Arthur Fleck Archive, 2019

a part of society

Summary: A month into your relationship and Arthur can't keep his hands off of you. You start to wonder if he may just be using you.

A/N: another self indulgent pathetic attempt at healing myself through fiction. this is so personal and self indulgent its almost embarrassing. i'll probably regret this dqjqnwqnj, but it was nice to write. I have a lot of pain in my heart, maybe some people can relate to it idk. i almost cried writing this. I may not ever have romanic love (I dont really want to) but its nice to pretend through Arthur.

Contains: smut, angst, fluff?

Length: 5,355

Originally posted by joaquins-phoenixs

The door clicked, and there he was-the handsome, innocent man that was a walking contradiction of tragic and corruptible and yet still the most beautiful and pure being you had ever seen.

His hair was flopped in front of his face, his brown curls poking at his eyes gently. His seagreen eyes glinted as they poked through his hair and looked at you-really stared straight into your soul. He smirked darkly, sheer lust taking over his form as he gazed at you. Arthur was a peculiar combination of switching between a helpless, boyish demeanor to manly and unapologetically intimating within minutes-right now, it was certainly the second. He looked like he was ready to wreck you until your helpless wails of lust filled the apartment. His hair was mostly slicked back save for the few curls in his eyes, showing off the sharp manliness of his face and the high of his cheekbones being fully exposed. He bite his lip in his dark passion as he looked at you, taking you in fully-you were in the routine of getting out of your bath, your naked form being fully exposed as the towel you were wearing draped lazily over your hip. Your body was mostly exposed-the only thing that prevented you from being fully naked was the towel that just barely covered your breasts and torso.

Arthur had two moods when he came home-he either was completely distraught and melted into himself, simply wrapping himself around your waist and burying his face into your shoulder, not speaking a word. The heaviness radiating from him came in waves on those nights. But his other mood-the one that didn't happen quite as often at first when he had been shy too touch you, but was becoming more common lately-was the one he had now.

"There you are," he rumbled seductively, hungrily, as he looked at you. The day must have been particularly rough on him; the greater the inside of his pain was, the more he wanted to release his frustrations and fuck it into you. You were more than glad to help him process his emotions through whatever means he desired-similarity, you couldn't deny how much you enjoyed being touched and fucked by him-even in Arthur's hungriest states were his touches gentle and considerate.

He strutted over, casting his work bag aside with reckless abandon. He unbuttoned his sweater and threw it aside in a similar fashion as he whisked over to you in a breathless movement, so quick and graceful that his skinny legs running across the floor made no sound. Before you could even greet him, he embraced his hands against your face and his naturally graceful lips met yours. You were thrown back into your haze, and your hands naturally found their way to his hair as you allowed yourself to be entirely claimed by him. He bit and nippled your lips and neck, trailing it up and down like a starved animal against your skin that was trembling in response to his touches.

You wrapped your legs around him as he bent you over the edge of the couch and began to fumble with your boobs and grace your neck in kisses. He was layering hickey upon hickey on those that were already on your neck, rendering your skin a blistering and throbbing mess of his kisses and bites. His clown make up was still on, and, as you felt the greasepaint cover your own skin, as you tasted his own saliva with the mixture of his paint, you felt a heat build up in your core. You wantedhim-you wanted him and this so desperately.