#arthur fleck x fem!reader

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Subway Obsessions Arthur's POV ch.1

Arthur Fleck POV x Fem!Reader  

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: From Arthurs POV. It's just another night on the subway. A typical ride on the Gotham train on his way home from a long day of running errands and away from his tedious depressive thoughts. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the woman he could only seem to catch in passing, the woman he’d been secretly watching, following, fantasizing about nightly. Perhaps the unending misery that is the city above had him thinking of change, of something new to obsess about. Something to draw his mind away from the blistering and the mundane. Would he finally get the courage to talk to her? 

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, swearing, stalking, obsession, mentions of violence, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Beginning to a series? Who knows. May add things later. First fic, btw! I'm hyper fixated now, so expect more. This is something I've been mulling around with for a while. I've done this story from both the readers' POV and from Arthur's because I can't get enough!! So, make sure to read both! I loved writing from this perspective so much, btw! Literally! Send ideas, edits, etc. my way!! And be nice please. The first chapter is mostly fluff/ descriptive plot/character building. Cheers! Enjoyyy!

Word Count: 3.9k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions 

CHAPTER 1: Chance Meeting 

Today was another mundane day. Arthur had been out earlier in the evening running errands for his mother. Picking up T.V. dinners at the grocer and medications for him and her at the local pharmacy. Still, getting around the city was a chore in of itself. He figured the subway would be the easiest and quickest way home. It was nearing 10 o'clock pm. His mother would be worried, and it was getting late. He knew the dangers of roaming Gotham city at these hours. His mother used to say, "That's when the colorful people come out." A way to make something serious, completely unserious. Still, he knew the dangers and tried as hard as he might to keep his wits about him. Easier said than done when you're a man with a neurological disorder, apparently so many people hate you for. He wished they’d understood or tried at least.  

He always pondered why the people of Gotham were so... well so mean! Everyone he encountered save for the very, very few were just assholes to him. Perhaps it was the political climate? With Thomas Wayne running for government placement, it probably didn't help. Make the rich richer and the poor poorer he thought. Perhaps it was the state of the city itself, the infrastructure, the lack of resources. He sure has been on the wrong end of that stick one too many times. "Good people suffer Happy," his mother would say. But he never understood why it had to be that way. Life was circumstantial. He didn't ask to have what little he did. He didn't even ask to be born and thought life was the real joke.

It doesn't have to make sense to be funny! He jested internally. Because its fucked! And there lies the comedy for those broken enough to see, yet perhaps healed enough to laugh at the pain. Because, what else can you do?  

His mind wandered through these endless fields of thought when a train car stopped in front of him. He had been standing on the platform disassociating for some time. Perhaps he even forgot where he was for a moment, ruminating over the wrongs of life and playing them out differently in his head. The things he didn't say or do, what he could have done differently... 

The brisk hiss and click of the air brakes as they screeched to a halt brought him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the doors to open. As he did, a disheveled looking figure pushed past him while exiting. He burst out in a cry of compulsory laughter and stepped on the train. He was in the last car and immediately noticed it was bearable, as bearable as riding the subway can be he postulated. 

In his search for a seat towards the end of the train car, he noticed a large putrid looking spill in the back. It melted off the seats and slid across the aisle. It looked sticky. Best to avoid that then, he thought. He opted for a bench seat away from the offending area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, arm outstretched on the head of the seat next to him. No one was in this car except for him. He found a moment of solace and drank it in, filling himself with the noiseless satisfaction of silence and peace when a warbled voice broke over the loud speaker. He couldn't really understand it, but the semblance of words spoke what sounded like “platform 19”. It was all he could understand through the robot whine. He felt anticipation rising within him. 

At approximately 10:15 p.m., the doors of the subway train broke open with a gush of cold night air. At the other end of the subway, he watched as a woman stepped onto the train like a fawn. Scared and unsure of where to go or sit. She was bright and colorful; she immediately caught his eye. Was this what his mother meant by colorful people? He thought to himself. He quickly realized it was her! The girl he had fantasized about daily and nightly, hoping to catch her on the train but only seeming to in his thoughts and dreams, remembering her face, her scent that penetrated her surroundings. He had tirelessly followed her the first time he saw her. She was the only person to smile at him that day. He had to know more and had to know why. But she wasn't always on the same train. He always hoped to run into her and had almost given up, thinking she must have been some sort of hallucination he created for himself to lessen his own pain. But there she was.  

She looked different tonight. She looked like a predator, displaying colors brightly in the face of possible danger. She was a force; he felt the atmosphere change as soon as she stepped in through the steel doors, a thickness lifted in the air and he could feel himself tense in his seat. His clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, his collar too tight, his hands, sweaty. She always looked beautiful when he saw her, she always looked content and comfortable. Hair in a messy bun with strands falling about her face swayed by the wind that surged through the train car. Sweats he could still make out her figure through, leaving him wanting more every time, it drove him crazy! But today she looked like she was straight out of the films on the TV! He thought to himself. She made him think of glamour, it's the only word that truly fit, like the old films he would watch with his mom. Wow! Was she a sight to see, a cool pristine liquid flowing over his burning eyes. A soothing image of pure proclivity. An unknown sense of calm swept over him. 

He watched, frozen, as she cautiously observed the train car searching for a seat. He looked at her from top to bottom. She was significantly smaller than him, petite, probably around five feet three he gauged. Fuzzy black boots, blue jeans tightly hugging her figure, full thick thighs, his mouth began to water - he thirsted for her, wanted to drink in her every essence. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to choke it down. A tight black shirt under a small cropped pink sweater with red hearts all over. It perfectly displayed her large soft breasts. Brown curls bounced about her shoulders as she walked, strands of them fell daintily on her face and cheeks. As she walked, she would flick it away with a quick movement of her head. The way she did that, moving her hair out of her face without using her hands. It made him tingle in all the right places. His mind raced. What else can she do without using her hands? he thought.  

There was something pink in her hair too, he saw as she walked past. She didn't notice him at first. Most people don't he thought to himself. Although this thought disappointed him, he didn't fault her for it. He had the urge to make her notice him. To be a presence and to be objectified by her, he only wished he could hold that kind of power.  

As she passed, the scent he had come to know as her- wafted past him, he sucked in through his teeth sharply. It was heaven on earth. Stimulating. He would follow that scent hoping to find her, mercilessly searching. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac, and he felt his cock spasm. She was eyeing the seats towards the back where that odd spill was. A butterfly he thought. It's a pink butterfly in her hair. He immediately felt like a school boy again, fawning over and wanting to get the attention of the pretty girl and for her to return it.  

"This one's fine!" He blurted out, not really knowing what he was saying. She turned around, her beauty, dark, striking, and he found it hard to speak again. He stammered and was able to get the lump out of his throat to follow up with; "I don't know what that is back there but these are not so bad" his voice felt cracked but he tried to contain his composure, he didn't want to scare her off. He was the only other person on the train, and it must have jolted her since she didn't see him at first. Plus, she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep or weirdo, he thought to himself. There was some truth behind those thoughts, but that didn't make him a bad person, he thought. All day, he spends trying to have a nice day to make himself and others happy, trying to think good thoughts, trying not to let the bad influence the good he can salvage. 

"Oh, thank you!" A sweet voice broke the monotony of thought, and immediately he was flung back into the present. She made her way to the seats laid out in front of him. A row of sideways seating. He watched her sit gracefully, slowly, like a calculated ballet dancer, he thought. Every move fluid, every move perfect. When she sat, she arranged her things on the seat next to her and settled in. He wondered to himself where she was going. Why she had so many bags, why she was riding the subway so late, as a woman, she should be terrified. This city is not safe, especially for someone as strikingly beautiful as her. She was like a beacon of light, too bright to stare at, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and simply couldn't resist the allure. 

She actually sat next to me! He thought. Only one seat away, actually next to me. But that wasn't all. She saw him, noticed him, heard him, and listened to him. The weight of these simple gestures made his hands sweaty, and he tried his best to remain aloof. The doors of the train opened on the other side of her, and a breeze blew her hair behind her and over her face. He couldn't help but see her, every aspect of her. He studied her every move, every inch of her body. He wanted this to last, for this image to never leave his mind.  

The wind that blew past her carried on it her scent. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sweet alluring scent of peach? No. Some kind of berry? No. When the doors shut and the pressure created another breeze, the scent wafted to him again. Taking it all in, he identified the smell as watermelon. Some kind of fruity smell filled his senses with the feeling of euphoria. It was intoxicating. He wondered what it would be like to be pressed up against her, inhaling her deeply. He looked down with a deep sigh when he looked back over. She was moving a strand of hair out of her face and caught a glimpse of her looking at him as well. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she broke her gaze. She was fire, burning too hot near him, and he wanted so badly to play, to burn himself, engulf himself in her flames breathlessly.  

He tried to come up with something to say, anything. How do I talk to her? What would I even say without sounding stupid? He thought. He watched on as the florescent lights above her flickered. It lit up parts of her he hadn't seen upon first observation. Glitter decorated her collar bones and cheeks. Her sweater was slightly unzipped. He could see the peeking out of her cleavage. Sparkling with glitter, so pretty, she reminded him of the stars of the night sky. Unmistakably beautiful, yet so. Far. Away. He had been working up the courage to say something to her, to hear her voice again, he didn't want to forget it. A symphony replayed in his mind. He needed more.  

He stumbled over his words, "Sorry, I-it's hard for me to talk, I meant to introduce myself. I'm Arthur, " he said in the kindest, most unassuming voice he could muster. She looked up and locked eyes. They burned his insides like hot coals. He anticipated her reply, not knowing if she would even engage in conversation with him. "No worries!" She spoke in a reassuring way that made his heart flutter. "I know how it can be, trust me!" She sounded genuine. Kind. There was something underneath her voice, though he couldn't quite conceptualize. Fear? Doubt, maybe? He wanted to take it away.  

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Again, her voice beaming so light and so lifting. She reached out to shake his hand that he had offered. Her hand was small and was practically swallowed by his. Her fingers were warm, sweeping softly over his palm as she grasped his hand in hers. It's a simple thing, he thought. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him crumble inside. She felt so nice! "Y/N," he said. "I like that." He lamented. Such a beautiful name. But everything about her was beautiful. Her presence was wholesome and welcoming. Is this real? he pondered. Thoughts took over again, and not knowing how to continue the conversation, they sat in silence for a moment as he worked up the courage to speak again. 

Moments passed that felt like a lifetime, but he was content in her presence, soaking up her aura. As he went to ask her a question, she moved to speak as well. Catching each other off guard, Arthur profusely apologized "No it's okay, go ahead," he said, not wanting to interrupt her. "No, no, that's okay, what were you going to say?" She insisted back. Her voice was small and mousey, she seemed so shy. Why would she be? She screams confidence and power. Even in her apprehensive movements, she seems calculated, he thought to himself. He stole another glance at her. Her eyes sparkled reminiscent of a smokey quartz gem in a bracelet he once saw in a shop window. A thought of her adorned in nothing but gems crossed his mind. He tried to hold onto the image before it left his mind's eye. He felt a flush in his cheeks again, and his eyes darted. He couldn't look her in the eyes for too long. It made him nervous. He was working up the urge to speak again, to say something, anything.  

He broke the silence and asked, "So what brings you to ride the subway so late at night? Aren't you scared?" He uttered jokingly. After saying it, he felt immediate stupidity. Why would I say that? He thought and started an inner spiral. As if seeing his reaction to his own question and wanting to ease the tension building within him, Y/N said, " Well, I work at the Gotham shelter overnight. So, having to ride the train every night, I guess, I've gotten used to it for the most part. But, yeah, I do get scared sometimes. The city can be super sketchy, and I've been attacked twice already, so I had to buy mace and stuff to try and protect myself."  

The words spilled out of her mouth like a wave of glass, he couldn't fathom her ever saying this of all things, it was jolting for him and triggered something within him he had tried so long to hide. His mind raced. He felt anger and rage well up inside of him it hardened his sternum and burned in his throat. He became stiff but was unaware. The spiraling began to start again. This city was ruining people, hurting people, good people! He thought. She helps people, and then people hurt her?! Pieces of shit! He screamed internally. The emotions he felt were at war within himself. He felt rage for her pain and suffering at the hands of this city's denizens, he felt fear for her life knowing she rides the train every night, he felt regret, why couldn't he have been there to help, to do something? He all but took the pain on as his own, it soaked through to his core. He too had been at the mercy of some of the worst people he has ever had the displeasure of encountering in this god forsaken city, he too had been attacked, hurt, mercilessly tortured by these fucking terrible people.  

Lost in his train of thought and looking straight ahead he couldn't help but sternly say in sympathy "These people are just fucking terrible!" She must have noticed his change in demeanor at this declaration. He suddenly felt a warmth cross his leg, and lightly squeeze. It was smooth and comforting. His concentration broke completely. Pulled out of a trance by her as if the thoughts were just zapped out of his brain. His eyes quickly darted back to her where they followed the length of her shoulder, to her arm, and from her arm to her hand that rested upon his thigh. He felt the muscles in his face relax, his shoulders dropped, jaw unclenched. The sheer power she had over him he thought. The warmth emanating off of her palm was like security, a blanket of nostalgia. He couldn't remember the last time he felt what felt like love, like connection, or attachment. He couldn't help but see flashes of images in his mind, her moving her hand closer to his cock which had began to throb. He tried to brush away those thoughts but they plagued him. She was touching him. Something that never happens to him. He immediately craved her touch, he wanted more, he wondered how that would be possible. He thought this couldn't be real. Not this time.  

Once again, breaking his thought pattern she spoke, and he gave her his full attention. "Yeah, but I'm ok now!" She said in a reassuring tone. Her voice, like petals on velvet. Soft, gentle. "You're here now! And so, I feel safe." Safe? He thought, with me? Like she trusts me? He could feel the negative thoughts start to brim to the surface of his mind but quelled them by responding instead. He needed clarification. The words she spoke just didn't make sense to him. He couldn't see why she would or should trust him, although he so badly wanted her to, for this to be true, he needed it to be. He suddenly felt the urge to never leave her, to always be by her side. He would watch, he would follow, and he would do anything for her.  

He only imagined what it would be like to know her both romantically and intimately. "You feel safe? W-with me?" He spoke haphazardly, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear, hoped to hear. "I do." She looked into his eyes sincerely. His heart leapt into his throat; he couldn't breathe. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to feel her against him. He shifted his legs at the thought. Looking up at him like that weakened him in so many ways. Most noticeably, in his pants, where he tried to conceal the results of his dirty thoughts. "Then I will protect you Y/N" he proclaimed proudly. A shy smile touched her lips and she continued to gaze into his eyes. He smiled back. I make her feel safe, he thought. She is comfortable in my presence. No one even bothers talking to me, no one ever wants to talk to me. He had the urge to speak once more but couldn't find the words.  

Before either of them could speak, the subway speaker rang out once again in that barely audible robotic toned voice announcing the next stop as the harsh brakes squeaked heavily to a stop. As if anticipating her to leave, he just as quickly stood up and offered out his hand. "Thank you," her voice sang. She turned to face him, her small stature looking up at him once more. He held his composure but felt the heat well up inside him. "It was so nice having someone to ride the train with tonight for a change!" She cheerfully exclaimed with a smile.  

She had grabbed her things and had let go of his hand. What sweet bliss it was for the few seconds he had held it. Her fingers, so dainty and soft. The train screeched to a halt, and he instinctively grabbed her hand again and put his other hand at the small of her back to steady her. He could feel the soft curve of her spine. He slowly moved a pinky closer, hoping she wouldn't notice, tracing the line of her jeans as he did, feeling the line of her panty through the fabric. He quickly pulled away as she exited the train. He had held back. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to turn her around, grab her face and kiss her, shove her onto the subway seats, and have his way with her, make her cry out. He wanted her to miss work. He wanted her to quit! He wanted her all to himself.  

This moment was too perfect. It felt like a dream. As she stepped off the platform and began to walk away, he stood as the doors shut, helplessly watching her as she slowly walked. Unable to stop time. As the train brakes hissed and cranked, he saw her stop and turn around. She had stepped to the doors, but it was too late. He watched on as her figure shrunk into the distance as the train traveled once again into the dark tunnel. He waved. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Platform 19. He thought, I'll remember this time. 

[star-dust-stuf]

Arthur Fleck x fem!reader

title: baby, think you’re bad?

warnings: violence, harassment

a/n: I wanted to write this because I think I’d be flattered if someone killed for me tbh, sorry for any typos, as always enjoy!

-

it was the last place I wanted to be, about nine at night on an empty bus- I wish it was empty all there was where three men sitting across me laughing like they where drunk and a man dressed as a clown a little farther from me but he didn’t seem to bother me as much as the drunk men across me. All the man in the clown suit did was mind his business, didn’t even look at me half the ride but he did when the men started to bother me and he saw it.

“Hey?” One of the men said, waving his hand to get my attention. I didn’t look up from my lap that my purse was sitting beside me and I was gripping on edge.

“Hello?!” He was getting angry I could tell by his voice, didn’t look.

“He’s trying to be nice, hey?” The other one day next to him, I saw by his shoes.

I turned my head slowly to the clown, a tear formed in my eye from fear and he saw this. He glanced at me and the men, again and again before on of the men threw a piece of rolled up paper at me that he grabbed from his pocket. I mad wit clear I was crying and they began to mock me.

“Aw, don’t cry!” They mocked, one of them touched my shoulder and slid next to me, he touched my thigh.

I tried to get up but he grabbed my wrist and sat me back down. “Let go of me!” I didn’t sound scared as much as I was.

All the sudden my attention was drawn to the man far from me, he began to laugh uncontrollably it seemed he couldn’t help it. “Something funny?” The man sat up and got towards him.

He still laughed and covered his mouth, they mocked him, laughing along and on of them even sat beside him, talk his wig off showing his brown hair that gleamed in the dim light as it flickered.

“I- have a- c- condition!” He laughed as he reached for his bag.

“This your friend?” The man said looking at me.

I didn’t say no or yes, I was too busy with the man next to me, he took it upon himself to put his hand on the back of my head, when my tears grew stronger he pulled my hair hard enough for me to yell out in pain.

Laughing, the man got up after the others knocked the bag from his hand, he heard me cry and felt to do something. I saw him reach in his back pocket but the man knocked him to the floor. The two men kicked him, the clown stayed down, not fighting, he was building the courage I saw on his face he was.

Holding himself he got fed up. A loud shot echoed and a yell escaped on of the men who slammed his body on the wall of the train, leaving a blood trail that stained. The other two men jumped, this time the clown had the gun pointed at the man next to me. He got up, hands in the air and he didn’t hesitate to shoot him down.

I screamed aloud and got to the floor, dragging myself to the door and putting my knees to my chest, my head faced down. One last man ended up making to the other part of the train and of course the clown followed, I heard the shots far from me.

Crying as the tears stained the floor under me, it was silent and all I could do was stay still, I had no choice but to pray to myself. Rocking back and forth I felt a gloved hand on my bare knee. I jumped.

“It’s ok..” I heard the clown say, he breathed heavily, his gun lied beside him as he was on his knees. His makeup was ruined, sweat drowned his makeup the blue was on his chin and the red stained his neck.

I looked at his gun, my tears swelled. “No- it’s ok I won’t hurt you!” He pushed his gun behind him.

He softly put my knees down, then putting my dress down over them to make me more comfortable, he was polite, and kind. He looked at me with his eyes, his so soft eyes. He was scared for himself, he’s never killed anyone and I saw that in his face.

“T- thank you.” I whispered to him.

He glanced at me, he was overall shocked. “What?”

I chocked, “thank you…”

He tilted his head, “why?”

“You helped me.”

“But I killed them.”

I shrugged, wiping the tears from my cheeks, “and?” He smiled, “is that really a- a condition?” I sniffed.

He tripped on his words. “Yeah.”

I nodded, “are you ok?”

He noticed I saw him being beaten on the ground. “Yeah…”

“Can I walk you home?”

“I killed three men, and you want to walk me home?”

I nodded, I wasn’t even thinking about what he did only why he did it, why did he do it? As we walked up the steps and I to a long tunnel to the city I wanted to know. He was tripping over his oversized shoes and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Why did you- do that?” I held my arms in the cold.

“They wouldn’t leave you alone, I guess I did it for myself too.” He saw me shivering.

Reaching into his bag he grabbed his oversized coat as well, matching his overall outfit. He put it over my shoulders and his sweet smile shined through his makeup. “Thanks.”

“Why aren’t you scared?” He questioned me.

I shrugged, “I guess I’m just grateful someone was there or it could’ve been worse.” He looked down at the wet pavement and smiled to his large shoes.

[circusdexxter]

I highly doubt anyone is gonna see this, but I read an Arthur fleck x reader (I don’t remember if it was gn, male, or fem reader) fic recently, where the reader comes home and searches for arthur, and ends up finding him in the fridge. I CANT find it, and I don’t remember the author 😭😭 If anyone can help me out and knows who the author is, please send me a message, I’d appreciate it so much.

[the-marshals-wife]

Imagines Masterlist

Updated 10/31/2024 | Requests are currently CLOSED| New! Adding fics on A03 🤍

I write exclusively x Fem!Reader

Most of my writing is fluff and hurt+comfort, both romantic and platonic. Willing to indulge in angst™ if the muse descends

All of my writing is rated General Audiences unless otherwise stated with specific content warnings detailed on each

For R-rated fandoms like John Wick or Joker, I still rate my writing non-explicit because the audience hopefully knows what they're in for based on the source content. I.E. blood and violence may be mentioned, but not graphically described unless otherwise stated

I do not write smut or NSFW content

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[rawiswhore]

Arthur Fleck x Fem Reader- “Good Morning Sunshine”

You woke up wrapped in Arthur's arms, laying your head on his shoulder, your torso sitting and laying across and on top of his torso and legs.

The room the two of you were sleeping in was dark, everything in the room was dimmly and darkly colored except for the white walls all around the room, as well as the window outside colored slightly blue.

It was raining outside, not hard, but drizzling outside, some raindrops stained on the window, and you and Arthur were sharing the same bed together, sleeping in the same apartment Arthur lives in.

You're happy that you now sleep on clean white bedsheets instead of those nasty looking floral bedsheets he used to sleep on.

Arthur was still fast asleep, you were laying on his thin, emaciated chest, you could hear his heartbeat when he woke up.

His chest was slowly moving up and down while he was asleep, dragging you along with you, and thankfully he doesn't snore.

You laid on Arthur's chest for a little while to take some time to wake up completely, and you had an idea to wake up Arthur.

Once you felt like you were completely awake now, you then lifted the upper part of your body (i.e. your head and torso) off of Arthur's chest.

Your legs were straddling Arthur's lap, and thank God he's wearing tighty whities so his cock won't insert in your pussy.

Though, maybe he might have some morning wood when he wakes up.

You leaned your face slightly above Arthur's face, but not too much, not like your face was touching Arthur's face, only your head and face were slightly hovering over his face.

You put the palm of your hand on Arthur's cheek, where your palm brushed down the side of Arthur's cheek, brushing your palm down the side of his neck and pausing at his chest.

When you brushed your palm down Arthur's face, suddenly, his eyes opened, jittering a bit.

Yes, he's waking up! you thought, an ear to ear smile spread across your face.

The first thing Arthur saw when his eyes opened was you.

Surprisingly, he wasn't annoyed at all by you waking him up.

"Good morning" you said to him.

That's the first thing you said to him this morning.

"Good morning" he responded, smiling at you.

You then put your palm back on the side of his cheek, where you gently and slowly brushed your palm down his face, down his neck and to his chest.

You did this to him over and over again, brushing the palm of your hand down to his chest.

You even caressed his chest with the palm of your hand a few times, caressing it up and down.

The hair on his arms was standing up when you did this, forming goosebumps on his arms.

This sent tingles down his spine while you did this to him, it felt so good having you touch him.

He had a smile across his face as you did this to him, and thankfully, he didn't break out into his haunting, iconic laughter while you did this to him.

You wanted this moment to last for quite a while, and you did let it last for a few minutes, until it was time for breakfast.

And yes, while you caressed Arthur, he had morning wood while you did this to him, his cock standing still, but wouldn't enter in your pussy thanks to his underwear.

________________________________________________________________

I know this fanfic is short, but I did have this fantasy recently. 

I might add more to it in the future. 

[hannahbisssssss]

Arthur Fleck x Reader Angst (Vent)

She was so close to making it to the doorway when Arthur stopped, panting, and looked up at her with big puppy dog eyes.

"(Y/N), you have to tell me what's wrong," his chest rose and fell with a sudden rythm to it. Her fists clenched and her teeth grinded in anger.

"Arthur," her tone was low and dangerous, "Get out of the way." Arthur remained in the doorway.

"Honey, I don't want you to leave here in anger, you might break something or hurt someone," his voice was gentle as he slowly stood up.

"You should talk," her voice spat at him.

"Please, tell me what's got you so riled up," Arthur's eyes remained locked on hers, empathy clearly showing through his eyes as tears brimmed at the edges. He slowly walked towards her and she lunged at him. She hit him right in the chest, screaming profane language in his direction.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY! JUST LET ME LEAVE THIS FUCKING PLACE, I CAN'T TAKE IT!" her voice reverberated off of the walls. "I'M SO FUCKING TOXIC. IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT I DO, I CAN'T CHANGE WHAT HAPPENED, I CAN'T CHANGE HOW I WAS TREATED WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, I CAN'T TAKE BACK THESE FUCKING WORDS I'M SAYING RIGHT NOW. SOMEONE JUST LET ME DIE!" the beating on the chest had stopped and (Y/N) collapsed on the floor below Arthur.

Arthur's tears had finally slipped through as he gently swooped down to hold his beautiful girlfriend.

"You can't change what happened in the past. You can't change how your family treated you or how you reacted to it. You can only focus on the here and the now. I know that you're angry and scared and upset, but you have to remember to never stay stuck in the past. Your heart lies in the present, and I will remain here to help you let that heart free. It's okay to be angry, but you can't stay stuck in these emotions," her cries had softened as she soaked Arthur's shirt. Arthur's hand caressed (Y/N)'s scalp as she wept into his clothes.

"I had to have been the issue, there's no other explanation," her voice was fragile and croaky. Arthur picked up her head and kissed her forehead.

"You can't continue to blame yourself for how they treated you, you were just a kid, you couldn't keep your emotions tethered as though they would disappear. They never do. That's what I love most about you, how free you can be with your emotions, even when it hurts. But dont ever, EVER, excuse the abuse doled out to you, physical, verbal, emotional, or the like," the tears that spread into (Y/N)'s cheeks were many.

"It's so fucking hard, Arthur."

"I know, baby."

---------------------------------------------------

[mctherofdragons]

In the Afterglow | 2 | F.W.

moodboard by @minty-malfoy​.

Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU

Rating: Mature, Future Chapters will Feature Explicit Content

Trigger Warnings: Angst, cussing, mild sexual content, mentions of extramarital affairs, cheating, nudity

Author’s Note: Let me know if you’d like to be on the tag list! 

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @sunflowernarry @vivianweasley @haf-the-trash-panda @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @msmarklee1213 @n3ssm0nique @satellitespidey  @michaylahpfan27  @girl22334 @starlightweasley @minty-malfoy @theweasleytwinsgirl

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

November 10.

Fall had fully arrived in London, decorating the ground with crunchy orange and red leaves. You pulled a sweater out of your closet and pulled it on. Molly had knit it for you last Christmas. It was maroon with little flecks of grey throughout. Something about it being homemade made you love it more. Being wed into the Weasleys offered you a family you hadn’t had before. One that gave gifts and hugged on holidays; one that shared laughter and drinks far into the night on Christmas Eve; one that cared for you deeply and unconditionally. Your heart jumped a bit when you felt two arms around your waist suddenly.

“Hi honey,” George said, turning to kiss your lips. You kissed back, placing your hand on the back of his neck. A giggle escaped your lips as you moved your hands down to the cool touch of his trouser buttons. The autumn weather had made you more affectionate, seeking warmth in your husband’s arms.

“I have about an hour until I really have to leave. Dinner’s on in the slow cooker, so...I don’t have anything to occupy me for a while…”

But, as was typical lately, George didn’t fulfill your requests.

“I have to go get to the shop,” he pouted. You sighed with an honest attempt to hide your annoyance. When you and George had first married, intimacy was far more...exciting. He would steal you away into the back storage room of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, hoping Fred didn’t come wandering back. You lived in back-arching, toe-curling ecstasy for your first year of marriage. But now, when you actually got around to having sex, it had lost its thrill. George didn’t show or tell you much lately how much he loved you. It hurt, but you were too afraid to let him know that.

You didn’t really have anything to say that wouldn’t have been slightly cruel, so you huffed off to the bathroom to finish your makeup. George followed, leaning against the door frame. “I’m sorry,” he sounded genuine. “But I mean, I have to go to work, honey.”

“I know,” you said, leaning forward to apply mascara to your eyes. He came over and gave you a kiss behind your ear, which only made you grow more frustrated with his lack of fulfilling what you wanted.

“Yup,” you said, moving away from him. The sound of your heels clicking on the tile as you head into the kitchen somehow annoyed George beyond belief.

“You really are being a bit of a bitch about this,” he huffed. His words stung. George was never one for name-calling, and just the sound of the cuss word rolling off his tongue cut you to the quick.

George had grown used to you, you reasoned. He no longer needed to ‘woo’ you because the shiny diamond on your finger had ensured you were his for good.

“Don’t start,” you warned. You busied yourself with filling your travel mug with coffee. The sound of George’s sighing made you look up. He was fastening the buttons of his jacket. For some reason, you felt like crying but pushed your tears back.

“Can we chat about this later?”

You nodded, handing him a paper bag with his lunch in it. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead and left.

You sighed, pulling your phone out of your pocket. Mindlessly, you scrolled to your recent texts and found Fred’s name. You took a type breath as you typed, feeling your heart murmur as you typed.

Thinking of you, Freddie.

But you quickly erased the text, forbidding yourself to continue the thoughts you had started to entertain.

——————-

Later that evening, you stood in the back room of the shop, placing some things onto a storage shelf. It was typical that when you were done with work, you’d head over to Weasley Wizard Wheezes and give the boys a hand. Fred was sitting at a nearby computer, sending an email to one of the suppliers they frequently worked with. He had noticed you and George hadn’t said a single word to one another all night.

“Hey, y/n?”

You heard Fred begin to speak, so you turned to your head, walking over the computer.

“You seem down, is everything alright?”

This was the way of things between you and Fred. He knew you like the lyrics of his favorite song. If the tune was even a little bit off, he could sense it. There were times throughout your time of knowing him that he had used this to comfort you before you could even admit to your own hurt. Often, it so happened, this would be when you and George would get into a fight.

You felt the tears you had pushed down earlier begin to make their way up to the surface again.

“Oh, yeah, Fred, I’m okay.”

You felt Fred place his warm hand on top of yours. His palms and fingers were calloused from years of beating bludgers. The feeling of his touch felt different than ever before. You could sense somewhere deep in your bones that your feelings for Fred were changing as quickly and surely as the autumn leaves. He stroked his thumb over yours, looking up at you, his affectionate chocolate-colored eyes shining behind his long lashes.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“I’m fine, Fred,” you moved away quickly, going back to stacking boxes of Whiz Bangs.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

November 29th.

“Happy birthday, Bill!”

Arthur placed a large cake down in the center of the dining table. Molly had allowed Albus to write in icing ‘Happy Birthday Uncle Billy’, which reminded Harry affectionately of his 11th birthday cake from Hagrid. You were sat between Fred and George, smiling happily as you watched him blow out the candles.

Fleur smiled affectionately as she gave Bill a shy kiss on the cheek. You felt yourself wondering if their marriage had also become listless. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe you should talk about how you’d been feeling with Fleur and Hermione, but, you felt a sense of shame. A sense of failure had started to enter your mind - maybe you just weren’t attractive to George anymore. A sense of sadness filled your heart again, so you pushed it away, reaching to George’s hand. He barely held it back. You could feel your knee touching Fred’s, which forced you to take continuous sips of the pumpkin juice in front of you.

Once everyone had finished eating, you chose to clean up so that everyone could continue talking. The truth was, you felt an aching sadness in your chest and needed some time alone. You turned on this sink in the kitchen, smiling at the coziness of Molly’s little kitchen. You allowed the sink to fill with whatever, humming to yourself as you scrubbed. You found your head bopping back and forth as you hummed the Triwizard Tournament theme.

You looked up when Fred appeared next to you, reaching into the water to help you.

“I got it,” you said quietly. Something about his mere presence made you want to scream.

“Let me help you.”

You weren’t sure if he was talking about the dishes, but something about his tone and the huskiness behind his words made you think he definitely was not.

Your hands met beneath the water, Fred’s fingers dancing against yours. You moved to give his hand a squeeze, looking knowingly into his eyes.

“Y/n, I…”

Suddenly, you heard Ginny’s voice behind you. “You two need help?” She asked sweetly, grabbing a hand towel to do the drying. You yanked your hands out of the sudsy water with a splash.

“Absolutely, thanks, Gin,” you replied, letting yourself glance over at Fred who was clearly struggling to calm his breathing.

_________________________

The shower at the Burrow was notoriously hard to operate. But nonetheless, you were finally able to find the right temperature. You stood beneath the hot water, letting it run over you. You sighed contently. The heat had allowed some of the stress to melt away. You worked the shampoo into your hair, closing your eyes as you rinsed away a day’s worth of troubles. After you felt clean, you slid the curtain open, flipping over to wrap your hair in a towel. The room had become foggy from the heat, which you noted as you headed over to the mirror to wash your face.

Just then, the door opened. You jumped, nearly screaming at the sight of Fred in the doorway. He shut the door behind him. There was no way he hadn’t seen pretty much everything you had to offer. You couldn’t find a word to utter as he looked your bare body up and down.

Your breath felt strangled as he walked forward, moving so you were flush against the wall. In your chest, your heartbeat had gone wild. You had never felt like this in your life - not even the first time you finally made love to George.

Fred reached over and handed you the towel off a nearby shelf.

“Make sure you lock the door next time, pet,” he said, watching as you shakily wrapped it around you.

“Get out of here, Fred,” you feigned outrage, even though you didn’t mind him being there one bit.

He laughed, using his thumb to wipe smeared mascara from beneath your eye. It had run while you showered.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Fred-”

“I’m sorry.”

��No, it’s okay-”

But Fred had turned to leave, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t tell George?”

“Pinky promise.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

December 24.

You all sat around the fire, warmed from the inside out by stories of the Weasley boys as children, and spiked eggnog. You sat between George’s legs, his arms wrapped lovingly around you. He placed his chin on your shoulder, and you turned to kiss his lips. He tasted like Christmas cookies and nutmeg.

“I’m tired, honey. Are you?”

You shook your head. “No, but go on up. I think I’ll stay up a while longer. Do you think I’ll see Father Christmas?”

George laughed, bopping you on the nose. “Perhaps, but he knows you’ve been a naughty girl.”

Molly gasped, “George Weasley! In front of your own mother!”

The whole room erupted in laughter, watching as your face turned bright red. “Goodnight, George,” you chuckled, giving him one last goodnight hug.

The room slowly continued to clear out. You sat on the floor, sipping more eggnog and flipping through a photo album. You smiled at a sweet picture of Fred and George in matching Christmas sweaters, toothy grins adorning their face as they held up their Christmas presents. On the next page was another picture of the twins in matching onesies, just a few days after they were born. They were always together. They shared everything. You felt a pang of guilt wash over you again. You hadn’t been able to forget about the incident on Bill’s birthday, and what’s more, it had thrilled you.

Eventually, it was just you and Fred in the sitting room. The house had fallen quiet as you listening to the crackling of the fireplace. Fred came to sit next to you, silently watching the fire along with you.

You turned and looked over at him. He still captivated you with his boyish charm. No matter how many times you had looked at him, you never failed to feel some sort of joy deep inside of you. Again, you felt ashamed, because your husband has failed to make you feel this way for a few months now. 

Fred scooted forward, looking into your eyes as if he were searching for something. You gazed back, hoping that he would find what he was looking for. He was wearing his old, tattered sweater that Molly had made him so many years ago, a big F on the front. It was sweet and nostalgic. It reminded you a Christmas nights at Hogwarts, sharing chocolates and playing pranks in the hallowed hallways. 

“So, what’s been going on? Seriously, y/n, it’s been driving me mad.”

“Well, honestly, things aren’t fantastic with George right now, Fred, s’all there is to say.”

“How do you mean?”

You blushed. “It’s embarrassing,” you admitted, pulling the sleeves of your sweater down around your hands and pulling your knees to your chest.

Fred reached over to tuck a hair behind your ear. “You can tell me, you know that.”

“I just don’t think he finds me beautiful anymore, Fred. He doesn’t touch me like he used to. He...just...I don’t know. I feel like such a normal part of his life. The fireworks have gone. It makes me feel small and ….unbeautiful. I miss feeling wanted. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because...we haven’t started a family yet. Maybe he’s disappointed in that? I don’t know.”

The words came pouring out of your mouth. All at once, you regretted them, staring down at the carpet. You felt bad for talking badly about George, especially to his closest brother. You felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. Sniffling, you used the hem of your sleeves to wipe your eyes. 

“You are so far from unbeautiful, y/n. You’re perfect. George is the luckiest man on this Earth. I...I swear it.”

What Fred didn’t tell you was that the day George had gone through with the proposal, he had locked himself in his bathroom and cried. Full, heavy, fat-teared crying over the fact that his chance with you had been lost forever. Seeing you in white walking down the aisle toward him had taken his breath away, too, until he remembered he was standing next to George as his best man. You were the one that got away, and the hardest part was is that you hadn’t gone anywhere.

He cupped your face in his hands, moving to use his sweater to catch your stray tears. “Do you know how much I hate seeing you sad?”

All at once, your lips were crashing into his. You fell back onto the carpet, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head, propped up by his arms. “Freddie,” you gasped, but before you could say too much, he continued to kiss you.

Your tongues battled for dominance. Fred flicked his tongue across your lip. You felt his hands sliding up under your sweater, grabbing your hips. His hands were colder than you expected, making you jump. Your chest rose and fell, breathing deeply as he pulled away.

“He’s a bloody idiot,” Fred gasped, pressed his forehead to yours. The only sound to be heard in the Burrow sitting room was the shaky breath of you both...and the overwhelming sense that a beautiful secret - like a tapestry -  had just started to be woven together.

[To Be Continued.]

[ahsxual]

MASTERLIST

× Requests: OPEN

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¬ Smut: ✯

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¬ Personal Fics: ♡

Arthur Fleck 🎭

Reassurance

Beach Dream

I Know She is Real

Perfect Day

My Caregiver ✪

Warm me up ✪

My Personal Teddy Bear ✪

Patrick Verona

Fun Ride

Romantic Anniversary

Drum Lover

Ledger!Joker 🃏

Sassy Girl ✯

Unbreakable Connection ✪

Dangerous Love

Mask Off ✪

Innate Talent ✪

My Savior ✪

My Little Chaos ✪

Forgive Me ✪

My Nurse ✪

Purple And Green Desire ✪ ✯

Weirdo Beloved ✪

Lesbian!Reader loses her virginity to her crush and tells J ✪

Jake Gyllenhaal

Save Me - David Loki

Sunday mornings with Jake ✪

Jake with a short s/o ✪

NSFW alphabet - David Loki ✯

Love at first sight ✪

NSFW alphabet - Donnie Darko ✯

Revealing Night ♡

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Jimmy Darling Smut ✪✯

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La Casa de Papel

Jealous Berlin ✪

Saw

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Gi-hun taking care of reader while she's on her period ✪

Be Quiet For Me - Seong Gi-Hun ✪✯

This Wasn't Supposed To Happen ✪

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Matthew Lillard

Dark Sins - William Afton ✯

Dark Sins II - William Afton ✯

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Tattoo Your Pleasure On Me - Stu Macher ✯✪

Dark Fear & Pleasure - Doug Van Housen ✯✪

Daddy's Comfort - William Afton ✯✪

First Time is the Sweetest - Stu Macher ✯✪

What Are They Like In Bed? - Matthew Lillard characters ✯

[joaquinfeed]

Snuggle Buddy (Arthur Fleck x Fem!Reader)

Prompt: Reader works as a professional cuddler at SnuggleBuddy. Arthur utilizes her service.  Also, for the sake of the story, Penny Fleck has already passed in this.

Warnings: Cursing, implied anxiety, descriptions of bad coping mechanisms (Arthur banging his head against the wall)…I think that’s it?

Word Count: Around 6,000. I know it’s a doozy. 

Arthur was nervous. His palms were sweating slightly, his heart rate was uneven, and his leg hasn’t stopped moving for the last twenty minutes that he has been sitting. His eyes trailed over the small print on the business card— “SnuggleBuddy.”

Arthur thinks back to early that day; he was at Ha-Ha’s getting ready for his usual shift when one of the guys—Randall— took a jab at his love life.

“Just in case you need to touch someone other than yourself, Art,” Randall laughed, handing him the card.

Although Randall’s comment bothered Arthur, he wasn’t entirely wrong. He hasn’t experienced human touch—real, genuine human touch—for a very long time. Arthur couldn’t even think of a moment when someone had given him a hug, or a kiss, or wrapped their arms around him. Not a single soul besides his mother dared to understand him in an intimate way.

As soon as his legs allowed it, he walked over to the phone and carefully poked in the number on the card.

“Hello, this is Pete from SnuggleBuddy. Are you looking for a cuddler, or are you looking to become one?”

Arthur faltered. “I’m looking to, um, find one. My name’s Arthur.”

“Okay, Arthur,” the man paused, and Arthur heard rustling in the background. “I have a few questions for you, and we can get you somebody in no time.”

Arthur answered every question that came at him, only letting out a yelp when Pete asked him if he’d like to pay for other activities. After declining immediately—and blushing profusely—Arthur had finally been paired up with a girl.

“Her name’s Y/N,” Pete said. “You will be billed for every hour that you spend with her. Your first session is scheduled for tonight at 7 PM at the address you gave me. Does all that sound correct?”

Arthur nodded before realizing that the man cannot see him. He stuttered out a ‘yes’ and hung up the phone.

His heart was thumping loudly in his chest; he couldn’t believe he went through with calling them. So many worries plagued his mind already— How would he afford this? What if you thought he was weird? If everyone at Ha-Ha’s found out…

He shook his head at that thought. He has absolutely no idea what’s going to happen, and there was no way for him to know.

And so, he waited.

—

A few hours later, a knock interrupted the Charlie Chaplin rerun that had been playing on his TV. Arthur pushed his freshly washed hair out of his eyes, making his way to the door. He opened it up, and his breath caught in his throat. Standing in front of him was someone he has never seen around Gotham—he would have remembered.

“Hi, Arthur,” you smile at him while giving a small wave. “I’m Y/N. I work at SnuggleBuddy.”

Arthur only gazes at you in shock. He definitely was not expecting someone like you; actually, he didn’t know what he was expecting. After a small bit of silence, you glance around nervously.

“Is this not the right apartment? Are you not Arthur?”

“No, I- I am.”

“Oh. This is your first time I’m assuming?”

Arthur nods, his mind finally catching up with him. He steps aside to let you in, and you move past him, checking out his apartment. Your eyes land on the TV, and you smile seeing “The Kid” playing across the screen.

You turn to Arthur. “Chaplin fan?”

“Huh?”

“Are you a Charlie Chaplin fan?”

He points over to the stack of tapes sitting by the small TV; your eyes follow his gaze until they land on the pile. You stand there, paused in thought while Arthur continues to watch you. Suddenly, you’re struck with an idea.

“Hey, if it would make you more comfortable, we could do the session on the couch? That way we can watch a film or two instead of laying in silence. Unless you’d be more comfortable with that. Whatever works for you, Arthur.”

He leads you to the couch, and both of you sit down.

“H-how does this work?”

You smile at him, trying to calm his nerves a little bit. “Really, it works however you want it to. Usually, people tell me what they like, what they don’t like, what makes them uncomfortable, what makes them feel relaxed.”

“I don’t know what I like,” Arthur says, looking ashamed at his lack of self-knowledge.

“That’s alright. We can figure it out,” you assure him. “I’m going to put my arms around you, okay?”

You wait for his consent before wrapping your arm around him. “Is this okay?”

He nods but stays stiff in your arms. “Do I…touch you?”

“You can,” you tell him, watching as he timidly puts one of his arms over your shoulders while the other one rests across his waist. You both stay like this for a little while, getting comfortable with the feeling of each other. After a few minutes, Arthur relaxes into your embrace, and you drop your head onto his chest.

Having this type of job was, no doubt, a little awkward at times. It was the only opportunity you were faced with after moving to Gotham city. You didn’t want to do this forever; sometimes, you thought about quitting after a long, hard day with some overly-touchy pervert. But sitting here with Arthur, his heartbeat steadily beating in your ear, you thought the job wasn’t so bad. 

“So, Pete, the guy you talked to when calling CuddleBuddy, he mentioned that you said something about not having this type of contact for a while,” you say. “How long has it been?”

You feel Arthur clam up at the question, and you immediately blurt out, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. I was only curious.”

You look up at him and see his eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. His eyes are looking back at you, and you finally notice just how green his eyes are—like different hues of a forest. He seems to be studying you too, but as quickly as the silence came, it ended.

"For my whole life, I guess,“ Arthur says, breaking you out of your daze.

You frown. "Your- Arthur, that’s not healthy. We need to feel connections like this, you know?”

Arthur didn’t know. His mother—when she was living—was there to dance with him or hug him when the moment called for it. But he has never experienced anything outside of that. He briefly wondered if that’s something he should bring up with his social worker, but the thought left his mind when he felt your arms tighten around him.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad if I did,” you spoke up. “I was just surprised.”

He brushes off your apology, dispelling your fears of already upsetting him. When it’s clear that nothing else is going to be said on the matter, you lay your head back on his chest, content with only sitting with him for the remainder of the session.

Somehow, by the time the credits were being presented, Arthur was lying against the side of the couch, and you were lying next to him—your head still resting by his heart.

—

You could hear the TV playing in the background, your eyes fluttering open to the sound, only to be met with blinding sunlight coming through the windows. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You shoot up off of Arthur’s sleeping form, and he wakes with a jolt, looking just as startled as you. "I am so sorry,“ you tell him, burying your face into your hands. "I swear, I didn’t even realize that I was falling asleep.”

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry,” he says, his voice still raspy from the night’s sleep. “I can’t remember a time when I’ve slept like that. I-I have insomnia.”

“Oh,” you nod sympathetically. “I’m glad I stayed over then.”

Arthur gives you a small smile. Your caring demeanor felt fresh and generous compared to the other residents of Gotham. But it’s only for a job, he reminded himself, he hired you. At that thought, panic arose in him.

“I don’t have the money to pay you for all the time you spent here,” he says, looking at a clock that read 9:23 AM.

“Don’t worry about it. It was my fault anyway. Pete will be in contact with you about how to pay for the session.”

Arthur hopes his disappointed look wasn’t too obvious; he honestly didn’t want you to leave. Even so, he walks you to the door and gives you one last small smile.

"I hope this isn’t the last time I’ll be seeing you,“ you say, returning his smile.

He blushes slightly, ducking his head. "It won’t be.”

—

Arthur has never been so happy strolling through the streets of Gotham on his way to Ha-Ha’s. The subway ride was surprisingly uneventful and the sun was still out—an unusual occurrence for the dark and somber city. Although, Arthur wondered if the city was actually that uninviting, or his change in scenery was due to the happenings of the night and early morning.

When Arthur gets to work, everything runs smoothly. Randall’s jokes never cease, but this time, they don’t bother him as much. There’s a lightness in his steps as he carries out the rest of his shift at Gotham City Children’s Hospital.

The real trouble comes on his way home; he chalks it up to bad luck—his day going “too well.” A few teenagers poking fun at his make-up, messing with his clown cap, and causing him to hold his throat as he chokes out unwanted laughter. When he returns to his apartment, his steps are less light than before—the stress of the evening finally catching up with him.

His hands reach for the phone before he can stop himself, and dial the number for CuddleBuddy. This time, the process is short. He only has to ask for you, and the next session is booked. Luckily, you didn’t have any previous arrangements tonight.

“They were harassing you, Arthur, you should tell someone,” you say, once you are cuddled up with Arthur again for the night. “People can’t treat you like that.”

“Yes, they can,” Arthur mumbled. “There’s nobody to tell, Y/N. Everybody is just mean.”

“Not everyone,” you say against his chest. “Your not.”

He only hums as a response, before glancing over towards the kitchen.

“Would you like to eat something? I could, um, make dinner,” he suggests.

“Are you paying for more of my time if I say yes,” you jokingly ask.

Arthur stumbles over his words. Of course, he thought. Payment. He just had to keep reminding himself that he was paying for your time; you were not here voluntarily.

“R-right. I’m sorry,” Arthur apologized. “Let’s just stay here then.”

“I was kidding. Dinner actually sounds nice,” you smile.

You both get up and make your way to the kitchen. For the next thirty minutes, you watch him as he whips around the kitchen, making dinner. You offered to help, but he insisted that he had it. By the time it’s done, and in your mouth, you were pleasantly surprised.

“Mmm,” you moan. Arthur was a damn good cook, and it showed. You were too focused on the food in front of you to notice Arthur’s cheeks turning a bright red color. 

Poor Arthur sat on the other side of the table, his ears burning from the small noise of pleasure you let out. How was it possible for one to sound so melodic, he wondered.

“Do you like it?” He asks, despite knowing the answer.

“I do. It’s really good,” you say. “Any chance you want to be a chef?”

“No, actually, I’m pursuing a career in comedy,” he says proudly.

“Maybe I can hear some of your routine sometime.”

“Maybe.”

The rest of the dinner went smoothly. You two shared Gotham horror stories, talked about family, and discussed mental illness in-depth. Arthur told you about the parts of himself that troubled him and society’s inability to understand. Your eyes stayed on Arthur the entire time, even after he got up to put away the dishes. His tan long-sleeve shirt, paired with his baggy pajama bottoms, made him look incredibly adorable. You tried to stop your mind from thinking anything like that about the man. After all, he only hired you for a job. But you couldn’t help it if his curls fell around his face in the most perfect way, or his smile shined with warmth when talking to you, or his eyes—God, his eyes—looked so lovely in every light possible.

When he’s done washing the dishes, you both return to the living room to resume the session. You move to sit back on the couch, but Arthur stays standing, shifting back and forth nervously.

“Can we, um, can we move this to the bedroom?”

You arch an eyebrow at his statement. “Really?”

His eyes become frantic as he moves to explain further. “I-I mean, instead of the couch. We could, you know, cuddle on the bed. I- I definitely did not mean…”

He trails off, and you giggle before getting up. “I know what you meant Arthur, relax.”

He nods relieved. He gestures for you to follow, leading you to what you presume is the bedroom. As you enter, your eyes glance around to the flower-covered walls before landing on the soft-looking blankets that lay across the bed. You don’t waste any time standing; you climb in next to Arthur, letting your limbs tangle in the same way they had earlier in the evening.

Your fingers graze his slender figure; the feeling of his warm shirt against your fingertips was enough to make you shiver. He brought the blankets up over you both, still hesitating as his arms rested back against you gently.

“Tell me about Ha-Ha’s. I don’t mean your shitty co-workers or rude boss; I want to know what you love about it. What makes you happy about working there?”

“I like making kids smile,” he says softly.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Yeah. Sometimes they’re just walking past me, sometimes I visit the children’s hospital.”

Your heart melted at the mental image of Arthur, fully dressed in his clown make-up, interacting with the kids. His clown persona, who he mentioned was named Carnival, was something that you’d love to see.

You could feel the smile on his face when he spoke his next words.

“I get to sing and dance with them,” he says. “They never look at me funny for dancing.”

“That’s amazing, Arthur,” you tell him. “I bet you’re really good with them.”

“You know, you could come with me sometime,” he suggests. “They wouldn’t mind.”

You nod slightly before letting your eyes fall closed. You both lay in silence, taking in each other’s shallow breathing. A calm sensation that Arthur’s never experienced washed over him. The rise and fall of your head on his chest worked to ease his anxiety about the subway events. He still couldn’t fully relax in your hold, which is why he stayed quiet about his wish for you to pull him closer. Almost as if you read his mind, your arms tightened around his midsection as you snuggled further into his embrace.

“Arthur,” you say quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be friends?”

The room fell silent. You didn’t want him to feel pressured to say yes, but you wanted to give him time to think it over. After talking to him about his decision to hire you, plus his lack of physical intimacy, you could only assume that the man doesn’t have many or quite possibly any people he considers a friend.

“You want to be my friend?”

You pick your head up off his chest, gazing into his pools of green that are filled with curiosity and disbelief. You don’t even have to think twice before nodding your head.

“I do,” you say. “Do you want to?”

“I do.”

—

The next few weeks are gone before Arthur realizes it. Not only is he able to see you every other day, but his cuddle sessions haven’t stopped simply due to your budding friendship. As the weekend approaches, he uses his time off work to go pick up his medications as well as see his social worker, Debra Kane. Although the process was no different—Arthur sat down, she asked if he brought his journal, she made a few remarks about some of the content, then asked about his job—his experience seemed to be a lot more rewarding.

“I have a friend,” Arthur all but beamed at the woman. “Her name is Y/N.”

“Arthur, have you thought any more about the prompts I gave you for last week’s journal writing?”

“She thought that I was wanting to become a chef, which is funny because I’m actually trying to be a comedian,” he says, disregarding Debra’s question. “She wants to hear my routine.”

“That’s certainly good,” the social worker comments offhandedly. “Are you experiencing any kind of negative thinking?”

Arthur laughs a little, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He slides one out of the box, rests it on his lips, and lights it. Some things never change, he thinks to himself.

As Debra probes him with more questions he hears every week, his mind wanders back to you. He can nearly see you on the other side of the room—watching, smiling, waving. He doesn’t want to get caught up in his perceived idea of you, though; he only wants to keep you in his reality.

Arthur thinks back to his childhood—images of him sitting alone in the school cafeteria flash through his mind. For once in his life, he had somebody besides his mother, who seemed to care about him. He had a few boys in his early years that tried to befriend him, but upon learning his idiosyncrasies and hearing his booming laugh echoed through the quiet halls, they quickly turned their back on him, leaving young Arthur to wonder what went wrong.

When he was old enough to work, he was out trying to help his mom keep up with rent. He took odd jobs with quick payouts to hold on to their life in Gotham city. By this time, Arthur stopped trying to make friends all together. He knew the things he needed to do to keep surviving in a city like Gotham, and going out of his way to get rejected again wasn’t one of them.

After leaving the social work office, he arrives home feeling both excited and apprehensive. His trip down memory lane had brought the feelings he held towards friendships up to the surface. You were bound to realize what a freak he was at some point; he wonders how long it will take you to figure it out.

A knock on the door brings him out of his thoughts. He’s even more surprised to see you on the other side when he opens it.

“Oh, hey,” Arthur says.

“Hey,” you repeat.

“Did we have a session booked?”

“No, no,” you tell him. “I just thought we could hang out—if you wanted to that is. Sorry to just drop by.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” he steps aside and lets you into the apartment. You make your way to the couch, and Arthur follows behind you. He stops short of sitting down and asks if you want anything to eat or drink. You decline his offer and pat the seat next to you.

“Come sit.”

He sits next to you stiffly, rubbing his hand over his bouncing leg. You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering why the man is so fidgety all of a sudden. Maybe you made him uncomfortable by showing up, you told yourself. He did say it was okay, though.

Before you could mull over your thoughts, Arthur broke the silence.

“Do you want to watch a movie? Um, or I could show you my stand-up routine? Or we could do something else. What do you want to do?”

You chuckle at his line of questions while tilting your head at him. “Watching a movie sounds fun, and I’d love to hear your routine.”

He immediately gets up and sprints to the bedroom, leaving you on the couch to smile at his behavior. He surely was adorable.

When he comes back, he’s dangling a few VHS tapes in one hand, and holding a journal in the other. You watch as he resumes his spot next to you and lays out the tapes onto the table.

“You can choose a movie, and I’ll pick out some of my jokes,” he says. You look over the different films ranging from “A woman of Paris” —a Charlie Chaplin feature— to one made by Ernst Lubitsch called “A Shop Around the Corner.” You finally land on one titled “Duck Soup” and pick it up to hand to Arthur.

“Good choice,” he gives you a small smile. “This is actually a comedy and a musical. This goofy man named Rufus—you’re going to like him—he becomes president of his country. The country beside them thinks Rufus is awful so they try and start a war. It- it doesn’t sound much like a comedy, but I swear it is.”

Your lips curved upwards, and your eyes twinkled with amusement. As you listened to Arthur go into extensive detail about the movie’s plot, you found your eyes dropping to his lips. As they moved with every word, you noticed how soft they looked despite them being slightly cracked. You wondered what it would be like to kiss-

“Y/N,” Arthur jarred you from your thoughts. “Is everything okay?”

Your face flushes red at being caught staring. You’re not sure if Arthur knew where you were looking, but he sure as heck knew you were distracted.

“Everything’s fine,” you reassure him. “It’s just been a long day. Did you want to show me some jokes?”

You gesture towards the journal still in his hands, and he smiles instantly. It takes a bit for Arthur to feel relaxed while presenting his material to you, but once he made you laugh a few times, he gained the confidence needed to finish. You were pleasantly surprised at the jokes he had come up with for the routine; they molded perfectly to your sense of humor and left you nearly in tears every time. You weren’t sure if they were actually that funny, or if you just wanted the beaming smile Arthur would shoot you after he made you erupt in laughter to stay there.

After nearly an hour of joke-telling went by, and some convincing on your part, you persuaded Arthur to put on the movie—insisting that you were not tired.

The film opens up with the flag of Freedonia—the country the movie takes place in. Straight from the beginning, you’re already invested in the storyline; your eyes carefully watch every movement on the screen, and you laugh when you finally meet Rufus—the new president of Freedonia. Rufus was just as Arthur made him out to be: goofy. As you watch the story unfold, you can tell why Arthur likes this movie so much. You look over to see if he’s smiling at the screen, only to see that he is, in fact, smiling, but not at the television. No, he is smiling directly at you.

You give him a questioning glance, and he ducks his head, immediately apologizing.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I was looking at you,” he explains.

“So? You’re allowed to look at me,” you chuckle, and his eyes meet yours again.

“I am?”

You can almost feel his breath from how close you’re sitting to him on the couch. Your shoulders are pressed together, while your thighs lay side by side. As a cuddler, you’ve been much closer to Arthur than you are right now, but somehow, this particular time feels more intimate than the others. Later, you’ll blame it on hormones, or maybe even your own mental stability, but just as Arthur was about to repeat his words, you leaned in and pressed your lips right against his.

The kiss didn’t last long, though. As soon as you felt the man tense up under your touch, you nearly flew off of him, sliding yourself to the other end of the couch.

“Shit. Fuck, Arthur. I am so sorry. That was so out of line for me to do. I wasn’t even thinking,” you slide your hand over your face, afraid to look over at Arthur in case he was glaring at you. “I should go.”

He didn’t say anything, and you assumed that was your cue to leave. You cursed yourself for being so brainless as you got up from the couch. As your hand reached for the door, you heard Arthur’s laughter from behind you. You felt tears sting your eyes as you left his apartment feeling foolish.

He found it funny; you found it heartbreaking.

Arthur scrambled to get up as he saw you leaving. His hand held tightly to his throat, as harsh chokes of laughter came barreling out of his mouth. He stopped just shy of the door, nearly toppling over as he tried to force himself to swallow the laughter. By the time he got the door open, you were gone.

He forced a pained smile at the empty hallway, turning back and shoving the door closed. The voices of his past cried out to him as he paced around the living room. You’re such a freak. What’s so fuckin’ funny? You were born by mistake. As more torments flew through his mind, Arthur stopped in front of the wall to lean his head against it. He didn’t know why you left in such a hurry, but he assumed it had something to do with him. He lifted his head back and slammed it against the wall with a sickening thump. Bang. You caused this. Bang. You made her feel like that. Bang. It’s your fault. Bang, bang, bang.

He slid down the wall, a single tear dropping from his eye, and just sat there. He couldn’t even feel his head throbbing; the pain in his heart was too high.

—

Days went by, and Arthur hadn’t heard from you. He picked up the phone several times to try and call your workplace, CuddleBuddy, but couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. He was too afraid of what you’d say when you had the chance. Not even a full month of friendship, and he’s already lost you. When he does get the courage to call the company, he’s only let down once again by the latest news.

“Sorry, man. Y/N quit a few days ago,” Pete tells him.

“Q-quit?”

“Yeah, she pulled her profile down from the bulletin, and said she was moving on.”

Arthur panics. This wasn’t supposed to happen. How would he get in touch with you now? Would he ever see you again?

He runs a hand through his curly locks before asking, “How can I reach her?”

“Uh, I’m not really supposed to give out her information, man.”

“But- but it’s Arthur. Arthur Fleck. I’ve been calling to book sessions for the last month.”

“Yeah, I know,” the man on the other line sighs. “But I don’t know who you are. I can’t really tell some guy her private business.”

“I’m not some guy! She’s my friend,” Arthur reasons. “Please.”

Pete groans and mumbles a 'fine’ before rattling of your address.

“If she ends up murdered tomorrow, I’m telling the police it was you.”

Arthur thanked him and chuckled lightly at the joke—assuming it was a joke. He took the piece of paper, which carried the address he had just scrawled down, and raced out the door. He grabbed the subway, recognizing your place to be near the Children’s hospital that he worked at occasionally. Once he was standing in front of what he had hoped was your apartment, his nerves were at an all-time high.

He was scared of rejection, scared of seeing your disgusted, disappointed, or aggravated face along with any words that might follow.

After three timid knocks, he waits patiently for you to open the door. When the door does swing open, he was met with an expression he wasn’t expecting—shock.

“Hi,” he utters shyly.

“Hi.”

Your heart thumps in your chest wildly at the view in front of you. You couldn’t believe Arthur was standing in your doorway right now; you half-expected this to be a dream. After you left his apartment that night, you felt the lightness you’ve been feeling for the past couple weeks drain from your body, only to be replaced by tightness in your chest and a dulling ache in your heart.

“You quit,” Arthur says, breaking the silence that loomed over you both.

“I did,” you open the door wider, letting Arthur walk into your apartment. He takes a look around, noting that the decorations you have chosen seem to be very you. He wants to marvel more at his surroundings, but instead, he turns back to you.

“I tried to book a session, but you quit,” he says, a hint of resentment in his voice. “Why would you do that?”

You sigh, offering him a small shrug. The ache in your heart hasn’t gone away, not since you saw him last. You wanted to give him a real explanation, but you didn’t want to bring up the kiss. You were afraid that his balled-up fist, quick-paced breathing, and twitching nose —all of which happened when the man felt anger— would be the result of your careless and selfish action.

“Why are you here, Arthur?”

“I- I want to know why you quit.”

“Because I knew you’d call,” you admitted. “I knew you’d call because that’s who you are.”

You sniffle quietly; the tears that have been threatening to fall since Arthur showed up were now spilling down your cheeks like a river.

“I didn’t want to see you,” you wiped harshly at your face.

Arthur gave you a troubled look. His expression was soft, but his eyebrows furrowed together in concern.

“Please don’t be upset,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You gave him a bewildered look. “You’re …sorry? What on Earth are you sorry about?”

He only shrugged, so you took a deep breath and continued with what you had to say.

“I kissed you,” you looked away, still ashamed at the way you handled the situation. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I guess I just felt like I should in the moment; it was completely wrong of me. I apologize.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Y/N,” he mutters while fumbling with the zipper of his tan jacket. “I- I liked it.”

You smile sadly at him. “You don’t have to lie. I’ll be okay. We can continue being friends if you want; I just need some time.”

“But I’m not lying,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

"You- you laughed at me, Arthur,“ you whisper before chewing on your bottom lip, tears welling up in your eyes once again.

"I didn’t!”

Arthur tried his hardest to hold in whatever laughter that was always on the surface and bubbling over. He didn’t want to leave you feeling upset again, and he surely didn’t want you to think he was disregarding or making fun of your feelings.

“I have a condition,” he says. At your confused look, he shuffles around in his pants pocket to pull out one of his cards. He hands it to you, bracing himself for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say, reading the front before flipping it over and skimming over the back. “So- so you weren’t laughing at me?”

“No! I would never. Not unless you made a joke.” Arthur assures you before pausing. “Did you?”

“I would never,” you repeat to him. Both of you stay unspeaking, taking in the words that the other has said. You wanted to talk more about what happened, but you didn’t want to cross any more lines in the relationship.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?”

You nodded weakly.

“Why did you kiss me? Is that what friends are supposed to do?”

“No, Arthur,” you look solemnly at him. “Friends don’t do that.”

"I didn’t think so,“ he says. "So, why would you? ”

You shrug half-heartedly. “I don’t know. I think you’re funny.”

His eyes search yours for some clarification, but he finds none. “You kissed me because you think I’m funny?”

“Yes,” you say. “and because you’re sweet and easy to talk to, and- and handsome.”

Your face heated up at your comment, but there was no taking it back now. Arthur’s face matched yours, and he stumbled over his words to try and respond.

“What- what does this mean?”

He was pretty sure he knew what it meant; he’s seen enough movies to know precisely what it meant. However, he couldn’t be too careful. The mere thought of him getting it wrong, and you—his only friend in Gotham—leaving was too much for him to handle.

“I think you know what it means, Arthur,” you say to him.

“Can you please just tell me?”

You exhale. “Do you want to go out with me?”

Although you didn’t directly answer his question, it was almost better. He didn’t waste a single second before nodding his head.

“Yes, I’d like that,” Arthur musters up every ounce of courage he has and slides his arms around you in a hesitant embrace. You hug him back tightly, encouraging him to do the same. You stand there for the next couple minutes, the events of the last couple days catching up with you both. “Can we- can we kiss again?”

You pull back enough to look at him, your lips curving into a smile. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You lean into him, capturing his lips in a slow kiss. You could feel your heart explode with emotions; Arthur’s lips timidly sliding over yours as his hands came up to rest on your cheeks. When you pulled apart, you looked at Arthur with his crimson cheeks and slightly swollen lips, and you couldn’t think of anything or anyone more beautiful than the man in front of you.

“When can we do that again?”

You giggle at his question, your eyes sporting a playful gleam. “Well, if you were my boyfriend, we could do that all of the time.”

“Okay,” he agrees, and you nearly choke on the air around you.

“R-really? Arthur, do you understand what I just said?”

He nods, and you explore his face for any trace of uncertainty or humor, but there is none. He was completely serious.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon?”

“No,” he huffs. “I’ve spent my whole life thinking that the same apartment, the same questions from my social worker, and the same people were going to hold me back forever. I don’t want to be held back.”

You bite your lip, wondering how you’re ever going to keep this relationship going if he’s always this damn adorable.

“Okay,” you smile at him, not being able to control your happiness.

“So, Y/N,” he looks at you shyly, with a small smirk in place.

“Yes, Arthur?”

“Now that you’re my girlfriend, does that mean I get cuddle sessions for free?”

You laugh, playfully swatting him on the arm as joy tugged at the corners of his lips too. 

And you both thought to yourselves, how did I get so lucky?

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Subway Obsessions FemReader's POV ch2

Arthur Fleck x Fem!Reader POV

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: Chapter 2 of the Subway Obsessions series from Fem Readers POV. You search for Arthur on the train on a daily occurrence now, and it's become routine. You fantasized about him daily and nightly since your last encounter. You haven't seen him since that night. If you do see him tonight, you're making your move!

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, oral (m and f receiving), piv, unprotected sex, breeding, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, praise, begging, mentions of violence, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of mental disorders, mentions of self-harm (past), stalking, swearing, obsession, D/S implications, self-doubt, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff, aftercare

A/N: Finally getting to the good stuff here!!! First full-on smut! This was so fun to write and quite uh... descriptive and long. I would also like to say that the duality of these stories when read from either POV, compliment each other so well. Its crazy to see the dynamics in how they see one another. Both carrying self doubt but seeing the other as a powerful and confident creature. Seeing the best in each other and the worst in themselves. I hope they find solace in each other to see their own true potential and know they are both loved and worthy of loving! And as always, I welcome tips, ideas, comments, and criticisms, but please be nice. Cheeers!!

Word Count: 7.8k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions

CHAPTER 2: For Him

You awoke early every day this week. Unable to sleep, your rest tinged with excitement, an unbearable urge to make time go faster. You often would reminisce of the moment you met him. Arthur, your mind warbled at the name, leaving you with a sense of lifting off of the ground. A peculiar feeling that could only be characterized by your longing and lust. For days, you have ached to see him again. So many times, you pictured him looming over you mischievously with a crooked smile on his face, like he wanted nothing more than to devour you… and you’d let him. You had imagined him in the most precarious of situations that often made you blush and would shock most. Once again, you ambled out of bed, still fuzzy from sleep, wiping the dust from your eye. You had this urge since you met him to look your best or to try. You had no idea what he liked or preferred, really. You’d hope to find out. You wanted to be his obsession, wanted him to want you as much as you did him. Did he think about you? You thought. You imagined him pleasuring himself to the thought of you, and a shiver went through to your core and nestled in your nethers where you began to swelter under your clothing. Your throat dry, cheeks brimming a rosey red, you tried to gather yourself to bring these lewd images to fruition… that would mean leaving the house!

So, on you went, doting on yourself unremittingly, trying to create a look you thought he would like. You wanted him to crave you, to seethe in your presence. You picked out a cream colored fuzzy fitted knit sweater so soft to the touch and a black pleated skirt that fluttered down and stopped above your knees. You knew it would billow in the wind, possibly exposing your lacey white cheeky panties. Everything you wore was for his benefit. Some silver accents, a ring, and a pair of knee-high chunky heeled boots. The way they crept up to your knees in a slick black laced up leather, every piece of clothing served a purpose. To drive him crazy. To make his senses tingle. You pictured your boots wrapped around his neck, gipping him and pulling him closer to you. You were plagued with these explicit thoughts for days. Tonight, you left your hair down, brushed out the curls, and let them bounce above your waist and over your shoulders. Cascading onto your chest, outlining your shapely breasts. You hoped this wouldn’t be another night you missed him - because you did, you missed him.

You truly started to worry if it was just a one-off encounter. Nonetheless, you didn’t give up. You couldn’t. He haunted your dreams, your thoughts, completely infiltrating your psyche. In your mind, he was already yours. It's time to make that a reality. So funny, you thought. There was so much confidence I pretended to have when I wouldn’t even know the first thing to say. You told yourself, if you did see him again that you’d try your best not to fuck it up. You didn’t want to scare him or turn him off. A dreadful thought crossed your mind. What if he doesn’t find me attractive? What if he doesn’t like my body? My scars… You stopped the thought. Pushing it away like a child putting their fingers in their ears yelling la la la. You wanted nothing to do with that thought. You bottled it up as you always do, trying not to internalize your fears of rejection and body dysmorphia. I look amazing! You declared, self-talking in the mirror. Say it, just always say it, even if you don’t believe it.

Platform 19 was as dreary and dead as it always is. You passed a couple of hooded figures hiding from society in the corners of the platform under the whine of exposed wires and faulty fluorescents. You kept your distance and headed for the last bench again. This was routine for you now. Every night, you retraced your steps in hopes of seeing Arthur again. Playing out scenes in your mind of how things could go if you saw him and how you would respond, etc. Your mind creating endless possibilities, always ending in your ultimate sexual demise. A familiar breeze approaches, pushing harder as it nears. Your heart leaps into your throat. The train has arrived. You grabbed your things and took a moment to steady yourself, to try and slow your nervous breathing that created a small cloud of foreboding against the cold night air. Your hands were sweating and shaking. You clutched your shoulders inward to avoid the brunt of the cold that roared as the train approached. You were restless as the doors began to open in front of you. So slow, you thought. You began your shakey descent through the corridors holding your breath, tense, heart beating in your throat. You did this every day, the same routine, train car after train car, looking for that familiar face. It had been a few days since you had seen him, but he was constantly on your mind, always nearly within reach, but never truly close enough. You needed to see him again, to hear his voice, to feel his touch.

As you approach the last section of the train, scanning the seats, you lock eyes with someone you immediately recognize as Arthur. That’s definitely him! You thought. Although, he looked different, absolutely captivating, and handsome as always. You let out a long breath. Your chest no longer felt tight. Finally! He raises a hand and waves you over, but you were already heading to him hurriedly without a thought. Practically tripping over yourself, your body taking on its own sentience before your mind could think. Being driven by pure desire, dragged to him mercilessly, you happily obliged. You were once again the only two people on the train. How lucky for you, you thought. How lucky for him! You smirked and giggled internally. Unbelievably striking! His face, decorated with white paint, a red smile that extended past his full lips, a red nose, red drawn on eyebrows, and blue triangles above and below each eye. His suit, a contrast of red, with an orange vest and emerald green undershirt. His hair slicked back messily. It curled at the ends in locks of green that matched his undershirt. He was magnificent! You thought. A work of art and everything you desired in that moment. The way he moved, the way he looked, enchanted you. You were the snake; he was the charmer. He moved, and you moved.

You felt a frigid breeze blow past your face and exposed legs. The doors of the subway train clanked shut with a force that blew through your knees and out the front, pushing the fabric of your skirt upwards and exposing your upper thighs to Arthur. You saw him glance down. His lips curled in as he bit his lower lip. He quickly stood, holding on to a rail with one hand and reaching out with his other. You were mere inches away. He helps you sit down, releasing his grip on the rail and sliding his hand across your lower back, guiding you to the seat closest to the window and sits next to you. There are bench seats in front of you both and behind you, essentially caging you in. You don’t feel threatened. You don’t feel claustrophobic. You feel safe, protected, and secure. Your mind searches, you don’t know what to say, but you play it off coyly. You boast as if you have confidence to hide your true inner demeanor. You were a nervous wreck, but also the most excited you’ve ever been. He was here! Literally within reach, the possibilities flood your mind. You finally caught him, and this time, you were not going to let him go.

When he sat, your shoulders, elbows, hips, and thighs brushed softly against one another. The movement from the train creates and alleviates pressure randomly between you two. Pushing you into one another. Immediate warmth began brewing in the space closest between your bodies. You turn to each other and shift your bodies toward one another. Your knees, pressing into his outer thigh. You straighten out your skirt and move your hair out of your face, then look up at him. He has his arm extended out on the seat behind you. He speaks out. “I'm a clown” a sudden and unexpected sentiment. He seemed to want to explain. However, you hadn't really thought much about it aside from the fact you found it extremely attractive. It was still Arthur, but the look enhanced his features, narrowing his brow and accentuating his jawline. It just felt right. Nothing seemed out of place about this to you, so you didn’t think too much about it.

“I work as a clown for a talent agency” he said while gesturing towards his face with a hand. You listened attentively as his voice caressed the most starved inner parts of your brain. Scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. “But my dream is to become a comedian. I want to bring laughter and joy to the world”. He spoke so honestly and so beautifully. You could hear the pain in his voice he masked. It was endearing, and you thought, how commendable. Such a simple dream but with such big implications and impact. It meant more than him, you thought, how selfless, and how kind. This man you saw before you, so humble and sweet. You felt primal, urges begin to take over your mind, you let them, but maintained a friendly calm exterior… you hoped. “Arthur!” You jested! “I didn’t know you wanted to be a comedian! I love that! And I love the makeup!” You slapped his leg playfully. He smiled, his cheeks creating wide lines rippling the red paint. “Yeah, I uh, have a book I write jokes in and everything! It's got a lot of personal stuff and stuff from my own life, I think that’s what makes the best jokes.” He boasted sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders as he did.

You two began a long, deep conversation as the train crawled through the endless tunnels under the city, and time stood still. The lights from the tunnel flashing across your faces every so often light up the dimly lit train car. You spoke about anything and everything. One conversation led into the next and story after story as you two began getting to know about each other on a deeper level. You spoke about your past, how you grew up in an abusive household with parents who abused drugs, and how you were taken away at five years old due to neglect. He spoke to you about his past and childhood as well, how he was adopted and didn’t know his dad, how he had a neurological condition that caused him to laugh uncontrollably in situations of high stress or emotion. You two spoke about mental health, and he spoke of his need for medications and therapy. Although he seemed apprehensive to speak about many of the deeper topics, perhaps it was a fear of judgment. Nevertheless, you maintained a presence of safety, to be someone he could speak to safely and openly. You, too, have gone through life dealing with these issues. You didn’t feel comfortable telling him about your self-harm scars, though, at least not yet. You felt it was too intense and ashamed. But you related on your mutual need for therapy and the like and spoke honestly about your own diagnosis. You bared your soul to him without hesitation, knowing you are broken, yet doing your best just like him. You sought to make him feel not so alone because, in reality, that’s how he made you feel.

You thought to yourself how lucky you were to find a soul akin to your own with similar relatable experiences. You could help each other through things, learn, and grow. You spoke about life, politics, hopes, dreams, experiences, travel, etc. etc. You watched his face as he spoke, seeing every detail. How his nose crinkles when he smiles, the shape of his nose, the angular shape of his jawline as he opens and closes his mouth. Every lash that fluttered as he blinked. How his forehead moved when he’d raise his eyebrows. You studied him, wanting to know more, to see more. You noted every emotion you saw crossing his face, keeping the images of his face stored somewhere in your mind. The two of you connected in so many ways. You related so closely to his life stories and had so much in common. You felt even closer to him now. It was no longer surface level, and your lust for him only grew deeper, more complex.

You had an abundant amount of respect for this man. You found him to be a genuinely good and respectable person just trying to take care of his mother and support himself and his life's goals. Just like you, he wanted to make people happy. To help them and to succeed and be respected. It was wholesome. With each minute that passed, time seemed not to move at all. Every time the train moved in a rough manor and bumped you into him, you took the chance to steady yourself on him. Grabbing his thigh, curling your fingers softly inward towards the middle, sliding them off softly as you did, tracing lines on his suit. Every chance you had in the conversation to laugh or jest, you used as a chance to touch him. Putting your hand on his leg, looking him in his eyes when speaking seriously and from the heart, and playfully grabbing his shoulder when he would crack a joke. He was funny without trying, often just being a smartass. His humor was dry and a bit dark. It matched perfectly to yours. You both laughed loudly and wholeheartedly in the less serious parts of your conversation. It was bliss. It was so easy to speak with him. There were no awkward silences, no need to fill the space. You could listen to him speak all day and vice versa you could talk to him all day. The way he listened as you spoke. He was still, eyes concentrated on you and you alone. Watching your lips as you spoke, afraid to keep eye contact. And those eyes peeking at you through the makeup while looking down at you as he spoke, you melted into him. Hanging on his every word, anticipation at its height.

You crossed one leg over the other. The one farthest from him, your leg hooking his knee slightly and brushing past it as you did before resting in that position. Deliberately. You wanted to see if you could make his cheeks flush behind that makeup. You wanted to test the waters to see if, in fact, he was feeling what you were feeling. As much as you preach about communication and expressing your feelings, you were far too scared of rejection to be so forward. Rejection from Arthur would break you. You already felt so close to him. So, you were unsure how to proceed. Perhaps a look crossed your face. Perhaps he could read your mind. He quickly glanced at his leg and then returned his gaze to you. He began to reach his hand toward your thigh when suddenly you recognized the loud speaker announcing the approaching platform. Yours was still several stops away, but it immediately put a panic into your heart.

You wouldn’t have much time left with him now. Reality came crashing in on you, and you sprung yourself upwards, putting your knees on the bench to see over the seats behind you. You turned towards the back to view the closest marquee board, hoping the numbers were a lie. It was quick and sudden. Unbeknownst to you, in doing so, you essentially placed your breasts right in Arthur's face. His hand immediately reached up and held you close, pliantly, pulling you in, holding you still, a loving gesture truly. His hands felt stiff and strong. For a brief moment, you could feel the pressure of his nose in your cleavage and his forehead on your chest burrowing into you and inhaling deeply before you slid back down. Once again, forgetting about the numbers and being brought back to this man before you. You so badly wanted to be with him physically. To touch him in any way, for him to touch you.

You slid back into your seat, looking up at him, a mere inches away, bodies so close you could feel his breath. He was looking into your eyes examiningly. You shifted your gaze, feeling exposed and apologizing profusely, practically babbling. “Sorry, sor-sorry, I didn’t mean to. I mean, I-I completely forgot, I wasn’t paying atte-.” While trying to explain away your actions and trying not to seem like you were being rude- because that’s how you thought he would have perceived it, jumping up in the middle of a conversation like that. Arthur grabs your face with both hands. Gently placing them upon your cheeks with his thumbs resting under your chin, redirecting your gaze back to his and tilting your head upward ever so gently. He didn’t need to push or pull. With him, you were like water. You flowed with whatever movement he initiated. His eyes gazing into yours, your face a mixture of surprise and want. Your lips parted slightly; eyebrows raised. As if answering every wish in your mind, Arthur leans in and pulls you closer to him. One thumb reaches up from your chin and brushes over your lips. The other hand moves from your face and smoothes down your neck, sliding back behind your head and pulling you even closer as he steadies himself, shifting in his seat as he does. He caresses the back of your neck, running his fingers through your hair, squeezing lightly.

Tilting his head to the side, you close your eyes as you feel his lips press to yours. He lets out a long sigh through his nose, and you can hear a hum low in his throat. You immediately loosen, dropping your shoulders and pushing yourself onto him, leaning in fully for the kiss. You turn your body in your seat, getting up on your knees to reach his face more easily. You place your hands on his chest, pulling at his collar, wanting him closer. You moan and exhale pure passion, all of your longing, all of your obsession, finally being fulfilled. He sucked in through his teeth as if inhaling your essence, drinking you in. Your breathing was heavy, heart racing, skin hot. Your body felt like fire. He kissed you passionately, pushing hard into your lips, not breaking contact as he traced his tongue along yours, fighting for a spot in your mouth. Your teeth clanked as you kissed aggressively. Pawing at each other helplessly, taken over by your desire for one another. His hand went from your face and slid down the front of your top, smoothing the fabric as it slid. His hand rested at the seem just above your skirt. His fingers then began to slowly peak under your shirt as you felt his other hand slide from your neck to the small of your back. His fingers were cold against your skin, stinging, leaving a trail of cooler skin as they moved closer to their destination. It was exhilarating.

You kissed him back passionately, breathing hard through your nose, pushing back against him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, moving it to the back of his head where you playfully pulled his hair. You could feel him smile through the kiss. You moved your other hand from his collar to his chest, rubbing up to his shoulder and placing your fingers under his suits overcoat, sliding them delicately down his shoulder. Without hesitation, he took the initiative to follow suit and slid his arm out the rest of the way, pulling it off the other arm without leaving your face. His lips slightly shifted as his body moved. He re steadied just as quickly, dedicating his full attention to you. You acted, and he reacted and vice versa. Symbiotic. As his tongue gently roamed your mouth, his hands continued roaming your body greedily tugging at you, grabbing your skin lightly. Leaving no inch untouched. His fingers danced gently over your skin, but with enough force and authority to hold you in, to keep you there.

With your body pressed up against his, you lift your left knee and slide it between his legs finding a place to rest it on the seat bringing yourself even closer to him, hands in his hair again, tussling his curls playfully as you bit his lip. He let out a small, almost inaudible gasp. He then opened his eyes drunkenly and gave you a pleading look. His red paint smeared on his face, blurring the lines of the smile and no doubt spread onto your lips and nose as well in the heat of the kiss. You smirked, now knowing the power you had over him. Feeling his whole body erupt with desire at your touch. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You looked longingly into his eyes, seeing into him. You brimmed with emotions, too many to name, but at the surface was pure love and contentment, you wanted to give him all of you, all of your love. His arms wrapped around your back felt like an extension of your own body. Like he was a part of you, a piece that just fit so perfectly into place. The connection is undeniable. You placed your hand on his face, cradling his cheek and tracing where the lines of his red smile were. He all but sunk into your hand. He was so cute, so innocent, so untouched. You wanted to strip him of his purity, to ruin him sexually in ways that would make a preacher pray. You bit your bottom lip and rushed back to his. They were as soft as you imagined, pouty, and pillowy. They moved softly over yours as he pressed his tongue inward. You pulled his tongue into your mouth sucking on it, tracing underneath with your tongue reaching the tip and letting go. The kiss ended in a smack as you let go of his tongue. His hands had now wandered under your shirt, so precise and sure of his movements. One hand in the back holding you close, putting pressure on the small of your back just above your waist, one in the front, cupping your ample breast. He would switch from one breast to the other, his hand squeezing around them with minute pressure. You could hear a low groan building in his throat.

Unaware the entire time you were kissing him, your hips and legs that were straddling his thigh had begun moving upon their own volition. Rocking and swaying with the kiss, grinding on his knee. You could feel the heat that rose up from your core, moistening your panties as he encouraged you with his hands, holding you steadily, gently moving with your motions. You hadn't had much thought while kissing him. It was almost mechanical, routine. But now, all you could think about was him sliding his hands down there. You slowly nudged your knee closer to his groin, as close as it would go. His legs tightened around yours, and you could feel the stillness in his pants brush against your knee. This nearly sent you over the edge. Made you crazed with passion. He slid both hands around your back, reaching under your skirt, gripping his hands around your exposed bare cheeks, and pulled closer. The tips of his fingers brushing up against the lace of your panties ever so slightly. Squeezing his hands hard gripping your flesh until it spilled out between each finger, you audibly moaned in his ear, gasping at his touch. You flung your head back as he began peppering kisses around your neck. Starting behind your ear and working his way down to your shoulders, then collar bones and back up the front of your neck under your chin and working his way back to your mouth. This man had you in a choke hold, and you were putty in his forgiving hands. The world around you melted away. Unbothered by the frigid air in the subway, unaware that your stop had already come and gone. It was the last thing on your mind and worlds away. Arthur was your focus. You had his attention, and you planned on keeping it for as long as possible, and you didn’t care who saw or who was affected by it. Work who? Work where? Honestly, fuck that place! Nothing made you feel as good as Arthur did right now. Not helping people, not being a reliable coworker, nothing. You would let everyone and everything go for him. He’s the closest you’ve ever felt to joy, to pure unfiltered exhilaration. You were nothing if not enraptured by his touch and charmed by his nature. It felt like a dream in the sense you were content, he felt like home, like a nice warm bed you had drifted off in. He radiated pure comfort. Reality now matching your dreams, your fantasies, coming to fruition. It was destiny.

He continued kissing your face, his hands, one gripping your breast, one gripping the back of your head with his fingers, entangled in your curls. He clenched his hand and pulled you away slightly. A light gasp escaped your lips. He gazed into your eyes with intensity. You watched as his lips moved but barely registered the words. “Come on” a hazy voice spoke in a low whispered gravelly tone. You shifted your leg away from between his as he rose and offered out a hand. Mindlessly, you followed, grasping his hand as he pulled you out of the corner and led you to the seats that lined the side of the subway sprawled out in front of a large window. There was more room here. You were no longer caged in, yet you felt exposed. But those thoughts were not at the forefront of your mind. No thoughts, really. You were drunk with passion and followed his commands without thought. Like a river whose flow is uninterrupted by the current or obstacles in its way, you unabashedly follow.

He lays his suits overcoat on the seat for you. And motions for you to sit. Such a gentleman, you think. You watch him, observing how he looks at you. Reserved, trying to move slowly and take his time with you. But you could see under the surface how much he held back. You could tell by how he loosened his collar, the smile that curled onto his lips. He let out a sigh. Of course, you knew you had this power over him, but you wanted so badly for him to just take control. You didn’t have to ask.

His overcoat lay underneath you; the inner fabric was a soft, deep red silk still warm from his skin. You could feel it on your legs beneath you. He moved to stand in front of you, pushing your legs apart as he did, standing between them as close to you as possible. He towered over you as you looked up at him, trying to ignore the bulge growing in his pants right in front of your face. He must’ve seen you glance. His eyes narrowed, and a smile crossed his face you haven’t quite seen yet. It was darker, more menacing, you felt your heart skip a beat, your breathing quickened. He caressed the side of your face with his palm, and you melted into his touch. Then quickly, he pulled your chin upwards with a push of his index finger. “You’re so beautiful.” He said in a growl through his teeth. “So pretty. And such a good girl.” He chuckled as he let go of your chin. You nodded. “For you” you whispered while roaming your hand up the front of his abdomen. Reaching underneath his vest and undershirt with one while the other traced the hem of his pants and tugged gently. His smile grew wider. “For me.” He stated purposefully. There was more weight behind those words than you had realized at that time, but you would come to know in the coming weeks. You would have it no other way. You were for him.

You looked at him, your eyes, begging him as you traced your hand back down his chest and to the hem of his pants. You placed both of your index fingers within the seem and traced the waistband out to his sides, feeling his hip bones, then back to the middle. Brushing your forearm ever so gently over his now throbbing bulge. You felt a slight twitch as you did, but he didn’t flinch. “Tell me what you want Y/N” He wanted you to speak. He wanted you to say it, to ask nicely. You would beg if he asked. “Please” you say. He remained still, watching as you squirmed. He placed a hand behind your head and wrapped it around your hair once more as you looked up at him. “Please, I want to taste you.” You almost cried out. He bends down and kisses you, deeply squeezing your face, inhaling your breath, his tongue tracing your yours. He pushes himself flush against the seat, looking down at you, and nods. “Be a good girl for me then”.

You immediately began unbuttoning and then unzipping his pants. They catch above his cock and you have to maneuver them over his stiffness to finally free him. The tented underwear slid down easy. Finally revealing what you had only imagined when you were alone in your room. The lights of the subway tunnel washed over his body. The subway was dark for the most part sans the flickering fluorescents here and there. But occasionally an outside light would speed by and light everything up. And in that moment, while you were revealing him, you could see every detail. How his cock sprang up when freed from his clothing, how the tip glistened under tge amber glow of the lights. You grasped his thickness in your hand, reveling at the size and girth. You instantly felt the wetness increase in between your legs as the thought of him penetrating you played out in your mind. His tip leaking precum out of a bulbous head, your hand perched right below. You take a finger and gently smooth it over, spreading the stickiness around his tip. Tapping it, pulling it up, and playing with it. A hiss escapes through his lips. You look up with a smile just as menacing as his earlier. You slide your hand down to his base and lick from the bottom to the tip, cleaning off the precum you made a mess of.

You then take him into your mouth, stretching open as wide as you could to accommodate him. You watched his reaction as you pushed his swollen cock back into your throat, slowly taking him all in. His eyes snapped shut and his head fell back. His hands instinctively reached for your head, his fingers intertwined into your hair and massaging your neck and shoulders while pulling you in. Your hand held at his base and you began sucking his cock slowly and deliberately. Each time coming up to circle his tip with your tongue, then scrapping your teeth along the edge gently as you went down. His breathing was erratic as he lightly grunted while gently grabbing your head and rocking his hips to meet your movements. Letting go of his base you grabbed onto his hips and continued sucking, pulling him deeper into your mouth. Your hands gently playing with his balls, rubbing them and circling your thumb around each.

His size was quite substantial, and the thickness filled your throat, hurting slightly as it passed in and out. You created a pressure inside your mouth while sucking that whenever his cock slipped out it did so with a pop. You pull your lips off and again begin licking up and down his shaft. Cleaning up any spit that lingered. He let out another long sigh then pulled your head away from him. His index finger under your chin again, lifting you to his gaze and standing you up. His member poking your lower abdomen. Immediately your hands were all over each other in a passionate kiss where he tasted himself. Your tongues fighting for space in each other's mouths, as he raised your top off over your head and gently laid it onto the seat next to you. He then returned to the kiss. Pulling you close to him, pressing his hard member against you. “Lay down” he says as he gestures to the seat with his coat outstretched. You follow directions, wondering what's next.

You lay across the seats propped up on your elbows, watching him as he walks toward the end of the seats and stands again in between your legs. He grabs under your things behind your knees and pulls you closer to him with force. He then lifts up your skirt gently with both hands revealing your lacy white panties now soaked with anticipation. He places his fingers under the elastic and begins pulling them down. You look onward observing him. He’s so gentle with you, so lovingly tender. You raise your knees, and he slips your panties over your knees and boots, respectfully setting them on the seat next to you. He then raises his head to you, looming over you with your vagina completely exposed.

He began kissing you gently and lightly when you suddenly felt his hand smooth over your mound. His fingers slowly approached your opening. With your knees raised, your body starts to buck in response to his proximity. You hold your hands on his chest, he loosens his collar, unbuttons a few buttons, and removes his vest and returns to kissing you. You return your hands to his chest, feeling his ribs, his collar bones, and his hip bones as your hands travel, exploring his body further. Your mind is fuzzy and dizzy with passion. You let out a sharp gasp and moan while breathing heavily as he pushes a finger inside you. He slowly moves it in and out while watching your face. You gawk at him in a pleading manor, your breath caught in your throat when he slips in another finger. You moan loudly in his ear. The tension, leaving your body. With one hand, he pulls your bra down slightly, revealing your breasts. He begins lightly sucking on your nipple, his tongue, sharp and circling. His breathing made the saliva from his tongue cold on your skin. A tingling sensation that, paired with his fingers inside you, almost took you over the edge. His pace began to quicken as he watched you from behind your breasts. Your chest, rising and falling with each pant. His thumb rubbed your clit while he methodically moved his fingers within you. He watched for your reactions, the way you moaned told him either more or less. He was so intuitive, learning your body so quickly.

As pleasure welled up within you, you were looking at him. Seeing his satisfaction in the way he made you moan, how he made you squirm. It was almost overwhelming. He watched on and smiled. The red paint still smeared near his lips and cheeks, some of the white smeared too. You watched as he descended to your core. His fingers still working you, tipping you over the edge. You couldn’t image his cock in you if his fingers alone had you under his spell. His face disappeared, all but his eyes remained. Blue triangles peeked out above your lower abdomen. His free hand gripping your thigh. He rubbed over the scars on your legs, kissing them, unbothered. He's literally the sweetest and wants you to feel loved and appreciated. His demeanor and actions showed this. You feel a breeze as your skirt lifts and his face completely disappears. There's a sudden feeling of moist warmth on your vulva from his breath, so warm. His lips pressed against your labia. You felt him lick from where his fingers were inside you, up to your clit. His tongue was hot, and flat as he enveloped you into his mouth fully. Sucking your labia and tonguing the edges. You almost completely lost it. It's as if you could see steam coming off of your bodies against the cold air of the train car. You’ve almost completely forgot you were even on a train. A public train! With your panties off completely exposed while Arthur was eating you out! The thrill settled like a pit in your stomach. You were filled with an intense fear of being caught, but too deep in the throes of passion to care. It may have even excited you a little you thought. You hoped no one would see, however unlikely it may be at this late hour. But you also realized the long window behind you left space to be seen by anyone who passed by. Surely the train would be moving too fast for that though. Another thought interrupted in your mind, that there could still be other people on this train in another cabin, and they could come to this one any time they wanted!

“Fuuuck!” You moan. Your clit began to throb as he sucked it gently with his teeth. Flicking it left to right with his tongue and continuing to elicit moans from you with the work of his fingers. You grabbed his green locks through your fingers and pulled hard while rocking your hips into him, feeling his nose on your mound. As you approached the precipice of climax he just as quickly removed his fingers and stopped sucking. You immediately became aware and tried to pull his head back down. “No, please” you begged in a whispered moan. “Shhhh” he whispered while raising one finger to his lips and standing guard. His face barely had the paint on that it did previously. It had all but smeared off.

The train had stopped at a platform, and the doors had opened. You hadn't noticed, but to be quite frank, you did not care! You were so close, this is cruel! A group of men who seemed drunk and were loudly yelling walked past the window. You both waited in anticipation and complete silence as they passed the train car. You let out a big breath. They were leaving. The doors shut, and the subway began to darken once more. Arthur immediately turned his attention back to you, rubbing his hands from your hips up to your breasts. Still in between your legs. He had been looking down at you, seeing you be so vulnerable, so exposed, so… obedient…for him. You sat up on your elbows to match his kiss. Thrusting your face against his. His hands now back down at your knees. He spreads them wider and pulls you closer to the edge. After anticipating this, you scoot closer as well.

His mouth reaches you once more, drawing in a deep kiss holding your face cupped in his hands. You reach down and grab hold of him, feeling him throb in your grip. You lightly stroke him a couple of times before guiding him to your opening. He pulls his face from yours with a look of many questions. You silence it with one word. “Please?” Hearing you say please was all he needed to hear. He placed his tip at your entrance, sliding it up and down, smoothing your wetness all over his length. He was looking you in the eyes as he leaned over you, your hand on his abdomen. Slowly, he pushed in. You felt your vaginal opening stretch only slightly at first, but just the tip was enough to make you cry out. You jut an arm out and put it around his neck, cradling him to you, forehead to forehead as he pushes in further. You feel him completely fill you. Slowly, but he easily slips right in regardless of his size because of how wet he has made you. He hums in your ear, a low, almost guttural sound that fills you with a primal urge and instinct you can't name, just something in your nature. You eagerly take him in, rocking up to him, unable to take it so slow. You wanted him to fuck you, but he took his time being gentle and careful with you as if you were a delicate glass ornament. He treated you with so much respect and love, even in the midst of passion. You were pulled to him like a binary star system, revolving only around each other.

Every push made you cry out in ecstasy, each time getting further and further inside of you. Finally, his pace began to quicken. He rose from you, now standing. His hands grasped your knees as he rocked his hips into you fully. Each time hitting your cervix. Your walls clenched around him. With every pump, his pace sped, and the thrusts became harder and harder. He watched your face, intuitively making sure you were ok with his pace and how hard he was going. You encouraged him with moans and songs of his praises “yes, fuck, yes” “please don’t stop, fuck” “Arthur please fuck me! Please” and “harder Arthur” followed by cries of utter passion. He mimicked your cries of passion with his own, throwing his head back and grunting with every thrust.

The louder you were, the louder he got. A symphony of passion, dancing to the music created from the instruments of your bodies. Each thrust sent a shiver through your core, traveling up your spine, your legs shook, and you whimpered with relief. Goosebumps radiated and rippled through your flesh; it made you shiver. You arched your back and met every thrust of his with your own. You locked eyes, panting and thrusting in unison. He then grabbed your legs and placed them around his neck leaning into you and pushing even deeper and placing one hand on your lower abdomen in front of your legs where he reached through them and began teasing your clit. His eyes held steadfast on you, feasting on you with his gaze. Stern and focused, gritting his teeth as he grunted pumping into your cunt so hard it began to hurt. The pain in of itself transcended that of something hurtful but only became more pleasurable. It made you want more.

You felt your walls clench and spasm around his length. Gasping and out of breath you manage to get the words out “Ar-Arth” “Fuck, I-I’m gonna cum!” You grabbed helplessly towards him, to bring him close to you once more. Your legs fell from his shoulders, and he leaned in to steal a kiss. You tried your best, meeting his passionate kiss with breathy attempts to connect, to lick. He continued his loving assault on your cunt. A spasm shot through your core, and you lurched forward then fell back again, arching your back and shaking with every wave of pleasure that rippled through your body. You screamed out, cried out in high pitch moans. You caught Arthur's gaze once more, his face smiling with devilish delight. You wrapped your legs around him pulling him in, waves still surging through your body, squeezing him with every contraction of your climax. You softly touched his face “don’t stop”.

He began fucking you furiously. He was pulling you towards him with every inch of himself he could fit into you. Bucking back and forth with no rhythm, purely enjoying you for himself, using you to meet his own end. His face clenched and distorted so beautifully as his orgasm took hold. His force remained the same, slamming into you but his speed slowed considerably as he pumped every last drop of his seed deep inside of you. In almost a whisper, he let out the most deep animalistic groan from the depths of his vocal range as he came. His manhood, spasming with every burst of his essence that filled you. You could feel him pulsating within you, feel his substantial hot thick load as he continued to fuck it out of you until he couldn’t stand the stimulation and collapsed on top of you, still inside you.

He lay on top of you for some time. You embraced each other, held him close, and cradled him in the crook of your neck, still reeling from your vigorous activity and taking it all in. He was still inside of you, content, unabatingly so. You didn’t want to waste a moment with him, praying it would last forever. This perfect moment with him, so sublime. You felt at peace, euphoric. You thought since you missed work and didn’t plan on going in now, you had the rest of the night to spend with him. Your mind drifted off thinking of the possibilities when a chime from the platform interrupted your TLC so rudely. The last stop was approaching. You and Arthur exchanged glances, him looking up at you, knowing you would have to both get dressed any moment. But you took the minutes you had left with him to continue to absorb his altruistic nature, to be in his comfort. At least for this short time until you could again.

[darling-i-read-it]

DC Movies Masterlist

Laugh (any Joker x fem!reader x any Batman)

Muffled Laughter (any Joker x fem!reader x any Batman) (Laugh Part 2)

Her Laugh (any Joker x fem!reader x any Batman) (Laugh Final Part)

JOKER PLAYLIST

Arthur Fleck

ARTHUR FLECK PLAYLIST

Bus Ride

Ruin It

No Way

Move In

Late

Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne

Best Friends

Shooting Star*

First Names

Waiting Up

Valentine’s

Mexican Food

Kidnapping

Art Show

A-Z NSFW

Sleeping

Gala

Spending the holidays with Bruce

‘I love you’ ‘I know’

Affection

Robert Pattinson! Bruce Wayne

BRUCE WAYNE PLAYLIST

Pinky Promise

Eyes

Interview

Batmobile*

Bruises

Stay Home

Niece

Hold

Neck Kisses

Bruce with an affectionate reader

Drunk Bruce

Reader who’s not afraid to stand up for herself

Reader who doesn’t like bats

Harley Quinn

Eggs and Toast

Poly relationship with her and Rick Flag

Jonathan Crane

Stitches

Rick Flag

RICK FLAG PLAYLIST

Night Out

Waller

Warm Showers

Already Married

Colonel Flag*

My Girl

Don’t Bother*

Out of Prison

Poly relationship with him and Harley

Kissing hcs

NSFW hcs*

Adrian Chase

One Week

Hash Browns

Good Husbands

Mornings (with Matt Murdock)

Asking for a kiss on his lap

Dating him and Matt Murdock

NSFW hcs with him and Matt Murdock

[rosesloveletters]

Innocent.

pairing: Joaquin Phoenix Joker x Fem. Reader

word count: 2,236

warnings: language (???) and angst

summary: A song-fic based on Taylor Swift’s ‘Innocent’; Arthur has come to terms with his new persona and reader begins to accept it as well.

“I guess you really did it this time. Left yourself in your warpath. Lost your balance on a tightrope. Lost your mind tryin’ to get it back…”

Arthur stood staring into the mirror above the sink as he waited for the shower to heat up. He frowned at the face staring back at him, barely visible in the steam collecting on the cool glass, and the face in the mirror reciprocated. He didn’t recognize his own visage anymore. That face had seen too much evil; too much blood, murder, carnage… Too many people could put a name to that face now and it angered him. People knew who he was only because of who he had let himself become and that was just as frustrating. He knew there was no real point in an attempt at a normal life because of that. He didn’t have a chance at that anymore. No matter how long a person runs, they can never escape themselves. Arthur didn’t believe in that too much until he became someone else. He might be the Joker now, but he would never shed the skin and bone that belonged to Arthur. Arthur Fleck would always remain, no matter how much he hated that fact.

And so maybe it didn’t matter that he hadn’t been able to sleep worth a damn for the last week or two? What of it? Who was responsible for fixing that problem? Well, certainly nobody but himself, obviously. The government had cut out nearly every free of cost program for people in need to receive help. His insomnia had been last on his list of issues, not that he really had any idea which of his supposed issues held the most importance. What came first was never determined and he never even had a chance to before every sliver of help was ripped away. At first it was like getting the wind knocked out of his lungs but now he didn’t give a damn. He had made a list in his decrepit diary of all the things that had once plagued him, invisible to the rest of the world. But he didn’t wish to revisit it. He didn’t like the idea that there might be something wrong with him.

He knew he wasn’t normal. People didn’t think he knew that he wasn’t normal, but he did. Maybe he didn’t care or maybe he just didn’t think he deserved to be turned into their villain, but if that was what they wanted then by hell or high water he would give it to them. Maybe he wanted to play their game all along and become the product of their malfeasance. So many thoughts went through his head day in and day out that he had easily filled every page and every line in that diary. But then he stopped. Things didn’t bother him the way they used to. Not after he had killed Randall, and then Murray. Not with you by his side and the city on its knees. Things were easier now. He didn’t worry about living a normal life or having a job or paying rent or feeding himself or sleeping. He did what he wanted to do and how he wanted to do it. He didn’t feel confined by society anymore. He could finally be nothing but himself. He never wanted you to feel like you had to solve his problems for him. You were not responsible for providing him with what a doctor should have.

You passed by the bathroom door and caught sight of him staring at himself in the mirror. You paused before you knocked on the door quietly, too nervous to fully enter without letting him know you were there, “Artie..baby?” you gingerly approached him so you wouldn’t startle him. He seemed distant and concentrating on something you probably wouldn’t understand. Even if you didn’t understand him you always tried to. You were perhaps the only person in Gotham city who was not afraid of him. But you knew Arthur better than anyone. He was gentle and sweet, with gorgeous round eyes and soft lips and a wicked tongue that whispered loving words into your ear every night just as your eyelids were growing heavy. He was innocent and could get embarrassed easily. He provided for you the best he could and he was proud of how well he could take care of you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“Yes, kitten?”

He had turned to you somehow without you even knowing. His eyes were the same as they had always been. Gentle. Soft. Open. Nearly childlike. He was so very patient whenever he spoke to you. Maybe it was your own timid personality that swayed him to take that position with you, but he was soft-spoken as well most of the time. Not so much as you, but soft enough that those who weren’t would walk all over him. It irked him the way that people did that and he wanted to speak out and make it stop but he couldn’t get the words out fast enough and he would stumble over sentences and get so angry he couldn’t say the right thing sometimes and then the laughter would start. Oh how he hated that.

But you comforted him like you always did. That made it better. He liked the way you would pet his hair and remind him to breathe. Your hand would slide down the length of his arm, fingers gently searching for his own, while you whispered sweet comforting words to him. You were the only person who had ever made him feel so loved and so frozen in time, in a good way, frozen inside a moment in which he never wanted to leave. You made him feel like a real person and that was all he had ever really wanted. He was a person. A living, breathing human being. With a heartbeat. He was alive. He only ever felt that way when he was with you. He never had to hide who he was around you. You never made him feel isolated or ridiculed him for his condition. You comforted him whenever he needed it the most. He could rely on you when he couldn’t even rely on himself. You also accepted and embraced his new Joker persona. It was him. You held no argument with him coming to terms with his own self. He might have been the product of society, coupled with neglect, abuse and his own unfortunate mental illness. But you loved him. Why should he receive any less love?

It made you sick to think about it sometimes. All in all, you understood it now. In their eyes he was a cold-blooded killer. But what you saw was a gentle, slightly malnourished and beaten-down young man who was so wide-eyed and trying to do his best in the world with the life that had been given to him. Not everyone got to live a fortunate, safe, and comfortable life. But Arthur always tried to make the best of things. No matter how he tried to struggle by and remain a functional member of society, it wasn’t enough for people. It was disgusting how they treated him. Injustice didn’t sit well with you anyway, but it made you feral that it was centered around your partner. And the way people had laughed at him… You wanted to scream. People thought he was too stupid to realize they were laughing at him. Arthur wasn’t stupid. He knew people were laughing, maybe he just didn’t know why. You hated the way the world treated him and the only way you could think to rationalize his reaction was that it was karma for how they’d treated him. He couldn’t be the only one the city had done this to. The revolt happening in the city was your answer. Clearly poor Arthur was their king because he was the only one who had fought back. After all this time, he fought back. In spite of the outcome, you were proud of him.

Was this how the city treated its poor and it’s unfortunate and it’s mentally ill citizens? What kind of city was this? Gotham was trash as far as you were concerned. Gotham was trash for hurting your Artie.

“You had a question?”

You had almost forgotten that you had asked for Arthur’s attention and his gentle prompting caught you off guard, “uh…” you stammered, a soft blush rising on your cheeks, “is everything alright?”

Arthur nodded slowly and he tilted his head as he examined you. He liked the curves of your body. Little innocent Arthur wouldn’t know how to phrase what he liked and what he didn’t without getting embarrassed and almost having a laughing fit. He couldn’t put it so bluntly. But Joker could. Joker liked your wide hips and bright eyes and soft breasts. Joker wasn’t afraid to grab you, touch you any way he liked. Joker could be rough and demanding. Never mean or angry with you, just stronger. More capable. More him. Arthur, but free of constraints. Free from his complex mind, in a way. Free to be something he always wanted to be. Free to love you so deeply and more passionately than ever. Free.

“Everything’s fine, kitten. Why wouldn’t it be?”

You gave a light shrug, “well, the police are looking for you, for one thing. And two, the whole city is burning. Are we even safe anymore, Arthur?”

The corner of his eye twitched, “it’s Joker, darling. Please.” He didn’t want to be Arthur anymore. The world hated that man when it had no reason to.Jokerwas born out of hate. Joker would live on in the world the way Joker was meant to.

“I’m serious!” Your voice reached high pitched octaves at the end of your little squeal, “they’re after us now. Really, reallyafter us this time Artie.”

Arthur let out a soft, calming breath. He didn’t need to live in fear any longer and neither did you. He was done letting life happen to him. He was going to fight back and create his own reality. He was tired of letting society determine who he was. He had gotten revenge on the people in his life who had wronged him. He was forging his own path now and he had you to accompany him on this new journey. He didn’t want to be alone anymore and he didn’t want to feel so bad all the time. Thanks to Joker and you, of course, he didn’t. He had a purpose. He had a meaning and he had excitement and he was wanted. The only person who had wanted Arthur was you and so he was okay with being your Arthur, even if that man was dead to the rest of the world.

“You know I’ll keep you safe, little one,” Arthur smiled softly at you, pet your hair when you came close enough for him to touch, “don’t worry.”

You didn’t budge from his hold on you and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as carefully as he could. You wanted to be close to him. Arthur seemed different now, but not in a bad way for you. He was even more protective than he had been before. Arthur wasn’t extremely tall or muscular, but he would have always fought to protect you and it made you feel safe knowing that.

He kissed your hair and rubbed your back, thanking his lucky stars that he had met you when he did. You came into his life just at the right time and pulled him out of his long-term loneliness and depression, first as a dear friend, but then it quickly evolved into something deeper and more intimate. At first he had tried to fight it off, not wanting to admit what you meant to him and living in fear that you would leave him and abuse him just like everyone else in his life had. But as time went by he found himself more and more comfortable with you and soon you spent every waking hour together. You were all he needed and he loved you more than life itself.

His mind wandered and the thought of him losing you felt like a stab in the gut. He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the feeling of wanting to cry.

He looked down at you, tucked peacefully against his body, so beautiful in the dingy bathroom light and he hugged you tight to him, not wanting to ever let you go.

“Arthur, if this is our life now, then I’m okay with it,” you whispered to him softly, “this is so new and different and…it scares me a lot. But it doesn’t scare me as much as the thought of losing you does, so…I’m all in.”

Arthur felt a flower of hope begin to blossom in his chest. This was all new to him too, after all. But now knowing that you weren’t going to run from him in terror, he could relax even more and truly accept himself for good. You weren’t leaving him. Not then. Not now. Not Ever. Arthur held you against him a little tighter, then.

The next time you called him by his old name, he did not correct you.

“Who you are is not what you did. You’re still an innocent…”

[soulsdontbreaktheybeeend]

Words < Actions | Arthur Fleck x You

I saw this gif set of Arthur (by @liagreycrow) and imagined he would be looking at me like this, figuring out what else he could have said in that moment it’s not so different than in the movie lmao and I came up with this little scenario. I love this side of Arthur so much. SO intimidating it does so many things to me omfg. I’m sure you already know which scene I’m talking about, but here have a look at it again, because ughh. Please go have a look at it before reading this. It helps to get in the right mood. https://liagreycrow.tumblr.com/post/190462679051

NSFW!, fem!reader and a bit angst

Words: 3,906

It was already close to midnight as you opened the door to your apartment. Eager to embrace your love in your arms after another hard and exhausting day at your workplace. Arthur had been on your mind this whole day. Even stronger than every other day. You couldn’t wait for him to pull you close, warming your empty form up from the inside with his love. It was all you needed after returning home. And you really needed it today. You needed him. No food, alcohol nor a hot shower to release your tight muscles could make you feel any better today. Temporarily they would help, yes. But nothing could ever quite make you feel as grounded and as calm as Arthur did. Arthur was all your basic needs.

The frown you were wearing on your face through the whole day was slightly brightening up, when you saw him sitting at the small table in the corner of the living room. He was smoking, wearing his green-blue sweater which you liked so much on him. Every so often you had been telling him how handsome he looked in that sweater which highlighted his mesmerizing eyes even more. Walking over to him, you almost didn’t notice how tense he was. Almost. Usually he would have embraced you right at the door after it clicked open. Albeit it wouldn’t be big news for you if he had had a bad day, too. Still fighting with it, deep in his thoughts. In moments like this, both of you were always trying to make the other one feel better. Even if one didn’t feel like it, because there was so much going on in your minds. Yet the both of you had always been finding a way to slowly pull each other out of your well of sorrow. And if it was only to dive back down the following day, you would repeat climbing the wall of this well together. Always together.

Arthur didn’t appear to stand up, so you decided to walk over to him. From behind him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Your chest pressed against his sharp shoulder blades, hands exploring his chest, rubbing it soothingly. You hummed at the relieved sensation of feeling his body close to yours, as he took another drag of his cigarette. Breathing in his scent, you moved your head to the crook of his neck, kissing the soft skin there. You breathed a whispered “Hi.” while you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Arthur didn’t response. Hmm Arthur didn’t response at all. When he usually could not wait to get his hands on any part of your body, just to make sure your presence is all real, he hadn’t touched you, hell he didn’t even take a glimpse at you since you entered the apartment.

“Arthur?” You let go of your hold on him, gently caressing his shoulder, facing him now. “Hey… what is it?” You offered him to talk to you about what was going on. It was more than clear to you there was something bothering him, a lot. Arthur just sat there and looked down at the floor. You could see his lips turn into a slight smile, which almost made you smile, too, until you noticed it looked nothing like a genuine smile. It was ironic. Almost derided, at the question you had just been asking him. If it wasn’t for the now haunting silence in the apartment, you wouldn’t have heard the whispered “Fuck”, leaving his lips. Ashes fell onto the floor, as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

 Still Arthur looked down at the floor, searching there in its worn texture for calm words. He loved you so deeply and with all his being that it hurt him how he felt in this moment. He never wanted to feel any kind of anger towards you. He knew you loved him as much as he did. He had felt it every day, every time your lips touched his own slightly or fiery, the way you looked at him smiling genuinely in relief and anticipation to be held by his warm embrace after a hard and exhausting day at work. He felt it in every moment the both of you shared a laugh. Every morning right before you’d wake up, he’d be up already, just to see your peacefully beautiful face surrounded by the uprising sunlight falling into your shared bedroom. And oh- how he loved those mornings, when you would open your eyes slowly for the first time of the new day, moaning softly. With sleepy eyes would you search for his face, for you longed it to be the first thing to see after your long dark night without it.

Nevertheless, tonight his anxieties got the better of him. He had had yet another awful day at work. All he needed was to come home. You were working late tonight and for Arthur your shared apartment only really felt like home with your presence surrounding it.

______________

He figured you’d be home any minute as he stood by the window in the living room peeking out, hoping to see you walk upon the building complex rather sooner than later. And there you were. Walking down the street with your arms crossed in front of your chest trying to shield yourself from the freezing wind. Finally, Arthur thought, the corner of his mouth slightly turning upwards.

 Unfortunately, that only lasted for a few seconds. His eyes widened as he saw a tall man approaching you from behind, grabbing you by your upper arm turning you around to face him. Arthur already saw himself running down the stairs to help you get away from this stranger, as he felt himself freeze in a shocked stiffness. After the tall man had turned your body around to face him, Arthur could see the both of you argue over something he obviously couldn’t hear. You were then shaking your head no as you turned your back on the man as of a sign to end the conversation. Once more his hand reached out to grab your arm, turning you around. Arthur couldn’t believe his eyes. That stranger wasn’t going for another conversation. Instead Arthur saw him grasp for your head, leaning down. Your hands had immediately come up. It looked like you were tugging the stranger even closer to you. Arthur felt a blazing fire rising inside him as he turned his back to the window. Hurt. Anger. His heart felt like it had been stabbed by thousands of sharp and blunt knives altogether.

_______________

You could see him knit his eyebrows, frowning as he pursed his thin lips, preparing himself to speak. He had tried hard to keep his scattered self calm tonight. So hard. So hard, for you. All he wanted, no needed tonight, was to hold you close to him. So close it would wash all the awfulness of the day away. Given the circumstances now, he had trouble to even think about holding you close to him. Was he still allowed to hold you, to touch you, to kiss you? On the contrary he felt the need to show you that only he could make you feel good. Feel so good, like all these times he made you moan so beautifully under his touch. Seeing you with another man like this, so close, so close in a way only he should be allowed to hold you. Fuck he even had his lips on yours. Arthur fought with himself in his mind. He loved you so deeply, he tried to convince himself that there must be an explanation for what he just witnessed.

  „Who did you talk to?” Arthur finally looked up at you. He looked so intimidating in this moment. It sent cold shivers down your spine. Never had you seen this look on his face. It made you nervous in no good way. You felt yourself growing more and more insecure by the second you didn’t answer, your throat as a response to that getting dry. The silence in combination with this intense gaze he held on you, haunted you to the bone.

“What do you mean?” Your voice nothing but a whisper.

“Who did you talk to?”

He saw it

You sighed at the heaviness building in your chest, making it hard to breathe. Your organs tightening in your stomach as if they’re about to suffocate. The walls of your shared apartment, usually radiating back the warmth of your shared love, grew colder and colder, dangerously closing in on you. In addition, ironically you did feel a warmth growing inside you, which made you feel even more sick to your stomach, as it was nothing but a discomforting heat which seemed to burn your body from the inside.

 But then he saw me punching him, too!

You gained new confidence by your thoughts.

 “Oh Arthur, I’m sorry you had to see this. But I’m alright, darling.”

“You’re- you are… alright? Y/N, how can you be standing here, telling me to my face you are alright after what just happened outside?” His voice broke, “Do you not love me anymore?”

“What?! Baby, what are you talking about- of course I love you! Y’know I do. Why would you even-”

 Silence.

 Slowly it came to your mind.

  “Wait… you saw me slapping his face, right?! Arthur? Arthur, look at me, please.” You cupped his cheeks, begging him to look you in the eyes.

“Did you see me punching him in the face?”

He shook his head as he looked down at the floor, “No. I turned away after I saw him kiss you.” Looking up, the intimidating gaze back in his eyes, “Who was he, Y/N?”

___________ Behind Arthurs back, for him not to see anymore, after the man had forcingly smashed his lips against yours, you finally succeeded to free yourself from his hold on you. You slapped the flat back of your hand right across the man’s face. Hard. The two rings on your fingers, helping with the intensity of the impact, leaving two visible red scratches on his cheek. While your intruding ex-boyfriend grunted and lifted his hands to cup his face, you rescued yourself into the safe foyer of the apartment building.

___________

Now you were the one looking at the floor, not able to withstand the burning look he held on you. You made your way over to him. As soon as you stood right in front of him, you reached out an arm. You grabbed Arthurs hand, signaling him to stand up. Come with me, love. Please. You sighed, sitting both of you down onto the couch. You took his hands into yours, placing a warm kiss on his knuckles before you laid them down on your lap, rubbing them gently.

“It was Eric.” You admitted.

“He seems to be back in Gotham. I was waiting at the subway station when I noticed him. Now I could tell he would’ve grabbed me then and there if it wasn’t for the other thirty people waiting there as well. I saw him getting into the same train, but he chose a different cabin. I hadn’t seen him in a long time now, so I stopped myself from interpreting too much into it. Now I wish I would’ve just run home.”

“What did he want?” “He… he said he missed me, I’d still be his and wants to get back together.” You said carelessly, putting more meaning into your following words. “But I- I don’t care about that. I don’t even wanna talk about it, Arthur. All I care about is us, is you. And I need you to believe me, that I didn’t want any of this.” Words left your mouth, but you were speaking to him with your whole body. Moving and shifting your torso along the emotions you felt running through your veins. Hands caressing and squeezing his, as a pleading for him to listen to you, to hear the deep love that lurked behind them. Your head wandered all over him, from his hands that you held in yours, to his face and eyes where you searched so desperately for understanding. Arthur’s intimidating look still lingered on his face, staring right into the depth of your soul through your eyes, before he let his gaze fall onto your intertwined hands, then slipping off to a point at the couch, to where he could process the words you just spoke.

You immediately wanted him to look at you again, though you choked under his particular gaze, but you couldn’t take it. You needed him to look at you.

“I didn’t want to see him again; I told you how things have been and ended with him. I didn’t want him to approach me like that. Fuck, above all, I didn’t want him to get his lips on mine ever again, I-“ Your voice broke, as you felt your eyes getting wet. You were searching for words to make him understand how much this situation hadn’t been in your interest. Only three did you find. I love you. I love you. I love you. So you said them out loud. “All this incident has shown me is… I love you, Arthur. So much. I wouldn’t even know how to start to describe how much I do. I don’t- I don’t think there are any words that could. I want to tell you, so bad, but… but I- ” You fought hopelessly with yourself.

“Show me.” His appeal almost overheard by your scattered self.

“What?” You breathed out.

“If you can’t tell, then show me, Y/N.”

 You hadn’t noticed you were holding in a breath until you almost choked on his words, soaking in air hastily. With a gaze of disbelief, you studied his face for a sign you could make sure you had heard his words correctly. You had. You had found a sign, right there in his pleading darkened green eyes. Show me. Please. I need you to show me.

Not wasting a second, you cupped his cheeks. His skin felt so soothingly warm against your fragile, still slightly shaking and cold hands. Oh, they were always cold, and he’d always loved to warm them up for you with the heat of his own. You pressed your lips on his ever so slowly. So slowly you lost yourself in the sensation of the act right at the first touch. It’s you. It’ll always be only you. His lips on yours felt like a healing, cleansing off the disgust you had to experience on them earlier. Even though you hadn’t had a say in the situation earlier outside on the streets, you had felt guilt. Guilty of the cruel fact, someone else than Arthur had touched you in such an intimate way. With Arthur deepening the kiss you both moaned softly into, you could feel it all wash away. Taking Arthurs hand in yours, you broke the kiss, whispering, “I want to show you.”

 With your fingers intertwined in his, you lead him to your shared bedroom. You stopped in front of the bed turning to face him. You pulled him in closer for another flaming kiss. Your hands slid over his torso all the way up to his hair. Firmly running your fingers through his thick brown locks, you walked him against the foot end of the bed, signaling him to let himself go.

Following him down onto the soft duvet covers you let your body lay down gently onto his, shoving your knee between the space of his legs, all the way up to meet his crotch. You could feel him harden just at that contact. Arthur always could’ve been in the saddest mood, the most devastating emotional state, but never did his body and mind have the slightest chance to resist your touch, to react to it in every way. Once again you draw him into a passionate slow kiss, which had Arthur groaning deeply.  While you did so, you were slowly running a hand from his lower abdomen up to his neck in determination to let him feel your need and love for him. You wanted him to feel you. You wanted him to feel the never-ending, everyday-growing love you shared for him, on every inch of him. On every inch of his skin, until it would seep through his soft flesh into his very soul, so that there would be no way for it to ever leave him. “I want to feel you. All of you.” You whispered as you broke the kiss, one hand grabbing a fistful of his thick locks, longingly looking into his eyes. The heat radiating from your eyes, mirrored right back at you from his darkened green ones. Arthur understood your silent plea.

The moment your bare breasts came to touch with his bony chest made both of you gasp in a growing appetite for the tender touches of one another. Tonight you couldn’t quite tell him how deep and unconditional your love for him was, overwhelmed with many emotions mixed together, caused by this gloomy situation. But oh- did you show him. You rolled yourself up on Arthurs naked form as you started to caress every inch of his body. You could feel your love for him radiating from every single part of your body that touched Arthurs, like invisible flashes shooting their power right into every part of his body that touched yours. Your body slowly sliding down on his, not missing one spot on his torso to kiss, your hands gently supporting the affectionateness. Arthurs hand coming up to your hair, you felt his cock twitch against lower belly. Your body instantly reacting to it, you could feel yourself grow wet. The sensation of his fingertips fondling your scalp made you melt into his touch, your body building goosebumps. His grip on you encouraged you to continue your now open-mouthed kisses downwards. Reaching his waist, you placed kisses to his hip bone as your hand gently began to stroke his length, lowering yourself so your body filled the space between his legs.

After you took a moment to gaze up at him, you could tell he was feeling all the love you tried to burn into him. Lowering your head, you began to kiss his hardened cock from the very bottom all the way up to the tip. Arthur lost his grip on your hair caused by his pleasure, running it through his own disheveled hair, giving him the opportunity to have a clear view at your work. Kissing your way back down reaching the bottom, you replaced your lips on his soft skin there with your tongue. Ever so slowly licking his length bottom-up, lingering on the tip, swirling your tongue around it. Arthur moaned in pleasure as you took the tip in, slightly sucking, pressing your tongue against it, just to let go and repeat your passionate actions. As you licked your way back up to the tip, now leaking with pre-cum, you took more and more of him in, making your clit throb. You found your rhythm, as one of your hands complemented the movements of your mouth on him, stroking up and down his length so slowly. Both of Arthurs hands came to grasp at your hair, keeping you in place.

You could feel him growing close as his breathing increased. Looking up at him you were stopping yourself and you were stopping him from his release. Yes, you wanted to make him feel so good. But not yet and not like this. Gratitude, trust and dedication you had seen in his eyes. Silently telling you- You’re showing me. I can see. I feel you showing me.

But you wanted to show him even more. You wanted him to feel all of you. Caressing his torso again, you came up slowly to pull him into a tempting kiss, your lips swollen and warm from your work on his cock. While you deepened the kiss, your tongues danced a slow waltz, you lifted your body, placing each of your legs next to his waist. Reaching down with one hand pumping him up and down a few times. You placed him at your entrance, rubbing him soothingly against your wet folds to let him feel this was all for him. As you lowered your body onto him, you could feel your eyes flutter back into your head at the slightest contact of his tip slipping in. “Y/N…” Your name escaped Arthurs lips as the same thrilling streamed through his body. Savoring every inch ever so slowly, every second of the pleasure of him filling you up so good. You lowered yourself, leaning in for yet another passionate kiss, your tongue lovingly playing with his. Both of you moaned in audible pleasure. Your hands came down to his chest, lingering there for support as Arthur’s hold on your thighs grew stronger. The slowness of your movements up and down his length, made it almost too pleasurable for the both of you. Arthur and you too, found it more and more difficult to continue holding your gazes on one another. Your eyes kept closing shut as both of you came closer to your high, every breath echoing a pant.

“You do love me?” Arthur murmured. The way he pronounced it; you could hear he’d been almost convinced of it yet. Convinced by your actions, by every touch, every kiss and every look into his eyes, your adoration for him you tried so hard to show to him tonight. “More than…” Your moans grew louder, “I’ll ever be able to show you, darling.” Arthur gazed up at you, not able to speak up again, but you could read it from his darkened eyes. You could tell he believed you. You’d made him believe you and you had shown him in the most delicate way. Arthur understood and he wanted to show you that. He took over your rhythm still as slow as you had been working on him, moving his hips up and down, his length filling you up so good with each thrust. One of his hands made its way from your thigh down between your legs. His fingers pressing against your lower belly, while his thumb began to rub circles on your clit. Immediately you felt your stomach tighten. His touch on your bundle of nerves pushing you so close to reach your orgasm. “Arthur…” you panted, “Oh- oh god… fuck…yes…” Arthurs thrusts became slightly faster, sloppy even as he too was on the top of his high, moving his thumb faster, as you couldn’t hold back and begged him, “Please… please don’t stop-“ Your voice broke at the end of your plea in full extasy as both of you already reached your climax. You were a panting mess, your body collapsing onto his, burying your hands in his hair. You could feel Arthurs heavy breath against your ear, wrapping his arms around you, soothingly rubbing your back.

Then he whispered, “Thank you”, his voice raspy and low, “Thank you for showing me. Thank you for loving me, Y/N.” Your grip in his hair tightened at his words, kissing his neck then searching for his eyes.

A small grin grew on your mouth as you answered him. “You get what you deserve.”

[rawiswhore]

Arthur Fleck x Fem Reader- “Big Yellow Taxi”

The skies were colored light-blueish gray, there wasn't really a single cloud in the sky.

Arthur was walking around in a dreary looking junkyard that blended in with the dreary colored sky and even dreary looking skyline of New  York.

Even the skyscrapers, buildings and skyline was colored grey much like the sky.

The area Arthur walked close to looked like the apocalypse had happened; messy, gravelly and filled with debris.

He was walking all alone, no one else was with him, or so he had thought, and he was dressed in his discolored mustard yellow hoodie, dark blue denim jeans and brown polo shirt.

His hands were hiding in his hoodie pockets as he walked through this dreary junkyard.

The area he was walking next to smelled horrible and probably had rats running around, he'd give anything to be away from this area.

Thankfully, he wasn't walking through this junkyard and seeing heaps of garbage, but walking next to it.

Of course he could always walk and run away from this place, but for now, he's all alone and no one else is with him.

Or so he thought.

While he was walking around, minding his own business, a yellow taxi had pulled up close to him and paused at him.

This taxi came out of nowhere, he didn't know where this taxi came from, but it pulled up to him as he walked, sneaking and driving behind him, and stopped with him.

The taxi wasn't the only thing that stopped, once it paused next to him, he also took a break from walking, just standing there and looking at the taxi next to him.

Through the window in the backseat was a beautiful woman, and that beautiful woman was you.

He could see you through the window, and you could see him, you were smiling at him and wanted him to join in that taxi.

Who is this? Arthur thought.

Is she an angel? Is she here to rescue me from this dreary, depressing mess I'm walking through?

He wrapped his fingers around the taxi's silver handle and opened the door, where you moved from the left side of the backseat to the right seat, making room for him.

Arthur crawled into the back of the taxi, shutting the door next to him, sitting on the leather seat you were sharing with him.

You lifted your hands and placed them on opposite sides of his jawline, your fingers and palms resting on his face, and pulling him into your face for a kiss, his lips attaching on top of your lips.

Arthur didn't know what to think about having you kiss him, especially considering they're behind someone in the driver's seat, who could be seeing this through the rear view mirror.

However, he does think you are a beautiful woman, and your lips taste so soft and sweet, so he can't resist this.

Plus, could you be rescuing him?

His eyelids eventually shut his eyes, where he put his hands on opposite sides of your jawline.

His hands held and cradled your jawline as he kissed you.

While the two of you were kissing in the back of the taxi, one of your hands sitting on his jawline brushed from his jawline to behind his head, where his thick, dark brown hair was in between the spaces in between your fingers.

You  ran your hand up his thick hair, running your fingers through his locks, until your hand reached the top of his head.

Surprisingly, the taxi driver didn't mind the two of you making out in the backseat of his taxi.

One of your legs was nudging against Arthur's legs, your skin feeling his denim jeans.

One of his hands brushed from your jawline up to behind your head, where he ran his fingers through your hair, his hand raising up to the top of your head.

Your hair was in between his fingers.

When your hand reached the top of his head, it went back down to the bottom of his hair, only to raise up to the top of his head again, your fingers entwined in his hair.

Arthur was doing the same to you and with you.

Arthur felt so happy and giddy to meet you, and so were you.

Some could say Arthur isn't that attractive, but you beg to differ.

While the two of you were kissing each other in the backseat of that taxi, the driver switched his foot from the brakes to the gas and drove off, the two of you riding in that taxi down a grey, dark, dreary little street.

Was this all a dream? Or is this real?

Were you an angel who had come to rescue him?

Is he dead?

Will he go to heaven or hell?

Who knows...

________________________________________________________________

This fanfic was inspired by the end scene to the movie “Sid and Nancy”.

Also, there are these fanfics I’ve seriously thought of writing, one of them is Joaquin Phoenix as Arthur Fleck, but I don’t know whether if I should write them or not because I’m afraid they’ll all be the same.

Should I also add more to this fanfic?

[gothamslittlejester]

Arthur Fleck!Joker x Reader headcannons (Gaining your trust again)

Anonymous Requested: Lmk if this ones a bit weird but can you do a scenario where Arthur’s GF is now scared of Joker bc he’s a violent man with groupies but he’s trying to get her to see that he still loves her and that he desires for her to feel safe around his new persona? ❤️ ^.^

Listen… I die for comfort fics- my fave genre/trope of ALL time. Like, I love the idea of comforting and taking care of Arthur/Joker (boy does that man NEED some love) but being comforted BY Joker?? Ohmygod. ((Lmao maybe the one who needs a hug is me))

Fem!reader. Angst turned to comfort/fluff!

When ‘Joker’ admitted to taking the lives of those three men on national TV, it had shaken you to your absolute core. You had been watching the whole thing from the comfort of your shared home, but the house had felt vehemently cold that day. When he continued to deliver joke after morbid joke, despite the audience booing and gasping at his antics, your chest had tightened in absolute fear, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t ignore the deranged look in you lover’s eyes. You knew right there that Arthur was gone, although you wouldn’t be able to admit that to yourself for a long time. Unfortunately, the worst of his act was yet to come

When he delivered his final punchline- right into Murray’s chest- you had dropped to your knees and cried like a madwoman, clutching your chest and gasping for air through the tear-filled sobs that racked your body. Arthur, your darling, sweet, sweet Arthur, was gone. At that moment you couldn’t tell if Joker was a mesmerizing, colorful butterfly freed from its constraints, or just the shell of the man you used to know

Even after the tears had stopped hours later, you remained sniffling on the floor, limbs crumpled into a fetal position

When Joker came back to your place, the sun had already begun to rise. After the show he had gone through a whole adventure of being arrested and then cheered by hundreds, but you hadn’t moved an inch

He entered through the door with a smile, wanting nothing more than to share his excitement about his new acolytes- his own groupies!- and pepper hundreds of kisses on your lips

But the second he laid eyes on your crumpled form, his lips trembled as his heart broke in a million pieces. He barely managed to contain a sob that was more Arthur’s than Joker’s as it escaped him

He would do anything to gain your trust back. Anything

If you needed some time and space away from him, he’d reluctantly step back. He’d still stalk you from the sidelines wherever you went like an abandoned puppy, but if you didn’t want to see him for a short while, he’d understand

Anything to win your trust back

If what you need is physical + verbal love, and hours of reassuring words from your devoted boyfriend, Joker will lock the both of you in a secret hideout for a whole week. No one gets in, and neither of you are getting out. He’ll wrap you in a big blanket, smother you with kisses and whisper endless praises in your ear, until all you know is the sound of his voice and the beat of his heart

“My perfect little baby,” he’d coo, petting your hair and rocking the both of you back and forth in such a lulling rhythm your eyes couldn’t help but close. “My darling princess...”

He can’t imagine the trauma you endured watching him kill on live TV. It absolutely sickened him that you had to see that side of him before he even had a chance to prepare you for it. The fact that you were only beginning to heal, to stop being so fearful of him, made his heart clench in anguish. He made a mental note to never let such violence happen within your sight ever again. From now on, all his killings would happen far, far away from you

That week, his arms never unwrapped from your body- a silently omnipresent reminder that he’s here. He’ll always be here for you

Will make and/or steal gifts for you just to further emphasize his point. Joker is also not opposed to resorting to mass theft, especially if he sees that his gifts bring a beautiful smile on his girl’s face

He loved you as Arthur and he loves you as Joker. No amount of face-paint and new suits can change that.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Little One

HEADCANON 

Pairing: Arthur Fleck/Joker x fem!Reader

Words: 1,414

Summary: Breaking the news of parenthood isn't exactly easy, especially when the father is the one and only... 

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, fluff, angst, swearing, Daddy kink, breeding kink 

A/N - I decided to just collaborate these (2) ideas for convenience! I actually keep getting carried away... this is bad. (still need to edit, but your girl’s got a fucking assignment to work on)

Requested by - (2) Anons 

How would Joker/Arthur handle a pregnant SO? :)

Can i request arthur fleck as a dad and y/n being the mom imagine.

ARTHUR FLECK:

This would be completely unexpected: neither Arthur or you had discussed your future with one another, let alone the idea of parenthood. 

You both had too many things on your plate, and mentally, you felt neither one of you was prepared for it.

However, you were the determined type. You assumed Arthur would be quite hesitant at first, seeing as how his mental state wasn’t exactly the “healthiest” and he was aware... All the medications, all the negative thoughts (no matter how hard you desperately tried to help him through it all), they were still there. 

But you also knew, Arthur was never the type to hurt you, nor intended to make the slightest part of you upset. 

He wanted what was best for you, just as you'd always intended for him. 

You didn't even hold back in breaking the news: you knew how much Arthur hated having the truth hidden from him... 

“I’m pregnant.” 

He’d be taken aback, and he’d burst into one of his laughing fits, knowing deep down he was more anxious than anything. 

You gave him time to recollect himself, in the mean time, you’d been hoping for some sort of a positive reaction. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, I-I don't think this would be a good idea. With me being me, the baby could just end up-”

“You can’t think like that, Arthur! Never again, please...” 

He’d just stare at you for the longest, seeing your eyes slowly swell with the tears you'd been fighting back, just thinking.

If it meant, that you'd be willing to start a family he’d never in his wildest dreams would have thought to have, then so be it... He’d be a father. 

And he’d be a damn good one at that. 

After quite literally everything he’d been through, the childhood abuse, trauma, and mistreatment: he was certain fatherhood never encompassed what he’d been exploited to. 

Throughout the course of the pregnancy, Arthur made sure you were royally treated. 

He'd been working tirelessly, desperately looking for multiple jobs, trying to save as much money in preparation for the little one. As a consequence, he grew even more exhausted, more frail: however you constantly made the effort to make sure he was properly fed, and well-rested. 

Whenever he’d arrive late from work, immediately upon seeing you, especially with the growing bump really seemed to cheer him up... It was as if all his troubles had simply melted away, as soon as he'd walk through the door. 

He’d promised from the start, that he’d try to attend as many appointments as possible, even if it meant rushing from work to get to the other side of town. He intended to keep that promise. 

Arthur was also, really into the idea of keeping the sex a surprise until the birth, and no matter how eager you were to know... You agreed to stay in the dark. 

When you both made the rare occasion of going out in public, whenever Arthur’s schedule would allow: it became a habit for him secretly to watch other fathers. He’d just closely watch at how they acted around their own kids, how playful some of them were, and how paternal they’d be. 

You thought it was adorable... He just wanted to be perfect. 

Coming towards the due date, you sensed that Arthur’s doubts and anxiety over the matter had heightened... And it surely wasn't helping you either.

You both weren't in the greatest financial state nor in the grandest accommodation, especially now that you'd be on temporary leave from work, Arthur felt a huge sense of responsibility on him. 

Not that it was unfamiliar, but now, in this setting with you and the baby... It meant the world to him to keep you guys happy. 

You’d have fights here and there, minor ones. Arthur would instantly regret his behaviour, and you’d be the one to reassure him that everything would be fine, you’d promised that. 

On the day of the birth, Arthur unfortunately was at work. 

As soon as he’d heard the news, he wouldn’t even have the decency to call up the manager to explain the situation nor his need to leave his fellow peers, he'd just bolt. 

He’d manage to arrive right on time to the hospital: and upon hearing you in the agonising pain of childbirth, your screams just filling the room... He’d hated it. 

It got to the point where he couldn't stand it anymore, that he'd actually excused himself out of the room, just to regain himself. 

It was in that sheer moment he heard another, tiny scream that he’d forget about literally everything. All the worries, all the negative thoughts would vanish, and he'd storm right back into the room. 

The moment he’d seen you lovingly holding your son/daughter, tears of joy filling your eyes as you longingly looked up at him, he’d felt a relief, knowing his entire world was in his grasp. 

JOKER:

Breaking the news to the Joker though, was a different story...

He definitely was not a fan of fatherhood just yet.

You were greatly saddened by his initial reaction, especially on his multiple attempts of trying to dissuade you from motherhood.

You'd reached the point, where you'd grown so mad, that you’d no longer cared for his word. You’d promise to raise the kid yourself, if need be. 

And yet still, he stayed by you. 

You weren't expecting it at all, though throughout the progression of the pregnancy, he’d grown accustomed to supporting you. 

Whether it be simple things like, holding your hair back, as you’d puked your heart out, on days where you experienced terrible morning sickness, to running errands for you. 

You didn’t dare to question his intentions: you felt if you did, it would remind him of his initial reaction, and from there he'd just distance himself again. 

And you definitely didn’t want that... You loved Arthur, and you knew deep down he’d still loved you. Why else would he have been so overprotective of you?

At this point, he felt he couldn’t even allow you to leave his sight, especially during the later stages of your pregnancy. 

He saw you as vulnerable: an easy target for all of Gotham’s madmen, and he just would never find the strength within himself to overcome anything that could happened to you and the baby. 

It even agitated him, when friends or random people alike would try to rub your belly, or even come in close proximity of you. 

“Why don't you watch just how close you’re getting, asshole.” 

He was quite possessive now, even from before you’d become pregnant, it slightly frightened you at times, however, you understood he had good intentions. 

Not to forget, the sex never stopped there. 

He didn't care that you were pregnant: he knew he’d nurture you like no one else, and that he had no intentions at all of hurting your or the baby inside. 

He was still rough at times when he felt he’d lost the sense of self-control. He’d grown a major Daddy kink, and on top of that a fucking breeding kink. 

This you hadn't expected AT ALL... It seemed the more he'd grown used to the idea of you with his child, he greatly thrived in it. 

“The more the merrier, right?” He’d say, before laughing his head off. 

Similar to Arthur, he’d come to the idea of wanting the sex to remain a mystery... He loved surprises and the thought was exhilarating to him. 

The idea of fatherhood however, unlike Arthur, the Joker would simply go with the flow. 

He had no intentions of creating a mental plan or strategy to tackle fatherhood. He knew for certain he’d be the best, and that he’d treat his child better than all the other fathers in Gotham.

“Thomas Wayne can eat his fucking heart out...”

However, at times you struggled to see that. He missed most of the appointments you'd had, especially when he was under custody of the authorities. He could never dismiss his “bad behaviour” that got him into trouble all the time. 

It was just who he was now. 

He’d still managed to have made it to the birth... That he couldn't miss. 

Gently cradling your newborn son/daughter in his arms, swaying them slowly from side to side, his smile just wouldn’t fade. On top of the instinctive cries of your newborn, he couldn't help but laugh. He’d never felt this feeling before... Sheer happiness.