Prompt: “Nsfw joker/reader, with him wearing that red suit.”

Swiping the last bit of red paint over his bottom lip, Arthur hummed in satisfaction and set down the delicate brush. He picked up his already lit cigarette from the ashtray The Murray Franklin Show provided and took a long, satisfying pull. The white filter was stained rouge like he was some sort of common whore.

“Look at you,” Arthur breathed, smoke escaping his lips like a ghost. Genuine satisfaction pulled his mouth up into a sly grin, his index fingers no longer needed. “What a handsome devil.” 

He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t love pre-show jitters. The promise of an audience, the chance to express himself under hot, bright lights. Arthur was an entertainer, always had been, and this feeling — the white-hot anticipation of being called on stage — 

It never failed to turn him on.