#and id like to write about something like that

[norrisainz33]

baller || LN4

summary: lando has a massive crush on one of the wnba’s newest stars and he isn’t afraid to show it

pairing: lando norris x wnba!reader

fc & warnings: nika muhl & suggestive, you are responsible for the content you consume

requested: nope! just trying to get myself back into writing and i love the wnba. will continue with requests soon 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

liked by seattlestorm, sbird10, yourbff, yoursibling, landonorris, maxfewtrell, lewishamilton, and 127,284 others

ynuser: time to get to work

view all 189 comments

user1: i’m in love

user2: the most gorgeous girl

jackhughes: looking good

user3: good luck tonight!!!

landonorris: work it girl 😍🤤

maxfewtrell: i knew you’d be here

user5: lando norizz has arrived right on time

user4: when will y/n put lando out of his misery

user6: this vroom vroom man won’t quit

sbird10: making seattle proud y/n!

yourbff: very demure, very mindful, very gorgeous

ynuser: very cutesy

user6: major buckets incoming

user7: fashion ICON

landonorris has posted to his story

view all story replies

carlossainz55: since when do you follow basketball……

landonorris: since i met the most beautiful girl in the world at a party and learned she plays professional basketball

carlossainz55: ay dios mio cabron. what party????

landonorris: a party lewis encouraged me to attend in miami. he knows her through modeling or something

carlossainz55: ahh the one party i did not attend! well best of luck to you lando

maxfewtrell: mate i can’t keep defending you

landonorris: you don’t have to defend me 😭

maxfewtrell: do you even know how basketball works?!

landonorris: YES!!!! need i remind you im friends with jimmy butler?! he gave me a crash course

maxfewtrell: well thank god for that

user8: you’re obsessed

user9: i get it lan!! y/n is hot id be thirsting like a freak over her too if i was you

oscarpiastri: has she noticed you yet?

landonorris: besides following me on instagram she has not engaged

oscarpiastri: have you idk….. messaged her???

landonorris: ummm no that would be too much

oscarpiastri: and you hyping up her team on your story and commenting on all of her posts isn’t too much?

landonorris: nope not too much at all

oscarpiastri: 🫠 ok bud

lewishamilton: you’re really trying here huh?

landonorris: 😔 yes

lewishamilton: well it must be your lucky day because she just asked about you

landonorris: WHAT SHE ASKED YOU ABOIT ME?! OHMOGMGOGM

lewishamilton: yes.. she asked if we were going to be spending any time in the US before austin

landonorris: i wasn’t planning on it but if she wants me to i will hop on the first flight

lewishamilton: i told her that i may be and that if she’s curious about you … that she should text you herself 😉

landonorris: i feel faint

user10: love that you’re supporting women’s sports king

user11: you really said i have a crush and it’s now everyone’s problem and i love you for it

landonorris has made a post

liked by mclarenf1, ynuser, quadrant, oscapiastri, maxfewtrell, alex_albon, georgerussell63, and 536,234 others

landonorris: it’s all about the details 🎆

view all 899 comments

user11: lando you never fail to make the best helmets

quadrant: quadrant on track 🎆

mclarenf1: an iconic helmet for an iconic driver

user12: oh this helmet is so hot

maxfewtrell: ready to cook

user14: is no one going to mention y/n in the likes

ynuser: nice helmet

landonorris: thanks y/n. i made it myself 😉

user14: OMG AHES INTHE COMMWNTS TOO

user15: someone check on lando stat

user16: best day of lando’s life fr

user17: guys we need to be normal about this and be wingmen for lando

user18: so true user17

user18: ynuser lando saves puppies in his free time and was kind enough to lend me his lambo

user19: ynuser lando helped my grandma cross the street!

user22: ynuser lando bought me a house!!

user33: ynuser lando saved a kitten from a burning building!!

maxfewtrell: these comments are killing me 😂

user13: you’re going to win this weekend i just know it

ynuser has posted to their story

view all story replies

seattlestorm: gorgeous as always

user9: ugh i’m so obsessed with you

yourbff: how do you manage to make everything look hot

ynuser: you should know bby

landonorris: todays fit is a good fit

ynuser: why thank you lando

landonorris: omg

landonorris: i mean… anything for you y/n

ynuser: anything you say?

landonorris: just about!

ynuser: when are you coming to a game then?

landonorris: i didn’t know i had an invite

ynuser: of course you do!! seeing as that you’re such a big fan and all 😉

landonorris: consider me there

ynuser: you going to invite me to a race?

landonorris: i have a paddock pass with your name on it 😏

ynuser: consider me there

user11: can’t wait to see you cook in the playoffs!!

patriciooward: you gonna come see me or what 🤔

ynuser: i’ll be in the paddock if you will!

patriciooward: HA yes i’ll be there. looking forward to seeing you

user13: f1 and lando brought me here and i have to say im not mad about it

jackhughes: 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

user10: the wnba is lucky to have you!!

landonorris has made a post

liked by seattlestorm, ynuser, mclarenf1, lewishamilton, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri, wnba, maxverstappen1, and 765,204 others

landonorris: quick pit stop to catch the playoffs. the storm are finals bound lfg p1 here they come!

view all 965 comments

seattlestorm: it was great to have you join us lando!!

landonorris: thanks for having me!

user14: oh my god it’s happening

maxfewtrell: mate stand up

landonorris: oh i’m up mate don’t even worry

user17: lando taking shooting his shot to the next level

ynuser: thanks for stopping by lanny

landonorris: of course y/n/n, no place i’d rather be

user7: i’m rooting for you guys

user46: you got this lando let’s goooo

user17: she called him lanny im ???

user22: he’s so pretty, she’s so pretty ,, they’re perfect for each other

mclarenf1: we love women’s sports in this house

ynuser: yes we do!!

user33: LETS GO STORM!!!

maxverstappen1: oh did someone get his chance?

landonorris: perhaps

user45: y/nlando truthers unite

landonorris has posted to his story

view all replies

user18: YESSSSSS

user22: i’ve never been so invested in an american sport before

user76: you posting her as if yall together!! you might just be as delusional as me king

oscarpiastri: how is the winning her over going

landonorris: you’d be surprised but i think it’s working!! we’ve gone on 3 dates and talk every day 😭

oscarpiastri: im so proud of you man

mclarenf1: woohooo let’s goooo!!!

maxfewtrell: i thought we agreed you’d post the team photo and not the one of just her

landonorris: she just looked so cute and happy tho

maxfewtrell: but this makes it look like you’re dating

landonorris: i wish we were 😭😭😭

maxfewtrell: i know i know

patriciooward: i put in a good word for you with y/n

landonorris: you are a real one pato

user87: you are a fan girl just like me

user34: the most supportive boyfriend but not boyfriend i’ve ever seen

user19: you’re nothing if not persistent

user77: you posting more about y/n than you do anyone else

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, and 12,846 others

f1gossip: following her first wnba title, y/n was spotted celebrating with friends at a popular nightclub. we received this anonymous intel: “i was in the bathroom and heard a girl loudly talking on her phone. when i realized it was y/n i tried to be chill and not bother her but couldn’t help but over hear her conversation. she said “i wish you were here lando” and “i can’t just fly to mexico to be with you” and “no no no you can’t just fly here right now from mexico” and “ok maybe i could fly to brazil but maybe you should just come here for an extended stay before vegas.” needless to say she was definitely talking to lando and it sounded like they were more than friends!”

view all 577 comments

user44: ok hittin us w the invasion of her privacy

user7: oh my god our boy did it - he bagged his baddie

user99: obsessed with him trying to solve her problems and immediately trying to fly to her

user67: hoping if i post really obnoxiously about my celebrity crush they’ll too have no choice but to want me

user1: i can’t believe after the last 5 months of pining he’s actually gotten the girl

user9: i’m not believing nothing until we see if from them

user12: y’all gotta stop speculating about these two

user13: amazing day for annoying people (me)!

ynuser has made a post

liked by mclarenf1, maxverstappen1, landonorris, yourbff, seattlestorm, erlinghaaland, oscarpiastri and 347,892 others

ynuser: what happens in vegas stays in vegas

view all 667 comments

user12: cryptic 🤔

user7: she’s in the paddock 😭😭😭😭

user33: omg shes at the grand prix someone please check on our boy lando

oscarpiastri: was a pleasure meeting you y/n!

ynuser: likewise oscar!! had a great time getting to know you and lily

maxverstappen1: so nice to meet you!! looking forward to you wiping the floor with me when we play that game of padel you promised

ynuser: remember, you told me you’d play basketball with me in exchange!!

maxverstappen1: how could i forget?

user35: adore the fact that max will beg anyone and everyone to play padel with him

user47: i’d love to see max playing basketball 😂

user55: wnba x f1 crossover i never knew i needed

landonorris: hopefully things that happened in vegas can happen outside of vegas too 😉

ynuser: if you play your cards right mr norris 😏

user7: i feel like im interrupting something here

user47: ugh you are always serving so hard in your fits girl

landonorris has posted a story

view all story replies

user17: YOURE ON A DATE!!! WITH Y/N I HOPE

user18: shocked you didn’t tag her mate

maxfewtrell: so you can post a story but not reply to my texts asking how it went??

landonorris: sorry i was busy 😉

maxfewtrell: oh my god.. you sealed the deal?

landonorris: yes i did! say hello to the wnba’s newest wag

maxfewtrell: never doubted you for a second

landonorris: yes you did but it’s ok

ynuser: thank you for a lovely dinner 🤍

landonorris: of course gorgeous 🧡

landonorris: and thanks for giving me a chance 🥹

ynuser: i should be thanking you for your persistence. i’m so glad we met lando

landonorris: likewise y/n/n

user22: i’m screaming and crying and throwing up

carlossainz55: looks like the devotion to basketball is paying off?

landonorris: yes sir it is 😉

user55: queuing that should be me by justin bieber rn

user66: that’s our BOY

landonorris has made a post

likes by maxverstappen1, mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, seattlestorm, ynuser, and 876,234 others

landonorris: never doubt me again

view all 999 comments

user17: NEVER DOUBTED FOR A SECOND

user6: my bad king , i didn’t realize you had this much game

maxfewtrell: i’m not even allowed to touch your car let alone sit on it

landonorris: yeah well you don’t sit on my face so why would i let you sit on my car [comment has been deleted by user]

user17: WE SAW THAT LANDO

user88: lando you naughty boy omg

oscarpiastri: thank god

landonorris: thanks for sticking with me bestie

user43: couldn’t be happier to see this hard launch

ynuser: we are so hot

landnorris: the hottest

seattlestorm: safe to say that we are formula 1 fans now

user83: i’ve never rooted for a couple more than this one

user92: he got the girl, he got the win, he’s got it all. let’s go lando

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[qveerthe0ry]

What Means to You, What Means to Me

Summary: Max Phillips changes everything. Written for @perotovar 's offering of Frith Word Count: 8,046 Pairing: Max Phillips Loki (The Trickster God of mischief and chaos) x afab! NB! Bisexual! Reader Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: smut, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, GENERAL GENDER FUCKERY Beta: My sweet angel @for-a-longlongtime of course A/N: Under the cut

Author's Note: First of all, I just want to thank Erin for putting together this writing challenge and sharing SO much about Norse Paganism. The effort you put into this, from the moodboards to educational resources is incredible. And the fact that you've shared something so close to you with all of us made this writing challenge feel like getting a warm hug <3

Second, see the author's note I wrote at the end (as to not spoil the story) if you want to know the ways Loki ingrained himself in this fic.

_

You’ve heard of this queer club before, but you’ve never been inside. You’d thought the descriptors were exaggerations, but you find out quickly that you were wrong. 

Security is tight at the door, and they ask you questions as they scan your ID that sound like small talk but are a bit more probing once you think about it. Your pockets are patted down and you walk through a metal detector before you even breach the front door. 

You’re wondering if it’s even worth all this. You’re by yourself, no one’s meeting you here, and you don’t plan on going home with anyone. 

Really, you’re just bored, in a fairly new city with no one familiar but your new co-workers to converse with; those are the last people you want to be around on a Friday night after a long work week. 

So you’re here. Are there a dozen other queer bars you could have gone to on this rainbow-lined street? Yes. But none of them really feel right. So you’re here, finally in clothes that you feel comfortable in, around people who aren’t going to make you feel uncomfortable in them. 

And its reputation precedes itself. 

Gaudy. Over-the-top. 

There’s three floors, the top two cut out to overlook the dance floor in the middle of the ground level. There’s chandeliers everywhere, far too ornate for a fucking nightclub. Candelabras litter every tabletop with flaming wax that you’re sure is a fire hazard in an establishment like this. There’s fuzzy, cozy-looking lounges and really hot people walking around serving complimentary waters on gold trays and maybe it was a mistake, coming here. 

But you’ve already been through the TSA of nightclubs, and so you might as well grab a drink while you’re here and make the uber ride home worth it. 

At least the drinks seem to be cheap. You take too long staring at the specialty cocktail names when a bartender asks how you’re doing, and end up ordering your favorite drink anyways. At least they seem nice, unlike some of the bars you’ve been to at the not-mandatory-but-suggestively-obligatory happy hours after work. 

You sit at the bar, a little intimidated by the fancy decor and skilled dancers that overwhelm the club. 

The music is unsuspecting, something soft and melodic that you only realize is live music when your eyes settle on her. 

Her fiery red hair cascades down her shoulders, igniting all the skin exposed by her backless dress. She’s sitting at the piano in the middle of the dancefloor, obscured by couples and others dancing around her. 

She’s everything. The most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her nose is strong and her jawline juts and contrasts with those soft brown eyes. You’re yearning before you can even realize it, a kind of consumption that leaves you breathing heavier than normal as you sip your drink probably way too quickly. 

You focus on her long, nimble fingers, painted red at the nails and fluttering so skillfully over the ivory keys that it makes your cheeks feel hot. 

The ringing of the keys doesn't register over the thumping of your heart and the blood rushing in your ears, which feel like molten lava. Perhaps that’s why you don’t notice she’d finished her set until she’s a foot away from you, placing an order you’d only know if you were able to read lips.

Christ, her lips. Plump and painted in the same shade of red as her hair and nails, they purse as she sips from a champagne flute. She’s so dainty, and poised, everything you’ve never had the desire to be. 

And she’s staring right at you. 

“See something you like?” 

Your breath gets stuck in your lungs and your heart flutters in a medically dangerous way. 

“You’re incredible.”

The words roll off your tongue without any go-ahead from your brain. 

She laughs anyway, with her head thrown back, and the sight of her throat elongated makes your own go bone-dry. 

“If I had a nickel,” she jokes with a wink. 

Your half-melted brain scrabbles for something to say so you can be graced with her presence for even one more second. 

“How long have you been playing?” 

She quirks her perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, and she smirks, and something about the way she can see through you like cellophane turns you on and it makes you feel wicked. 

“You don’t really care, do you?” 

From your peripheral, you see her long, toned arm inching closer to yours on the bar. Her fingers touch yours, feather-light, and you shiver before you freeze in place. 

“I— No, I do.”

You can barely hear her low chuckle over the house music that’s started to play in her absence, but you do, and it sounds like heaven and hell all at once. 

Slowly, torturously, she leans closer to you, and her bubbly breath ghosts across your cheek, your jaw, and then gusts in your ear. 

“Don’t lie to me, handsome.” 

Her tone is teasing, sing-songy in a way that might be annoying if you weren’t so aroused. 

Your fingers clench around the glass you’re holding, and her own do the same over yours. 

“What do you want me to say?” 

You don’t know if you’re more scared, horny, or irritated. They’re all three tied for gold, at this point, with tipsy coming in second and way too warm bringing up the rear. 

And the pure audacity this woman has is impressive, as she places her lips so so lightly under your earlobe. You hope to god her lipstick stains. 

“Ask me if I wanna get out of here.”

Your lungs inflate too quickly, and your eyes close, and you lean into the touch of her lips. 

“Where would we go?” 

It’s a stupid question. Why in your right mind do you give a flying fuck? She could drag you to the DMV and you’d happily follow like a pup. 

She stands from the barstool, tall, taller than you realized, and the proximity puts her between your spread legs. 

Your thighs flex involuntarily, and your fingers twitch and ache to touch her. 

“I know a place. If you want?” 

Her eyebrow is quirked at you again as she leans back. You can’t find your words, so you stand in answer, and now you’re too close. Every delicious curve of her body is pressed against your front and you unhand your drink to dig your nails into the top of the bar. 

“Please.” 

Her grin is so mischievous that it startles you, those sharp canines on full display. You think about how they’ll feel against your skin as she nods her head and prompts you to follow her. 

You might as well be wearing a leash, the way you trail her so closely. You twist your fingers as the nerves start to pick back up, and all of a sudden you’re in front of some elevator doors with a very huge and intimidating bouncer guarding the buttons and staring you down. 

“Before we head up, just so you know, I’m working with a… different set of equipment than you might expect.”

You nearly ask her to repeat herself, a bit too overwhelmed with the eyes on you and the situation you’re about to get yourself into. But your brain plays a game of catch-up, and somehow this little fact makes you feel more comfortable. 

“That’s cool— me too. I mean, maybe? I don’t know what— uh, what you’d expect me to have, but… yeah.”

Your voice trails off as the big burly bouncer chuckles at you, and your face could probably melt off of your skull with how hot it feels, but then she grabs your hand and squeezes to tug you into the elevator with her. 

The club sounds are nearly all drowned out now, and you’re certain she can hear your heartbeat in the silence as she crowds you against the back wall. 

“My name’s Max,” she says, speaking all breathy and low against the skin of your neck. 

You shiver, barely eke out your own name as her body presses against yours. 

It’s heavenly, the way she feels against you, but the way she teases your earlobe between her dark cherry lips feels hellish. You still haven’t touched her, even though your hands are burning to feel the silk of her dress over her waist. You’re intimidated and horny and mentally working yourself up to do anything on your own without her giving you direct orders.

There’s a ding, and all momentum is lost when she turns away from you to enter the snow globe of a penthouse beyond the open elevator doors. You follow eagerly.

“This is your place?” 

Your voice is awe-filled as you look around. The walls are just windows, and the city lights and the last few minutes of sunset brighten all the dark wood and leather around you. 

“Yeah, so’s the club.”

Her tone is nonchalant, and you gape at her as she steps out of her strappy, expensive-looking high heels. Maybe you shouldn’t be so surprised. She has all the confidence of someone who owns the world, and her cockiness is reflected in the ostentatious nature of the club and her penthouse. 

But you’re still shocked. Maybe you’re shocked because she’s chosen you, out of every other patron, to come up here with her. 

“It’s nice— the club. And here, too.” 

She chuckles and shrugs but she thanks you as her bare feet bring her close to you once more. You feel your hackles raise as she approaches, along with your heart rate, but she walks right past you. 

“Follow me.”

As if you’d dream of doing anything else. 

Her bedroom is all windows, too. The bed is huge, much bigger than a normal king, and the space itself is fairly empty of any personal touches. It suits her mystique. You feel like you have a million unanswered questions, but none of them matter when she shoves you down onto the mattress and straddles your thighs. 

Your mouth drops open, but she steals the words from your breath when she grabs your hands and places them on her hips.

Finally. 

Fuck, she feels incredible under this silky dress as you squeeze her waist and arch your hips up into her. 

You tell her as much, and get another one of those cocky chuckles that goes straight to your center. 

“Do your worst, handsome.” 

And maybe you’ve never been the best at getting into someone’s bed, but you’re certain you’re the best once you’re between the sheets. 

It’s no exception, with her. You’re so eager to please. You worship every last inch of her body once it’s revealed to you. You take note of all the places you kiss and lick that make her breath hitch, you tease her until her cock weeps, and you take her so far down your throat that tears sting your eyes. 

Her nails dig into your scalp, and you feel like the cocky one when she begs you to pull off, when she tells you that you’ve damn near sucked her soul out through her dick. 

Your clit is throbbing and you’ve soaked through your underwear by the time she hastily pulls them off of you. She kisses you breathless and bites your lip with her sharp teeth as you roll the condom down her length. The way she whimpers when you finally straddle her sends you reeling. Your hand finds her tit, and your palm rolls against her taut nipple as you finally get her cock to slide through your slick folds. She arches into your touch and she begs and there’s no force powerful enough to keep you from giving in to her pleas.

Her face twists up so fucking beautifully as you impale yourself on her. Inch by inch, so slowly, teasing her like she’d teased you earlier in the night. You feel satisfied and hungry at the same time when you’re flush with her thighs. Her hips buck when you pinch her nipple, and she hits the perfect spot, and neither of you have any resolve leftover. 

It’s a give and take that lasts too long and is over far too quick. You ride her, and she thrusts up into you, back and forth until you both crumble at the same time, blinding and intense and loud. 

You might black out. 

One moment you’re stroking her skin with your fingertips and thanking her over and over, and the next you’re sitting up against her headboard with a glass of water in one hand and her fiery hair in the other. 

She’s sighing in your lap, nuzzling into the heat of your thighs with her aquiline nose. 

“You’re incredible,” you say for probably the millionth time that night. 

She chuckles again, just like she did when you first told her, but her pretty brown eyes shine when she looks up at you. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

Your face gets all hot again, and you feel shy, eyes darting around the room to focus on anything but the gorgeous woman resting on you. 

“Does it bother you when I call you that?” 

You huff. 

“Not at all.”

“Are you trans?” 

You huff again. 

“No. I— I don’t know. I’m just… me. In-between. I don’t really feel like I fit any one description.”

She hums and presses a kiss to your mound through your underwear.

“I understand.” 

“I’ve always been like this, you know? Before I knew what it was. I just didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. Not in an insecure way. Just that it didn’t feel right.” 

“Do you want a dick?”

Her bluntness makes you laugh. 

“Sometimes I do.”

She nods, and the way her silky hair feels against your bare thighs makes you shiver. 

“It’s actually kind of awesome, I’m not gonna lie.”

She laughs with you. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“I’ll rub it in if you give me another five minutes.”

She does.

You fall asleep in her arms, exhausted and sated and happy.

She’s gone in the morning. All the shades are drawn, those same hazardous candles from the club lighting the apartment dimly. Your clothes are dry cleaned and hanging in a bag you’re certain costs more than your entire outfit. There’s a note next to your half-empty glass of water on the nightstand.

See you around. 

Except you don’t. 

You wait eight whole days to go back to the club. You wear something nicer, go through the tight security, and saunter up to the bar with much more confidence than your first visit. You wait for her. You drink one too many and hope to find her walking around or playing the piano. 

A few people come up to you and ask you to dance, and you refuse each one with the bitter taste of irony on your tongue, and then you go home alone after last call with a headache and queasy stomach. 

Maybe she’s just out of town, you tell yourself. She owns an entire nightclub, she’s clearly a very important woman, probably quite busy, too. 

You go back the next weekend, and the next, and you don’t see her once. 

So after a month, you go again and this time you accept the offers to share a dance, grind against people with a weird confidence you know comes from the woman you hope to see tonight. You share meaningless kisses and buy a few people drinks but refuse an offer or two to ‘get out of here.’

You start to lose hope when the dim lights flicker brighter and last call is announced. But as you bid goodbyes to a group you were hanging with, that very large and scary bodyguard from the elevators is walking towards you, and this time his presence is more exciting and less intimidating. 

“Max would like you to come upstairs.”

And while it’s kind of annoying, and seems pretentious— why didn’t she come down here and tell you herself?— you follow. Eagerly. Once again. 

He lets you take the elevator up by yourself, and this time the anxiety is more anticipation than it is fear. 

Though, when the doors open, you’re face to face with a guy.

He’s got a familiar cocky smirk on his face, messy gelled hair, and he’s leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed. 

Panic, is what your body tells you to do, leave, run. But you’re frozen under his thick gaze. 

The elevator doors start to shut, and you take a step back when he moves to hold them open, but he chuckles. 

A cocky little chuckle. 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Max.”

“No you’re not.”

“C’mon, handsome. It’s me.”

You shiver when he calls you that, but not in the same way you did when she said it. 

“Is this some kind of joke? Listen, she didn’t tell me she was exclusive with anyone—”

He cuts you off by saying your name in a pleading tone. 

“Come in, please, just give me a minute to prove it to you.”

Panic. Run. Leave.

You ignore every instinct to finally step out of the elevator. 

“You told me, last time, that sometimes you wished you had a dick. Right?”

You nod before you can think better of it. 

Who is this guy?

You’re no stranger to genderfluidity, the way a haircut or makeup or different clothes can drastically change someone’s look— but this isn’t that. This can’t be that. While they have similar features, her sharp noise was still softer, her eyes were less crinkled at the edges, her brow bone was much less prominent. If this is smoke and mirrors, she’s one hell of a magician. 

“Do you wish you had one right now?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. Are you guys twins or something? What’s going on?” 

He chuckles again, and you have to say, it’s much less arousing coming from him than it was from your Max. He reaches out to touch your arm, and you want to shove him away, but you can’t.

Your body feels frozen, again, but not from fear. There’s a strange sensation that courses through you, some unexplainable energy that makes your bones feel like they’re vibrating, makes your blood feel thick and heavy in your veins. 

It scares you, but the newly soft look on this Max’s face is just comforting enough to keep you from a full-fledged panic attack. 

That, and the fact that it’s over just as quick as it started. Your body loosens back up as Max’s hand on your arm rubs reassuring circles. 

But then you feel weird. A strange turning low in your gut, kind of like arousal, but not quite. And your pants feel tighter, more constricting than they did earlier. 

You look down. 

There’s a bulge in your pants, like there would be if you were packing. But you’re not. You’re certain you made the decision to leave it at home when you left earlier in the night. 

You look back up at him. He’s smirking. 

“You can touch it.”

You do, despite your brain screaming how weird it would be to touch your crotch in front of a man you’ve never met before. 

You have a dick. 

You feel it now, and while the feeling of it in your hand isn’t foreign to you, the fact that it’s sensitive and fucking actually attached to your body is. 

You pull your hand away like it’s been scalded. 

“What the fuck?! How did you—“

You stare at him open-mouthed and terrified and maybe a little bit turned on.

“Does it matter? I gave you what you’ve always wanted.” 

He looks from your face to your… dick, and back again, smirking, admiring, like he’s just finished an art project.

“Will it… Will it go back?”

“Do you want it to?”

“I— I don’t know.”

Max chuckles that damn chuckle, all full of himself. But this time, it’s her. You know it is, now. As crazy as it sounds, it’s the only thing that makes sense. This is your Max. 

“Why don’t you take it for a test drive? If you don’t like it, I’ll change you back.”

You gape at him. It’s all clicking. This is your Max, and they’ve listened to you and done something so fucking weird but so fucking sweet. You don’t know how, and you honestly are starting to care less and less the longer Max keeps staring at you like he’s proud. Of you or himself, you’re not so sure, but it’s working. 

“It’s— it’s you, isn’t it?” 

“I told you so.”

“Fuck,” you sigh, “where have you been? I came back. Every weekend.” 

Max hums. 

“I was a little caught up. Got into a bit of trouble, as I do. But I’m back, and I wanted to see you. I’m glad you came.”

“Are you— I mean… you look a lot different?” 

He shrugs. 

“Do you still think I’m hot? I can change back—”

“No! No, sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I was just confused. You’re still—”

“Incredible?” 

You huff a laugh, and finally relax for the first time since you got into that elevator. 

“Yeah. Incredible.”

His cocky demeanor falls to the wayside to make room for something more sincere. He takes a few steps until you’re face to face with him, and places a suspiciously cold hand on the back of your heated neck. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles. 

“I— I missed you too. That night… I’ve thought about it so much.”

“Mmm, yeah? Me too.”

You kiss the stupid smirk off of his face. 

He tastes the same as you remember before, like champagne and sweet mint and her. His teeth are just as sharp, scraping your tongue as it explores every bit of his mouth. 

His free hand grabs your hip and pulls you even closer to him and fuck, that feels better than it has any right to. Your cock stirs in your pants and you buck your hips again, fiending for this new type of friction. 

“Come to bed with me?” 

All you can do is nod and follow. 

The bedroom looks just the same as it did last time, but the lack of sunlight makes everything feel quieter tonight— slower, more serene. 

He turns down the covers slowly, and you stand at the foot of the bed, extremely uncertain about what happens next, even though your dick throbs with anticipation. 

“You still into this?” 

Max’s voice startles you out of your own head. 

“Yeah, sorry. Nerves.”

He hums and steps closer to you. 

“Nothing to be nervous about, handsome.”

You nod and let your eyes trace up and down his body, noting his broad shoulders in that crisp white dress shirt and his thick thighs under the satiny sheen of his slacks. He’s still just as gorgeous in this masculine form, and it’s as irritating as it is enticing.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“Shit.” 

His words go straight to your cock, and you’re unashamed to palm it in your hand and press and curse at the completely new sensation. 

“I’m assuming that’s a yes,” he chuckles. “Do you want my ass or my pussy?” 

Your hand on yourself stills. 

“You— you have a pussy?”

“I can.”

And it shouldn’t surprise you, after everything else that’s happened in the last ten minutes, but it still does. Your breath stutters in your chest and your dick fills out even more against your hand and you distantly wonder how big Max made it, if it’s exactly what he wants. 

“Can I— Will you show me your pussy?” 

He leers at you when you ask, and it only turns you on even more. 

“I was hoping you’d go for that.”

He starts unbuttoning his shirt, but this whole mad situation has you feeling much more comfortable, in a fuck it kind of way. You step into his space and work the buttons free, and follow with your mouth. His skin is cold under the heat of your lips, and by the time his shirt hangs free from his shoulders you’ve made it your personal mission to warm up every inch of him. 

It’s easy to work his belt open, undo his fly and watch it open to a thick thatch of pubic hair. You pause to press your lips to his again, to reach around to cup his pert asscheeks as his slacks fall to the floor. 

You can’t stop grinding against him, even as you press him back and down onto the bed. You just follow, fully clothed, hesitant to deny yourself this new heady feeling of pressure to your cock. 

It’s only when he suckles your top lip and reaches down to palm you that you realize you’re teetering on the edge of embarrassing yourself. 

Your hips jolt away from him and it hurts a bit when you rip your lip out between his teeth, but all the better to take your mind off the intense, heavy arousal in your gut. 

“Okay?” 

He asks it with a smirk, like he already knows the answer, so you don’t give him one. You just stare down past your heaving chest to see the damp spot on your pants and start to unfasten them to relieve some of the pressure. 

“You’re gonna want to chill out. Refractory periods are annoying with those things,” he warns. 

You huff. 

“That’s kind of you,” you joke. 

It’s better, just in the thin fabric of your underwear, less resistant. You want to take them off too, but you’re afraid that the euphoria from seeing yourself with a dick will really conflate the issue at hand. 

So you shuffle down the bed a bit, and press your lips to Max’s flat chest, to his nipples that are half the size they were last time. They pebble quickly under your attention, and you bite down on one when you accidentally drag your cock along the mattress. 

He groans and arches into you, goads you on with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“Are you as good at eating pussy as you are at sucking dick?” 

It’s almost comical, the way he applies pressure to urge you further down his body. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You nip at his sparse happy trail as he pushes you down with his large hand on your shoulder and delight in the way his muscles twitch under your mouth. 

“Some time this century, yeah.”

You hum, nose at the wiry curls on his mound and grab the wrist of his hand that’s still pressing on you. 

“You’re not very gentlemanly,” you tease.

He laughs as he stares down at you with his dark eyes. His hand moves to cup your jaw and you let it, let him trace your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Is that what you want? A gentleman?”

You suck his thumb into your mouth as you shake your head, grinning around his knuckle. You bite down a little harder than you mean to and he hisses. He yanks his hand from your mouth to grab the back of your head and tug until your face is buried between his thighs. 

You relent, breathing in the scent of him, bypassing any preamble to shove your tongue inside of him. The way his hips buck into your face makes you smirk into his folds and dig your nails into the skin of his thighs. 

He still makes the most beautiful noises, when you get down to it. Desperate, hungry, eager. For as cocky as he is, he sure writhes against you like a shameless whore as he whispers curses into the dark room. 

You savor the taste of him, the warmth and tightness of him around your fingers, the scratchy feeling of his bush tickling your nose. The way his strong thighs tense and relax under your grasp makes you want to feel them do the same around your waist. 

You look up when he starts clenching around your fingers like a vice, and the thought of that feeling around your new dick makes you whimper into his pussy. You focus even more on the way you suckle and flick his clit, to try and set the arousal aside so you don’t come before you can even slip into him. 

He’s got his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his back arched off the bed when he finally shudders and comes. You work him through it, lapping at his dripping hole, letting him grind against your tongue until he’s squirming away from your touch. 

You’re dragging this out. Stalling. You press little biting kisses to his thighs and his mound as he’s coming down. Maybe if you just worked him through one more, you’ll be calm enough to—

“C’mere already.”

You roll your eyes at him as he tugs on you, but you go willingly to hover over him and let him lick his taste from your mouth. His hums are lower and more subdued in the aftermath and they rumble deep in your chest as you try your hardest not to grind into him. 

It doesn’t matter. 

His free hand wraps around your cock and the feeling turns you on so much that you almost feel nauseous. You can feel all five of his fingers there, even with how big his hands are. He’s around you, and the familiar sensation on the inside mixed with the foreign sensation against your skin is a bit confusing but so hot. He squeezes and you jolt, bite down hard on his lip, but it only makes him chuckle. 

“That good, huh?” 

You groan into the crook of his neck in answer, completely at a loss for words. 

“I’d like to say the novelty wears off, but I haven’t found that it does.”

You feel like you’re on fire, honestly, like you’re trapped in a burning building with no way out. It’s hard to speak or breathe or think with his hand wrapped around you over your underwear. You can’t even begin to imagine how good his skin is going to feel against yours. 

“C’mon, handsome, lie back for me.”

You do, with his help, reclined back against his decorative pillows. Your breathing is ragged as he takes his time getting your shirt off and pressing surprisingly sweet kisses to everything revealed to him. 

You ground yourself by petting his hair, coarse and a little sticky from hair gel but thick enough to be extremely satisfying to card through. For a moment you’re able to focus on the feeling of it slipping between your fingers instead of the throbbing of your prick. 

But then his thick fingers find the elastic waistband and creep underneath. It shocks you out of your false sense of security. When your panicked eyes meet his, they’re so warm and soft you think you could maybe cry a little about it. But he speaks up instead. 

“Are you still okay with everything going on?”

And you are, even though you’re hanging by a thread and preemptively embarrassed by what’s about to go down; you want it so bad. 

So you nod. 

“Words, handsome.”

You huff. 

“Yes, Max. Please.”

He hums and smiles. 

“Good boy.”

You’re engulfed by embarrassment when your cock jumps dramatically at his words, right beneath his hovering face. You feel even hotter when he huffs out a laugh.

But then he’s pulling your underwear, and it’s there, in plain sight, a gorgeous cock. It’s perfect, it’s how you’ve always imagined yours would look if you had one. Like Max knew, somehow, was inside your brain and could see the same fantasies that you could. 

It jerks again in the cool air. You can feel the blood rushing there, a powerful gush that makes it twitch when you think about how it’s your dick, on your body. He hasn’t even touched you yet and you can feel pre-cum dripping down your shaft. 

“Can I taste?” He asks. 

You nod, then remember your words. 

“Please.”

You can’t produce more than a whisper as you watch him lean forward, like slow motion, with his tongue hanging out dramatically and his eyes locked on yours. 

The first touch of his tongue against your skin has your hips flying off the mattress at a speed that you’re sure defies laws of physics. 

He just looks so fucking gorgeous with your prick eclipsing the middle of his face. Your prick looks so gorgeous. God, you’re starting to understand where cis men get their audacity from. 

You tighten your grip on his hair for no other reason than you need something to hang onto or you might just float off into space. He teases you with more kitten licks, up one side, then the other, and you watch in awe. You can’t take your eyes off it, even though it may delay the inevitable if you could. 

He kisses the head of it, and his tongue does something wicked right underneath it that makes you tug his head back by his gelled locks. 

“Too much?” He asks, even as he winces at your tugging. 

“You’re teasing, and all that’s going to lead to is disappointment on your end.”

God, why do you sound like you’ve just run a marathon?

“I’ll never be disappointed by making you come, handsome.”

He’s so fucking annoying. You want to fuck his face just to shut him up, but you know that would only last about ten and a half seconds. 

You curse and close your eyes and dig your head back into the pillows. He must take it as a signal to continue, because bright, staticky stars burst behind your eyelids when he takes you into his mouth for the first time. 

Fuck. You’re inside him. It feels hot and wet, kind of squishy, but so tight when he sucks and sinks his mouth down even farther. 

You yell. The dramatic noise is ripped from your vocal chords without your consent, and your eyes fly open to look down at him. Those plush fucking lips look so goddamn good wrapped around you, all wet and red and swollen. You squeeze his hair in your hand. You’re so torn between wanting to chase the warmth of his mouth and wanting to arch away from it. 

Then you feel it, that familiar twisting deep and low in your gut, only it’s ten times as intense as it usually is. You start to panic. 

“Max! Max, please, I’m—!”

He pulls off quickly, and squeezes the base of your jerking dick. It kind of hurts, and you hiss and watch in horror and wait for something to come out. But it doesn’t. It’s so weird, the way he’s manually shut down your orgasm with one touch. Completely different than the way you would have had to hold back without this new dick. 

“That’s—”

“Incredible, right?” 

You huff in the midst of catching your breath. You still feel like a hair trigger, but without someone’s finger hovering over it now. 

“Oh my god,” you sigh. 

He laughs and lets go of you. You watch him wipe the corners of his pretty mouth and distantly think that you can’t wait until you get used to this, so you can make him gag and watch his drool and your cum seep from it. 

Your dick jerks at the thought, and it’s strange to have the evidence of your arousal be so obvious. It’s like a damn car alarm. 

“Wanna fuck me now?” 

You laugh, delirious. 

“My new nickname’s gonna be One Pump Chump.”

He slithers up the bed to lie beside you. 

“It’s totally understandable. Normal, even.”

You raise your eyebrow at him. 

“How big is the sample size?”

He shrugs and smirks but his eyes focus on the bedsheets between you. 

“I know I seem like a douchebag, but I really just wanna help.”

You pout at him, but fix your face before he looks back up at you. You run your hand through his hair, gently this time, and something about this whole situation is making your heart feel all gooey. 

“You only seem like a little bit of a douchebag.”

He grumbles at you but smiles. 

“Besides, there’s like, a billion things you’re gonna want to try with that thing. You’ll get practice.” 

That thing suddenly doesn’t feel as pressing anymore. You’re still hard as rock, but it finally feels like it would take a little more than a gentle breeze to make you spill. 

“Let me fuck you, then.”

“Yeah?”

You nod and smile; and some of that eagerness comes back to light up his devious eyes. He reaches for the condoms in the bedside table and you admire all of the taut muscles under his tan skin. 

“You want help with this?” 

You roll your eyes, but it’s kinda sweet. You’ve never actually put one on at this angle before. So you get between his thighs when he lies back and let him roll it on you. 

“You can definitely get someone pregnant with this too, so… be warned. Don’t sue me about it, it won’t go over well in court.”

Your dick bobs in his grasp as you laugh. It feels so weird and fascinating.  

“Noted, thank you for the disclaimer. And sorry about the lawsuit?” 

He squeezes your prick around the condom and smiles up at you. 

“No worries, that was decades ago.”

You laugh until the words catch up with you. But you don’t have time to question it much, because he’s lying back and spreading his thighs for you, getting a pillow under his hips so his glistening pussy is tilted perfectly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him so aroused and ready for you, and at the thought of how much more wet and tight and hot it’s going to feel compared to his mouth. 

You sigh and play with his little clit, still wet from your saliva. He keens and seeks out more friction and you have to fuck him. His pussy is even more enticing now, knowing you can slide your prick inside. 

You shuffle closer and try to remind yourself to take your time. You purposefully glide your hands up his thighs, feeling the way the hair gets more sparse and fine the further up you go. You’re delighted by the little goosebumps that form under your fingertips and the way he sounds so relaxed when he sighs. 

Shuffling even further now, you settle those thick thighs over your own and let your knees cage his slim hips. When you look up, he’s watching you through hooded eyes with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You really are gorgeous,” you tell him, softly, afraid to disturb what’s becoming a very peaceful calm before the storm. 

His breath hitches a little and you see it as it ripples his chest. 

“You really are handsome,” he winks back. 

Your hand wanders up higher, across his ribs, and your thumb presses against his stiff nipple and rolls it. You feel the small noise he makes under your palm and smile. 

Your other hand grabs the base of your cock, sure to keep the base of the condom from slipping down. The subtle move kind of makes you feel like a pro, and you’d snicker about it if the euphoria that flooded through your body didn’t overwhelm you. 

It’s kind of like an out of body experience. But you’re also painfully aware of your body and this new appendage and the way the feeling of it is wreaking havoc on your entire being. 

You slide your cock through his wet folds and even just this feels incredible, the way every bit of him feels rubbing against your sensitive cockhead. You can’t drag it out any longer, you know. 

“Are you ready?” You ask him hesitantly. 

“Are you ready?” 

You snort and roll your eyes and pinch his nipple. His back arches and the movement makes your dick slip down, press just barely against his opening. You suck in a breath and it takes every ounce of willpower not to shove yourself inside to chase that wet heat. 

“Okay, okay, I’m ready. Just fuck me already. Gonna feel so good.”

For him or for you, you’re not sure which he means, but it doesn’t matter. 

You try to take your time. You really do. But as soon as the head of your prick slips in it’s like you have no self control. 

You chase the warmth, plunge all the way into him, and stay. 

Oh my god. 

“Oh my god.”

Max chuckles at you and you can feel it. You’re so fucking wrapped up in him. Every little move, shift, clench, it surrounds you and overwhelms you. 

“You feel so fucking good, Max.”

You’re sure you look absolutely wild. Your jaw is permanently dropped, eyes wide as you try with all of your might to hang on. 

“Ditto,” he breathes. 

His eyes look dark and intense, when your eyes can finally focus in. 

“Do you— did you make it exactly how you like?” 

It’s so stupid to be asking questions right now but it’s the only thing you have to keep you somewhat composed. 

“Yeah,” he admits, a little breathless. 

“You get off on that?”

You know he does before he answers, can feel him clench and contract around you. You muster up the dexterity to find his clit with your thumb and press. 

“I do! I do, fuck.”

You finally start to inch out of him, slowly, afraid that too much friction will send you over the edge. 

“Are you using me like a toy?” 

He whimpers, and the sound alone makes you snap your hips back into him. 

“No, no, that’s not it.”

Your brows rise up in question, and you pull out again as you wait for him to explain. 

“It’s— I dunno. I like that you… hah, shit, like that, don’t stop.”

You feel smug that you’ve derailed his thoughts by starting to fuck him with a slow rhythm, if only because he’s derailed yours a million times in the two nights you’ve shared. 

You circle his clit and groan at the way his pussy squeezes you. It’s hard to even pull out of him, it’s like he’s sucking you right back in. 

“You were saying?”

And it doesn’t sound smooth coming from your mouth, your breathing labored and your voice strained. 

“I like that you’ll think of me when you fuck. I like knowing I made you like this for me even if others get to enjoy it. I like knowing— shit— I like knowing I’m the one that makes you feel good.”

You balk at his confession. Such a beautiful explanation for something so possessive. From anyone else it would sound so objectifying. But with this strange relationship the two of you have, it makes your entire body burn. 

You collapse on top of him once the words really sink in. You hide your face in his sweaty neck and begin to rut into him with the knowledge that you’ll probably crumble far too quickly, but you don’t quite care. 

“You do, you make me feel so good,” you tell him. 

He whines and works his hips against yours to meet your frantic thrusts. You grab his hair again and bite faint marks into his neck that make him writhe and squirm against you. 

“You do too— harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Man, your hips are starting to ache, just like with your strap, but this time the sensation of feeling him wrapped around your very real cock keeps the discomfort at bay and it’s just pure bliss. 

So you double down, raise back up to put more of your back into it. Your sweaty hands slip against his skin as you try to grab his hips for leverage. 

“You gotta touch yourself for me,” you pant. 

The way he scrambles to comply just turns you on even more, gives you one more tick in the ‘power tripping’ column. He looks so fucking beautiful under you, back all arched in pleasure, his face scrunched up in concentration. His bicep is bulging as he slides three fingers back and forth across his clit, so frantic but so practiced. 

You fuck him and try to think about anything other than how good he feels. You’re plunging into the world’s softest, warmest hole and he’s moaning for you, you’re making him feel just as good as you do, and you’re going to lose it. 

“Gonna come, Max. I can’t—”

“Do it, come for me. Wanna be the first.”

Your hips stutter as the wave finally, finally crashes over you. You try so hard to fuck through it, try to make him come again, but as the first shock of your orgasm spikes up your spine, you can’t think to do anything but try to bury yourself as far as you can into his tight cunt. 

You know he’s saying something encouraging by the tone of his voice, but his words go in one ear and out the other as you grind into him and rest your sweaty forehead in the middle of his chest. It feels so good you could cry. 

Your fingertips dig into the flesh of his hips as you ride it out, and your chest starts to burn and your throat starts to ache and your eyes start to burn.

You are crying. 

“Shit.”

It comes out as a broken sob, muffled into his chest, and he starts at the sound. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

You shake your head against him. 

“I’m fine.”

“I know, just breathe though.”

The breaths you suck in are all shuddery and stilted, and there’s snot, and it’s so embarrassing but comforting all at once. 

He urges you to slip out, and he even holds the condom for you, pulls it off, and ties it while you try to reel yourself in.

You don’t, not right away at least, because once you get over the crazy rush of endorphins and serotonin and dopamine or whatever that’s flooded your body, you start feeling extremely self conscious about the whole sobbing during sex thing, and the fact that he didn’t get off, and—

“Come snuggle?” 

You’re not sure when he got up, but he’s holding up a robe for you in one hand, and cradling your head in the other, and ushering you out into the living room. His fireplace is on now, and there’s a tall, snobby glass bottle of water on his end table. 

You’re tired, now. Like, bone-deep exhaustion. You slump into him where he’s sprawled out on his leather couch and close your watery eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

He shushes you gently, pets your head that’s on his chest that definitely has your dried snot on it still. 

“Don’t be sorry. As long as you feel good, I feel good.”

You nod, and taking a deep breath comes easier to you this time. You brave a look up at him, and his eyes are warmer than ever as they reflect the orange-yellow flames.

“Thank you.”

He smirks then, and you feel the tension in the room shift. 

“So how was it?”

You grin and hide it in his pecs. You’re hyper aware of your spent dick lying soft and sticky on your thigh. You’re so much more tired than you ever usually are after an orgasm. It was all so different, every little bit of it. And there’s this calmness you feel now, after all the commotion, and it hits you all at once that it all feels right. 

There’s no cleaning your strap, putting away your toys, no sliding on your underwear to hide the thing that just gave you pleasure. There’s no awkward dissonance. It’s just… normal. Normal in a way it’s never been before. Effortless bliss, like a sensory deprivation tank. Nothing. 

“It was everything.”

-

Author's Note: I wanted to share a bit about what really resonated with me as I learned more about Loki. The one thing that stuck with me throughout this writing challenge is that Loki is not a bad guy. I will be honest, the only thing I knew about Loki before this was from the MCU, which to me seems like an oversimplification of the norse god from everything I've learned about him. Erin provided me with this very thorough video that analyzes Loki and his myths. To me, he seems like someone who liked to 'stir the shit' for the sake of curiosity. I didn't find much ill will at all in these tellings of his trickery, just a guy who wanted to fuck around and find out about things, someone who did more than just wonder what would happen.

Second, Erin said he's Like a fun older brother. Very playful and mischievous. Very straight-forward. Protector of outcasts; lgbtq+ folks, disabled people, neurodivergent people, etc. This was another driving force behind this fic. It wasn't a coincidence that Max met reader their first night at the club, they founded the club for the sole purpose of creating a safe space for queer people and takes an active role in making sure their patrons feel like they belong.

Lastly, Erin said their pick for me would be Max / Loki because of the gender fuckery, which excited me as much as it made me feel honored. When watching the aforementioned video, I learned about Loki turning himself and Thor into a bridesmaid and a bride, respectively. Loki himself was unrecognizable and was the exact image of a woman. However, Thor pretty much just looked like himself in a dress (this is paraphrasing.) I loved the idea that Loki's shapeshifting could not only be directed toward other people, but could vary in vagueness. These undefined rules for Loki’s gender felt like how I personally view gender in general, as well as how I relate it to my own identity, and I really took that idea and ran with it.

Anyway, thank you again @perotovar for this writing challenge and the piece of yourself you shared with all of us. I love you so much! <3

[spicyboelives]

idk if u still care abt poto but i saw this post yesterday and it immediately reminded me of ur poto AU so i thought id share :)

(its a reel by @/christianrlocke on instagram in case the link doesn’t work)

I saw it about a week after I posted my poto art and felt like the gods were shining down on me. Absolutely exceptional turn of events. Also yes! I do still love poto! Most of my interests are long lasting, I just don’t have time to do more art of them because I do commissions essentially full time right now :).

Heres something quick I drew up, sorry the line work n anatomy is kinda ass- also wish I could have had longer to iron out the costume details I had in mind for my version.

In my version He crashes the party for the same (though slightly different reasons?). Hates That Christine isn’t being cast in the poetic gay fanfics hes been writing for him & the general way the opera is ignoring his critiques. I also think he’d be upset with Raoul, regardless of if that dude really did anything wrong, Erik would still be insecure enough to be jealous and over protective of Christine.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 309

Adjective: Subdued

Noun: Hideaway

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Subdued: (of a person or their manner) quiet and rather reflective or depressed; (of color or lighting) soft and restrained

Hideaway: a place used as a retreat or a hiding place

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Chat have we discussed drunk chess with cherik cause i just think. That would be the darnedest silliest thing they could do

[taravangians-storming-balls]

Kaladin's final smash in which he lashes mario directly into the atmosphere

[jasperthejester]

me: finally accepting theres a good chance im autistic and starting to work up the courage to ask my parents to see if i could get a diagnoses but being scared to

my mom: do you ever think you have adhd? if you want to do a screening for add next time your at the doctors you can

me:

[futuristichedge]

Sonic, the embodiment of freedom switching places with Metal Sonic and being able to realize and experience first hand how isolated and restricted Metal is. Unable to speak, limited body language and fingers unable to articulate anything outside of a clawing motion. Metal coming to and adjusting to experiencing the overstimulating experience of being a living breathing thing. Being called just Sonic and how right it feels... in a way. It feels right the way that looking at yourself through a funhouse mirror is right. It's still you, isn't it?

The tragedy of being created in the form of another. Predestined to never reach the heights of what you are capable of, chained down by the expectations of what you SHOULD be.

An embodiment of freedom made to be obedient. Bottled wind, stagnating in your containment.

You were made to usurp someone, to be superior but held back by your own programming. Held back by comparisons inherent to being a replica, gifted tunnel vision to achieve an unachievable goal.

So wrapped up in comparison that the only way you can see to break free from these expectations is to remove the person you were made in the image of. Become the ONLY 'you' there is.

What if its given to you. You are no longer the copy, you are what you were always meant to be. But the expectation is still there, and you are still falling short. What then.

[vaniloqu3nce]

EVERYONE STOP.

Hades and Persephone Wenclair Au PLEASE. PLEASE SOMEONE ANYONE.

Wednesday as the lord of the underworld is doing things to my brain that are not healthy for someone with my levels of queer

Enid basically having hell on a leash because her wife does just about anything she says.

“What if we give therapy to some of them? They can’t all be terrible.”

“Yes, dear.”

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[furiosophie]

Ghost lets himself be pulled up slightly, his hand just as steady on Soap's thigh. "That what you need, Johnny?" he asks, licking his lips behind the balaclava. Soap’s eyes drop to his mouth, flick back up. "You wanna draw blood? Be in control?" "Lt–" Soap starts, lips parted on a rough exhale. A plea or a warning, Ghost can't tell. He's too focused on the way Soap's pupils dilate, and the way the edge of the knife digs into the fabric at his throat. When Graves rears his head not ten days after Las Almas Ghost starts questioning Soap's loyalty, and with it whatever's left of his own sanity.

not from the absence [read on ao3]

ship: john "soap" mactavish/simon "ghost" riley

words: 41,011, completed

tags: canon-typical violence, post-cod mw2 (2022), the boys deal poorly with the las almas fallout, angst with a happy ending, slow burn, literal sleeping together, hurt/comfort, but the kind where you cut each other open with a knife, mutual pining, unresolved sexual tension, emotional constipations more fucked up cousin, mostly bc ghost buried his feelings deeper than his own corpse, post-traumatic stress disorder, unhealthy coping mechanisms, whats wrong with me is also wrong with you typa vibe, minor character death, (none of the 141), ghost POV, 09 ghost backstory, epistolary elements, not beta read we die like roach

COVER/CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5

[lansangprincess]

curious question for all my payneland lovers: how do you want Charles' love awakening to go about?

in a way, there isn't anything (ex. homophobia, a current partner, etc) stopping him from falling for Edwin (that we know of) so what would it take for Charles to suddenly realize he has feelings for Edwin that makes more sense than Edwin's confession being the trigger?

[hella1975]

it's been pointed out on here before that a lot of terf arguments are actually rooted in sexist idealology that feminists fought and died to unnormalise decades ago and that's its own kettle of fish but one thing i also find very frustrating about this so called 'radical' feminism is that it's so... defeatist? like the moment you categorically label an entire section of society as Bad and Inherently Evil then there's also the implication that nothing can be done about it, and it completely takes all accountability away. saying all men are evil is just another way of saying boys will be boys. he raped her because he's a man. he hit her because he's a man. he didn't listen because he's a man - it's almost offensively oversimplified. there's no point trying to fix this issue in society because men are just Like That, okay! so now what? it's not like they're going anywhere, so you just accept that 50% of the population are evil and will forever treat you terribly and there's nothing to be done about it bc they're biologically predisposed to it? like is that fr the argument here? you're soooo radical for that

[ganondoodle]

i often really do feel like an .. unwanted part of the fandom, i dont draw beautiful landscapes, i have unpopular but strong opinions im constantly annoying about and rarely change, dont like/dont draw the pretty young popular twinks and hot gurls to fanboi over nor do i turn characters into one, the opposite moreso, draw only one ship no ones heard of really, got little energy to interact with the few people that are nice to me and send me asks so it probably looks like im ignoring everyone and unfortunately but still rarely get so stressed i get overwhelmed and emotional about pehaps seemingly minor things and spiral almost into a breakdown feeling super embarrassed about it afterwards but the damage is already done and i look like a freak or agressive weirdo

[rotyolk]

нoiнoiнoiнoi-san