A God Can Hold His Liquor: Part 30 - Tight *contains omorashi*
Summary: You start training with Loki which leads to all manner of shenanigans, and Loki tells you about why he feels you were fated to meet each other, explaining the higher powers he believes in. You play with your mutual omorashi kink because you only live once. Later on, you agree to overpower Loki sexually (sub!Loki incoming!!!!!) and he tells you the story of why he was handcuffed as a teen.
***There’s another surprise in this chapter but I’m not going to spoil it.***
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader (reads like an OC)
Words: 3,700
Warnings: Omorashi, wetting, desperation play. Loki is a seggs pest again after seeing you in tight leggings. Kink, Sub!Loki, degradation, humiliation, smut.
Contains: Omo and Loki (consensually) pleading for use of the amenities and you denying him. Dom!Reader, Sub!Loki. Frottage.
A/N: I read about the Norns in mythology and how there were three who weaved and snapped the threads. So that’s Norse Mythology canon. But the theory on the threads overlapping and weaving together is my own headcannon.
A/N #2: This is a hot mess of a brain dump. Make of it what you will.
You groaned and turned away from the sunlight burning into your eyeballs.
At least that’s how it felt.
You heard grunting. Gasping. Pounding. The sound of boots on stone. You reached over to Loki and felt the sheets and the plush mattress beneath it. But no God. You opened your eyes to an empty bed.
We’re meant to be training together. Shit…
You held the sheet around your naked form and smiled at Loki, who was running back and forth on the balcony in the blazing morning sun.
“You… you looked… too peaceful.” He ran towards you and stopped to catch his breath. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” Two strong hands rested on your shoulders. He kissed your forehead. You felt a pang of guilt in your stomach.
“I’ll get changed and join you baby.”
“As you wish.” He placed his hands behind his back regally and tilted his chin upwards. “The items you requested are in the armoire.”
You grinned at Loki’s elaborate word for wardrobe, and walked inside to change into the gym gear he conjured for you. You found a selection of equipment, including dumbbells, kettlebells, battle ropes and other items you recognized from Midgard. You carried a selection with you onto the balcony. Loki tripped over his feet and almost fell on his face when he saw you.
“You alright?”
“Y-yes love, quite alright.”
“It’s the leggings isn’t it.” You stood with your hands on your hips and looked at Loki as his eyes roamed over your curves, the gym leggings and sports bra doing little to hide your figure. His mouth fell open and he sighed shakily.
“Darling why are garments from Midgard so tight.” He rested his hands on your hips and prompted by his particularly firm hold on one hip, you turned for him. “Oh love, may I?”
“Feel me up? Sure.”
He moaned behind you as he massaged your buttocks. You felt his breath on your neck and he pressed his body into you.
It’s alright. Do what you want.
You’re certain?
You reached back and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. He hesitated for a beat, then he began to lewdly rub himself up against you, moaning at the contact. He kissed your neck, one hand moving your ponytail out of the way and the other arm draping across your bare stomach and holding you in place. You grinned at the sensation of his hardening cock on your cheeks.
“You done?”
“Oh love…”
You turned around to see an ecstatic Loki, his face tilted to the sky, his eyes closed and his mouth open.
“So are we gonna fuck or workout?”
Your words broke the spell he appeared to be under. “I am sorry. Yes. Let us train.”
“You have to take this off though.” You gestured to his leathers.
“I… umm… it is considered improper to train without the correct armour.”
“It’s boiling hot. We’re alone on your private balcony. And. It’s an order. Now strip.” You flashed a toothy grin, too lost in your own mirth to maintain a stern expression.
Loki swallowed down his nerves and removed the long leather coat and the armour covering his upper half. He remained in only his leather pants and boots. You smiled at the sight of his muscular chest sweating under the Asgardian sun.
“Better. Now we can perve on each other. Everyone wins!” You held both hands aloft in glee.
He chuckled. “And are we training together?”
“Nah. I’ll do my own thing if you don’t mind. Need to get my strength up first, it’s been a while since I worked out.
He gave a solemn nod. “As you wish.”
An hour later, you were both drenched in sweat and completely out of breath. Loki walked towards you while you stretched, and picked up one of your 15lb hand weights. He flipped it over in his hand as though it weighed no more than a pen.
“Impressive.”
He smiled proudly.
“So how come you’re so strong then?”
Loki felt a sensation in his stomach that he struggled to name. He couldn’t recall the last time somebody had complimented his physical strength. He couldn’t recall any time someone complimented his physical strength. He had no idea how to handle it.
“Well. I am not the strongest on Asgard, nor the most decorated warrior, that much is certain. However, I am impressed with your own physicality. I had not realised I had kept you from something you loved.”
“It’s alright. Hey, you think I can lift that?” You gestured to an Atlas stone Loki had pushed back and forth during his circuit.
“I would rather see if you can lift my form.”
“Lift you?”
“Yes.” He stood in a wide-legged stance with his hands behind his back. “Whenever you are ready darling.”
You rolled your eyes and pressed yourself up to standing. You placed two hands on his waist and pulled upwards. Predictably, nothing happened. With two hands on his chest, you pushed hard. He didn’t budge. You leaned your shoulder into his chest and used your legs to drive your bodyweight into him. Nothing.
“You made of marble or something??”
He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder. You laughed and patted his back. He reached up and patted your arse cheeks. He walked to your yoga mat and placed you down, sitting down with you as you resumed your stretches.
“Muscle density. It’s the reason you could not move me.”
“Yeah it’s no secret my muscle density needs some work.”
“No love. Not yours. Mine.” He continued to explain when you frowned in confusion. “You see, Asgardian – and Jotun – anatomy is slightly different to our Midgardian friends. This amount of muscle,” He placed his thumb and index finger together, forming a circle, “would weigh, perhaps, one pound in a Midgardian person. For us, it weighs perhaps five or ten pounds.”
“So your muscles are denser. It makes you stronger. And it would make you heavier too, right?”
“Yes.”
“So go on. How much do you weigh?”
“Around five hundred pounds.”
You laughed. “That must be lost in translation. No. No, you’ve got that wrong. That would be crazy heavy.”
He shook his head. “I’m quite serious. I tested it on Midgard. We procured a pair of industrial scales for the bunker in New York. It was required to weigh the various materials for the portal I planned to create. I decided to stand on the scales to test them, and I confess it did cause a stir with my workers. They seemed surprised to say the least.”
“No wonder I couldn’t move you.”
Loki stretched out his neck. “It’s a shame. I would… I would rather like to have you overpower me.”
As you stretched, he shared his desires. You talked over the options. What he desired for you to do with him. To do to him. His cheeks flushed with many of your suggestions, shortly followed by rapid and enthusiastic nodding. You agreed to play tonight.
“I, umm… do have one more request. I… I would rather like it if…” He looked down, cheeks flushed at his confession. “If you would deny me access to the amenities, force me to hold my liquor, then reprimand me for letting go in my formal clothes. If… if it is a step too far, I understand.”
You leaned forward and kissed him. “You gorgeous kinky God. It’s not too far. But… not yet. The banquet wasn’t that long ago, and you were in pain the next day. It would be hot, yeah… but you can hold on so long that you risk hurting yourself. So I’m not comfortable with it just yet. Especially because you’re still catching up on sleep too. I don’t want to do anything that might actually harm you. Let’s talk about it again when you’re one hundred percent.”
Loki nodded thoughtfully. He paused as he considered another option. “Would you perhaps, at some point in the future, be open to playing a with a scenario that is perhaps the opposite.”
“With me desperate?”
“Yes.”
“And you being dom as fuck and not letting me go?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fucking HOT.”
He chuckled darkly.
“Hey, what do you think you would have done if it was me who was desperate back in the cell in New York?”
His eyes looked to the right and he pursed his lips as he considered the scenario. “Well, bear in mind I was not in my right state of mind. However… I… I believe I would have advocated for your welfare. I would have demanded the agents open the locked water closet door for you.”
“You would?”
“Yes. And should they have refused, I would have shielded you from view using my form, as you relieved yourself within the cell.”
“Even though you didn’t know me?”
“Yes. I believe seeing you in dire need would have… ignited something within me.”
“Like an instinct?”
“Yes.”
“Would we have ended up in the same place, do you think? With me escaping from the cell with you, then walking to the underground bunker, and you bringing me to Asgard?”
“I believe it was meant to happen either way. And I cannot imagine a reality where you are not here with me. It was predestined by the Norns. It is as though the series of events, falling from the Bifrost, entering The Void, my subsequence capture and torture, and my attempts to rule Midgard, were all orchestrated simply so I could find you. So I could be saved. And heal. I feel my suffering had a purpose. And that purpose was to encounter you.”
As he talked, you had sat between his outstretched legs and leaned your head on his chest. You mumbled into his skin as your hand traced circles on his back. “And what made you pick me? You know, when you scooped me off the streets in New York. Was there anything about me that made you choose me over other Midgardians?”
“It’s a wonderful question love. I’ve pondered it myself many times. And to be frank, I did not think of anything at all when I raise you from the ground and captured you. It was pure instinct.”
“And did you know? What would happen, that we would fall in love?”
He scoffed, almost not believing the ignorance of his former self. “How could I. I simply… I acted on instinct, as I said. It was the Norns. I believe it was they who gave me the reflex to select you.”
“And the Norns are your Gods?”
“They are deities of sorts. It is said there are three Norns. They weave the thread of life, decide on its length, and decide when each thread will snap. It is also believed they decide on how the threads will cross one another, and which threads will weave best together.”
“Like fate?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. So it was meant to be.”
“I believe so.” He held you in his arms and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “My darling, I apologise for infringing upon our moment, but I am absolutely bursting to use the amenities and I simply must go. Would you mind terribly if I excused myself….?”
You glanced at the flask next to him, lying on its side, clearly empty. It was much larger than yours and must have held several litres. You turned around to face him and, still sat on the yoga mat, you kneeled before him. “Unless you want to… play. I wouldn’t make you wait though, I would just make you…” You looked down at his crotch and the peak forming in the leather fabric, confirming his interest in your suggestion. You lowered your voice to a whisper. “…make you let go here.”
“Ohhhh…” He held you close. “My darling girl. I would love nothing more. Though I would feel more comfortable in our private bathing chambers. The staff could arrive to refill the water jugs at any point, and I do not have the bandwidth to form and hold an invisibility orb. I would prefer privacy.”
You stood and held out your hand for him. He smiled, knowing you did not have the physical strength to pull him up, but he appreciated the gesture, taking hold of your hand and using the strength of his free hand to push himself up to standing.
As you walked into his chamber and to the bathroom, you whispered a couple of limits and code words to one another. You both understood and agreed to what would happen during and afterwards. Once in the privacy of the bathroom, he closed the door and locked it. He turned and hissed, pressing a hand into his crotch, suddenly overcome with legitimate desperation. He looked up and gave you a nod. You nodded back.
“P-please my Goddess, I am in desperate need of the amenities.”
“No. You’re a Prince. You’ll hold on until we reach the appropriate place and time.”
“But I’m absolutely bursting.”
“It doesn’t matter.” You walked towards him, steps slow and deliberate. He crossed his legs. You couldn’t be sure if he was play-acting or genuinely becoming more desperate with each passing second. “You’re the crown Prince of Asgard. And a God. Surely a God can hold his liquor.”
“M-my Goddess, I have held on for as long as I can, please permit me use of the amenities, or I’ll… I’ll…”
“You’ll what.”
“I will be unable to hold on, and I will disgrace myself in front of you.”
You laughed darkly. “Oh I can go one better than that. I can make you.”
He groaned. Half of the sound came from desperation, the other from pure arousal. He began to hop from one foot to the other. You knew his tells. He was extremely full.
“On the verge of wetting your leathers in front of a lowly Midgardian.” You tutted. “Pathetic.”
“P-please my Goddess, please. I’m… I’m begging you, I will get on my knees if you require it, I simply cannot hold on, please grant permission for me to let go. I have never been so full in my life.” He looked up at you, his eyes glassy, pleading, and glazed over with lust. The bare flesh of his torso heaved with exertion. “I-I can’t hold it. I’m – I’m going to burst.”
You bit down on your lip, falling out of character for a second before regaining your composure. You mustered a dark laugh from the depths of your belly. “You want permission to go? Permission granted. Poor excuse for a prince. Pathetic.” You pressed your hand on his abdomen and dug the heel of your palm into his bladder. A squeak of mortification left his throat as he began flooding his trousers, his breath leaving his lips in gasps and shudders as his leathers soaked through and the contents of his bladder pattered onto the marble flooring. You continued to press down on him, releasing the pressure only when you were sure he was letting go naturally. Your bodies were so close together that you felt the fabric of your leggings soak with his release. You allowed his head to rest in the crook of your neck as he leaned forward and you stroked his back. You felt him tremble.
“Shhh. It’s okay. Just let go. It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
When the sound of his stream thinned and you were sure he had finished, he looked up at you, his pupils blown wide and his lips plump and pink. You asked if he was alright and with your say-so, a flash of green dried both of you.
“Time for a bath?”
“Please darling.”
***
After your tepid bath with Loki, the water deliberately cooler than normal due to the Asgardian heat, you asked Loki if he’d mind you spending time in the Royal Gardens. He was to go on a mission to find items for your roleplay tonight, but he was happy for you to enjoy the Asgardian summer’s day even if he couldn’t.
“Be careful little one. It’s hot out there.”
You looked up and saw a metal flask, its exterior glistening with cool beads of condensation. You saw the hand holding it. And the arm. It was as blue as the Asgardian summer sky. Your lips parted. You looked up slowly. He wore an expression you hadn’t seen in so long.
Little boy lost.
Patches of blue decorated his face, bleeding into his neck which was almost entirely sapphire. It started to fade before your eyes. Loki’s lower lip began to tremble. He looked away from you. For someone who was so comfortable walking around with his cock out, this was the most naked he had ever been.
Slowly, you took the flask from him and placed it on the table. You stood. You took his blue hand in yours, the veins in the top of his hand so much more prominent under this new shade. You trained your eyes on his, and moved his hand towards your mouth and touched the pads of his fingers to your lips. You placed soft kisses there. A sound escaped his lips. It was somewhere between a sob and a sigh. A small smile formed on his face. His eyes were wet. His lip still trembled, but for a very different reason. Gratitude.
“Loki. You have never looked more handsome than you do right now.”
He sobbed in earnest now, pulling his hand from you and covering his face with his palm.
“Hey… hey….” Your volume was barely above a breath. He felt a reassuring hand stroke his arm. “Loki. Is there anything I can do? Can you tell me what you need?”
“An... an embrace. Please.”
Your arms wrapped around him and held him tightly. He cried on your shoulder for the next twenty minutes.
***
Clunk.
The sound of metal and chains on the table caused you to look up from your book. You were reading a thick tome on Asgardian history which you borrowed from the palace library. You visited the great holding place of Asgardian knowledge after your time in the gardens, seeking assistance from your new ally the librarian who, compared to the first time you met her, appeared mildly less shocked to see a Midgardian in her place of work.
Back in your shared chambers now, Loki had delivered a gift onto the table in front of you.
You cocked your head and looked at them. They were clearly handcuffs. But not the type you had ever seen before. There were thick, yet intricate, and there were so many of them. A large circle. Two smaller ones. And two others. They were connected together by thick, heavy chains. And around each cuff, engraved runes.
“The guard did not wish to know why I needed them.”
“Say no more, eh.” You raised your brows as you looked at Loki. He seemed to understand your overwhelm. He pointed to the item, and picked each section up as he enlightened you.
“These two are for my hands. And this set secures around my ankles. The larger one is for my neck, of course.”
“Of course…” You said dryly. “Loki, I’ve never seen anything like this. You gotta give me more explanation.”
“Right. Well.” He pulled out a chair and sat, his hands clasped on top of the table earnestly. “They are quite peculiar. They are not typical of Asgard, as it happens. They were made especially for me.”
You turned your head and narrowed your eyes. “And why’s that….?”
“Well.” He looked at the table thoughtfully, glancing over at the cuffs. “When I was younger, I was quite a handful.”
“No.” Your tone was sarcastic. Loki flashed a grin.
“Hard to believe, yes. Anyway. Mother had these cast for me by a goldsmith in the palace grounds. The casting process was simple. The spell was more complex of course. Created by a an ancient one, known as a Völva, to be engraved by hand. Mother tells me they chanted while the engraving took place. In any case, they were created as a precaution. Not quite a threat. But… a warning, of sorts. For me to behave myself. Particularly when my studies in Seidr advanced faster than they anticipated. I had the habit of playing pranks on my brother, you see. Admittedly, they did get a little out of hand. So. One day, after one too many warnings went unheeded, mother told me, It maims my heart Loki, but you must learn to respect the magic I have taught you. So I was placed in chains. Only for two hours at a time. But it did teach me a lesson.”
“Hmm. It didn’t hurt you, did it?”
He shook his head. “No. Mother would not have allowed it.” He observed your concerned expression. “It was necessary. I was growing unruly and would have become out of control. She did the right thing.”
You nodded silently.
“I’m surprised they didn’t place me in these when I returned from Midgard. The duplication spell and my perceived noble act saved me from that fate. Regardless. When I was a little older, I used the cuffs for more… adult pursuits.”
“And it restricts your magic, right? That’s what the runes are for.”
A light flush of pride dusted his cheeks. He gestured to your book. “You learned this from your studies.”
“Yeah. And… it was kinda obvious.” You scrunched your nose affectionately. “Chanting, magic, Völva, runes… ya know?”
“My wise Midgardian goddess.”
“Oh, I’m no Goddess. You will be calling me that tonight, though.”
After another conversation about play, boundaries and safe words, plus a tutorial on the cuffs and how to get Loki out of them in an emergency, you were ready for your night of BDSM fun.
Oh! I have something for her in my pocket.
As Loki walked away from you, he turned back and used a flourish of green to make an object appear in his hand. He tossed it to you. You caught it.
Well shit. My hand-eye coordination’s improving on this planet.
Loki chuckled. “I picked it up from the stables. For tonight.”
In AGCHHL, our feisty YN journeys into Asgard, mastering the language and culture of the ancient beings, while she deepens her bond with Prince Loki and struggles to understand the changes happening within her.
The vibe: World-building, magic, love, humour and kinky shit. Lots of our lovely readers describe it as their comfort fic.
It starts off with heavy omorashi, but don’t let that discourage you as it’s not the main focus of the story.
MASTERLIST (all fics)
Part 1: The Cell
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Summary: Set during The Battle of New York, Loki takes a human hostage. They are thrown into the SHIELD cell together, and he terrifies her. Over time he becomes desperate to use the bathroom. He denies his need to her until he no longer can. What will she do in the most impossible situation?
Word Count: 5,500
Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault from the outset. References to Loki’s past abuse and bullying. Quite dark, in parts.
Contains: Omorashi, wetting, peeing, aftercare. Bisexual Loki. Sassy reader. Some dub-con. Dom!Loki. Sub!Loki. Dark!Loki.
He’s going to rape me. He’s going to fucking rape me.
You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the man towering over you, blocking out the light, mere inches from your form. Your senses were overwhelmed with the scent of him. Leather, metal, sweat… and a smoky, masculine scent reminiscent of some sort of ancient cologne.
“What?”
His tone was breathy, soft and incredulous. If your eyelids weren’t pressed so tightly together, you would have seen him squinting at you, furrowing his brow.
She fears I would force myself upon her?
Mortals clearly haven’t evolved beyond raping one another. Animals.
Your eyes remained closed, and you felt light flicker against your eyelids. Instinctively you knew he was no longer in front of you, his hand no longer against the glass above your head. You let out a sigh. When you opened your eyes, you saw him pacing, his lips pursed tightly.
“You think of me as a monster,” he muttered. It wasn’t a question. Was he talking to you, or himself?
He continued to pace. You remained frozen where he left you, butt and shoulder blades pressed against the glass.
He sat on the white bench at the back of the cell, his legs splayed. He stared at a space on the floor two feet in front of him, using the thumb and index finger of one hand to pick at the fingernail on his opposite thumb.
“I’ve never taken any creature by force.”
You could barely hear him.
He started to chuckle. A dark sound that vibrated through the air and reached your body. You shivered.
He stood and took a couple of steps forwards. Slowly. His two hands gestured confidently in front of him, as if to say I mean, look at me.
“I’ve never needed to.” His hands remained spread out for effect. His grin was equal parts smug and manic.
You cleared your throat as he walked towards you. He was terrifying. And hot. Obscenely hot.
Maybe flattery would save me…?
“I, erm…” You coughed, convinced your heart had relocated to your throat. You felt your pulse hammering inside your neck. “That, erm… that makes sense. You’re… you’re very attractive. Any woman would fall at your feet. I imagine you have a line of women wanting to bed you.”
You smiled as sweetly as you possibly could.
Fawning. You thought. It’s a trauma response.
“And men.” He turned and started pacing again.
Men? He’s bi? Well, at least you had one thing in common.
“You date men and women?” You asked innocently.
“I fuck men and women.”
He placed a strong emphasis on fuck. You felt your mouth become moist. You gulped. He continued to pace.
“Well, erm… me too.”
He stopped pacing. His head turned slightly towards you. He smirked. A wicked, devilish smirk.
This mortal is a fraction less dull than I assumed.
“I mean, I’m… I’m bi, too.”
He turned his body towards you. His face screwed up into another incredulous expression. “You’re what?”
Your expression mirrored his now. What was he talking about?
“Repeat the word, mortal.”
“Oh! Right. Erm… bi. Bisexual.”
He chuckled, the creases around his eyes causing his face to light up mischievously. His tongue wet his lips.
“You still label your sexuality.”
It wasn’t a question. More an observation.
“I heard you mortals ceased that ridiculous behaviour centuries past.”
He laughed to himself as he returned to the bench.
“I, erm… I think it helps people to, erm…. Accept themselves. You know?”
He shrugged a shoulder, nonchalant. He rested his forearm on his thigh. Then leaned forward. God he’s so dramatic.
His voice was breathy. Seductive. “Why not simply love who you love?”
“Or fuck who you fuck,” you finished off.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. He still wants to kill me. He might not be a rapist, but he could snap me in two and barely break a sweat.
In reality, he forced his lips downwards, trying not to laugh at your little quip.
Slowly, you slid down the glass to a seated position on the floor. Your leather-clad captor’s conversation had dried up, which you felt grateful for. Now you could attempt to process what was happening, how you had got here, and how in the hell you were going to get yourself out.
You had been in a coffee shop in Manhattan, idly leafing through a magazine. You had planned to visit Central Park that afternoon, but heard rumblings of a security issue. Rumour had it, the fugitive from Germany had made his way over to New York. Just my luck, you thought.
You thought a trip to the US would be a welcome break for you. London had been intense, and you needed to get away. “Be careful,” your mother had warned you. You had travelled the world for a decade, and she still squawked about safety. Patronising, really. “There are…” she hushed her voice to a whisper, as if anyone in her kitchen would overhear, “Terrorists.” “Mum, I’m pretty sure you can’t say that.” She stirred her tea, matter of fact. “Well it is New York, dear.”
Fucking hell. Turns out, your narcissistic mother’s concerns actually held some ground.
Turning the pages of the magazine in the coffee shop, you heard sirens outside. More than was usual for the city. After a couple of days here, you felt connected to the pulse of Manhattan and this felt… off. Intuitively, you took a last swig of your Americano and made your way out onto the street.
Four blocks later, you took a cut-through to your hotel. And no, it wasn’t an alleyway, you told yourself, your pulse quickening as you walked through it. It was a shortcut. You would be back in the safety of your accommodation in no time.
After the shortcut, you walked through Grand Central and out onto 42nd. That’s when you were lifted clean off your feet and up into the air, and within seconds you saw the roof of the station and the tops of the buildings that previously towered above you. The people below you, as the stereotype goes, looked like ants.
A strong arm grasped your middle. You felt the cold metal of his gauntlets through your sweater, and heard the creaking of leather. You looked around you. You were on some kind of… scooter… flying through the air above 42nd. Your captor’s free arm steered the vehicle, bringing it to a landing pad on top of a large tower.
That’s where agents in dark armoured clothing captured you both. You assumed it was a trap of some kind. He clearly wasn’t expecting it. And as you were both bundled into the back of an armoured van, his hands chained and his mouth muzzled, you were certain… that’s the fugitive from Germany. The one on the news. The reporters made it clear your governments were tight-lipped about his origin, but rumour was he was from another planet. Which was insane. But you don’t have flying scooters on earth. Unless good ol’ Elon secretly has some under development.
After rocking from side-to-side in the armoured van for a good hour, you arrived at a large facility. It was cold. Clinical. You heard the hum of air conditioning. They bundled you both into a large glass cell.
“She’s compromised,” an agent barked. “Throw her in.”
Compromised? What the hell does that mean. The pressurised glass door closed with a slow gust of air. A beep and a red light seemed to signify it was now locked tight.
And so here you were. In a rather compromising position with a terrorist.
My fucking mother was right.
A space terrorist.
A weird, oddly attractive, fucking space terrorist.
He looked human. Sort of. You narrowed your eyes at him. Asking him, Are you actually an alien, then? crossed your mind but you thought better of it.
His hand rested on his abdomen. He crinkled his nose, and looked… odd.
“Are you hurt?” you asked. No response.
I’m stuck in a cell with an alien who’s bleeding to death. Marvellous.
You watched him. For how long, you couldn’t be sure. Every time he removed his hand from his abdomen, you watched his hand closely. There were no traces of blood.
You looked at the layers of leather tailored tightly to his torso. No sign of a tear or a rip.
He could be bleeding internally.
Christ, I need to stop watching hospital dramas.
He moved around on the bench, scrunching up his face in a way that seemed entirely uncharacteristic. If you were being honest, you almost missed the cocky smirk.
“We have to get out of here.”
Yeah no shit, Sherlock.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and his head hung forward. He let out a sigh, then leaned his head against the glass behind him. He crossed his legs elegantly.
Thirty minutes passed. He kept sighing. Something was definitely, clearly very wrong with him.
“If you’re hurt, I can call for someone.”
“No.” His tone was flat. No room for argument.
He crossed his legs again, this time in the opposite direction.
You stood up. He looked up at you.
You spoke softly, “If you tell me what it is… maybe I can help you.”
Yep, I’m definitely fawning. Trauma response.
“You can’t help me.”
Without warning, he let out a groan. He leaned forward in his seat.
“Guards, guards!” You turned and started banging on the glass.
He was behind you in seconds, his hands on your waist spinning you around to face him as one hand clamped down over your mouth and the other resumed its place against the glass above your head. Your eyes were wide and you tried to speak, to ask him to stop. It came out as muffled words against his large right hand.
“STOP.” He spoke in a snarl.
You became as still and as quiet as possible. Your body trembled, your chest heaving up and down. He looked down at your torso.
He knows I’m terrified.
“I’m…” he spoke quietly. Softly, almost. “I’m not hurt.”
His hand slipped away from your mouth. He stayed within inches of you. You craned your neck to look up at his face and it took every ounce of courage for you to meet his eyes.
Maybe if we make eye contact he won’t kill me.
You were overwhelmed by his scent once again. It wasn’t… unpleasant. Just… unfamiliar. Otherworldly. You breathed in the sandalwood. It could only be described as something between incense and essential oils. Which was ridiculous, because he didn’t exactly look like the aromatherapy or meditation type. The thought would have made you laugh, if he wasn’t still towering over you.
He looked down towards the ground. His eyes darted back and forth. He closed them briefly, then spoke ever so quietly.
“My bladder has reached its capacity.”
Umm… WHAT?
Fuck.
I’m trapped in a cell – without a toilet – with a space terrorist who just-so-happens to be bursting.
“Oh….” It was the only response you could muster.
He lingered in front of you, his eyes remaining fixed on the floor. His cheeks flushed slightly.
“We should, erm… we should let them know, shouldn’t we? They would have to let you out.”
His eyes went wide. With fear or anger, you couldn’t be sure.
“No.”
“Okay. Okay, I… I respect that.”
I’m fawning again.
“We’ll plan our escape.” He said as he walked away from you.
Not a great plan. You’re desperate, dude. And I don’t know about you, but I can’t think straight when I need to go. And he clearly, really needed to go.
He started walking in circles around the cell. Like a caged animal. Which was accurate.
You looked around the glass cage. There’s no way they can put someone in a cell without a toilet. It’s inhumane. But then… he wasn’t human. So did it count? He certainly looked human.
You looked at the two large white columns either side of the bench. You walked towards the one on the right. Etched into it, was the tiny emblem of a burger.
Ahhh America. You smiled to yourself.
It must be a food hatch.
You walked to the other column. It was etched with WC. It was large, for a column. But inside it must be very small, for a room. Perhaps it was like the toilets you find on trains or on flights. Tiny. But, it would do the job.
“It’s locked.” He stated flatly.
Oh.
“What if we…” You trailed off, thinking out loud. “What if we asked for a key, and said I needed to use it?”
He turned his head towards you in thought.
“Are you in need, mortal?
Mortals have a weak constitution. Pathetic.
“Umm, no, I… I’m okay, actually. Thank you for asking though, that’s erm… that’s kind of you.”
Wow. Chalk this up as the most awkward conversation I’ve ever had.
He let out a sound, somewhere between a sigh and the word urgh.
You sat down beside the locked toilet.
Maybe he has a different anatomy to humans, you mused.
It was clear he was infinitely stronger than any human being. His physical stamina was probably greater, too. So perhaps his need wasn’t quite so dire after all?
“Oh!” You scurried to your feet and rushed over to the opposite side of the cell where you had left your backpack. It was hard to believe the agents had thrown you into a cell with all of your belongings, but perhaps they thought of you as so little a threat that it hardly mattered. You kneeled down, reached into your bag and fished out a bottle of water. You reached it out and gestured towards him.
He sneered. “I’m not thirsty.”
She’s mocking me.
“No, no I meant…” You shrugged. “If it was… you know, empty.”
He scoffed.
“I know it’s not ideal, but… perhaps in an emergency?”
“The bottle isn’t empty, little mortal. And,” he edged closer to you, kneeling down and pointed to the bottle. He whispered, “I’m fairly certain you require that nectar to survive.”
He stood up and resumed his pacing of the cell.
He thinks I’ll die if I don’t drink enough water. That’s actually kind of cute.
You broke the plastic seal, opened the bottle and gulped down the entirety of its contents.
Great. Give me an hour and I’ll need to pee.
You stood up and walked to the bench, placing the empty bottle down on the left side, close to the locked WC.
Shit, he’ll think I’m taunting him.
“I’ll erm… I’ll leave it there.”
“It’s nowhere near large enough.”
His matter-of-fact tone with such intimate topics was giving you whiplash.
“Oh…”
“I told you not to drink it.”
Well, that’s not exactly what you said, alien man. But I admit, you did tell me to keep the water.
“You’re welcome, I guess.” You shrugged, and resumed your place on the floor next to the ominous left column. He sat down on the bench.
You turned your head towards him, “I’m (y/n), by the way.”
There’s that incredulous look again.
“It’s just, I… you keep calling me mortal. So, I wanted to give you my name. What’s your name?”
God, what are you, five?? He probably doesn’t even have a name. Or if he does, it’s like a WiFi password. X-A12 or whatever, right?
“Loki.” He leaned back against the glass and sighed. “It’s Loki.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Loki,” you stood in front of him and offered your hand. Does he even know what a hand shake is? He smiled, amused, and gave your hand a firm shake.
“A pleasure, y/n.” He grinned, then cast those blue eyes pointedly around the cell. “Present circumstances accepted.”
God he’s charming. And why does he sound English? Did some Brits from the past – or the future – colonise another planet? Now’s probably not the time to get into it.
Suddenly, he hissed and doubled over, clutching his stomach. Instinctively you grabbed the bottle.
He waved a hand in your direction. “No.” He forced three slow blasts of air out through pursed lips. It reminded you of the breathing techniques they give to women in labour. Fuck, it’s bad. He really needs to go. He straightened up, looking surprisingly composed. “No. I’m a God. I’ll hold my liquor.”
“A God?”
His blue eyes flashed up at you. “That surprises you?”
“I, erm… it’s just, I’ve…. I’ve never met a God before.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Well…” Hell of a good question, to be fair. “I’m pretty sure you’re the first one.”
“And am I living up to your expectations?” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed, his lips pulled up into a sneer. You could have sworn there was something behind his expression. As if he was wearing a mask. Why would he care if he lived up to your expectations? What a strange choice of words.
His mask slipped. Just for a moment. You saw a flash of an emotion across his sharp features. It resembled something close to sadness.
“You’re living up just fine.” Your smile was warm, despite your clumsy choice of words. The corners of his lips curled up involuntarily. Not quite a smile. But certainly not a sneer.
Another twenty minutes passed. You had been in the cell for a while now. Not quite two hours. But certainly more than ninety minutes.
He must have needed to go when we were captured, you figured.
I guess you have other priorities when you’re trying to take over a planet.
“NORNS!” He grimaced and both hands shot to his crotch.
He hissed, pulling in air through clenched teeth.
“Please use the bottle.” You spoke as softly as you could.
“I-I-… GODS.” He resumed his woman-in-labour breathing. “I simply… I simply can’t.” He looked up at you, looking directly into your eyes. For a brief moment, he looked lost. “I can’t. Even if I wanted to.”
Your look of confusion was enough to prompt him to continue.
“I can’t relieve myself anywhere other than the proper place. I’m a… I’m a prince. Or at least, I was.” He head fell.
You didn’t know where he was from, or how it even worked there. But it made sense. There was a regal air about him. A majesty.
“You’re royalty,” you thought out loud.
He looked up and simply nodded.
“Royalty here are quite… proper. So, I understand.” You gave him a sympathetic smile.
He let out a loud groan that surprised even him.
“But you know… maybe there’s another way.” You looked at the locked WC. “Perhaps you can… go right here.” You pointed to the front of the door. Serves them right for locking it, right?”
A revenge piss. Justified. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I can’t, I… I won’t allow myself to.”
He won’t use the bottle. He won’t use the floor. And he definitely can’t hold on forever. He’s so stubborn, he’ll probably wet himself just to prove a point.
He looked down at you sat on the floor. He patted the space on the bench next to him. “Sit.”
Mortals cannot be physically uncomfortable. I hardly want this one dying on me.
From your new vantage point sat next to him, you noticed he had peeled away that one long layer of leather on his tunic to allow him better access to his crotch, which he was now gripping with both hands. His knuckles were white.
“Ohhhhhhhh…..”
His groan sounded somewhere between it’s-5am-in-January-and-my-alarm’s-going-off-and-I-don’t-want-to-wake-up and a child having a tantrum in a supermarket because Mum won’t let him have the chocolate bar.
Pained. Frustrated. Desperate.
“Hmmmpppp.” He took in a sharp gasp of air, surprised at the whimper that escaped his lips. He turned a deep shade of crimson.
“Loki.” You spoke very quietly. Carefully. You placed a hand on his arm. The metal was cold from the air conditioning of the cell. You hissed at the sensation. He looked up at you. “Loki, I… I think you might be hurting yourself.”
He creased his eyebrows together. “I think you underestimate my constitution, mortal.”
Truth is, he’d never had the strongest constitution. Not in this context. Asgardians were known for their ability to hold their mead all night if they had to. But Loki wasn’t Asgardian. He could almost hear their laughter as he rushed off to the amenities outside the palace dining halls, unable to hold it any longer. He swallowed down on the memory.
He groaned, fanning his legs in and out, desperate to relieve the pressure.
“I’m not sure how your biology works.” You spoke barely above a whisper. “But with humans, we… we can really hurt ourselves if we hold on too long. I have no doubt you have incredible stamina. You have already shown that. It’s… it’s impressive.” You continued to fawn. “But I wouldn’t like to see you hurt yourself.”
He gulped and glanced over at you. Those eyes again… little boy lost.
“FUCK!” He clamped his legs together, crushing his own hands which were still gripping his crotch. “Fuck, fuck!” The breathing technique resumed. This time, it was faster. He removed one hand and glanced at it. His fingers were trembling. You saw his skin glistening. It was wet.
He’s starting leaking. He genuinely can’t hold it any longer.
Ten more minutes passed. You had surely reached the two hour-mark in captivity.
“Ohhhhhhh….” He groaned and doubled over, twisting and contorting his body, alternating between hand-in-crotch…. legs crossed… thighs clenched together… bum bouncing out of his seat. He couldn’t sit still, even if his pride depended on it. Sweat rolled off his forehead.
Your pulse had been elevated for quite some time. Fear and stress, you assumed. Now you noticed something else. You could feel your body responding to his predicament. Were you getting aroused by this? I mean… a dominant sadistic man, a prim-and-proper prince, absolutely desperate and whimpering beside you. It was kind of hot.
Stop it, you told yourself. He’s in pain.
He stood up. In a split second, the colour drained from his face. He realised his mistake. Gravity was not kind to his bladder. He squatted down on the floor in a last-ditch attempt to regain control.
“N-n-no… NO!” He shouted at himself before attempting to clench every muscle in his body. It was no use. The sound of liquid hitting leather was unmistakeable. It lasted around five seconds, then stopped. He was clenching his muscles so hard he trembled. He stumbled backwards. In the place he had hovered over, you noticed a small pool of liquid.
He kneeled and squeezed his hands over his crotch, his thighs rubbing against each other. His groaning had become constant now. If he lasted five minutes more, it would be classified as a miracle on both earth and whatever planet he was from.
You kneeled beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He inhaled shakily, surprised at the contact. He looked up at you with panic-stricken, glassy eyes.
“Loki. It’s okay.”
“I-I-I’m going… to… disgrace myself.” He gasped out the words, horrified.
“Your body can’t hold on any longer. I don’t want to see you… let go in your clothes. I want to help you. Would you let me help you?”
He cast his gaze to the floor and gave one nod of his head.
“I need you to stand for me. Slowly.”
You placed one hand in the nook of his elbow and the other on his lower back. It was more a gesture of reassurance than anything else. You were certain he weighed a tonne. His armour must have weighed 30lbs alone.
Slowly, he got to his feet.
“You can relieve yourself there, in front of the door.” You pointed to the WC door, which you wanted to burn holes in with your eyes. Why would they lock the fucking thing? “Is that okay, Loki?”
“Mmmmmhmmmmmm….” He nodded rapidly, biting his bottom lip. He was shifting from foot to foot, by any definition, it was an obvious desperate-to-pee dance. His breathing was short, sharp and rapid. It seemed as though he was on the verge of a panic attack.
You looked down at his outfit. How the hell do I get him out of this? Please tell me it’s not a one-piece.
He stood directly in front of the WC door now. His back was facing the main cell entrance. If anyone walked by now, they wouldn’t see… him.
You lifted up the long piece of leather that covered his crotch area. His hands were still jammed in, gripping harder than ever.
He felt another gush of liquid shoot out of him.
“H-help me, p-please.”
“Okay – Loki I’m going to be respectful and try not to touch you, okay?”
She’s just like my maid in Asgard…
A memory flashed up in his mind, of running into his chambers after a palace function, dressed to the nines in his fabric-and-metal ceremonial one-piece, absolutely desperate for relief having held it in all evening. His Asgardian chambermaid had been so concerned about being “respectful,” that she hadn’t been able to get him out of his armour fast enough. He simply couldn’t hold on any longer, and he relieved himself in his clothes in front of her. Horrified didn’t even begin to cover it. And his maid – terror shot through her eyes, concerned for the prince’s wrath. He didn’t hurt her, of course. But he had her reassigned to another area of the palace. He couldn’t bare the mortification of seeing her again.
“Q-quickly, please. J-just don’t let me dis-disgrace myself, I’m begging you…”
Tears formed at the corner of his eyes. He looked as though he would burst into tears at any moment. But that wasn’t the liquid you were worried about bursting out of him. He had a minute, tops. You took charge.
“Hold this.” You gestured to the flap of leather.
“I-I can’t.” Both hands clutched himself.
“Quickly.”
His left hand held the leather aloft. He groaned with only one hand on himself.
“I’m going to unbutton these,” you narrated as you unbuttoned his leather trousers. “Move your hand down. Now up. Good.”
You had undone all the many buttons of his trousers. Both his hands were occupied. You knew you would have to pull his trousers down. Fuck. This must be so humiliating for him.
“GODS!” He bellowed. The sound can only be described as a pressure hose hitting a tire. He was letting go, full force, in his trousers. You stepped to the right side of him and sharply pulled his leather trousers down over his hips. His free hand, the one formerly gripping himself, slammed into the WC door in front of him, steadying himself. He was peeing straight down, onto the lower right leg of his trousers. Without a question you took his member in your hand and angled it upwards, his stream hitting the lower part of the WC door. Your other hand rested on the mid-part of his back.
The sounds he made echoed through the room, a melody of relief and release. He moaned and allowed his head to tilt back to the ceiling, closing his eyes and exposing his neck. You looked up at his face, contorted into an expression of pleasure, of pure bliss. You were absolutely captivated by his features.
As he emptied himself, his moans subsided and became small contended little sighs. Your left hand still rested on his back. Your thumb moved up and down reassuringly. You glanced around his back, observing the involuntarily movements of your digit. He probably can’t feel it through the leather, anyway. You missed the little smile that tugged at his lips.
The sound of his release became quieter. You moved your left hand from his back and hovered it over the bare skin of his lower abdomen. “M-may I?” you whispered. A small hum from him served as confirmation. You pushed down, gently but firmly, helping him to empty himself of any remaining liquid. You kneaded lightly for the last few seconds until he was fully complete. You removed your hand from his lower stomach, and let go of his member.
You stood back almost instinctively, wanting to give him space. His right arm was held out straight, his hand firmly pushing against the WC door. The left hand gripped the excess leather of his tunic and held it against his hip. After perhaps five or ten seconds, it was clear he wasn’t about to move anytime soon. You realised his member was hanging out of his trousers. From the entrance to the cell, nobody could see him – they would only see his back. But it was a humiliating state for him to be in. You shook your head, shaking yourself out of your trance and rushed in to help him.
You gripped the waist of his trousers and pulled them back up over his hips. Sliding your hands around the waistband, you tucked his clothing in at the back. You worked around the sides and then reached his front. No… you couldn’t… you needed him to…
His face was a picture of delirium when you glanced up at him, as though he was high on some kind of galactic drug. You would just have to do it for him.
This felt different than before. He seemed more… vulnerable, somehow. Slowly, and as gently as you could, you took his member in your hands and tucked it into his trousers.
“Mmmm.” He let out a quiet, satisfied hum. You gulped.
Checking his most sensitive area was tucked safely into his trousers and away from any seams or fastenings, you secured the buttons. It was only now that you realised he wasn’t wearing underwear. Perhaps it wasn’t a thing where he was from.
You tucked an interior layer of fabric, a shirt he wore underneath all that leather, into the front of his trousers. Gently, your hand made his way to his hip. You placed your hand over his, slowly teasing the leather from his grip. You straightened it out in front of him, smoothing down the long tunic and returning it to its proper place.
His right hand still pressed against the door. His head hung down now. His breathing had slowed.
“You’re safe now, Loki.” You spoke in a whisper, placing your left hand on his back. “Would you like to sit down?”
“Mmm.” It wasn’t like his previous murmurs of pleasure. It was a neutral sort of hum. One that said, Yes. Yes, I think that would be nice.
Mercifully, he pushed himself off the door and stood upright. You were thankful, as you didn’t have the physical strength to hold him up. You guided him towards the bench, where he sat down without a word. Once more, his head fell back and leaned against the glass. His eyes closed. You looked at his face languidly. His skin was fair. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Beads of sweat nestled in his hairline. His forehead was clammy. Gingerly, you pulled your sleeve over your hand and dabbed at his forehead. He winced, jolting his head upright and turning to look at you. As you moved your hand away from him, he flinched and pulled his left arm over his face, shielding himself. The type of instinct you might expect from someone who was used to being hit.
You looked at him sympathetically, and moved your hand down slowly. You placed both hands down on the bench, lifting yourself up, moving about a foot away from him. He grabbed your wrist. You winced in pain.
“Stay here.” It came out like a command. But deep down, to Loki, it felt like a request. You shifted yourself back to your position, right next to him. Inches away. He looked down at his hand over your wrist and noticed the whites of his knuckles. He shook his head.
Silently, he lifted your wrist. He looked at it curiously. He brought his right hand above your wrist and green light sparked at his fingertips. Very, very slowly, he lowered his hand. You felt warmth as the green light touched your skin. It felt nice. Pleasant. Your eyes were fixed on whatever act he was performing on your arm. He looked up at your face, searching your features for any sign of discomfort. He saw none.
After ten seconds, he pulled his right hand away and gently placed your arm back by your side.
“It won’t bruise. But you must tell me if it gives you any trouble.”
You nodded. “Thank you.” He could feel the warmth radiating from your heart.
Thank you, Doctor Loki. You smiled to yourself as you looked away from him.
You missed the moment his lips curled up into a genuine smile. You hadn’t said it out loud, of course. He heard your thoughts within his own mind.
Several minutes passed, and you heard him yawn.
Gods need to sleep too. Note to self.
He leaned against the glass and closed his eyes.
Right before sleep took him, you heard him murmur.
“I will remember this kindness, mortal.”
Could you do a Loki x desperate reader one shot cus I like the Loki ones but there’s only two (that I have found) of this context 😁
Hi love!
You're absolutely right, there's an absolutely woeful lack of Loki x Desperate!Reader.
So I did write one! It's called Secret Tradition. Set on Asgard, Loki and a desperate maid (established thing / previous flirting), power dynamics, kinky as fuck. Over 5,000 words of nonsense. Enjoy!
Also all my Loki omo is here. It is mostly Desperate!Loki (not reader), but..... a girl's gotta eat.
The Mission (Loki omorashi – car desperation after an Avengers mission)
Summary: On the way back from a mission with you, Thor and Clint, Loki becomes aware of his need to use the facilities. True to form, he keeps his need to himself until it’s an emergency, leaving him not only desperate for relief but also desperate for help. You know him well enough… but not that well. If you don’t hurry, he’ll wet himself before you have chance to make a decision
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Reads like an OC – she lives at Avengers tower with Loki, and she’s part of the Avengers support team. Clint and Thor are present.
Words: 3,040
Warnings: Omorashi. Don’t read if it’s not your thing. 18+ only.
Contains: Male desperation, car desperation, rapid desperation, desperate to pee and nowhere to go. Don’t want to tag anything else to spoil the conclusion.
Author’s Notes: His personality here is TDW Loki – an arsehole, cold, aloof, sexy, cocky but broken. I wanted to add more aftercare at the end, but Loki being sassy + a pervert = even more appealing. Also – the passage of time is messed up, but we’re here for the kink not the logic. Finally – I have no idea what Loki’s wearing here. Some kind of leather garb, probably Avengers-esque. Choose your own adventure.
It wasn’t the squirming that first alerted you to his predicament. But it served as confirmation of your suspicions. Loki sat next to you in the back of the SUV, all but openly wriggling. You were on your way back from a mission, which was incredibly long and arduous, and involved reconnaissance rather than any actual fighting or general ass-kicking. You almost yawned at the thought.
It had been six months since you were paired with the God of Mischief. True to form, Tony was the one who made the decision. Strategically, he looked at the Avengers and their support team – the latter being a group with skills just as enviable as the Avengers themselves – and decided who would best work together. He paired them up, choosing partners who had opposite and complimentary skills, often pairing mortals with Gods, and teaming up those with grounded, real-world skills with beings who harnessed supernatural powers. Your background as a master assassin and navy seal escapee, combined with your head for strategy, and skills in entering a building through force without authorisation – your lavish phrase for breaking-and-entering – was essential to any mission. You had a sharp mind, and so did Loki. Loki’s magic and superhuman strength was an asset, and an obvious compliment to your military skillset.
When Loki first moved into the Avengers Tower – ‘moving in’ being a generous term, as Thor’s persistent persuasion bordered on coercion, plus threats of eternal imprisonment from Odin, didn’t leave the God with much choice – you weren’t intimidated by him like the others. You were curious. Your interrogation skills were positively buzzing with the possibility of delving into his mind and pulling out the fragments which caused him to create chaos, examining them for your own fascination and pleasure. You mentally sparred with him for months, your intelligence and wit earning his admiration and respect. But it was his heroics that earned him your loyalty. On one of your first missions, you were inside a building on the brink of collapse. As a concrete beam fell, he shielded you with his body, not taking even a millisecond to think about the consequences on his own form.
You remembered little flashes after that. An arm, trapped under the rubble. Lights flashing by and the view of the hospital ceiling, doctors leaning over you as you were rushed through the hallway. You remembered a white room. Loki’s voice. And Thor’s. Loki advocating for taking you to Asgard to heal you. Thor’s staunch disagreement. “They have their doctors here on Midgard, and they know her form. She is in better hands here, Loki.” The next memory was waking up on a comfortable sofa. You found out later you were in the underground levels of the tower, protecting you from whatever hell was happening above. You had fragments of memory here and there. Someone’s voice. “She will not heal any faster if you watch her from sunrise until nightfall.” Loki’s voice came next. “I will not leave her. Not again.” The sound of sirens outside, and alarms within the tower. Feeling a heaviness in your arm. Groaning. Your head pounding. You opened your eyes. He was kneeling beside you. He all but nursed you back to health over the coming weeks. You told him it wasn’t necessary. With glassy eyes he professed his guilt, explaining how his magic, specifically a foiled escape spell, caused the building to weaken and led to its eventual collapse. He explained he felt responsible for your injury, and therefore your care. He helped you with intimate, rather embarrassing needs as you healed. He treated you with carefulness and with discretion. It was a contrast to the Loki you met when he first called the tower home. Stoic, quiet, aloof, cold and distant. Who only spoke when he could shoot a verbal barb or make a vindictive jest at another’s expense. Today, he wasn’t quite warm towards you. But there was a partially-thawed-out understanding. Perhaps even an affection brewing underneath the surface.
You looked over at him, sat beside you in the blacked-out SUV. Thor and his team partner, Hawkeye, sat in front of you. In front of them, the driver. You figured if you stared at Loki long enough, he would turn to look at you. Instead, he shifted towards the window, suddenly very interested in the rural roads of upstate New York. You placed a hand on his knee. He flinched and let out a gasp. When he turned to you, his eyes were wide. “Are you okay?” Your voice was a whisper. He offered one solemn nod.
As the rural roads became suburban, you continued to observe him. It had been obvious for quite some time. Not only had you received confirmation in his wriggling and his clear shock at your touch, but he offered one final piece of evidence. He lifted up his right leg, resting the side of his calf against the opposite knee. Slowly, he lowered his leg until it was crossed over the other. He then lifted that leg upwards and towards his body, squeezing slightly and grimacing. A balled fist rested on the top of his left thigh. He let out a shaky, shallow breath.
“Loki.” You whispered, your volume lower than before. “Is it your…?” You gestured towards your lower abdomen. He looked over at you, a warning in his gaze. Instead of speaking, you mouthed the words. Bladder?
Three rapid nods. You placed your hand over his balled fist in sympathy. His hand relaxed, fingers uncurling. He placed his right hand over yours, essentially cradling your one hand between both of his. He looked at you intently, willing you to look into his eyes. You caught on, and gave him eye contact. You saw a spark of green.
Can you hear me, mortal?
Y-yes. What is this?
Telepathy. It won’t last long. My powers are… compromised.
You nodded at him. To ensure we’re on the same page, Loki. You need the use of a toilet. Correct?
He nodded.
How bad is it?
He broke eye contact for a moment, swallowing thickly. He looked back at you. It’s rather urgent.
How long do we have?
He shrugged. I could not say. But… I am in dire need.
He lifted his top hand, and with another spark of green, the bond lifted. You offered him a side glance, wondering if part of the bond lingered. You gave him a nod. You trust me. Right? He nodded. You weren’t sure if he heard you, or simply made an assumption.
You stretched and rubbed at your neck, groaning. “Thor? How long until we’re back home?”
Without a word, Thor spoke to the driver, and turned to look at you. “He estimates around an hour. It would be faster of course, if we could all use Mjolnir for transport.” He offered a smug grin, frowning in concern when you didn’t return it. “You are hurt? Your old injury…?”
“No, no… I’m just tired.”
“That is unlike you. However… if you need to rest, we will watch over you. Ensure you come to no harm.”
You smiled in forced gratitude at the sentiment. When the blond warrior faced forwards once more, Loki placed his hand over yours. Green light flashed briefly.
I won’t make it.
You glanced at him, your eyes wide in surprise. You knew it was bad. But it was a clear, obvious, unadulterated emergency.
What should we do, Loki? I want to help you.
I… I… don’t know…
If his sharp mind was so compromised that it failed to conjure words and ideas, his predicament was worse than you thought.
Okay, let me think of options. First option – we ask them to pull over somewhere. How does that sound?
No. There are no public amenities here. Only homes. Soon we will be in the city. It will be too urgent by then.
Okay. So if we can’t leave the car – you have to let go IN the car.
His nose wrinkled in disgust at the thought.
If I can find a container, will you use it?
I suppose I will have to. The only remaining option is unthinkable.
What’s the other option?
I wet my leathers where I sit.
Oh, Loki… You sighed in sympathy. God it’s bad, isn’t it?
He simply nodded, squeezing his thighs tighter together. You noticed his eyes had started to water. You heart panged in empathy. Loki was strong. Frighteningly strong. Even during missions, his expression never once gave away evidence of his pain. To see him so uncomfortable, and clearly mortified, made you want to help him all the more. He wriggled in his seat. The backs of his fingers brushed his lips.
Please. Please do something.
Hearing the p-word from him was a first. You leaped into action.
“Thor, do you have any water left?”
“Yes, a little. Would you like it?” He passed it to you, muttering at how fast the water had run out and musing over why ‘Man of Iron’ didn’t make larger drinking vessels. Looking at the half-litre metal flask containing only a dreg of water, you were wondering the same thing. Would it even be big enough?
Loki’s hand found yours.
It’s not big enough.
Shit. What should I do?
I don’t know.
We need to tell Thor.
No. Please.
We need help, Lo. Please let me tell him. I need his help.
He huffed. Fine.
“Th-thor…?”
“Yes, sweet mortal?” He turned, a smile on his face.
“Do you have another water bottle?”
“Yes I do, however it does not contain any nectar.”
“It’s empty?”
“It is, I apologise.”
“No, that’s… that’s what I need.”
He frowned. “What is the matter, friend?”
You blinked, nodding your head towards Loki. Thor’s expression instantly shifted. You were grateful to notice it was one of sympathy. He seemed to know exactly what was wrong, perhaps because it had happened before. Perhaps because it was obvious. “Brother,” his voice was soft. Quiet. “It will be alright. Our friend will help you. Hold on.”
Loki’s eyes squeezed shut and he pursed his lips. He nodded. A gasp escaped him.
“Thor, I’ve got it under control, but we don’t have much time… would you… would you ask the driver to turn on some music? And you and Clint talk amongst yourselves.”
As Thor did as instructed, you felt Loki’s hand on yours.
I am going to burst.
He removed his hand in a second, unable to keep contact for a moment longer. You watched as he uncrossed his legs, favouring instead to lift his feet up and down, rubbing his thighs against each other. His hand dipped over his crotch, giving it a little squeeze. His face flamed.
“Please do not let me disgrace myself.” His voice was hushed, and littered with ragged gasps.
You started to unscrew the empty bottle from Thor. It was completely jammed. Fuck. You tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t turn around. “Thor. THOR!”
When he turned to face you, he seemed confused. “You needed privacy, no?”
“Unscrew this!” You thrust the bottle over the seat and into his face. His mouth opened a little, taken aback by your sudden abrupt tone. You simply didn’t have time for pleasantries. “Unscrew it quickly! Loki’s going to wet himself!” You were too engaged in your task to notice Clint’s eyebrows raise, and Loki’s cheeks turn crimson. Thor passed the unscrewed bottle back to you. “This one, too. Empty whatever’s in it. Drink it, pour it out, I don’t care.”
You turned to Loki, bottle in hand. He had one hand firmly pressed into his crotch and he was groaning.
“Okay listen. I want to help you. But I won’t touch you if you don’t want – ”
“JUST HELP ME BEFORE I WET MY LEATHERS!” He then sobbed, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
You realised you had to do literally anything to prevent him from emptying his bladder into his clothes. You were certain that moment was imminent. As you reached over and placed your hand on Loki’s waistband, you noticed the streets of New York flash by the window. You were already in the city.
At your demand, Loki held the bottle with one hand as you set to work unfastening his trousers. You were learning now he didn’t have zips or buttons, but laces. You worked as quickly as you could, noticing his grip on his crotch and the whites of his knuckles. It would have been faster to unlace him if he wasn’t wriggling so much, but there was nothing you could do, and he genuinely couldn’t help it. Poor guy was on the brink of pissing himself in front of his colleagues.
You placed your hand on his cock, fishing it out of his trousers, and used your free hand to guide the bottle – which he was still gripping - underneath his member. Loki’s spare hand was now covering his eyes, his head tilted and leaning back into the head rest. One hand on the bottle, one over his face. Okay, guess I’m going to have to do this. As rapidly and respectfully as you could, you placed his cock into the wide open neck of the bottle, as a dribble leaked out and into it. He gasped, fearing he was doing the unthinkable.
“It’s okay, Loki. You’re in the bottle. You can let go now. It’s safe.”
With a groan that sounded eerily like an orgasm, he let go, full force, into the metal flask. He moaned as he emptied himself and you watched, partly enraptured, as his body started to relax. You shook away your thoughts as you heard the liquid approaching the top of the vessel.
“Fuck, Loki… it’s nearly full. Hold on.”
“What? I’m going, I can’t stop…”
You grabbed the next bottle and moved it into position. “Loki, on the count of three, I need you to stop the stream. Two seconds is all I need. Otherwise you’ll urinate on your clothing.” He groaned at the instruction. “One, two, three.”
He clenched his pelvic floor with so much force that he clenched everything in his body. You moved the empty bottle over, placing his cock into it, commanding him. “Pee. Now.” You couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at your lips. This was so odd. And oddly thrilling.
With one full bottle in your hand, and the empty bottle in another, you needed help. “Loki. Look at me.” He opened his eyes. “Grab this one.” He nodded and grabbed the bottle he was peeing into. You screwed the cap on the one that was full. In less than thirty seconds, the second bottle was nearing its capacity.
“W-we need another!” His voice was strangled.
“There isn’t one, just go on the floor.”
“I can’t!”
“You’ll have to Lo, I’m sorry.”
A sob of humiliation escaped his pursed lips. When the second bottle was full, you took it from him and screwed the cap on, while asking him to clench again. He began to tremble with the force of the exertion. You placed the second bottle down on the car floor and guided him. “Sit on the edge of the seat. Feet apart as much as you can.”
“I – I can’t – can’t hold it any longer.”
“Let go, it’s okay.”
He pointed his member at the floor and allowed the remaining liquor to spill out of his body and onto the expensive car mat. He grimaced at his act. In another minute, his stream reduced down to a trickle, and then finally stopped. It took a moment for him to come round, but he tucked himself into his trousers and laced them back up. He looked down at the wet cat mat at his feet and across at you. His eyes were innocent. “Wh-what do I do?” He lifted up a foot, not wanting to get it wet.
“Here. Scooch over to my side.”
“Scooch?” He raised an eyebrow at your entirely fabricated word.
Humorous Loki was back. Thank God.
He moved over to your side of the car, awkwardly sitting in the middle seat which was comically small compared to his tall form. “Unless I sit on your knee, I do not see how this will work.”
“Fine, Loki.” You grabbed the back of Thor’s seat – taking a moment to appreciatively tap him on the shoulder – and lifted yourself up as much as possible. “Go on… scooch.” He frowned, and moved himself over to sit in your seat. You lowered yourself down, sitting on top of his thighs.
“This is hardly appropriate,” he whispered.
“Well, neither is standing in your own pee.”
His cheeks flushed.
“I’m sorry, Loki. Are you alright?”
He nodded.
“Oh. And I kinda need to go, so I’ll try not to pee on you.”
“You… you are also in need? Why did you not – ?”
“Because it was an emergency for you. And it’s okay. It’s not too bad. We’ll be at the tower in twenty, I can wait that long.”
“And I could not.” He rolled his eyes and looked away from you.
“Loki, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant... you were the priority. And I’m glad I could help you.”
He placed an uncertain hand on your thigh, looking at you sat on his lap and feeling more comfortable than he’d like to admit. “If… if I can assist you in any way, with your needs.”
“I’m okay, Lo. Don’t worry. But thank you.” You shifted a little in his lap. He found himself swallowing down on the sensation, his cock stirring. She placed her hands on me. I wonder if she would do so once more, if the circumstances were not quite so dire.
“So, erm… I’ll pour that out when we get back.” You nodded towards the two full bottles.
“It’s not necessary, little one. Urine is very useful for spells. And hard to come by, as you might imagine.”
“Well jeez, mine won’t be that hard to come by.”
“Truly – if you are in discomfort, I will assist you.”
“No, I’m just joking. I’m not desperate yet. But thank you, Loki.”
You sat like that, in quiet contentment, until you pulled into the underground parking garage of the tower.
“I’ll let you go and use the amenities, little one… but before I do…” He whispered into your ear as the driver manoeuvred into the parking space. Loki looked at you, gently turning your face towards him with a hopeful, expectant finger. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The backs of your fingers traced over his cheek. The pad of one index finger followed the outline of his cheekbones. His face was like art. You had always wanted to run your fingertips over it. “Oh, and Loki?” You grabbed his hand so it was over yours. A green light flashed.
We have to talk about this secret power of yours.
He grinned. Once your own bladder is suitably empty, I shall tell you everything you wish.
I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing: Loki Omorashi, Desperate to Go at the Cinema (too proud to use the facilities #SnobbyLoki)
Paring: Loki x Female Reader
Words: 2,200
Contains: Omorashi / pee desperation. If that’s not your thing, please don’t read it.
Plot: You’re at a cinema with Loki watching a long historical drama, and he becomes desperate. Will he make it or won’t he??
Here, have some more gratuitous Loki before the story:
***
You’re on Midgard with Loki, he’s dressed in his earth clothes - overdressed, per usual - and you take him to the cinema. It’s a very well done historical drama, which you think he’ll enjoy. He’s never seen a movie before so you want to make sure it’s a good experience for him.
You explain how everything works, and even tell him it’s a 3-hour film, there’s no intermission, and you’re definitely going to use the bathroom before the trailers start, and he probably should too.
When you return from the bathroom, he’s stood outside with his arms crossed, looking at the concession stand. You stifle a giggle when you realise he isn’t quite leaning against the wall - his back is comically about two inches from the wall. It’s ‘dirty,’ I bet he doesn’t want to touch it.
“You’re not using the toilets, Loki?”
“They look disgusting.”
“Charming. Well, I just used them. You want any snacks?”
He turned his nose up and made some comment about ‘those ghastly giant drinks, and Midgardians with their troughs.’ The latter word refered to the large buckets of popcorn.
“Shakespeare was a more civilized affair,” he quipped.
“You can’t compare a legendary 16th century playright to my local Odeon.”
“Odin?”
“No, Odeon. It’s the cinema chain.”
“Oh.”
He stopped whining, and you went into the cinema to find your seats towards the back of the theatre. The screen was black initially. You were always early to a film. He jumped when the cinema intro started, even though you had forewarned him the music might be loud. Then, he was like a kid at Christmas, wide-eyed with wonder.
He kissed your cheek, “This is wonderful darling. Thank you.”
He let out a little laugh - an amused scoff, more like - and grabbed a fistful of popcorn out of your bucket.
“Hey! Only pigs use troughs, remember??” You whispered to him, to which he made an amused little snort to sound like a pig. His eyes went wide at the next couple of adverts. Tear-jerking Christmas ads, of course. He stared at the screen. You stared at him. You were sure you saw his eyes glass over.
“Okay, it’s starting now.”
He looked at you and his mouth opened a little. “That wasn’t the play?”
“The film. No.” You pointed to the screen to show that it was starting. “Here. Want some?” You offered him your drink, and he sipped. He made an orgasmic expression, having never tried sweet cola before. He finished the entire thing.
He became engrossed in the film, quickly being transported to the first world war. He pointed and whispered to you. “It was never like that.” “He wasn’t like that.” “That is quite accurate.”
It was odd to know he’d lived through the events dramatized on screen. It was like having your own personal historian.
He kept leaning forward at particularly dialogue-heavy, engrossing moments. He seemed uncomfortable, crossing his legs every so often. Over time, he kept shifting. It became quite clear what it was.
“Lo,” you whispered in his ear, using your code name lest anyone around you realize who was in the theatre. Midgardians still hadn’t got over the Battle of New York. Which was understandable, really. “Lo, the toilets are outside.”
He hushed you. “Yes yes I am aware. I can hold my liquor.”
You had heard it a million times before. It was true, he DID have a strong constitution compared to any human you had met. But like any being, he had his limits. And he had downed an enormous, caffeinated sugary beverage, the likes of which his system had never experienced, and done so right at the start of a three-hour film. If he held on, it would be a miracle. But then, he always did. He always seemed to make it. And afterwards, he would brush off his desperation as no big deal. And you would never speak of it again.
His elegant leg-crossing turned into wriggling around half-way through the movie. Two hours in, he was squirming. With a half hour left to go, he had one hand jammed into his crotch.
Predictably, the last 30 minutes of the film was vital to the plot and not something either of you wanted to miss. It was also action-heavy, and Loki jumped at each loud explosion. He let out a little whine at one particularly loud sequence, and you wondered if he had leaked a little in surprise.
When the movie ended and the credits rolled, you weren’t about to stick around for any post-credits scene. You could find out online later. What mattered right now was Loki.
You whispered to him before the lights came on. “Toilets are outside. I’ll take you.”
“Hmmmppph, no... Midgard. Might be. Recognized.”
You looked at him, “Lo, you’re bursting.”
“Car. Please. Need to go home. Please.”
Your eyes had adjusted to the dark enough to see the desperation in his eyes. Thankfully, you were sat on the end of a row. A very full row, which was about to start filing out of the theatre. You placed your hand on his upper arm. “We have to leave, Lo. Stand up for me.”
He took in a long breath and slowly stood, straightening up and trying to act as stoic as humanly - or Asgardianly - possible, his arms straight at his sides and balled into fists. You led him down the steps, around the corner, through the double doors of the cinema and out into the bright lights of the foyer. He was hunched over, his hair covering his face so nobody would see him. It seemed almost impossible for him to walk and yet he did, right out of the cinema’s glass doors and into the parking lot. You ushered him over to your car, pressed the button on your keys and even opened the passenger door for him. While waiting for you to open the door, he had one hand on the roof of your car, the other on the inside of his thigh, his legs crossed. He wasn’t quite grabbing himself in public, but it was close.
As soon as you were both in the car, he grabbed himself with both hands.
“D-darling, I... I... I really need to go.”
“I know Lokes. I’ll get you there as fast as I can.”
You started the car and he hunched over in his seat.
“It’s only ten minutes to my house. Hold on.”
He let out a loud groan. “Ten... ten minutes?”
“Yeah. You can hold on, right?”
He shook his head and bit his lip. “I... I... yes. Yes of course.”
You passed him the empty cola cup from the theatre, which you had brought out with you and had been sat in your lap. “Here. In case of emergency.”
“Relieve myself? In here? Like an animal? OHHHHH...” He groaned as an urgent wave hit him. He started rubbing his thighs together, squeezing down with both hands and wriggling around so much you were shocked you weren’t pulled over by the police. He was turning to the window, one leg turned impossibly upwards, then squirming back to face you.
“Darling... d-darling... I... it’s... it’s an emergency...”
You stopped at a red light, and leaned over to his side to pick the cup up off the floor. “Use it, baby. Please.”
He shook his head. “Can’t. Would rather... UMMMMMMPH... rather... let go in my trousers.”
“Loki, this is Gucci!” You KNEW it was bad. He would never knowingly ruin a fine suit without good reason. The light turned green and you drove on. “Less than five minutes now, Lokes.”
“Mmmmmm, hmmmmmph.” He was biting down on his lip and tears formed in his eyes.
I’m going to let go in my clothes, in front of her. Norns above, hold on Loki...
You pulled into your drive, put the handbreak on and stopped the car so fast you wondered if you should become a formula one driver. You were at the passenger door within seconds. You opened the door to see Loki practically curled up into a ball, his entire body tense. Sweat rolled from his forehead.
You leaned down and unfastened his seatbelt. “Lokes... I want you to go here. You’re in too much pain. Please, just let go. I’ll clean up.”
“C-can’t. Can’t. Made it this far...”
You stood back as he slowly started to stand, not without a lot of whining and groaning.
“I’ll open the door, Lokes...” you called as you rushed towards your front door, hands shaking as you opened your porch door, then the second door into the hallway. You pointed to the bathroom - he had been to your house before, but you felt the need to be super clear at this moment. He hobbled towards it as you rushed past him, closing both front doors and locking them from the inside. Force of habit. And also, you wanted Loki to have full and complete privacy.
What you didn’t know, is he had started leaking on his way to the bathroom. The relief of making it home had overwhelmed him, and his muscles started to relax. You made it back towards the bathroom within seconds, but he was already on the verge of tears, fumbling with his Gucci belt with both hands, then removing a hand to grip himself when a large spurt escaped. He whined in desperation.
“Lokes, here.” You unfastened his belt for him, both of his hands going to his crotch in vain. But it was too late. It started pouring out of him, the loud hissing sound ricocheting off the tiles of your bathroom.
“N-no, no, please no...” Loki gasped as he started to wet himself. He turned his head away from you, and you stepped back a little in a vain attempt to gift him some privacy. He stayed stock still as the contents of his bladder emptied down one pant leg, the expensive material clinging to his thigh and lower leg, and making its way down to his immaculate shoes and pooling onto the bathroom floor. He froze in place, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He didn’t even feel relief at first. He still felt desperate as his bladder emptied, only starting to feel relief as he soaked his clothes further. His pale cheeks were crimson. He continued to look away from you.
It was the longest 60 seconds of your life. You stared at him, not quite believing what you were seeing... or how you were feeling. You had been concerned for Loki, and wanted him to make it... but now that he hadn’t, you couldn’t deny how aroused you felt seeing him in this state.
When he finished, he was gasping. As his breath steadied, his chin and bottom lip started to tremble.
“Loki...” Your voice was above a whisper, and overflowing with compassion.
“Don’t. Please.” His jaw was tense. He still hadn’t looked at you.
Just leave. Leave so I can allow my tears to fall in peace.
“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”
“Privacy. So I may... clean up.” He felt disgusted with himself at the last words. How had he allowed himself to wet his trousers like a child, with you, his partner, stood right in front of him?
She will never make love to me again.
“I will give you privacy Loki, if you prefer. But... with your permission, I would like to help.”
His face stayed stock still. But his eyes moved towards you. “And why would you do that?” His voice dripped with venom and suspicion.
“Because...” You stepped forward and closed the space between you, gently bringing a hand to his face. He flinched at the contact. “You’re my partner. I love you. And nothing you ever do can change that.”
“Why aren’t you disgusted with me? Or laughing at me?” His voice was curious now. He was genuinely confused. The truth is, it wasn’t the first time this had happened. Around a century ago, he disgraced himself just outside the royal courts, with one of the warriors three viewing the entire spectacle. He was ridiculed about it for decades. Since then, he had held on, no matter what it took from him physically. He would never let that happen again. Until now.
“Loki.” Your gentle voice thawed him. “It’s me. It’s me, Loki. I would never do that to you.” Slowly, so as not to startle him. You placed another hand on his face, gently cupping him. “May I kiss you?”
His nod was barely noticeable, but you leaned forward and kissed his lips. He kissed you back. As you pulled away, he started to sob. He covered his face with his hands.
“D-don’t tell anyone of this, I beg you...”
You pulled him into a hug, not caring that your hips and legs made contact with his wet trousers.
“I would never, Loki. I love you. You’re okay, baby. You’re safe.”
He pulled away enough to look at you. “I do not deserve your compassion.”
“You do, baby. Now... I’m going to get in the shower, and I would love for us to shower together. How does that sound?”
A genuine, yet small, smile creeped onto his face. “Yes. Yes please, darling.”
At his request, you turned away as he peeled off his wet clothes and stepped into the shower with you. You placed a kiss on his cheek. “See Lokes? It’s like it never happened.”
He gripped your face with his large hands and kissed you thoroughly.
“You, my darling girl, will be rewarded for your kindness tonight. I adore you.”
NO BUT HEAR ME OUT *new Loki omo headcannon incoming*
What if Loki was bursting when he arrived on earth? And that’s why, when he left with Barton and Selvig, he stooped over?
And he was desperate during that whole chase scene in the back of the van, fighting off Fury.
And then after escaping, you’re all walking through the tunnels to his underground bunker.
And you’re there. A human he’s captured. But you’re not under control of the mind stone because, in the words of a glassy blue-eyed Selvig, “She’s already under his spell.” ( because you’re thirsty for him, obviously… no additional mind control required )
He’s walking funny and looks like he’s in pain. You ask him if he’s hurt. He says he isn’t. You’re persistent. He’s exasperated, but when he tells you of his condition, he’s nonchalant.
“If you must know, my bladder has reached its capacity.”
And you try to reassure him there must be a bathroom somewhere, to which he curtly replies, “I am capable of holding my liquor. I am not a child.”
Much groaning later, you reach his workplace. He finally made it to his underground bunker, now he can go, you think.
But he’s engrossed in his plans for world domination. He’s pacing up and down the bunker, speaking to his minions, getting information, giving orders. He’s still dangerously full and absolutely bursting.
And after some time passes, you tap him on the shoulder. “Loki… I found the bathroom. Would you like me to show you where it is”
Before you even finish your sentence, he’s turned to face you and it just starts GUSHING out of him and he turns pale and his face goes blank.
