#HAPPY JOKERVERSARY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jokerownsmysoul · 2 years

Text

anniversary celebration

Summary: you and Arthur celebrate your love and the importance of having each other on your 3rd anniversary.

Warnings: smut

Length: 8100

Notes: happy Jokerversary to whoever is still celebrating it! both the ones already occurred and the ones yet to come 💙 today happy Jokerversary to me, too. 🌷

it's been a while since I could bring myself to write. things happened and I couldn't write as much as I needed in the last few months. I feel a little rusty, but also genuinely happy for finally managing to write an anniversary piece. I've wanted to write one for literal years. ❤︎ tbh it won't be the last 🤭 there are a couple of things I'll have to adjust but for now this will do. I really wanted to post this piece today 💙

gifs source: ㋡ & ㋡

It was a slice of sunbeam leaking from the crack of the window over your eyes to wake you both on that Sunday morning. It was the light of early daybreak; the faded, pasty kind. The kind of sunlight that still managed to blend itself with the close-to-farewell pale moonlight as it made its way to fall on your sleeping visages and suggest how early it was.

Your eyes opened lazily at the same moment as soon as the sunlight slanted across your faces hit them. Arthur’s eyelashes were disclosing across his cheekbones the second your eyes opened to the morning light and found the familiar sight of his face turned toward you. His eyelids were still half-closed, and his eyes hooded with sleep in a way that only the sunlight twinkling in his irises could be revealed. Nevertheless, his gaze sought yours through this shared drowsiness in an instant.

For you the sun hadn’t quite risen yet until he smiled at you the bright, boyish smile he used to save for those Pogo’s open mic nights worthy of celebrations, the ones that ended with a earned happy ending of a cheering crowd and a stroll to donuts and coffee.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, mouth pressed groggily on his pillow. His morning voice, sweet but hoarse, even after all these years still caused a hurricane of tiny butterflies to flutter in your tummy, dancing and shivering and falling in love to the timbre of it.

You yawned when you smiled at him. “Good morning.”

He blinked dreamily a couple of times, just enough for his sleep-foggy mind to clear up, to register and then relish in the beginning of this special day that was today. He really wanted to taste every moment of it to the very end. “You know what day is?”

You nodded, sleepily but enthusiastically, feeling yourself soften at his irresistible, naive sentimentality with a bunch of your own, then scooped closer until your head was nearly on his own pillow and your noses touched lightly. Your hand crept up from under the covers to reach his tousled hair, combing the greasy brown locks that covered his temple briefly as your fingertips caressed a line along the side of his face. “I met the love of my life three years ago.”

His croocked tooth broke through a smile full of dimples as your eyes bore into each other, igniting images of the day you met in your minds ready to spark like those musicals you love to watch together. Images of yourself bumping into him at the bottom of the long stairway leading to your apartments on a very much ordinary day now made special, of your continuous shared trips up and down the stairs coated in polite smiles and unspeakable yearning of getting to know each other, and images of his disbelief when one day you dared to say hello and of his courage to ask you to walk you home, a simple gesture that led you to your first kiss and the first time he held your hand in his.

Your hearts seized thinking about that day; to where you were then and where you were now. About your past selves about to fall in love who every day used to walk the stairs together as a sign of fate, without saying a word out of shyness, and who now were familiar with what you looked like in the morning, with puffy eyes and tired limbs and wrinkled pajamas. Every morning you showed each other a part of yourself that no one else could ever or had ever seen.

And there he was, looking at your messy hair and swollen lips, again declaring his love for this part of you saved for him for the third consecutive year. Arthur decided he could no longer miss your touch as he looked at you and leaned forward to join your lips together in a sleepy kiss. His lips were warm, and when your hand cupped and squeezed his cheek a little you felt that his skin was warm, too, warmer than the blanket covering you up to the shell of your ears. You sighed between his lips, pressing your body closer to his under the covers as you deepened your connection and kissed each other in a way that left no doubt your celebrations had already started.

You moved further into his pillow when you broke apart, letting yourself fall in this feeling of comfort and familiarity typical of him, a fundamental trait of how his good mornings were like – and how you wanted his good morning to be like for the rest of your days. You adjusted and molded to him when his arm looped around your waist to pull you tighter. You didn’t need explanations to understand that none of you wanted to get out of bed just yet. “What do you want to do today?” He asked.

You thought it over for a moment, toying absentmindedly with his wide, cute nostrils, caressing their uneven outlines with your pads until he chuckled. There were many things you would like to do – things you would like to do with him – but no matter what came to your mind, in the end Arthur was the focus of each one of them and the essential part of everything. Arthur was the only thing to really matter, the rest was only a background to highlight the two of you. Just like your past celebrations, you really did not need great things to be reminded how big and special your love was or how lucky you were to have found each other amongst the many. It was in the little things of your every day life, in fact, where lived the true meaning of having found the right person and being able to keep each other close every day and then forever. To lay in bed with him in the early morning, enveloped in his warmth and his affection, was more than enough.

“Some coffee and a lot of you is all I need to celebrate,” you said.

“Mhm,” he listened and hummed in agreement, even looked a little flustered, but he didn’t seem fully satisfied with your answer yet. “Anything special you want?”

“Only you,” you purred against his lips.

A meek snort left him. He brought his moist lips on your forehead and kissed the spot between your brows, then proceed to skim your face with a trail of light, tender pecks. One landed on your cheekbone, one on your nose, one on the corner of your mouth. His gestures were soft and the sounds of his kisses made the tiny butterflies in your tummy come back again and somersaults. He nuzzled your face with his. “You have me.”

You tilted your head with a soft hum, nudging his nose and stroking the wrinkles of his chin. “What do you want?”

“This,” he said, “this is what I want.” His other hand sneaked between you and his fingertip traced your lower lip. He followed its curve with attentiveness before claiming it. He kissed you, in rapture and in love, tight lips pressed on yours until he licked them open with his damp tongue. He kissed you until the familiar taste of his sleepy mouth made you forget your name, until you felt yourself hover in the air kept grounded only by his arm around you, until you couldn't tell whether it was the sunlight or the light of your life that was keeping you warm.

“Oh,” you breathed when he pulled away, lightheaded. He chuckled and stayed there, simply gaping at you. After a while, a familiar twinkle crept in his eyes all of a sudden, the signal of something inside him he could no longer hold back that needed to sparkle.

“Wait here.”

Your brows quirked with curiosity when he shifted and dragged himself out of bed. The bed all of a sudden felt much colder without him to hold and warm you, to simply be there with you.

“I'll be right back.” He stroked your blanket-covered thigh and disappeared beyond the bedroom door. He probably was going to make breakfast to bring in bed; perhaps a brewed cup of the coffee you've just mentioned.

You moved to lay on your back and stretched out on the mattress, letting out a sigh of relief when you felt the side of your back pop. Contentment stirred your muscles, a look of bliss on your face. You felt happy. When then you sunk your head further into the soft pillow your eyes fell on the window to your right and found the sun continuing its ascend across the sky. Glimmers of light now were slowly filtering throught the window, outlining its border and the several slots, and painting the bedroom walls with slanted marigold brushstrokes. Smiling eagerly and missing him already, you waited for him to come back.

You guessed that he would come back holding a tray with your favorite breakfast and your favorite coffee mugs, but when you felt his socks tapping louder and nearer on the floor and his figure walked through the door again, his hands were holding none of these things. From his hands hung instead a single red rose, and a velvet box whose interior you could not decipher.

You jumped up on your seat when you saw him, feeling excitement and genuine disbelief fizzing through your body like bubbles in sparkling water. “Arth?”

He giggled and sat cross-legged on the mattress beside you. “This is for you.” He handed you the rose, and tentative fingers reached out to caress and hold it close as if it was a part of him. And somehow, to you it was. Instantly did you bring the red petals to your nose, taking your time to revel in the sweet fragrance and how even sweeter he was.

Before you could pulled away, he held the velvet box up in his hand, pausing his next move for a moment the way he paused the timing of his delivery to set the joke right, and lifted it open, with the adoration you knew was innate in him and also a touch of theatricalism he'd learned from the most romantic musicals.

Your eyes widened when you saw a ring shimmering in the sunlight on its inside. It was a simple golden bang ring, plane and shiny, to make it special and all yours was the sentence: “My one and only” engraved in Arthur’s own handwriting on the inner part. You would have recognized his handwriting anywhere. If you only looked carefully, you could even guessed if he’d gotten it from a page of his journal.

You could feel your heart swell as your eyes shifted from the ring to Arthur and then back to the ring and back to Arthur.

The emerald of his eyes was shimmer with happiness as he translated the surprise in your eyes and explained himself before you could say anything. “I’ve planned on giving it to you tonight, but you look beautiful and I love you too much. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Arthur had been good at keeping this gift a secret, far too good, even though his journal carried the proof of every step of the way. Pages after pages filled with your name, with all the things you deserved and the few ones he could afford. Pages of how he used to call you, “his one and only,” – a different, unique way of telling each other you were soul mates that he’d always yearned about deep in his soul and now could be all yours – and a check list of his savings to get you what he thought was the perfect gift for you; romantic, simple certainly, and possible to make special with something that belonged to you alone.

“Arthur, how...?” You tried to tame your emotions bubbling up in your belly, and with a bit of admission, also the quiet, happy tears that could damp your eyelashes at any moment, but you knew that it was a lost battle from the start.

He ducked his chin, a shy smile before he continued. “Three years spent with the person you love is a significant step. I wanted you to have this.” The wrinkles around his eyes and his dimples showed off carried the intensity of his happiness and the vastness of his love for you. “Give me your hand.”

He took hold of your hand when you gave him and gently put the ring on your finger. He seemed to relax when he noted that the ring was the perfect size and muffled a breath of relief. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, before bringing your hand to his lips to leave a prolonged kiss onto your ring finger. You shivered when the warmth of his mouth combined with the cold material met your skin. “You can say you have me wrapped around your finger now,” he said when he pulled away.

You laughed soundly at the silly pun before leaning on him and connect his lips to yours. His silly puns were some of your favorites. “It's perfect,” you whispered. “You are perfect. Anything with you is perfect. I love you so much.”

You spent the morning lounging on the bed, kissing and holding each other in your arms, not letting go. You witnessed in each other’s embraces the rising of the sun in its complete fullness; slowly its rays began to stretch and multiplied beyond the window to every corner of the bedroom, its arrival signaled further by the first birds beginning to sing their melodies across the sky in the background like a thurntable the world was offering you.

Your hand seemed to be the subject of all his attentions as the morning went by. Arthur would keep taking your fingers in his hands, caressing and watching them into his palms to then carry them to his lips and, once again, to kiss the finishing of the ring he gave you.

“I have another part of you to kiss,” he would tease after his mouth had made contact with it.

“You know you have all of me,” you would answer back every time it occured.

Your eyes would dwell on the ring in unison; you had never been fond of great gestures or expensive things, your love was more than precious enough to enrich your hearts already, but you couldn’t help yourself from feeling like this ring was some kind of a really precious thing instead. It wasn’t so much about the ring itself, but about your promise of eternal love it symbolized and that a part of Arthur as deep, personal and inimitable as his handwriting was engraved on it for you. Only for you.

The sunlight was blinding and your white bedstheets looked more like a sun-drenched cloud when you took his hand in yours at some point and made them swing in the air above your heads in lightheaded playfulness. The sunlight was seeping through your fingers between his like liquid gold and pieced them together in a bubble of light almost as to make them one entity, the ring turning lush under the sun as it caught the brightness of its rays in small twinkles chasing after your gaze.

You found yourself comparing the size of your hands almost as if you had just met him for the second time, and a youthful kind of sentimentalism washed over you. “Your hands are bigger than mine,” you said. “I adore it.” You loved any detail of his hands. Each prominent vein, each tendon, the baby hair peppering the back. You loved to trace them, kiss them, to hold them in yours and take care of them. You knew you would've never left the hold of him.

You marveled at the beauty of it – of your hands up to the light, of the ring and the sunbeams trapped in its inside, of the manly protection that his strong but gentle hands stirred within you – and made your fingers dance between his own, ever so gently as though there were piano keys to play, until you interlocked them together.

You felt your heart squeeze and the lower part of your belly flutter whenever you lingered in the fact that his handwriting, what you considered to be the tangible handprint of his soul, was touching your skin. It made you feel like you could be always in his protective embrace, like he could be always with you.

“I can carry you with me wherever I go,” you daydreamed to him. “I love anything of you that is able to touch me, even without skin contact.”

His cheeks turned pink, his face going to hide into the hollow below your ear to softly nudge at the skin there. “I've always known you were the one and only for me.” His breath fanned warm on your skin.

“So do I, Arthur.” This time, you were the one who brought his hand down to your own lips. Your eyelashes fluttered close as you laid a prolonged kiss to his ring finger and relished in the taste of his skin, the smell of his hand. Arthur not having a ring to symbolize your connection – yet – didn’t stop you from feeling bound to him already. “So do I.”

The beautiful things you shared together had a different sound when they were about to start; it was what made all of your mornings special every time, for they were the continuation of every beginning of the day you had shared so far. A sweeter sound, that felt like music and made him want to dance among the feathers of the comforter with you. Arthur was always telling you how love (and therefore you) made him want to dance. With your laughter kissing one another in the sunlight and the first birds chirping beyond the window, telling song about love and promises and never-ending futures to share, this sound felt as tangible as your love was.

******

The day progressed, the afternoon passed by, and the blinding sunlight soon had gone behind to make room for the rising of the moon. You liked to watch how the rhythm of nature had made the sunlight dissolve past the horizon to grant your special day the different moonlight background.

Evening had settled in when you and Arthur started creating the perfect atmosphere for your special date as was the tradition. Beyond the windows open of the living room a mantle of navy blue sky was sprinkled over the roofs of the nearby buildings, their windows starting to light up the clue of the time of the day when the city began to fall silent and the bright moon announced that it was time to leave work and go home for a final rest.

You made yourselves pretty for each other. Arthur took your breath away when you saw him stepping into the living room. Freshly washed, damp-earth toned locks fell in soft waves on the top of his shoulders, the red sweater he knew you loved and found perfect for any occasion left exposed his chest and his kissable wrists. He was amused when he caught you pairing your plain long dress with his white socks.

Any new shared little thing, and every instant where you were together, felt like a small adventure with him. This is what your dinners or humble celebrations at home felt like. They were simple, but you had each other, and that was what made them special and not to be missed.

You turned off the apartment lights and instead tapered candles were lit, laid on the small table in front of the couch and on the living room windowsills; the main protagonist of the romantic and private atmosphere both of you couldn’t live without and the promise that one day you would have your own fireplace, to warm up your nightly, intimate conversations and your bodies making love on the floor during winter. It was nice to plan your future together. As a final touch, you placed the rose Arthur gave you that you had put in a cylinder glass vase in the center of the small table, surrounded by candles.

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of candles when you got comfortable on the couch. Semi-darkness surrounded you, except for the moonlight that sneaked fantly from the window and blended with the amber halo irradiated from the flickering flames.

Arthur opened the bottle of red wine you had chosen together at the grocery store and as he poured some in both your glasses you opened a heart-shaped box of assorted chocolates to give your evening just that extra touch of sweetness.

He tucked the first chocolate between his teeth and leaned in, for you to wrap it around your own teeth and withdraw your portion from his mouth. You giggled for how cheesy it was, and loved him even more for wanting to do this with you as you took your promised bite. His lips tasted sweet when he stole a kiss from you. You spent the evening talking your heart out and kissing between a sip of wine and a bite of chocolate. From time to time your mouth would keep feeding one another, the taste of sweetness into his mouth making it increasingly hard for you to stay away from his kisses as the evening rolled on.

You could feel the wine lightening your thoughts and blushing your cheeks; that, along with the caresses Arthur bestowed over you being dragged out as the evening progressed, contributed to reinforce your inclination to lose yourself in how handsome he looked in this kind of light that brought out his romantic and old-fashioned side. The two of you would rest your elbows on the back of the couch to support your heads as you talked in the kind of hushed whispers known only by lovers, and you would get lost in the emerald of his eyes beaming only for you, how his lips would part and his Adam apple pop whenever he took a sip.

The romantic at heart in him was just one of the many sides of him that made you fall in love with him. You liked how sweet and sentimental he could be in his old-fashioned and unique way, and that unlike so many other people in the city, he had no trouble at all showing his sensitive side or reveal his heart to someone else, a trait that made you feel safe when you were together and led you to think that you could reveal your heart to him, too, without any judgment or worries. To be vulnerable with him. Your hearts beat to the same romantic tune, spoke the same language, and you couldn’t help your tears from wetting your eyes whenever he reminded you how kindred your souls truly were, how lucky for finding someone who could understand what your heart was saying.

You were nestled into his warm side, your head resting on his shoulder when silence fell over you as you enjoyed for a moment the mere feeling of being together. On the same couch, on the same moment, on the same love story. The candles were half burnt, the box of chocolates half empty and even emptier were your glasses, the rose he gave you in front of you blowing its wonderful smell towards the two of you all along. Heat rose in your belly whenever the smell of the rose went to blend with the wonderful smell of him, reaching your fluttering heart as well as your core.

The sight of the things that represented your date resting together on the table looked like a snapped photograph of everything you’d shared together until this moment, the proof of how far your bond had come and how dull and love-deprived your lives would've been if things, even if a very tiny detail, had gone differently.

You ran your knuckles along the inner part of his elegant wrist that was resting on his lap, caressing its tendon, which always seemed to beg for your affection, especially when he was wearing his pretty red sweater. “I don't think I've ever told you... but thank you.”

“For what?” He asked softly with genuine curiosity.

“For wanting to walk me home three years ago. Meeting you was the first best thing to ever happen to me. Being loved by you right back was the second.”

You felt him smile as he squeezed you gently with his other arm around you and kissed your hair. “You had me at hello. Thank you for saying it.”

You could not wait any longer; to have him so close to you, warm and sweet-smelling, and not taste him was becoming painful. You lifted your head in search of his lips and wrapped them in a tender kiss, full of love and thank yous. You missed his lips already when you pulled away, but there was something you had to do before immersing yourself in all that he was.

“I have something for you,” you confessed.

He raised his brows. “Oh yeah?”

Excitement kept you from standing still when after you nodded with a sly grin went to grab the gift and gently laid it on his lap.

You watched him as he unwrapped it. It was the vinyl copy of that one film you've watched together one night of not so long ago, whose soundtrack Arthur had found himself loving almost as much as he loved you. The breaks where he would pull you into a improvised dance had been more than the breaks where you would be sitting on the couch nestled into each other, almost as though every new introduced song inspired new dance moves inside him that he needed to let out and wanted you to be part of. This was what drove you to go fishing to store after store until you finally found it. He looked so happy and handsome in his element as he danced his soul away… it would have been a shame not to take advantage of it.

A radiant smile made its way across his face instantly, eyes twinkling with bewilderment when he saw what it was and caressed the vinyl cover where the title stood out on the top. “How did you find it?!”

“I persisted on it. You are worth the time of waiting when things are hard to find,” you told him, a delicate caress on his cheekbone. “You looked beautiful the other night, now you can ask me to dance to it whenever you want. I promise I will never say no.”

“Heaven, I'm in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...” This Arthur was humming when he began to bring himself nearer. “I seem to find the happiness I seek when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek...” Fondness overshadowed the flame of candles and the moonlight reflected in his eyes, growing half-lidded and fixed on yours, his voice getting lower of a few decibels and huskier the closer you were. Arthur humming a soft tune for you was always enough to make your knees go weak, as though he had the ability to put you under a spell. His cheeks were flushed by wine, his lips moist and irresistible smelling like chocolate, making you starve for something more of him.

His hair tickled your skin when his face went to nestle your own, the floral smell of his shampoo wafting through your nostrils. He rubbed his cheek against yours like he did in a dance and you thought he was about to pull you into a dance to link to the vinyl a wonderful first memory, but instead he caught your earlobe between his teeth and kissed it soothed. Your breath itched when the tip of his nose brushed across the sensitivity below your ear to breathe in your perfume.

“Thank you,” he rasped, every syllable elongated on his tongue. The air in the living room suddenly was getting heavier.

“Arthur…” you breathed, “what are you doing?”

“I’m kissing my girlfriend.”

The deep tone of his voice tickled your center, a telltale tymbre of the kind of turn he wanted to give your evening now. You exhaled a chuckle that turned into a hushed sigh as you searched for his face and cupped his cheeks.

You pressed your lips on him with abandon, noses squeezing against one another as he wrapped one arm around you and you arched into his embrace, though the unsatiated need of him made you feel him more distant than he ever was. He started kissing you deeper, your tongue dipping into the intoxicated sweetness inside his mouth just when you felt the palm of his hand landing flat on your thigh. You could sense the velvet fabric of your long dress being dragged up by his explorative caresses, sliding upwards to the curve of your waist, a sense of coolness when your leg was left unclothed underneath his touch.

You lamented when he broke apart to move further down and reach the most shameless part of your neck. He muffled a soft snort over your skin as he registered your responses to him, relishing in you reacting to him the way he was leading you. You didn’t realize how soaked you were until you buried your hand through his locks and tilted your head to let him go further, nibbling and licking, his tongue drawing a wet line along the cord of your neck down to your collarbone.

Heat flared from your chest, burning your cleavage to the apples of your cheeks. You couldn’t tell whether it was due to the wine you had sipped or the way he was touching you. You felt lightheaded, but frankly, it was the intoxicating trait of anything Arthur ever did to you to make you feel lovedrunk all the time.

You let Arthur guide you as he laid you down on the couch to make love to you. You laughed with each other when your head almost hit the armrest of the couch causing your neck to bend oddly, but you made it work as you slide down a little and he placed the couch pillow under your head. You always joked about his couch being the perfect size for lovemaking.

He pecked your lips before he worked to strip you bare from any confines between him and your bare skin, your dress falling off on the ground under his confident ministrations not long after. With your body being revealed to him, he suddenly stalled on his track.

He was surprised to find you hiding black lace garters and stockings pared with a bra underneath, the kind one you knew made his head spin, that emphasized the curve of your thighs and the shape of your decollete.

His breath faltered as it grew heavier, pink hues painted across his cheeks all of a sudden. “What is it?”

You bit your lip, a sly smile on your face as you looked up at him. “My second gift.”

Thrilled, he snorted and stood on his knees at the extremity of the couch to gape at you. His eyes bore into yours before wandering to any part of you, sprawled beneath him clad in nylon and lace for him. This was exactly the reaction you've hoped getting from him when you've decided what lingerie to wear, a wonderful package ready to be unwrapped.

You relished in the feeling of the weight of his gaze full of wonder hovering across your feminine forms, how it increased the desire you had for each other to an unberable level; part of you wanted him to make you his immediately. With his eyes on you, you lingered on the sort of self-love you gained in finding yourself the only, continuos subject of his pleasure, in how Arthur loving your body helped you to love it the same amount. He hummed with satisfaction when you slightly spread your thighs in a gentle tease as you watched him watching you from above, expression of all of your needs and the plea to quench the growing ache simmering in your core.

It didn't take long for his hands to start wander over your body in response, following the same road his gaze would take. You whimpered when he took hold of your calf and the contanct of his skin on yours cut through the tension between your glances, a sense of greed in his gaze as he watched his fingers slide unhurriedly along the curves of your leg up to the outline of your hipbone, reveling in the friction of his pads against the nylon of your stockings.

His eyes studied you all over, slow and enamored, glossy with the arousing awareness that this was a show you've made only for him to see. Your tummy quivered when his pads reached your navel, following its curve and headed upward. He took his time to enjoy the wonderful gift you were giving him. From this perspective, he wasn’t pay attention to the truth that you were able to gape up at him, too. You liked how the two of you would unravel in front of each other without hesitation in any kind of situation, exposing your arousal as well as your hearts trembling and pulsating for each other.

His bulge widened through his pants, straining the wrinkles of the pinstriped fabric and catching your attention as his hands reached the shape of your bra that accentuated the roundness of your breasts. He gave them a gentle squeeze before his rough pads traced the hem of your bra, so close to almost touching you but not enough to feel his skin on you all the same. He seemed to understand that the eagerness settled in your craving was a matched one as he reached around to unclasp it. You raised your back to help him take it off of you before he repositioned himself on top, the brushes of his clothed erection against you agonizing.

His eyes paused on your bare breasts, utter devotion in his gaze while through his long lashes he admired the soft, apricot nuance your pink areolas took under the candlelight, how the orange glow bathed the shape of your nipples already beginning to stiffen under his gaze. His palm folded around your breast, and he payed attention to how smooth you felt in his hand. The sensation of his strong hand on your velvety skin made your areola start to crinkle, causing you both to sigh in unison as you witnessed the many ways your body would start to flourish with the nurturing of his care.

He wrapped his heated mouth around your nipple while his thumb brushed against the other, groaning as he felt it harden under his tongue, in his ears ringing the girlish sighs falling from your lips to every brush of his tongue coated with saliva. You met his gestures with a gasp when he pulled away and the warmth of his tongue was replaced by the cool air.

He moved down to continue his journey on you, past your stomach to the level of your panties. Clear surprise in his eyes of finding them soaked-through, the shape of your pussy outlined by the fabric and a sharp line to disclose your outer labia to him. He felt himself throb as he drew himself nearer and planted a tantalizing kiss to your lace-covered pussy, his big, pointy nose buried in its slit to breathe in your distinct smell. You jerked forward without much of control and a soft grin blossomed across his face.

“I like this gift,” he teased gently. You shared a satisfied smile while with graceful, fluid gestures he worked through your garters to tuck his fingers under your panties and nimbly pull them off. He licked his lips at the sight of your pussy glistening under the moonlight, ready for him. None of you expressed a need to take off your stocking and garters, and you knew the thought of it hadn't crossed his mind, which felt enticing.

“Come closer,” you pleaded. “And took off your clothes.”

With a chuckle that dissolved into a low grunt, he did as you told him. Eagerly you helped him get out off his clothes, tossing them over the back of the couch before gripping his underwear to slide it down, that he quickly kicked off before he positioned himself over you. A exhale paused in your throat when his cock sprung free and you caught the red tip shimmering in the warm light.

With him standing naked over you, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way the dim glow of candlelight was diffused over his body, how it brought out and concealed the contours of his lean muscles tensed with the want of you and his slender figure through shadows and highlights as if it was a Caravaggio’s painting.

Arthur was a rare work of art, and reminded you of how rare he was all the time. You brought your hand up over his ribs and ran your pads across their sinuous undulation, tracing the flickering flame that was shaded across the valley of his diagonal side and how its warm color made his skin look almost coppery. He leaned into the palm of your hand when you let your knuckles slide along his chest down to his navel, his tummy relaxing before the gentleness he'd always gotten from you despite the shivers your touch caused him, his vaporous, brown locks framing his cheekbones all the while, the green in his eyes irresistible. Arthur was beautiful, and his body was beautiful, too, though he really didn't give it much of a thought nor believed you whenever you told him. This had never made you want to stop, though.

“You look beautiful on top of me,” you marveled.

His smile was sweet and sincere, and his gaze was soft, when he held your hand and carried it to his lips to kiss your ring finger in that specific way that by now had become familiar. Your heart clenched at the delicate way he loved you, he never stopped making you feel blessed for being the person he loved. His person.

He laced his fingers with yours and carried them about your head as he alined himself with your entrance, having no intention of let go off the hold of you. You were tired of this separation to which your bodies had to submit continuously saved for these moments of pristine intimacy. You were ready to finally get as close to each other as your bodies allowed you to be.

He locked his eyes with yours as he eased himself inside you, finally bringing your connection to a physical level. You watched each other’s reactions as he entered you, how your mouth fell agape at the fullness of his cock, how his eyebrows stitched together at the feeling of your walls embracing him slowly in a space that was meant only for him.

Making love with Arthur felt like the possibility to turn tangible something that already resided in your souls and otherwhise could be only felt.

Your bodies worked together in a familiar pattern as he started sliding in and out of you with tempo, one that mirrored and somehow replicated the myriad of times when you've made love on this same living room, on this same couch. On Sunday morning instead of breakfast, in the evening, or in late afternoon after work, when you needed the other to remind you that the world could still be beautiful and kind to you, after all.

His fingers squeezed between yours until his knuckles turned white as he pressed them onto the couch and pulled himself deeper inside you, filling the room with uncontrolled gasps that carried the symphony of how good you made him feel. You held onto his hands, onto him, cradling his sweaty frame with your legs as you wrapped them around him to feel of him as much as you could. You both liked the sensation of the nylon rubbing against him to the rhythm of his undulations, a tantalizing game that sped up the pace of his thrusts.

He let go off your hand to let his own run across your thigh with the gentleness you knew only he had in this city, a groan cutting through the air as he relished in your stockings and how damn pretty they looked on you.

“I feel like I’ve been knowing you forever,” he said in a exhale.

“You did.” With your free hand you caressed his cheekbone, holding his face as you looked into his eyes. “We both did.”

Your hands moved around him to meet him in an embrace, enveloping your connection in a place that was small, intimate and all yours. You nestled his face. “I meant what I said before. You're worthy of all those years spent waiting for you, Arthur.”

He groaned in delight, squeezing himself inside of you as he fell in the cozy nook you've created for the two of you. The air you breathed became the air he exhaled with every moan, your stomachs flush against one another a sole blanket to keep each other warm. Reality began to take the shape of his features, his body the only place where you felt truly at home. You almost forgot that beyond the window there was a world advancing and the night about to fall around you. Instead, it was as if the time in your living room had stopped flowing, as though it became powerless before your love stimulated into the world. You wished it had.

He shivered when your hands rested on the side of his back and the cold material of the ring touched his fevered skin. A thrill jolted through him, an unfamiliar impetus toward you that made his thrusts start to falter. The cold sensation of the ring around your finger on his back, the awareness of his handwriting touching your skin all the time, stirred in him a intense sense of belonging. Not just the certainty that you belonged to him, but the proof that you wanted to belong to him willingly, to the point of wearing proudly something that so deeply symbolized your connection and bounded to him.

You decided that he liked the sensation when he grinned down at you and his mouth groped on yours in a fervent kiss, tongue meeting the other tongue in a messy waltz whose steps you were trying to follow in the eagerness of your loving.

You could tell he was close by the erratic pace he was submitted to, but suddenly he started to slow down until his hips came to a stop. He slipped out of you with a sharp gasp despite himself, leaving within you a kind of emptiness that was unendurable every time he parted out of you.

“I want this to last longer,” he breathed softly, eyes brimming with fondness while he cradled your hair and then planted a quiet kiss on your forehead.

He slide off you and crouched down at the foot of the couch. A high pitched whimper fell from your lips when he grabbed you by the hips and dragged you towards him with a strenght that would've surprised anyone who didn't know him.

“Arthur, what- oh my God”

Your next words vanished into a sudden cry when he swiped his tongue between your folds and gathered a generous amount of your essence in his mouth, a groan past his lips as he rejoined with his favorite flavor. He quickly turned his focus back on you, each of his actions full of intent to resume what he’d just paused and keep your momentum going.

Once the sense of unexpectedness left you, it didn’t take long for you to adjust to this new way of making love and while one leg went to rest on the floor, the other bent about him. Your hand tugged at his hair, holding him there as he started brushing across your pussy, his mouth knowing which right keys to play for your low moans starting to sing words of prayers for him.

Your hips soon began to roll against him to every rhythmical flicker of his tongue on you, emboldening him to spread your legs further open. The awareness that your pleasure was in his hands filled him with a newfound kind of self conficence that he gained only in bed – and with you. His hand gripped your thigh to guide it over his back and reach a better angle as he immersed himself deeper in between your legs, the round tip of his big nose pressed against your core causing your sounds to elongate, his hair tickling you lightly.

He brought the other hand down to give a couples of strokes to his aching shaft before letting it land flat on your garters to keep you in place as you arched into him. He hooked his fingers beneath the fabric as he pinned you to his mouth, something that made him moan against and along with you.

Your head lolled back, his eyes fluttering close when the tip of his tongue dipped in your center and then went up to circle around your clit. His irresistible hums of delight signaling that he was enjoying it as much as you were arousing as the act itself.

He peeked up at you with heavy lidded eyes before let go off the hold of your thigh. He run his fore and middle finger over your entrance with agonizing slowness before entering you, making you gasp while the flickers of his tongue tuned with his fingers starting to slide inside you.

“Fuck, Arthur.” Sharp cries broke through as Arthur drove your orgasm out of you. His gestures slowed into soft kisses when you came undone and your grip to his hair loosened. You sank into the couch cushions and he planted a kiss to your pubic bone, left small pecks to your inner thighs before you clasped your hands on his biceps to quickly encourage him to come back up.

“I missed this sight of you,” you told him when he was again on top of you. Your bodies adjusted to one another before you spread your legs for him to align himself with your entrance, an explicit welcome to feel him again.

He entered you, a low pace in his moves as he looked down between your bodies and observed how the lenght of his cock went to hide past your folds, how easily his ache gradually started to fade with your walls there to nestle him. He began to move inside you again with the pace that better worked for him, unable to linger any longer.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” you purred. “Come for me.”

It didn’t take long for his own orgasm to take over. His lips sought yours through unfiltered moans as he bottomed out one more time, sloppy and demanding. You kept your calves firmly over his back when soon you felt his warm liquid spilling inside you and your throath was filled with the hot vibration of his groans. You wished to have the ability to take in anything about him, both the good and the bad, any time you wanted or whenever he needed.

“Oh, Arth,” you sighed when he fell down on you and exhaled heavily, spent and exhausted and so, so in love with you. His back was pearly with drops of sweat when you wrapped your arms around his limp frame. You caressed his slightly damp hair and tucked him in the crook of your neck, waiting together for your breathing to even out.

“Happy anniversary, my love.”

“Happy anniversary, one and only,” came in a hushed whisper.

Just like you assumed, he searched around for your hand and carried it on his mouth to plant a kiss onto the symbol of your love, affirming in this new way of his that you were his person.

“You told me so many times today that I am your one and only person… Arthur, you are my one and only person, too.”

He hummed with contentment and let his eyes flutter close as he fell in the warmth of your embrace. You smiled to yourself, kissed the crown of his head and held him tight to your bare chest, sinking into this moment of bliss and silence as your bodies regained energy to celebrate what remained of your special day and for your promised dance, and feeling excited to celebrate also all of your tomorrows to come. The nighttime had fallen, telling you that your tomorrow was getting closer. Arthur made all of them special, and you knew you were going to live all the tomorrows of your life with him.

Life with Arthur was simple, but never boring, for he filled every moment of magic and stardust with his old-fashioned nature and timeless charm. Every time Arthur wrapped you in that old-fashioned romance, he made you feel like you two were part of those black and white movies about love. Your favorite, filled with music and longing and magic. Yet he always managed to make your love story a little bit more magical than anything else ever.

You wanted to wake up with him for the rest of your life, and every morning, when it occured, Arthur proved you that true love existed, and that to grow old with him was indeed possible. And you did.

•••••

tag list: @arthurflecksgirl @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @sweet-nothings04 @flowerglitterwoman @forever-fleck @ajokeformur-ray

#I know some things I've included might seem a bit off since we're in the 80s #But this is what my heart feels & wanted to write & wanted to read so idc 💘🙇🏻‍♀️#In this house we're eating self-indulgent contents for breakfast today #It's the second piece I write about this concept ugh a girl is yearning #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x y/n #arthur fleck x you #Arthur fleck

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