A/N: Loki Laufeyson x F!Reader
Wordcount: 1.86K
Warnings: mentions of past abuse (nothing in detail). smut. ptsd. trauma. vengeful Loki. Incorrect mythology.
Summary: "...and he’s slowly grinding into you as he watches your face, excited to see you enjoy this new predicament but you go cold."
A/N: This was a request in regards to dealing with past trauma and how Loki might handle it. Hopefully it isn't too OOC.
It’s not that Loki isn’t empathetic. He is. He tries and he certainly would try for you because he had grown to care.
Not love.
Never love.
Not yet, at least.
Loki was a man who not only guarded himself but had built up fortresses - shuttered whole walls of steel and rock across the expanse of his skin. He didn’t share and he didn’t confess and he did not - would not - unzip himself and reveal all his cards or the true meat of who he was and what he was scared of -
Though most people probably knew what he was scared of - he wasn’t exactly subtle about the things he wanted or liked or dreamed up.
To try and try and fail once more. A hamster in a wheel, really - cycling and rolling until that loop would leave him either dead or out of ideas...
Which - now - if you think about that - are two very impossible outcomes since Loki had a dozen lives and a million ideas at the ready. Plots and schemes and a plan for any situation that should come his way -
But then you had floated along and Loki had found you extremely pretty and kind and unnerving and a part of him wanted to break you and the other part wanted to wrap you up and seal you to him - mine mine mine -
He does a little of both. He carefully deconstructs you through sex - dragging your ass to the edge of his bed so he can lick you and finger you and then fuck you so that you will shake and tremble so beautifully that it nearly makes him mess in his own trousers.
“Darling,” he croons - nimble fingers twisting inside you. “Be a good girl and cum for me just like that - hold your knees - spread yourself apart - oh yes - fuck - “
You do exactly as he says without a moment of doubt or hesitancy and Loki - of course - has made sure that it’s fine - that it’s okay because if he is one thing, he is a good lover and he’d never force you or surprise you or cause you any physical pain that you didn’t specifically ask for.
He’s unbearably possessive and that’s probably because everything Loki has ever longed for in his life has been cruelly snatched from him. He’d had a toy ship made of wood that Thor had accidentally crashed into and the whole thing went to dust and fragments. His father had given him a new one, but Loki had wanted the original. He spent weeks trying to repair it - shoving the splinters back together until his fingertips bled and then had been forced to just give it up.
Perhaps - it had been his first failure.
As a result, he had promptly gone to his mother and asked her to teach him magic - spells - anything - so he could fix his broken things.
You can do anything you put your mind to, my sweet boy.
He believed it.
***
He takes you to the hidden spots in Asgard - the places still scarred up from ancient battles and fallen ruins. The old remnants of past Kings. Basalt and craters and ship carcasses and the air still threaded in ghosts. Bones, too. Plenty of skeletons poking from the mud.
He liked these spaces. He liked the energy of them - the stories they told - as if Loki could press his palms to the ground and suck up all of that mythos - those legends - because Loki still wants to be the hero even though he knows he is cursed to remain the villain.
The children will hear of him and how he had brought his brother glory through his own defeat. He will be the warning in a tale - the dark son - the ruined prince.
You smile up at him - palming his cheek and he forgets.
***
He fucks you on the hard ground in some secluded spot far and away from the city itself. He’s got most of his leathers still hanging off of him - his pants bunching up beneath his ass as he ruts into you. He had been frantic with desire.
Your skirts are a mess around your waist - gauzy and patterned and the color of the milk flowers that his mother loves. He’d clean you after with a snap of his fingers, make all the dirt and mud disappear. For now - he enjoys it. He’d have you walk ahead of him just so he can see how he’d torn your dress - painted it in crumpling earth as he took you in powerful strokes.
He tilts your hips up so he can plunge deeper - his cock snapping inside you with each rough jut and your mouth parting against his insistent tongue.
“Loki,” you breathe - light and delirious - longing wrinkling your brow. Your eyes glisten with the shake of tears as he gently strokes your clit - a contrast to the aggressive way he’s fucking you.
He feels your cunt contract around his cock - squeeze him while your whole lovely body shudders as you slam into your peak.
“That’s it,” he soothes. “That’s it, my love. You get so damn tight when you cum.”
He grins down at you as your lips quirk - your eyes softening with pleasure. He wants to keep going and brush it with more heat and so he makes dainty gold cuffs appear around your wrists. A touch of kink. The chain is screwed into the ground as it pin your hands above your head and he’s slowly grinding into you as he watches your face - excited to see you enjoy this new predicament but you go cold -
Your gaze widens as you tug at the chains - your breath coming out in short, puffy bursts. Your chest heaves and then you turn away from him completely - your lips parting on something he thinks could be a sob just as your body goes limp and fuck me - he thinks because he doesn’t quite understand and he knows that he’s done something wrong.
He feels like he did as a boy when he’d say something rude or make a misstep and his parents would frown and he’d feel…he’d feel so lonely and out of place.
“Are you - oh darling - are you alright?” he murmurs with panic as he eases himself out of you. Your stare is far away and you’re trembling and Loki realizes that he’s really fucked up here - messed up spectacularly - and you’re still not answering him.
He snaps his fingers and the cuffs disappear. You pull your arms into your chest - curling around yourself and he has no idea what to do - none at all. He slides behind you and wraps himself around your waist and tugs you gently against his chest. Your shoulders are slick in cooling sweat.
He holds you like that for a while, stroking your arm as your breathing evens out and your heart begins to slow. He doesn’t enjoy feeling lost or in the dark and yet he can’t find it in him to press you. Normally, he’d disappear - run off because he felt like an idiot and the shame pained him more than anything else.
He won’t though. He owes you more than that.
The ground is cold. The sky is blindingly blue and it all seems very out of place. It blurs like a dream. The colors all wrong and too bright like neon signs on Contraxia. He stares at the back of your head - counting the strands of your hair as he smells the lavender oils that you had been dressed in.
“I’m sorry,” you finally whisper - your voice weak and thin as winter branches.
“Please don’t be,” He squeezes your hip - pressing his lips to your crown - trying to keep you relaxed for fear of you shutting down again. He feels very much like he’s calming a spooked horse which only reminds him of his great stallion Sleipnir who had also been taken from him.
You always lose the ones you love.
You always hurt them. Break them. Ruin them.
Loki bites his tongue, tries to tamper down the urge to fly from you. It would be easier - it would be so much easier -
“A long time ago,” You catch at his hand - threading your fingers through his before cradling it to your belly. “A long time ago, there was someone before you.”
And then you tell him a story.
One that he desperately does not want to hear. It spooks him and makes fury burn low in his gut before it begins to methodically tear him apart. Every new sentence and revelation - all of it slicing through him like a burnt blade. He shakes with it - embracing you tighter - nosing at the nape of your neck as you tell him the things that had been done to you and how you had been chained at one point and how those delicate gold bindings he had created had sent you into a past you had wanted to forget.
Old ghosts ravaging your memory. Haunts. Loki knows everything about spirits - knows everything about the way your history can return to you at some dreadful moment - choke you in place and drown you on dry land while you struggle to rip the fear from your throat - your mind - please i don’t want to see that - not that defeat - not that guilt - not that or that or that -
But just as he understands you - he also feels another level of agony. Someone had hurt you enough that it hadn’t left you. Someone had tried to crack you and weaken you and destroy you and here you were - still stunningly beautiful and kind and generous and all of that aimed at him. Loki Laufeyson who had nothing but his own guile to keep him warm.
Loki’s heart hammers in his chest - his skin feverish. He does not have his brother’s temper - it is a different sort of loathing - one that dips and swirls and becomes a serpent - poised to strike but always waiting waiting waiting until the opportune moment.
He craves violence.
“Where is he?” Loki growls - his vision now blind with it. “Where the fuck is he?”
His voice is cloaked in spit and ichor - fearsome and stoked in wrath.
“Dead,” you murmur - touching his wrist - reaching behind you to brush your fingers over his cheek. “He is dead. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Then I shall bring him back and slaughter him again,” he hisses with such earnestness that it startles you. You twist onto your side to stare at him - your face full of color - no longer stark and withered in fear.
You lurch forward and kiss his mouth with a sweet sort of urgency. You grip him frantically and of course, he begins to harden - begins to grind against you despite himself.
“He is nothing but a ghost now,” you murmur against the slide of Loki’s tongue. You pull away - caressing his jaw - your thumb sweeping the plane of his frosty skin. “You are the man I had wished for.”
He blinks - surprised. He had never been someone to wish for - never the hero or the one called to. He had never really been anything but a very sad and perplexing person who longed to finally win. He studies your face - your bare expression. You had given him something. Just now. You had given him something.
He drags you against him - his fingers threading through your hair as he forces your nose into the crook of his neck. Your warm velvet breath. The tickle of your lashes. Your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling to him.
Perhaps, he would try for you. Perhaps - he could fit himself into the mold of someone better.
Perhaps - perhaps - he thinks as all of his old ghosts begin to pale and bleach beneath the heavy sun.
Rafael Barba x fem!reader
Warnings: language, smut, dirty talk, oral.
This is a combo of a couple of requests recently, hope it delivers what you want!
I have a feeling we are BACK babeeyy. So send on in all your requests for our favourites! <3
Rafael wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected when he got home from work, but this certainly wasn’t it.
Struggling, he picked his jaw up off the floor as his feet stayed glued to it, seemingly unable to move from the doorway of his bedroom. He felt a hundred degrees hotter than he had on the walk home –which was saying a lot considering the three piece suit and the scorching ninety-two degrees— suddenly thankful he’d already shed his jacket, waistcoat and tie, tossed aside over the back of the living room couch. He swallowed heavily, eyes slowly lifting through the room, trailing over your long, bare legs, lingering a little too long on the blue lace covering between your legs. It’s not like he could help it, his mouth watered when he noticed the wet spot on the fabric, wishing he could bury his face into it, breathing in your scent, tongue laving over the dampness before completely engulfing you.
At the sound of your giggle, he pulled his gaze further up, cock straining in his pants as he took in your bare chest, nipples pert and hard in the cool air of the room until he finally landed on your face, lips pulled into a teasing smirk, eyes dark and eager.
“What?” You asked, feigning innocence.
“I know I should care about the reason you’re naked in my bed, but I will enjoy it for the moment.”
You laughed again, a hand softly trailing over your bare skin, “not naked.” You toyed with the waistband of your panties, “had to leave something to the imagination.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a tease?” He asked, already undoing the buttons of his shirt and you nodded, a wicked grin spreading over your cheeks.
“Took a nap.” You offered with a shrug, “and I was dreaming of my legs wrapped around your waist.”
Rafael watched as your hand sunk between your legs, palming at the wet fabric he wanted to tear off your body. A soft moan left your lips and his cock pulsed, he couldn’t help but groan when your fingers pushed your panties to the side, trailing through your pussy lips, smearing your juices around.
“God, it felt so good.” Your head dropped back into the pillows, lips parted ever so slightly as you continued to toy with yourself, “the way your cock pounded into me,” you easily slipped two fingers into your cunt, “so. Fucking. Deep.” Each word accented with a hard flick of your wrist and Rafael could hear the wetness sopping throughout the room.
“Sweetheart…” his voice took on a heaviness, a hint of darkness that caught your attention.
“What?” You cracked an eye open, smirk on your lips as you watched him approach the bed, your fingers still moving languidly, “am I playing with something of yours?”
Shirt now stripped, chest bare, Rafael’s hands swiftly undid his belt as he kneeled onto the bed, stalking towards you. His eyes were dark, holding your gaze until they shot down to between your legs, watching you for only a second before his fingers circled your wrist, halting your movements.
“You know better.” He tsk’d, pulling your fingers from your pussy and lifting your hand up to his mouth, sucking your fingers between his lips with a loud groan.
His eyes fell shut as your fingers sunk all the way into his mouth, your juices taking over his senses, every thought lost to how much he loved the way you tasted. He felt your fingers tap against his tongue and he opened his eyes to find you watching him, a grin on your lips and a blush on your cheeks. Slowly you began to push your fingers deeper into his mouth, your body tingling at the way his tongue wrapped around them, leaving no inch untasted, until you began to pull them out. You flipped your hand around, palm up and let out a moan at the way Rafael instantly sucked them back into his mouth, not letting his eyes drop from yours until he sucked them hard, groaning as he throbbed in his pants.
His hand squeezed your wrist, reluctantly pulling the digits from his mouth.
“God, you are fucking delectable, you know that?”
“So you keep telling me.”
“Lie back, let me get a real taste.”
A soft giggle left your lips and your head dropped back into the pillows, grin on your cheeks as you watched Rafael yank your panties down your legs and toss them over his shoulder. With his hands around your ankles, he spread you wide open, eyes raking up your supple skin until they landed at the apex of your thighs. Already wet and glistening in the low light of the room, the perfect pussy he loved oh so fucking much. His hands brushed up your legs, keeping you spread as he laid onto his stomach, hands pressed against your thighs.
“Fuck.” He muttered, eyes fluttering shut as he inhaled your scent, unable to resist grinding his hips into the mattress. His soft moan pushed hot air towards your cunt and you whimpered, your thighs trembling beneath his hands.
“Raf…” A hand came down, threading into his hair and he chuckled, opening his eyes.
He pressed a kiss into your inner thigh, “how long have you been waiting for me?”
“Too long.” You grumbled, your hand clawing at his scalp.
Smirk on his lips he mouthed at your leg again, “you must be a needy little thing by now then, hmm?”
Rather than reply, your hips rocked up off the bed, attempting to shift him where you wanted him most. Instead of doing what you wanted, Rafael chuckled, his teeth sinking into the supple skin of your inner thigh. A hiss left your lips, your eyes scrunched,
“Raf!”
“What?” He glanced up at you, a wicked look in his eyes, “I can’t mark what’s mine?” His tongue slowly licked over the teeth indents, soothing the burn, “a little something for only my eyes.”
Your body twitched under his touch when his lips latched onto the spot, sucking it into his mouth, scraping his teeth across your skin, tongue swirling patterns around it. He could feel the heat coming from your pussy, unable to resist his free hand slowly inched up until it was nearly cupping you, thumb right at the bottom of your slit.
“Please.” It was all but a whisper, wafting through the evening air until it met his ears.
Then his thumb moved, slowly dragging through your pussy with a featherlight touch. He brought it all the way up, then immediately circled it back down, avoiding your clit and in that moment you didn’t even care. Rafael’s teeth sunk into your leg again as his thumb pressed harder, moving back down your cunt as he set a rhythm with his touch. A few passes later and your hips were rocking in time with his hand, trying their best to angle downwards enough for him to touch where you were aching him to.
Satisfied with the mark, Rafael left a kiss above it, resting his cheek against your thigh as he continued to play with your pussy. Thumb pressed harder this time, grinding against your wetness until he finally, brushed it over your clit and you gasped. He blew a cool stream of air over the sensitive bud, watching the way you trembled, the way your breath quickened, the goosebumps that crept their way onto your skin. He rubbed your clit torturously slow, varying the pressure, watching your pussy pulse around nothing until you were slick with arousal and it started dripping out of you.
Just as you were about to beg, groan, protest, whine, anything, his mouth was suddenly on you and your head was thrown back into the pillows.
“Fuck!” Both your hands shot to his hair, clutching at his head as he groaned between your legs.
His tongue dragged through your cunt slowly, savouring the taste, not letting a singular drop go to waste. Rafael adored eating you out, he could and would happily do it every day if he could. Didn’t matter if you were stressed, if he was stressed, both were resolved by your pussy on his tongue and an orgasm. Good day? Let’s celebrate by having you sit on his face. Bad day? Let’s try to make us both forget by crushing his skull between your thighs. There was no place he’d rather dive into than this, and he was certain to make sure you knew that. Every. Single. Time.
The way his tongue danced through you, swirling your wetness, smearing it up over your throbbing clit, hips jumping up whenever he came close to it. He ducked down, tongue tipping into your pussy, face grinding into you, juices smearing across his lips as his nose bumped against you.
“Oh god, baby.” You moaned, body beginning to writhe against the bed.
Every one of his ministrations was making sparks fly under your skin, little twitches, nerves firing off as pleasure built deeper and deeper inside you. Your skin was already prickling, aching for more. You pulled a hand away from his head, reaching downward and it only took a second for him to know what you needed, his own grasping yours, interlacing your fingers as he continued to mouth at your cunt.
“More.” You squeezed at his hand, “please.”
With a moan that reverberated against your pussy, vibrations sending sparks through your body, Rafael slid his mouth up, lips wrapping around your pulsing clit. A gasp left your lips, squeezing at his hand harder while his free one cupped your heat, fingertips nudging at your entrance. You couldn’t help but moan, lifting your hips to the touch and your mouth fell open as he thrust two fingers inside you.
“Fuck, Raf…” you groaned, pussy pulsing around him already.
He replied with a muffled growl against your skin, fingers dipping deeper into your cunt, swirling and scissoring, pumping in and out with ease. You could feel your pussy soaking him, wetness seeping out around his fingers, more dripping to the sheets with each pass of his hand, drops swirling their way down his wrist. Rafael curled his fingers, and when you mewled, he knew he’d found the spot, his lips smirking around your clit.
“Yes!” You cried out, “right there.”
He crooked his fingers again, pressing against the sensitive spot and your entire body tensed, thighs shivering around him. His tongue slipped down, lapping up the extra wetness his fingers were pulling from you, eager to catch every single drop so he could savour the taste of you on his tongue for the rest of the night. His cock throbbed, aching for friction and as he ground against the bed through his pants, he could feel the wet spot of pre-cum spreading on the fabric.
The noises you were making were more than enough to drive him on, feeling the way your pussy clenched around his fingers, the way you trembled each time he brushed past your g-spot, your chest practically heaving. He watched the way your body was shivering for only a moment before he ducked back down, his lips latching around your clit.
“Fuck!” Your body tensed as fire burst through you, nerve endings jolting as his tongue danced around your throbbing clit. “Oh, God! M’close.”
Rafael quickened his fingers, pressing harder, sucking you deeper into his mouth, teeth scraping over your clit ever so gently. You took over every single one of his senses, your taste on his tongue, your scent encompassing him, the noises you made, music to his ears. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t hold back, humping against the bed in the same rhythm his fingers plunged in and out of your wetness. Without even having to think about it, your hips began to rock upwards to him, eager for more, matching the rhythm. A fine-tuned dance as the need for pleasure took over the both of you.
“Raf!” Your fingers squeezed tight at his and he curled his fingers again, longer, harder, dragging them as he sucked hard on your clit and a second later you let out a cry, body convulsing as juices dripped out of your cunt.
Rafael lifted his mouth of you only long enough to watch you come, his hips still grinding against the bed as your body shook. His eyes darkened, an almost whimper leaving his lips as his eyes trained in on the juices dribbling over your puffy pussy.
“Good girl.” He cooed, hands stroking at your thighs before he leaned in, tongue lapping, lips sucking up as much of your release as he could. “’M not gonna last.” He groaned, cock pulsing, still in his pants.
With a breathless giggle, you were quick to yank him upwards, pulling him into a deep kiss. Your tongue plunged into his mouth, tasting yourself as you sat up, hand quickly sinking into his pants. Rafael hissed at the contact, his hips jutting forward at the touch.
“Lemme take care of you.” You murmured, lips brushing against his skin as you tugged him toward the edge of the bed, sliding off the edge to settle on your knees.
Rafael’s mind barely had time to catch up to what you were doing before his cock was in your mouth, buried all the way to the hilt.
“Oh, fuck!”
Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and you were more than grateful to lick it up, sucking it deep into your mouth as you bobbed on his cock. His hands settled into your hair, hips jolting each time you sunk further down, his thoughts and words lost to him, only able to pant as your tongue swirled around him and you hollowed your cheeks.
A loud grunt left his lips, cock twitching between your lips as his cum shot into your mouth. His hand softened in your hair, gently stroking it as you sucked him dry. You let out a low groan at the taste of him, letting it savour on your tongue for a moment before swallowing, finally popping off his cock and leaning back on your heels.
“Shit.” He muttered, a small laugh coming from him when he looked up and you proudly parted your lips, showcasing your clean tongue. “Good girl.”
His hand ghosted down your cheek, thumb rubbing over your chin as he pulled you to him, kissing you softly. You climbed back into his lap as he kicked off his pants, shifting until you were both laid up against the headboard. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you returned the motion on his chest.
“Sorry.” He murmured against your hair.
“Raf,” you chuckled, lifting your chin to catch his gaze, “you basically got off just on eating my pussy. There’s no reason to apologize. That’s fucking hot.”
He laughed, leaning in to steal another kiss, “can’t say it was the dinner I was expected to come home to.”
You swatted at his chest, pinching his skin, “that was just an appetizer. We can order in.” Your hand trailed up his chest, tickling up his neck and into the hair at the back of his head as your lips ghosted over his. “Eat on the balcony.” You pressed a kiss to his lips, tongue just daring to trace over them, “then I’ll ride your cock until my pussy’s stuffed full of your cum.”
This is about the sexiness of The Golden Girls but I really feel the need to remind the world of how fucking progressive this show was.
In the episode 72 hours, we find out Rose may have contracted AIDs during an emergency gallbladder surgery.
Rose: Why me, Blanche? I'm tired of pretending I feel okay so you won't say, 'Take it easy', and I'm tired of you saying 'Take it easy' because you're afraid I'm going to fall apart. Dammit, why is this happening to me? I mean, this isn't supposed to happen to people like me. You must've gone to bed with hundreds of men. All I had was one innocent operation.
Blanche: Hey, wait a minute! Are you saying this should be me and not you?
Rose: No! No, I'm just saying that I am a good person. Hell, I'm a goody-two-shoes!
Blanche: AIDS is not a bad person's disease, Rose, it is not God punishin' people for their sins!
In Isn't it romantic? we find out Dorothy's childhood best friend is a lesbian who recently lost her partner. She confesses she has feelings for Rose. Rose turns her down but makes it clear that she still wants to be friends even though she doesn't return those feelings.
Sophia: Jean is a nice person. She happens to like girls instead of guys. Some people like cats instead of dogs.
Jean: Rose, about last night. I should never have said anything.
Rose: You only said what you were feeling.
Jean: It's just that this last year has been so difficult for me. Pat was the person I planned to spend the rest of my life with. And when she died, I just felt so terribly alone. Empty. I thought I could never care for anyone again. Until I met you. I just got very confused. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable.
Rose: Well, I have to admit that I don't understand these kinds of feelings. But if I did understand, if I were, you know, like you, I'd be very flattered and proud that you thought of me that way.
Ebbtide's Revenge gives us Phil's funeral, and Sophia addressing him wearing women's clothes.
Rose: So what if he was different? It's okay that you loved him.
Sophia: I did love him. He was my son, my little boy. But every time I saw him I wondered what I did, what I said, when was the day I did whatever I did to make him the way he was.
Angela Petrillo: What he was Sophia, was a good man.
Sister of the Bride, where Blanche's brother Clayton brings his boyfriend to town, because they're planning on getting married.
Blanche: Oh, look, I can accept the fact that he's gay, but why does he have to slip a ring on this guy's finger so the whole world will know?
Sophia: Why did you marry George?
Blanche: We loved each other. We wanted to make a lifetime commitment. Wanted everybody to know.
Sophia: That's what Doug and Clayton want, too. Everyone wants someone to grow old with. And shouldn't everyone have that chance?
There are so many episodes I could sit here and quote but this show is still so important. It isn't perfect, there are jokes that definitely don't land that I will not sit here and defend, but in the context of when it was created? This show is a fucking masterpiece and deserves respect for that.
Her cool, cultured, interesting friend starts to show who she really is when she wants to take Dorothy out to a nice place... but no Jews allowed. This was not uncommon IRL. Perfectly acceptable, even.
I never in my life want to hear about Boomers not being "progressive" ever again.
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