven’t really ever felt that even with any of the other FICTIONAL guys I’ve been with before.

And he knows that I love him just the same. Body and soul. It’s a total two-way street. And we never feel the need to change for each other one bit. For that I’m so grateful god I could fucking cry.

And it’s made me do a lot of things that I kinda didn’t want or thought were inaccessible to me before I met him. I fucking wear lacy bras and matching panties (for the first time in my life!!!) on the reg because Arthur said that I deserved to have them if I wanted them (not to mention that I look beautiful in them to him), and now I’m coming around to the idea of putting on a little makeup ‘cause it makes me feel really pretty and Arthur agrees???? Like this MAN has really made me flourish for the better tbh I love him so fucking much. 

Before the pandemic he used to meet me at my regular haunt to watch me work after his gig for the day. He’d sit across from me and watch me fumble around with all my outlines and notes, sometimes taking out his own journal himself while he steals some of my coffee, taking my hand and running a thumb over it idly.

He really enjoys my screenwriting. My writing is very exciting, he says. He’s really supportive of my career choice, even though it’s still a long ways off from being anything tangible or serious. And he’s very supportive of the things I’ve written about him too. He doesn’t mind as long as some things get to stay just between us (and by and large he says I’ve done a pretty good job of that lmao). 

I sing for him a lot. We dance together too. I’ve always been a singer for as long as I can remember but being so depressed so long I didn’t really as much as I’d have liked. But for him I sing just about every day. Lotta swing-jazz numbers like from Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby and Caro Emerald. Some classic rock like Elton John and Billy Joel and Jethro Tull. He says he likes the way I sing their songs the best. Idk if I agree with him, but I believe him. 

He says we’re a dynamic duo in a way. Like since he dances and I sing, we’re a complete show. It’s the cutest fucking shit he’s ever said to me 

We kind of agreed to get married once the lockdown’s over. Neither of us really proposed to the other, exactly. We had been thinking about it for months (we’ve been talking about it since Christmas lmao- he’s said he wants to marry me so many times), but the first few weeks of this lockdown thing were really hard on me. It all felt very harrowing with everything changing all at once. 

And it was really touch-and-go for us. It was harder for me to feel him. And sure it had been hard before but it was… not quite as bad as this was. I almost thought we were done. 

But he stuck around, and helped me through it as much as he could despite how numb I was feeling. And he was still there when the dust settled, even stronger than before. So I told him one morning that I wanted to get married when all of this was over, and he agreed. 

So once the shelter in place order is lifted, we’re gonna go to the same jewlery shop he got me my favorite necklace, and pick out some rings. I for one am very excited.

And until then we’re perfectly content to enjoy this break from our normal everyday lives with each other. Even though it’s been harder for me to write we’re pulling through this whole thing just fine.