bakerstreet | Healing...you know.

Healing...you know.

The Sexual Healing Meme
aka the Smutty H/C Meme
aka the Healing Genitals Meme

They say love can conquer all ills and cure all broken people - the jury is still out on that, but enough people subscribe to the notion that it may have some merit. But what about sex? With the right affection behind it, can it be the elixar to heal traumas or mend angst? For this meme, it can be. No matter what your what your problem is, from daddy issues to being mind controlled to hating all humans or being just a jerk, all you need is sexual healing from the right person.

All in all? This is a shameless meme playing with the idea of "cured by love," extended into the infamous "cured by the magic cock/vagina" trope. Love it or hate it, it's prevalent in fiction, both fan and published. And sometimes, no lie, you just want to play it and not be judge for the pure shlock you know it to be. Here is the place; now is the time.

How to Play
- Comment with your character and preferences. Feel free to talk about your character's problems. You might also want to mention if your character is the one who needs to be healed or can do the healing. Or perhaps you and your thread partner can play two roughed up characters learning to trust again!
- Reply to others.
- Shameless smut. Shameless h/c. Shameless shame.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

*The boneless feeling that follows their time together is usually short lived in comparison to the bruises but she will take the satisfaction and contentment it brings. She knows that he'll take care of her for the time being and she's sated enough that the thought doesn't even chafe.*

And you'll eat your weight in food to put our poor mother's mind at ease? *A kiss is pressed to the pulse point of his neck almost lazily, thankful at least that he hasn't mentioned Sif. She's far too comfortable for petty jealousy to ruin the moment. Even knowing what she does about where she stands with him, she will forever hold a grudge against Sif for the piece of Thor's heart she holds.*

[He loves them both, Loki and Sif, of that there is little doubt. The pieces of his heart they hold may even be equal in size-- but each has a disturbingly different tenor. And Thor, for all his willed blindness, sees enough to keep the two separate as much as he can. Sif does not forgive Loki as readily as the rest of his warriors and Loki tenses like a cat with a trod on tail whenever Sif is near.]

And I shall eat my weight in food to put our poor mother's mind at ease, [he repeats, a laugh in his repetition. Thor can promise Loki that much, sated as he is. He knows he'll sleep now, and sleep will bring enough separation to let him breathe. At the back of his mind he still wonders about Loki's motives... but does not bother dwelling. He keeps tracing patterns against her skin.]

Loki...

[Perhaps he is more inclined to be maudlin, after what they've been through, with Loki here, soft and quiet against his shoulder. At moments like this Thor thinks insane things; sharing the throne with his sister, ruling with her by his side, resplendent in green and gold.]

Spend the night with me.

*There is much in the way of bad blood between she and Sif, and not even Thor's will is enough to erase a drop of it. They have found themselves unwilling allies when circumstances had called for it but only barely maintained any kind of civility otherwise. It was only by grace of Loki's title that kept Sif's sword from her throat, or so she believed, and it was only Sif's place in her brother's heart that kept her from tasting a fast acting poison of Loki's devising.*

Good, then I may rest easy this night.

*The way he says her name, she's almost sure that she knows what follows. A request almost always follows that tone. Fortunately she's feeling generous enough to grant him that much, or maybe she's still not quite recovered from what they'd done herself.*

What will the servants say?

Edited 2014-01-15 05:55 (UTC)

[Thor snorts, the sound full and rough in the otherwise quiet room. He buries his face into the soft place behind Loki's ear, almost as an apology. His fingers, wrinkled now, still on her.] I care naught for gossip. [He nips at her neck.] And I know you care less than I.

Let them say what they will. *She uses his own words from earlier now and there's just the hint of a sly smirk on her face.*

And will you take up the entirety of the bed or is there a chance I might actually get some sleep? *That she has often been the one to move into his side in the middle of the night just to claim some of his warmth for her own doesn't need to be pointed out. Not when it's so much fun to goad him instead.*

[His small rumble from before becomes an outright laugh, a lift of his chin and a sound of mirth that comes straight from his stomach. Thor stands in the water and lifts Loki as easily as a child might lift a doll; the cascade of the water from their upper bodies is a soft storm. His arms link under her rear. Thor kisses her chest, her chin, her forehead. His mood has obviously improved.]

Oh I think that perhaps there is sleep to be had. [She's always sought him when they've shared a bed, from childhood innocence onward; Loki is naturally cool and seems to gravitate toward him. Thor has never minded.] Even if you don't keep your hands to yourself.

*Where other times she might object to being carried so, now she simply allows it. Her moods are a mercurial thing after all and she can be as temperamental as a street cat, begging for food and affection one moment and trying to claw the eyes from your skull the next.*

Yet it's my skin that bears the bruises of yours. Perhaps it's not my hands either of us should be worried about. *To reiterate she pushes against the already forming outline of his fingers on her thighs from earlier. The breath she pulls in is quick at the brief flash of pain but she's pleased with herself even as he moves them both, steadily and easily.*

[The squeeze of Loki's legs and resulting sharp inhale stirs Thor's blood and he shifts his hold on his sister so that he's grabbing her thighs to hold her aloft. He pauses them, feet from the tub and robes both. His cock had fallen from her as they'd stood, finally flaccid, but now it has interest again.

Easy enough, for Loki to prompt his passions.]

Perhaps I should examine my shoulders for your claw marks, [Thor growls, dipping his head to nip at her throat.] But if you still feel I deserve retribution, I think it could be arranged. [Sleep is still not out of the question; two orgasms has flushed most of the urgency from Thor. He squeezes Loki's thighs with a slow pressure and nuzzles her neck as much as he uses teeth.]

*He should not be able to do the things he does to her. He should not be able to earn such reactions from her body even with the ghost of his touch. The bruises left on her skin should not be a pleasant thing, they shouldn't excite her or send an ache down to her very core, least of all after what they've already done. Yet without fail the knowledge of how she earned those bruises manages to ignite a spark and even the smallest of sparks can start a blaze.*

If you keep that up I may just see fit to demand it. *She certainly wouldn't protest having him beneath her on the expanse of his bed, but then she wouldn't protest putting it off until they'd both had the opportunity to rest and recover their strength. So many choices presented to someone as greedy as she had the ability to be was like presenting Volstagg with an endless banquet. Choosing where to start was the most difficult part of it all.*

[His mirth is a soft, ragged tattoo of breath against her throat and Thor gives her ear one last flick of his tongue before pulling his head away and picking up his feet.] You have ever been demanding, Loki. I do not see how it would be any different than any other day.

[He settles her to her feet and draws a soft robe from a hanger on the wall behind her, pulling it forward over her shoulders as an excuse to brush pert breasts. There is a smile on his lips, mischievous, but transparently so. Despite having Loki at his elbow for his entire life, Thor has never picked up her sharper intentions, her hidden tricks. He is just not built for such things.]

No more so than you.

*If anyone knew what he was capable of demanding it was her. They were selfish in very different ways and still alike in many others.

The robe he drapes over her is like a dress in and of itself since it's meant to be worn on his larger frame. It smells like him and she turns her head into the material to breathe in deeply, not even bothering to swat away his hands. His mood is nowhere near what it had been when she'd first found him and that alone is enough to have her returning his smile.*

This was the robe from Vanaheim, yes?

[Her smile is beautiful enough to break a man down the middle. Thor tugs the collar of the robe more closely around Loki and leans in to kiss her forehead. For himself he grabs a large towel to knot around his waist. The wide doors connecting the bath and the main chamber are pushed open with a hand. The heat that had leached from the water and out into the night sky is replaced by the low blaze of the fire. Thor's armor still sits in a heap where Loki had peeled it from him, dirtied and bloodied.

Thor ignores it.] It is the same. Still the softest one I have, with all that we have. They must have woven it with sorcery.

*Her hand rests against his chest until he pulls far enough away to wrap himself in a towel. It seems a waste to cover such perfection though she doesn't voice that out loud. His ego needs no boosting from her. Not now. Rather she returns her attention to the robe, remembering clearly when the Vanir King and Queen had gifted them. Her own hung in her rooms, a deep emerald green, and remained one of her treasured possessions. The material was the same though Thor's bore the vibrant red he favored, a red she was currently swathed in as she took note of the contrast between it and her own pale skin.*

I believe you're right.

*Moving into his room toward the heat of the fire, she considered doing something about the foul mess of his armor then thought better of it. He would need to deal with it eventually.*

[He would want, in the morning, to send servants for it and then more likely do it himself-- a deserving end to the business-- before breakfast. Thor is many things, not all of them good, but he does not shirk the terrible business of blame. There is death on his hands and much of it he enjoyed doling out. The blood left on his armor, some of it, needed a more reverent disposal by he that shed it.]

You look good in my colors, [Thor murmurs, his voice lilting with amusement. He'd gone to the bed and pulled free his towel, drying himself errantly as he paid more attention to the crackle of firelight against his sister's skin. Now he tosses the damp thing onto the large chest at the foot of the bed and sits in the mess of sheets and furs. Fingers rise to card through the snarls of gold.] Perhaps you should give up your greens and yellows.

*Her own armor had been carefully removed and polished though it had borne far less blood and gore than his. The care had not been put into it for the sake of those whose blood it was, the only bloody deaths dealt out by her hands had been deserved, rather it had been a symbolic cleansing of what little conscience she had left.*

You would say that. The problem would arise when I stole your thunder. Or was accused of attempting a coup.

*Loki executes a small turn for his benefit, stopping when she sees what he's doing to step toward the dresser that houses at least one comb. Only once she's successful in finding it does she return to him and the bed to slip in behind him, catching his hand with the one not holding the comb.* Allow me.

Steal my thunder. [The repetition is only amused, for he thinks of his sister trying to wield Mjölnir. His attention slips from her to his hair in full and only returns when her slight weight shifts the bed. With a sigh and a squeeze of those slim fingers, Thor lets his hands fall to his lap. There were drawbacks to the tub when one was not particularly using it to clean.

He watches the flames dance and jump across the logs, cracking softly. They'd need more wood soon, or they'd have to keep each other warm. A murmur of the still-ongoing banquet can be heard through stone and window when their voices fall quiet.]

Have you ever thought about the throne, sister? [Thor's voice is contemplative, but not the indrawn thing of earlier.] About ruling next to me?

[He would never ask such a thing if they were anywhere other than where they were. Loki has, for the time being, soothed Thor's bleeding soul and in doing so, she's also wrapped him momentarily tight around her clever fingers. Dawn would see such soft thoughts banished once again.]

*There is a quick and quiet efficiency to the way she works the tangles from his hair. The silence settles between them and she thinks about when she had done this very thing in times past. The carousing reaches her ears and it serves as less of an annoyance now than it had before. Her own nerves have been tempered enough by Thor and his attentions that any earlier desire to lash out has been banked.

Adroit fingers work braids into the newly untangled hair in her grip and it's only through sheer force of will that she doesn't falter when he presents his questions to her.

Loki is silent for long moments, finishing her work before she dares respond. It would be so easy to lie, to deny the truth of the matter and say that she's never considered it. For all her skill and silvered tongue, even she knows that it's one lie she wouldn't be able to believably sell.*

I have... considered the possibility.

[Thor tries to read her silence as much as her eventual answer. Tonight it sounds like such a gilded possibility-- Loki as his queen-- because he still feels that possession of her from their coupling, the way she opened to him, her legs and her throat. There's a happy headiness in that power. Surely the morning will remind him of what folly the idea is... but the morning cannot take back her answer.

Laughing at her answer (a joyous, almost triumphant sort of laugh, devoid of meanness or calculation), Thor pulls his newly-fixed hair from Loki's fingers as he spins toward her, a wall of large, smooth muscle. He's still laughing as he bears her down to the soft mattress under him and his hair makes a golden cage around their faces.]

Who would be able to stand against us? [His tone and smile answer the question: no one.]

*What she says or doesn't say makes no difference. The amount of people that would rise up against him if he were foolish enough to try and place her on the throne beside him, his advisers, even Odin himself no doubt, would show him what a monumentally unwise decision it was. She knows both the truth and the reality of it, however both of those things seem to be lost on him.

He reacts as if she's just given him some great gift before he has her under him. She's nearly breathless courtesy of his exuberance and she tenses while she waits for what comes next. He has asked her things before, when they were children, when they were youths on the cusp of adulthood, silly things, conjecture, but never had he reacted quite like this. She wonders then, if it's something he's ever seriously contemplated. If he's ever put any thought into what it would mean or what the consequences would be.

The point he makes is a valid one even if it's not spoken out loud. Together they would be unstoppable-- there would just be no shortage of those that would rise up against them. Against her.

Harsh words are on the tip of her tongue when she looks at him. She wants to tell him that she'll be sure to remind him of this when he finally takes a queen, and again when that same queen births him an heir, a constant reminder of how foolish he was. The words die on her tongue in the face of his joy and she finds herself cradling his face instead.*

None. It would be folly to even try.

Edited 2014-01-15 21:58 (UTC)

[Just a second longer in her silence and his smile may have faltered-- instead Thor only laughs again, secure enough in himself and the moment, and turns his face enough to kiss the inside of one of Loki's wrists. He can feel her pulse under his lips. A knee inches up beneath her, tilting her hips.]

True enough.

[There's some breathlessness to the agreement, some little sound of appetite. It is all the warning Loki has before Thor is pushing inside of her, his cock hard and the motion of his hips sure and efficient, just enough to rock his sister a little more deeply into the pillows and furs.

He has thought of it. Mostly in the dark and quiet when all thoughts seem fevered and better than all those that have come before. When he watches the moon slide over her face as she sleeps. It is then that Thor thinks he could get their mother's favor in the matter and change the mind of their father. It is then when he is sure of it. He has even wondered, half-asleep with confidence, what color hair their children might have.

The sobering light of day follows every night, and his sister does not always keep his favor when it comes.]

*Her head falls back into the pillows when he works her open and her legs fall open a little farther in acquiescence. Despite knowing what she does, it's easy to believe that what they discuss now, behind closed doors under a spell of affectionate touch, might become reality.

An indulgent fantasy if ever she had one.

He moves within her and it's not the frenzied motions of their previous rutting. It feels like there's an itch under her skin when she moves to meet him, every press of his hips forward a promise to make it stop, to make both mind and body still long enough for her to just be, to enjoy what they have for the time being without there needing to be a larger, grander purpose behind it.

Her arms wrap around him and she pulls him close in order to kiss him long and slow and lingering, to allow her tongue to trace the seam of his lips and taste his mouth, and express what it is she will never say. To give over her weakness in a way that can't be used against her. She knows what she wants and realistically he is an obstacle, not an ally. They can not have this forever. He is her brother and she loves him. He is her lover, and she gives to him more than anyone else she has ever allowed the honor of touching her. He is the one thing standing between her and what she desires most, what she has convinced herself she wants more than all else, and she might one day be his death.

She shatters beneath his weight and the weight of her thoughts, comes with a sharp cry into his mouth that's closer to a sob and holds him tighter to her still.*

[They all have their indulgences.

Thor moves against her, into her, with slow, purposeful draws of hips, and each long plunge ends in a sharp upthrust that lifts Loki's body against his and traps the head of his cock just so, just momentarily, against that soft cleft deep inside of her. He laps at the tongue she offers him and sucks it into his mouth, wanting nothing more than all of her-- and willing to give all of himself in turn.

She is his sister and he loves her.

She is his lover, and he gives to her more than anyone else he has ever allowed the honor of touching him.

Sometimes, she is what he desires the most.

As Loki breaks underneath of him and shudders through her release with a cry, clings to him, Thor pushes his arms beneath her head, through her raven hair, and holds her close. His continues to move, her cunt fluttering around his cock as he rocks almost fully out and in again. His breath is thick against her throat as he continues on; each thrust a little quicker than the last.]

Edited 2014-01-15 23:27 (UTC)

*He's unrelenting and doesn't allow her the chance to come down from her climax, he keeps moving, keeps pushing inside as if to leave an indelible mark. If he could properly claim her she doesn't doubt that he would, and it's even harder to convince herself that she wouldn't let him.

It's pathetic, the feeling of safety she finds in his arms, the warmth, the love, the way it crawls inside and infects her like a poison. Warps her mind until it supplies thoughts that have no place there.*

[Thor pushes on, pushes through the weakening pulses of her orgasm that tie his nerves into knots that want to unravel. He breathes against Loki's ear and tries to hold onto those fraying ends of himself, grunting softly as his hips piston. The smell of her is heady, clean and crisp but still murky, somehow. It makes him dizzy.

Open-mouthed, Thor shifts until he's fully on his knees, Loki's hips high beneath him, her back arched down onto the furs. He pulls from her only enough to trail his mouth across her throat, the sharp points of her collarbones. He scrapes his teeth and breath down the center of his chest, feeling bone beneath fragile skin. His hands untangle from her hair and gather up her heavy breasts, pressing them back toward his hungry mouth.

All the while his hips keep up the unfailing rhythm, his cock slicking in and out of her.]

*Where his attention is on her, her attention is on him. The shift of his breathing, the soft pants of it against her skin, the way he moves and the feels of those muscles beneath her fingertips. He's capable of such violence with the hands that hold on to her so tenderly, almost worshipful. The strength to move mountains is in the arms he holds her close with and when he pulls far enough away that her eyes can fall to his face, she draws nearly as much pleasure from that as she does from his mouth on her skin.

She arches under him, wrapping her legs around him until her ankles have hooked together so she can meet him thrust for thrust, so she can give to him a little of what he is giving her, not that she thinks she can. She only knows to try.*

Healing...you know.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

you literally have an icon for EVERYTHING.

I am an icon whore. It's ridiculous. One of my other muses has two premiums just for the icons.

speaking as someone who has a hard time getting ANY icons-- you're my hero

Finding ones you like orrr??

that i like, that are topical, orrrr ANYTHING from T2:DW or applicable lol

Hmmm... may have to see if I can help with that. ;) if I come up with anything I'll send a zip file

LOL TY! you'd be the one benefitting, after all ;D

It's true. I would. But oh, the horror of looking at images of Hemsworth. Woe. Woe is me.

just a little "good morning" icon

Good morning indeed.