#fuck idk

[dutchiepoo2]

How it Should've Been

Arthur x Fem!Reader

hi, this is me working through my issues! please read the content warnings, dearest -Jelly

cw: nsft intro, unhealthy attitudes surrounding sex, intimacy issues, references to past sexual trauma (no detail) and responses/emotional flashbacks relating to said non-detailed trauma, angsty with a not-happy ending

uses she/her pronouns & she has a pussaaaaayyyyyyyyy

i couldn't figure out how to end it so it's shit oops!! 2.5k words. mdni.

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Finally, they'd gotten a moment of peace. After weeks of high tensions within camp, and then Arthur being away, finally, they had time alone. Arthur had been wanting her for ages, and vice versa.

Now, they had a moment to get away. The chaos had calmed down a bit, and Pearson had been hounding Arthur to go out hunting. He figured he'd kill two birds with one stone and take his lover along with him.

Yes, it was a hunting trip, but they weren't doing much hunting. Arthur knew of an old, abandoned cabin that wasn't too decrepit. He knew it wasn't exactly romantic, and to some, might have been down right disgusting. Next time, he swore, he'd take her to a nice hotel and buy her a hot meal first. He'd slide his hands over her shoulders and kiss her reverently between declarations of her beauty, of his appreciation. He'd make sure she was relaxed and comfortable and take her how she should be taken.

But, that was for next time. Both of them were far too pent up for something as sweet as that. Arthur was frustrated with how busy he'd been lately, and he just desperately wanted a release. She was just plain frustrated she couldn't have him. There had been too many mornings spent quietly grinding against each other, too many sneaky wandering hands at the camp fire. They were craving each other, plain and simple.

And so, within ten minutes of Arthur laying his tent canvas over the old, dusty bed, he was inside her. This was unusual in the sense that Arthur typically took his sweet time. He was big, and he knew it, so he almost always spent ages stretching his lover open, getting her worked up enough until she's dripping, pulsing—past the point of ample preparation.

But that's not what happened today. Today, she was already wet and eager, kissing him hard and gripping at his suspenders. He was a starved man, so he laid into her with the same passion and then some.

First, he had her bent over that creaky old cot, his hands running along her waist and petting at the soft skin of her back. There was an undeniable power behind each thrust that had her singing praise and gripping hard onto the canvas blanket. He fucked into her like that for a while, just to get some of their energy out, until he decided he needed to see her face and maneuvered her onto her back.

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he crawled over her, grunting and growling against the crook of her neck. The humidity of the summer air did little to ruin the moment, instead encouraging a shine to form over his body, little droplets of it rolling down Arthur's nose. She licked at his neck between staccatto'd pants, addicted to the taste of salt on his skin.

Then, her head was thrown back, spine arching to meet each thrust as best as she could with his weight on her. She was so full, more than normal it seemed, so needy for more. It was like he was scratching an itch she couldn't reach, no matter how many times she'd shoved herself full of her fingers on the nights he was away. Nothing could compare to this, she thought, as he ground down against her clit.

The prettiest noise Arthur ever heard escaped her throat, and he knew he needed more. Suddenly his weight was gone, and he was standing above her, collecting her legs and folding them against her chest.

"Want me like this?" He rasped, gaze intense and pupils blown.

As their eyes met, she felt his cock twitch inside her, relaying just how desperate he was behind his tough guy facade. Her cunt fluttered around him before she could answer verbally, but she gave an eager nod either way.

His next thrust punched the air from her lungs, her mouth falling open and hands flying to his wrists. A high, flighty gasp escaped her throat, trailing off into a shuddering hum of approval.

Again, and again, and again, he thrusted hard into her like that, slowly descending his weight down onto her. Again... and again... and—

A sharp pain radiated across her abdomen, her eyes flying open and her nails gripping tight against his skin. She yelped and reflexively tried to jump back, but Arthur held her in place as he extracted himself from her.

"Sorry—" he puffed, cradling her face immediately as he leaned over her. "You okay, girl? Too much?"

The pain wore off almost immediately, the only proof of its existence the small tremble in her thighs. She forced herself to relax, embarrassment bubbling up her chest.

"'M okay," she mumbled, leaning into his hand. "Keep going?"

Arthur breathed out in relief, leaning down to this time to press his lips to her crown. His grip on the back of her thighs loosened, letting her maneuver them as needed. He slid back into her, carefully, gently.

This time, he moved at a much slower, shallower pace, watching her face intently. His concern won over his lust for the moment. He just wanted his lover to feel comfortable, pleasured. His pace only picked back up when he felt the tension begin to melt from her thighs, and he could tell from her noises and expression that she was obviously feeling good again.

It didn't last long, though, before he pushed too hard or too deep or something, somewhere, and she jumped again. She'd been more prepared this time, so her pained reaction was much smaller, more subtle. Either way, Arthur noticed, of course he did, and paused.

"Okay?" He asked, disquiet evident on his face.

She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushing red.

"Yeah, sorry. Just... maybe this position...? I don't know..."

A deep sigh puffed across her bare chest, and she swallowed thickly, worried that she'd annoyed him. He released her legs and let them wrap back around his hips.

"Here," he mumbled, patting her calf. "You seemed to like this one earlier, yeah?"

Would he stop if she asked...?

She agreed, holding her breath. Silence. Why was she nervous? He'd obviously not meant to hurt her.

"Y'gonna tell me if you're hurting?" He scolded softly. His big fingers carded through her sweaty hair.

Right. Of course he would.

Again, she nodded, feeling awkward and embarrassed and annoyed that she was even hurting in the first place. They'd been having a good time. Her teeth grabbed at her lip, and she stared up at the cobwebs on the ceiling. Suddenly all she could smell was the musty, moldy smell of the old cabin, and any remaining arousal she was feeling drained from her body.

Arthur called her name gently, bringing her attention back to him.

"What'chu want, sweetheart," he asked gently, petting her ribcage with his thumb. "Anything you want."

What she wanted was to get out of this cabin. But she didn't want Arthur to be disappointed in her, or mad, or frustrated that he couldn't finish during the first time they'd had sex in weeks.

A few more minutes wouldn't kill her. She could do it, for Arthur.

Her hips rolled against his, hands pulling his shoulders down so she could hide her face in his neck. She knew how to fake it well enough.

"More," she breathed against his heated skin, "Take me."

Would he stop if she asked...?

Why couldn't she ask?

Arthur huffed, but began moving again, still heartbreaking-ly gentle. A soft noise escaped her lips, and she continued rocking her hips against his, encouraging him to speed up, to use her.

It did still feel good, physically, with his pubic bone grinding against her clit and her body stretched taut around his girth, but all she could focus on was how much she wanted to go home to her own tent, how hot it was in here, how bad it smelled, the sound of the single fly buzzing at the window.

She loved Arthur, so why was this suddenly so difficult? Why couldn't she do this for him?

He picked up the force of his thrusts, still going slow but getting stronger, snappier. That's usually how she liked it, so why was she so tense? Either way, she moaned into his ear and gripped him tight with her legs, despite her belly beginning to ache again.

Then he changed his angle minutely, and there was that sudden, radiating pain again. Her breath caught, but he seemed to think that was a good reaction, an honest mistake, because he did it again, and again, and again, and harder, and harder, and he started groaning again like he was close.

She could bear it until he finished. It wasn't that bad.

A few more seconds. Just a few more. Just—

Would he stop if she asked?

All her muscles went rigid, and she burst into tears, hands flying up to her face. Dread flooded her system, crushing all the trust she had in herself in an instant.

"Shit!" Arthur barked, as he flew back, startled by her outburst. "Shit... What's wrong?! Look at me, girl. What hurts?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, shame stealing her voice and forcing her still. Despite the summer heat, her skin rippled with a chill, a cruel reminder of the fact that she was stark naked and crying, legs still lifted awkwardly in the air.

Silence. Long, humiliating silence as she slowly curled around herself like a dying insect, quickly retreating into her own mind.

Arthur's big, calloused hands attempted to smooth out her messied hair. He called her name again and settled on his knees next to her.

"What happened, sweetheart?" He asked in a voice softer than she'd ever heard before.

Her chest rose in a short, stuttering breath, escaping her throat as a weak apology. When her eyes finally cracked open again, she immediately recognized Arthur as her love, and reached her arms out to him with wide, begging eyes, a pitiful, wet gasp. He didn't hesitate, and cradled her tight against his chest.

Worried and put off by her apologies, Arthur chose not to speak. He didn't think she seemed able to give him any answers right now, so he just held her.

And boy, did he feel like a right bastard. Nausea burned at the pit of his stomach as he considered what just happened. Did he hurt her? Scare her? She'd seemed into it. His eyes wandered down to where they'd been connected, searching her thighs and his now limp dick for any traces of blood or answers. Nothing.

He didn't spend much time getting her warmed up, he realized. Did he push her too fast? He'd have gone down on her if he'd known, would've had her come on his fingers until he knew she was ready. She had just seemed so eager.

He could feel her trying to calm herself down. Shaky sounding, hot puffs of air brushed against his stomach, her face buried in his chest, fingers clutching at his skin. Strong arms wrapped around her, a broad palm smoothed up her spine. He forced himself to be steady, despite the dread building in his gut.

In the tiniest voice he ever heard, she apologized again, directly over his heart. It clicked then, and Arthur's chest collapsed as the pieces fell together.

Oh.

Pieces of conversations past echoed in his skull, about no-name men and their sins. Memories of how she'd shy away in the beginning of their relationship when he came on too strong, even though he'd always been a gentle, gentle lover. Strange bouts of insomnia and poor sleep that always seemed to align with nights they'd indulged in each other more passionately than was typical.

Shit.

His nose pressed into his lover's hairline, his blood turning to ice. Amidst his onset of guilt, cradled in Arthurs arms, she was beginning to come back to the world. His familiar embrace, smell, brought a comfort she could never describe.

The anxiety fizzled out into emptiness as the minutes ticked by, and eventually, she was still. Awake, but still, half missing from her body. Arthur, meanwhile, was buzzing with energy.

He pulled back, searching her face, zeroing in on the tear tracks drying against her cheeks. He felt sick at the way she peered up at him, eyes wide and owlish.

To her fuzzy brain, it felt like a year that they stared at each other, resting together in that old, gross cabin. He broke the silence.

"What happened, sweet girl," he whispered, voice thick. "I hurt ya?"

It took a lot of time for her to process the question. She supposed it was true, but it didn't feel true. She made him hurt her. She let him believe she was having fun. God, why did she do that? She wanted him to enjoy himself.

Her expression began to crumble as she shook her head, no, emphatically. It wasn't his fault. She didn't want him thinking that.

Arthur sighed deeply, not convinced in the slightest, but willing to put it aside for the moment. His thumb brushed against her cheek, eyes soft.

"You forget it was me?"

That didn't feel true, either. She knew it was Arthur, and she realized with a sinking feeling that he knew. What would he think, if he thought she saw him as some sort of... that kind of man? She knew he frequently felt like a monster already. She'd put so much effort into building him up. What would it do to him if he thought she was afraid of him?

No.

She forced it down. She'd protect him from this ugliness that made her question him. What was she thinking? Of course he would stop if she asked. He always did. Usually, he'd stop before she'd even get to asking.

"No," she croaked. "Just... I don't know what happened, Arthur. I'm sorry."

He wouldn't let it go, though.

"You gotta tell me if it hurts, little girl," he chided gently. "I don't wanna hurt'cha. Don't matter to me if we gotta call it. You know th—"

"Can you get my clothes?" She interjected, eyes glassy again. It was too much. "Please?"

Arthur's jaw went rigid in frustration. Guilt, shame, annoyance. With a kiss to her forehead, he separated himself from her body and sat up to search for her layers.

The moment had passed. She'd shut him down in fear of hurting him, and he was losing patience by trying to figure out what he did wrong.

Slowly, gently, he helped her dress back up. Arthur helped her return to modesty, and only then began dressing himself. She sat motionless on the edge of the cot, watching him with a little frown.

They watched each other, distantly, carefully. This was unusual, unsettling.

He didn't blame her. She didn't blame him.

He wondered if she trusted him. She wondered if he'd forgive her.

He beat himself up for not noticing. She beat herself up for not holding out.

Arthur hated that, maybe, he unintentionally reminded her of something so awful. She hated that her body couldn't react to anything else, especially with someone she trusted with her life.

Neither uttered a word.

When Arthur was clothed, she reached out to him again, seeking the solace she'd found earlier when he'd brought her back to her body. They wrapped around each other, murmuring apologies and declarations of love, each touch and each whisper poisoned by guilt.

Next time would be different, for sure.

[krussyarts]

@bouberi here's your Yuri

That I drew on literally no sleep, zoned out for 8 hours. Gonna sleep now

[eyeballsinatrenchcoat]

RAHHH infected by @keferon ‘s apocalyptic ponyo au

[scened3zu]

hi pest regretavator

[bolackloamtbyyyshaker9000]

Domestic SnowCrow fluff!! ft. Baking (I'm seriously gonna be dropping daily snowcrow prompts and headcanons until I can't think of anymore.)

Zayne has a sweet tooth, that's a known fact to everyone in Linkon city. From children to the elderly. They'd usually give him sweets as an enjoyment, disguising them as "thank you" gifts. Does Zayne decline? Nah. It's sweets. FREE sweets.

But one day, Zayne was craving something he can't find in bakeries or cafes, so he sets out to the market and buys ingredients. Mix here and there and will add 5x more of the required amount of sugar. Sylus would be there, not really any help at all. He hugs Zayne from behind and kisses his hair. Zayne would taste his batter "not sweet enough" and lift up a spoon for Sylus to taste. And golly, does Sylus think he'd get a case of bad sugar rush.

Sylus will look at him in a weird, judging way which Zayne will shrug off, ignoring his lover. As they wait for the sweet to bake, they'll sit in the living room, huddling together. Sylus will massage Zayne's stiff muscles while Zayne blabbers on about his nerdy interest, Sylus just listening.

When the sweet finishes baking and has been cooled for long enough, Zayne will start cutting up a slice. Sylus declines the offer because he doesn't want to die from too much sugar consumption.

"Still not sweet enough."

"My beloved doctor, please control your sugar."

[nyaskitten]

Okay new ship; Kur x Bleckt. Hear me out on this one! Both hate Roby, both are really, really, REALLY old, and both are rotten, decaying corpses. Please make art of them kissing sloppily

[lezabeththetheodoraimposter]

i may be alone on this one but as someone with multiple severe phobias i extremely dislike when characters overcome their fears (i understand it for character development and its a super common arc). i especially ESPECIALLY HATE DESPISE LOATHE it when characters “overcome their phobias��� I HATE IT

like i said i’m probably alone on this but i would much rather see them work around it

there are times where it’s done well. my favourite is ben from jwcc. like that was natural. he didn’t have a choice and it wasn’t immediate. i liked that. GO JWCC/JWCT

[22bananapudding]

[thetroubledpencil]

Made this for @unnamedgenerator cuz I LOVE SKELEGIRLIES WITH HAIR FUCK YES!!!!!!!

I LOVE SKELETONS WITH HAIR KEEP IT UP

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Forehead.

[dread-knight]

Secret Santa art I did of a friend's dog

[dxntbreathein]

there is nothing new under the sun , b nbut the sea

[elikajinnie]

How i feel trying to finish the Slytherin!Heeseung request but he`s too hot

[sombreset]

Personal and emo update below

[softkiten]

what is living for when i have no one to love

[davidlikebowie-noturaccountant]

it is 3:36 in the morning and i’ve just finished watching the office. for the first time. yes yes i know im behind

i’ve come to the conclusion that i should be banned from watching series finales because i am currently trying not to wake my roommate up with my sobbing over this

[labbaik-ya-hussain-as]